Couple Things🗞

Please I think this is such an underrated ship

Would anyone be interested in reading the start of an Angsty Bumswiftery fic I am doing? Angsty as in 'we are dating but no one knows' and also 'someone is gravely injured'

I love this acc sm omg

Newsie: Panama

Panama wears what looks like a Panama hat but it's actually just a white fedora. He chooses a fedora, which is what the Mafia wears, because he's a wannabe mobster.

In his future wanted poster, the sketch artist will include these defining features: long gelled back black hair, a cleft in the chin and a gap between the teeth.

Being an aspiring gangster, Panama knows how important his physical appearance is, so he never goes anywhere without dressing to the nines. The rest of his outfit consists of a teal scarf and a platinum shirt.

He's all dressed up even when out selling papes and getting his hands blackened with ink like all the other Newsies. This is just his first taste at getting his hands dirty.

Crying 😭 that is so funny

One of my favorite historical strike moments (aka historical Mush)

Okay, so by like the 5th day of the strike, there was a newsboy being guarded by a police officer, so the newsies were trying to find out how to soak the kid.

Mush was like “the cop’s too fat to catch me”, snatched the kids papers, and had the cop chase him so the others could beat the kid up.

Anyway that’s 100% something movie Mush would do, and no I won’t take criticism.

NEWSIES HEADCANONS (kloppman)

1. Every so often, he has to check the boys' hair for an outbreak of lice, most of the boys end up falling asleep on him

2. He has a little first aid box kept under his desk that he only uses when somebody is seriously hurt.

3. He never forgets a single face or name that comes to the boarding house.

4. When somebody's being too loud he sends them to the "naughty corner" no matter their age purely for the lols 😭

5. Him and skittery are locked tf in.

6. Has received "worlds best grandpa" mugs a few times.

7. Has a really good sense of humour, gets pranked all the time by the boys

8. Does the long ahh "back in my day" rant every morning, and everybody knows it word for word

9. Will often give the boys random moments of physical contact because he knows he may be the only caring adult in their life

10. Will confiscate bottles of alcohol, not because they aren't allowed it, but because he wants it. Kloppmans a diva tbh

Could you do a fic that’s an enemies to lovers with sprace please

Thank you!

(つ°ヮ°)つ

I absolutely can. That frick ass keyboard emoji has me in tears, btw 😭 (if you want to read this as livesies characters, just skip over the descriptions because it can be read as both 🙃)

Tw: curse words, mild violence

Passion (oneshot)

January 7th 1997

It was like any other day. The sun was bashfully hiding behind the clouds, the cool yet fierce breeze streamed through the air and hit the bare neck of Racetrack Higgins. It sent goosebumps jumping all over his pale skin, he shivered, yet it did not shake the easy smile embedded into his cheeks. It was that easy smile that eased people. Most seemed to enjoy seeing the seemingly kind gesture perminantly written across his. It made people relax, trusting and open. That was dangerous in the newsie world, you should never let your guard down for anyone was the first thing you learnt, however the corners of that smile seemed to find a way to pry open any locked doors. That smile was dangerous.

Racetrack had taken his usual route to sheepshed by using his witty charm to aquire a ride in the back of a wagon. He hopped off the wagon and ran a hand through his thick,dark hair, messy from the wind, and waltzed to the door, pulling out a cigar and placed it between his lips. He wasn't sure why he could feel eyes on the back of his head.

"Mornin' Betty." Race said, tipping his hat, to the middle-aged betting woman sitting at the front desk.

"Morning Racetrack, keeping out of trouble, I hope." She added, noticing Races cigar, which was far more money than he had ever made.

"Youse knows me Betty, neva lookin' for trouble." He replied, taking it out of his mouth.

"What's the headline today?" The older woman asked, clearly amused by the young boy.

"Tragdey strikes, house fire in Queens kills entire family." His voice sounded sympathetic, but the glint in his eyes told a different story. She shook her head and flicked him a nickel.

"For my best and prettiest customer." He handed her the newspaper, flashing her that easy smile. She blushed and quickly buried her nose in it, trying to hide her reddening face.

"See ya later, miss." Race called smugly, walking into the arena.

The interaction was completely normal, so why did Race feel so awkward. There was something in the air following him, but he couldn't quite place what it was.

That feeling never quite went away. He sold his papes as normal, hawking the headline the best he could to attract buyers. Making sure to be extra charming to the richer boxes. It was an average day, so why couldn't he stop glancing over his shoulder every time he had a second spare.

He had sold out of papers by just before dinner when that presence stopped him in his tracks. He was halfway to brooklyn Bridge when that feeling had taken over his body and forced him to a halt.

"What do youse think youse doin'." A cold voice came from behind him. He turned to be greeted by a pale, scrawny boy about three inches taller than he was and dirty blonde hair barely peaking from behind his cap. Race didn't notice this, though, because he was focused on the eyes. They were a pale blue with a gaze so sharp that it could cut him in half. They peirced into his soul and put a funny feeling in his stomach.

"Ise walkin' home, if youse lookin' to buy a pape Ise all out." Race announced confidently.

"Youse real funny," the boy scoffed and moved closer, "who are youse? And why is youse on my turf" He balled his fists and straightened his back to appear taller.

"The names Racetrack Higgins, what's it to ya?" Race lit his cigar and took a long drag, blowing the smoke directly into the other boys face.

"I ain't gonna ask you again." He growled, something about race just infuriated him, the way he strolled around so arrogant and careless, the way he stood their smoking and looking completely unthreatened as he was being interrogated. Spot hated it. He hated him.

"Ise walking home after sellin' my papes for the day, who are youse anyway?" Race asked seemingly, still unthreatened.

Spot smirked. This is where he catches race out, make him tremble at the social superior in front of him.

"Spot, Spot Conlon." You could hear the smugness drenching the words, spot waited for the panicked expression he was used too seeing, he expected his eyes to widen comically large, for his hand to tremble and his knees to go weak. However, none of that happened. The only noticeable change was a large, easy smile spreading like butter across his face.

Spot had NEVER felt such pure rage in his life, his face turned to stone and all he wanted to do was punch that smile off his face.

"Ah now youse the famous spot conlon ise heard so much about." Race chuckled, looking spot up and down.

Spot grunted.

"Ise gotta say, ise thought you'd be taller -" Race was cut off guard by spot shoving him, he fell backwards with a thud. Spot walked over to where Race was now sitting, not yet satisfied with what he had done. He expected the other boy to cry. That's how this normally went. However, when he peered down and he met Races big chocolate brown eyes gazing up at him yet the same stupid smile remained on his face. Spot could see red.

"Wow, that really hit a nerve, huh?" Race chucked, standing back up.

"I want youse out of brooklyn and don't eva come back." Spots voice was dangerously low

"Listen spotty-" Spot grabbed race by the shirt and yanked him closer.

"What the fuck did youse just call me?" He yelled.

"Spotty." Race bit back an egar smile.

"Call me that again and I'll soak ya so fucking bad youse won't be able to walk again." Spot could physically feel his blood boil.

There was a brief pause. The angry red aura around Spot was practically visible, and race looked as if he was fighting back giggles.

"Spotty." Race quickly said before aggressively kicking Spot in the knee, and watching a surprised yelp escape his lips as he collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees, releasing Races shirt. Moments after his hands and knees connected with the dusty floor, he looked back up. His already cold eyes had turned to ice, and his face had flushed with anger. He looked like a bull ready to charge and Race only had one thought.

Oh shit.

Race turned around and bolted as fast as he could towards the bridge, spot chased after him for a while as if Race was waving a red flag at him. However, it was quickly discovered that race was faster than spot by a lot. Spot came to a sweaty halt when he realised he could no longer make races figure out infront of him, so he panted heavily and wiped the sweat from his brow as he turned around for the treck back to the lodging house.

That night was spent tossing and turning, spot writhed in fury as his mind became engulfed by violent fantasies of what would happen the next time the two crossed paths. He couldn't get it out of his mind. He was riled up and irritated far more than he ever had been from a know-it-all rebellious newsie. He wasn't sure why Race wasn't scared of him or what business he had being so irritating. But he knew one thing for sure. He fucking hated Racetrack Higgins.

February 5th 1997

There had not been a day where Spot had not thought about Race. That interaction had consumed his brain, and he replayed it with all the different possible outcomes and responses that would have wiped that bitch-ass smile right off races face. Something about race made him unforgettable. It was aggravating, honestly. No matter how hard he tried to force the thought of him out, they simply would not leave. A boy that he had met once, and would never see again, was taking up this much time in his already overworked brain. Spot knew he had anger issues but far worse had bothered him far less.

"Hey boss- just got word in that a 'hattan newsie sellin' on our terf, sheepshed. I think they said it was." Hotshot said, stadning right in front of the zoned out leader

Spot snapped out of his thoughts at the word sheepshed. He felt his blood circulation move twice as fast as it was before. His heart began to pound at an alarming rate, and he almost felt giddy. The exitment of getting to play out those lesson teaching fantasies was almost too much.

"Boss?" Hotshot asked gingerly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh yeah, leave it with me." Spot beamed, and he stood up and raced to sheepshed as fast as he could, leaving hotshot with a very inquisitive look on his face.

The entire way there, spot could not believe how worked up he was getting, despite the cold weather, he was sweating perfuesly, and although he didn't know it, a rare glint was swimming in his ocean-blue eyes. He had never felt hate like this before, it was new and scary.

"Well, look what we have here." Spot smirked when he was about a foot away from Race, when he turned around, Spots' heart began to bang chaotically around his rib cage.

"Hey spotty, miss me did ya?" The smile that had been haunting spots dreams for weeks was now right infront of him.

"Youse an idiot, ya know that right?" Grumbled spot.

"Yeah ise been told." Race chuckled

"What ya doin' back on my turf?"

"In my defense ise neva really left."

Spot grabbed him by the suspenders in a fit of rage and dragged him all the way out of sheepshed to a nearby alley and shoved him up against the wall.

"At least buy me a drink first spotty-" Race was cut off by Spots fist connecting with his right cheek. He yelped in pain, as the knuckles, released agony into his skin. His skin screamed out to him, and he flew to the floor.

"You shoulda listened to me ya scab." Spot hissed as he siezed races collar and yanked him up. He expected a whitty reply or an easy smile, but instead, he got something wag worse. Race was uncharacteristically quiet. He curled up on himself, and his usually bright,brown eyes seemed drained. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a quiet whimper.

Spot had imagined this far too many times in his head, how he would beat an apology out of race and make him sorry for showing him up like that. He thought it would be the most relieving feeling ever, but it turns out he was wrong. It didn't bring him the excitement he thought it would. He didn't feel any better. He waited for his hate to overtake him so he could finish the job. However, the longer he stared at races, melancholy, already bruising face, the more guilty he felt.

"Go." He whispered and released his grip. Without another word, Race sped off round the corner whilst spot sank to the floor with his head in his hands. Fuck. What was going on? He had his enemy defenceless and at his mercy, and he just let him go? What was wrong with him? He had never felt hate towards anyone quite like race, and yet seeing Race so helpless just broke something inside of him.

"What are ya doin' to me race..."

April 18th 1897

Races kicked puppy-like face haunted Spots dreams, it made his chest tighten as he released long breathes trying to move the anxiety out of his body. He decided, that on this random April night, he was going to go make emense with his enemy because it was slowly draining the life out of him. The regret and indignation in the air made it poisonous, it hurt to breathe it in. He needed Race like he needed air. It physically hurt to not be around his charming aroma.

Once he had come to the manhattan lodging house, he went to knock, but his hand froze awkwardly in the air.

"Umm, do ya need somethin'?" A kid with a Crutch asked wariely from behind him.

"Im-uh-can youse go get race for me, please?" Spot stuttered for the first time in his life.

The boy nodded and hobbled inside, and moments later, race appeared at the door. His eye was now completely healed. His dark hair was even longer now, and his eyes had gained back their mischievous spark that spot had knocked out of him prior.

"What ya doin' here?" Race asked, clearly surprised.

"Ise came to- Ise wanted to-..." Spot trailed off. He had never apologised for anything.

"Ise wanted to say - Ise sorry." Spot said the last two words extremely quickly.

"What did ya say Ise didn't catch that."

"Ise sorry race."

"One more time for me?'

"Ise said ise-" He could see race repressing giggles, "youse doin' that on purpose!"

That famous, easy smile made its way across races face. Spot felt his stomach flutter.

"It's okay spotty." Race cackled.

"Does that means youse forgive me?" Spot added sheepishly.

"Hm." Race thought for a moment, "no."

Spot began to protest before race cut him off.

"But I will if you let me show you a good time round 'hattan."

Spot wasn't even sure how it happened, but a few minutes later, he was blindly following race into a dingy alley a few blocks from the lodging house. In this alley was a group of grown men sitting in a circle playing poker, with a pile of money place in the middle of the board. The one furthest looked up.

"Hey kid." He greeted

"Deal me in, boys." Race grinned and joined the circle

The round was intense, the group of men obviously very good poker players. However, no matter how much experience, Nobody was better than Racetrack Higgins. Spot watched egarly as the men became more and more frustrated. At the end of the game -the jackpot- they all slowly turned over their cards to reveal the winner. All the men groaned as Race cheekily smiled and collected his winnings.

"See ya next time, boys." Race beamed as he and spot walked a healthy distance from the alley.

"That was incredible, youse a damn good poker player."

Race laughed.

"Yeah maybe...or maybe youse could say I had an ace up my sleeve." He pulled his sleeve down the reveal the eighth of diamonds.

"Youse cheated!" Spot laughed in shock.

"I neva leave home without it, its my lucky card." Race winked and slid it back into his pocket. Spot was so impressed he couldn't even be mad, he had never met anybody like racetrack.

"so whaddare ya gonna do with the money." Spot asked.

"Youse will see. Come on." He grabbed one of spots red suspends and pulled him down the street until they faced a local corner shop.

"Hey Andy." Race chirped as he walked into the store.

"Hey Simon, how's it goin'?" The older man asked from behind the register.

"Simon." Spot whispered into races ear which earned him a kick to the foot.

"It's goin' swell thanks, how's the kids?"

"They're doin' great, how's that girlfriend of yours?"

"That's actually why Ise came in, wes engaged." Race said merrily.

What? Spot was so confused and couldn't even begin to imagine where Race was going with this. He just stood there star-struck.

"Congraduations, what might you want for this special occasion."

"Erm, a bottle of whisky please if youse has any."

The man turned around and began routing through his cabinets. Race was insaine. He was a genius, but he was still insaine.

"Ugh, mortgages are so hard, aren't they Eugene?" Race asked, making eye contact with spot.

"Um yeah, they're a real pain in the ass." Spot replied, biting his tongue to keep back the laughter bubbling in his throat .

The man finally pulled out a bottle, race gave him the winnings and waved him goodbye as they reached the street.

As soon as they were out, the boys broke into hysterical fits of laughter.

"What even is a mortgage?" Race huffed out between giggles. They continued to cackle as they walked to a bench and opened the bottle.

"How old did you tell him you were?" Spot chuckled.

"Thirty seven."

That was it. The boys dissolved back into frantic laughter, and neither seemed to be able to stop. Spot was never like this with anyone, he had walls built so high you'd need a ladder to see over them, yet here he was with his supposed enemy giggling like a child and having the best time of his life.

Race began chugging the liquid before making a scrunched up face and handing it over to spot. The two boys sat there for hours just talking and swigging the bottle like water. Spot had never chatted like this to anyone, and -he blamed it on the drink- but he couldn't seem to stop smiling.

"So Ise said no silly Mr police horse youse dont-." Race drunkenly slurred before being cut off by a flash light being shone right into his face.

"What are you kids doing?" An angry looking copper asked curiously, his eyes fell to the bottle, then to the young faces. Without even speaking, race and spot ran as fast as they could, race having to slow down so that spot could keep up. They drunkenly swerved around, giggling manically as they ran into things. They came across a small fence to which their intoxicated brains decided to climb. Once they had reached the top, both boys fell and landed on their back next to each other.

They looked at each other and exploded into yet another fit of psychotic laughter. Once they had calmed down they turned their heads to face eachother again, spot felt as if he could fall right into races dark eyes and never return. Something about them was so inviting and compelling. He couldn't look away.

Without thinking, he placed a soft kiss into races' lips. When he pulled back, he was terrified for the repercussions, when the easy smile that he loved so dearly appeared on his face he knew he made the right decision.

"Youse knows spotty I almost forgives you for punchin' me in ta face."

"Shaddup."

8th August 1997

Spot was sat on brooklyn Harbour, his legs dangling over the water as he looked beyond the horizon. He felt a presence sit beside him, and he looked over to see none other than Racetrack Higgins.

"Watcha lookin' at?" Race smiled

"The water, its pretty."

"Naw Ise don't think so. There's too many fishes." Race shivered

"What are youse scared of fish?" Spot teased

"Ise not scared of fish I just don't likes them." Race corrected.

Spot began to snicker and race smacked him round the back of the head.

"How can youse be scared of fish, theys so small."

"So are youse, but youse still seems to have everybody scared." Race grinned nervously.

"Naw that's it." He lugged race up and over his shoulder as he began to pretend throw him in the water.

"Ah-conlon-dont you- spotty- please!" Race sounded concerned, but the nervous giggles were throwing off his reliability.

Spot put him down but kept him hovering over the water.

"One wrong move, and the fishes will get ya." Spot joked

Terrified cackles left races body as he clung desperately to the hand holding his shirt, which was the only thing anchoring him to land.

"Agree that ise taller than youse and ill let ya up."

"Fine, youse taller than me!" Race choaked out.

Spot pulled him up and wrapped his arms around races waist, pulling him close.

"Ise don't know how ise eva hated youse so much." Spot said dreamily staring at race with love sick eyes.

"Now spotty that wasn't hate," Race gave an easy smile, "baby that was passion."

I can totally imagine Blink banning Mush from watching the news or reading the paper when it's a sad story. Mush is so empathetic and shared sympathy final boss, that when he reads about a good assassination, an earthquake, or a war, he starts crying purely because he feels SO bad for them.

Stop his frigging three quarter lengths are too cute, I'm gonna melt 😭

Can u guys send me ur most contravential newsies opinions pls 🙈🩷🙈🩷🙈🩷🙈

ok slightly nische but

dutchy headcanons please

or specs :)

Dutchy/ specs headcanons 👅

1. Once he moved out, dutchy dyed his hair brown because everybody kept asking if he was albino 😭

2. Specs glasses constantly have tape around the middle because every time he gets them fixed, somebody accidentally breaks them just hours after

3. Specs and dutchy love all things fantasy (like DND), so they created their own board and characters out of paper and a pencil. They finish selling as quickly as they can so they can get back and play again.

4. Dutchy frickin loves ice cream, so he made friends with the local ice cream shop owner and they give him free ice cream from time to time

5. Specs is really bad at personal space, like he could practically be sat on top of you and not notice that he's too close.

6. Dutchy is seen as quiet and unproblematic, so people say contravential stuff/ ahut talk infront of him and don't think twice about it, dutchy will then feed back to Specs and everybody will wonder how the secret got out.

7. Dutchy suffers from constant voice cracks, they are the bane of his existence

8. Specs flirts with the nuns because he's used to flirting with people to get something. He only ever gets a scolding, though, and he gets bullied because of it.

9. Specs calls dutchy goldie locks just to piss him off

10. Dutchy calls specs, speccy just to piss him off

My underrated babins 🩷

BLUSH ONESHOT

Walking Ray of sunshine

It was a Friday, a warm, sunny Friday. The sun had gotten to the boys before kloppman could, which influenced the boys out of bed rather than forced. Which was always a monumental help for motivation. Blink was happy. He always rested better in the warmth, so he wasn't exhausted, unlike in the winter when the cold seemed to shake him awake. The cold water from the shower was a relief rather than a burden, and his hair had dried the exact way he wanted it. He was practically radiating happiness.

"Hey, blinks." He felt someone gently clap him on the back before walking into the shower. He didn't even have to turn to acknowledge who it was. In a weird way, you could just sense Mush. His kind and cheeky aura made it seem as if he was glowing,he was impossible to miss. The two boys dressed together, and Blink couldn't help but look down at Mushes toned body. Many of the other news boys envied the way he looked. It was damn near impossible to keep yourself from withering away at the worst of times, yet somehow Mush had managed to not only keep himself unmalnurished but physically fit. It drove Blink insaine, and he couldn't stop thinking about it...its because he's jealous. Or so he told himself.

The roar of talkative and loud newsies echoed through the streets as they barrelled their way to pick up their papes.

"And then Jack was all like 'on me back mush', and I was like..." The rest of it drowned out ad Blink stared doe-eyed at mush. Only he could take such an unfunny joke and laugh about it till tears appeared in his eyes. He silently thought it was adorable. He found humour and good nature in everything he did, the optimistic views other dreary newsies could only dream of having. Blink had never admired characteristics more, Mush tended to brighten the room. Like a walking Ray of sunshine, Blink quietly thought before putting that comprison in his brain files.

"Race, Ise aint seen ya all mornin'!" Mush chirped before pulling race into a big hug. Another noticeable thing about Mush is that he is very touchy,he seemed to find comfort in physical contact and becomes a big teddy bear whenever he felt a lack of it. Blink was a stranger to any physical comfort before he met Mush , however, he quickly learned to adore it.

They lined up and bought their papers, due to Blinks' good feeling about today he bought 70, and Mush bought his usual 80. The boys split up to sell their papes, and it was a breeze. The hyperbolic headline made it so much easier to hawk. They practically flew out of the boys hand as family on summer walks strolled past and felt particularly happy and generous on this gorgeous summer day. Both boys had sold out by just after lunch, leaving them with the whole day to frolick and endeavour in varies activities.

"Youse finished sellin' too?" Blink asks, walking up behind Mush after he spotted him not too far off central park.

"Yeah, headline was even more good than yesterday."

Blink bit back a smile.

"The headline was BETTER than yesterday."

"That's what ise said?"

"No, it ain't."

"Um, yes, it is."

"No youse said 'more good' that ain't right."

"Ise aint even say that, that's false adver-atisement." Mush struggled to get the last word out.

"Ad-ver-tise-ment." Blink sounded out.

"That's what ise said!" Mush giggled,clearly doing this on purpose.

"Youse annoying." Blink crossed his arms and leant against the wall in mock frustration.

"Ise even more good at annoying youse today!" A cheeky grin spread across mushs face as he waited for a reaction.

"Oh shaddap will ya." At that mush snatched blinks cap right off his head and bolted.

"Hey!" Blink laughed before chasing after him. The two boys ran around like a cat and a mouse. Both were manically cackling to themselves as they swerved around people, and over crates, they ran into central park. The long, bright grass gently caressing their ankles as they foolishly played and ran. Mush looked back to see if the other was catching up. When he saw so sign of his one-eyed friend, he turned back around and BANG.

Blink had stood in front of mush, expecting him to run into him and to be able to swipe the hat back. However, mush had come in with considerably more force than expected, sending the two toppling over onto the grass.

"Are you okay?" Mush choked out before both boys burst into hysterical laughter and wheezes. When Blink made another grab for the hat, they wrestled and tussled on the floor for a while before Mush placed the hat on his head and pinned Blinks wrists to the floor. Blink squirmed and tried to pry his arms off the floor, but it proved unsuccessful as Mush just beamed down at him, looking as if he's barely trying.

"Get off!" Blink said through gritted teeth as he used all of his power to sit up. He was fairly close this time, but the stronger boy kept his grip tight and unforgiving.

"Naw this is too funny!" Mush snickered.

"No, it ain't, I'll soak ya!" Blink was obviously only joking.

"How's youse gonna do that when ise so much stronga?" Much said in a teasing tone.

"No ya ain't."

"so then why are youse on your back?"

Blink began to struggle again, after a few close attempts he flopped back into the grass, defeated.

"Fine youse win.'

Mush hummed happily and let go, then lay down next to blink on his back. The warm summer sun was yet to dim. The beams of the sun hit them on the face and yanked a whole new type of happiness out of the pair. The soft grass was far too comfy, and they both wanted to stay there forever.

"It ain't fair, youse shredded." Blink whined

"Ya know, its think I could dead lift you."

"Mush do not, I swear to- MUSH!" Blink shrieked in surprise as he was swiftly lifted off the grass by one arm and one leg. The nerves and surprise made him giggle uncontrollably, which made Mush not want to put him down

"Ready...one...two...three..." Mush counted as he curled Blink, lifting him higher off the ground every time.

"Put me down!" Blink laughed, wanting to wriggle but too scared of being dropped.

"Okay, dont get ya panties in a twist."

He set Blink back on his feet just to find that his own left the floor almost instantly after. Blink picked him up bridal style, definitely not how to dead lift but he didn't have to know that.

"Mys turn."

"Youse doin' it wrong." Mush giggled.

"Then how am ise suposta do it?' Mush didn't answer, just laughed.

"Youse even more bad at this than wrestling."

Blinks face dropped and went stone cold, and then an evil glimmer in his eye appeared, which scared mush.

"Youse going for a swim."

Mush immediately clocked the pond sitting in the middle of the park. He squealed as nervous laughs took hold of him as he thrashed around whilst Blink slowly approached the water.

"Ise don't wanna get wet!" He snorted as he managed to throw Blink off balance, which sent them yet again, on the floor.

"That was NOT funny." Mush gasped

Blink tried to repress the bubble of laughter in his throat. However, he couldn't swallow it down. He began to cackle and wheeze. Mush just lay there staring, feeding off the laughter and admiring the boys wide smile and frantic giggles with big lovey-dovey eyes and the most love sick smile ever.

"Youse beautiful ya know." Mush placed a soft kiss into blinks lips and his hat back onto his head.

"And you -" He picked a daisy and placed it behind Mushs ear, "Are a walking ray of sunshine."

THIS IS PERFECT I LOVE IT SO MUCH

A fire inside us that won't stop burning

The clashes of swords and spears, metal against metal, the blazes of fire and explosions, the screams of foes and friends alike.

Bumlets wasn't faring well in the throes of war, just glad that as the court mage he wasn't expected or needed at the front lines, rather sending spells raining down from a vantage point, enchanting and cursing weapons or warding armour of soldiers or healing the wounded. But he still saw his share of mangled remains, smelt iron and burnt skin and couldn't keep track of his friends or partners.

He hadn't seen the King or the Captain of the guard for a long time, the latter being expected as Swifty had to lead soldiers into battle, even if not the first of the attack line never straying far from it, shouting orders and pulling people away from dangerous situations.

But Bumlets should have seen his King somewhere in the back of the lines where he himself was, and maybe he shouldn't be as worried, he had no right to be, not as just the court mage, but as a man he worried for the person he smiled at while waking up, the person that fell sleep in his arms, exhausted, after the weight on his shoulders wore him thin for the day.

And he also worried about the man that made him smile showing him flowers or pretty stones he found, that curled up in the sun in ridiculous places in the castle sometimes like a puppy, but he especially couldn't worry about Vincent fighting at the front lines when his worry for a partner and the worry for his King overlapped. There was only enough worry in his mind for one, he was worn thin enough as it was.

And it was his duty to care for his King.

"Maester Alejandro, come quick, it's the King-"

He was already running before the knave could finish his sentence. If he was called, it was looking grim, no help from a doctor to be expected to do anything. So he ran as fast as he could, to where two knights fought off anyone trying to get close to their clearly injured King. He had to bring him out of there.

"Come with me.", he ordered the knave, picking their King up and carrying him close to his chest, the knights covering their retreat. Bumlets only let him down once they had found a secluded part of a ruin, the corner protecting them from two sides and most of the way into their own territory.

He could see even with the armour that Skittery was hurt gravely, blood seeping from his chest, face pale and red around his mouth. If he didn't start soon, he would never make it.

"Secure the area, I need time to stabilize him.", he ordered the young boy, not even looking at him as he loosened the armour to properly access the wound. It was a grave injury, more than Bumlets had healed with magic in his life, but it would have to work. He would have to succeed, there was no other option.

Concentrating his magic, he started a spell, blue light mixed with specs of gold flowing from his hands into the wound. He slowly upped the strength, feeling his blood run hotter, his energy draining, but he had to succeed.

Going higher and higher, urging more of his trusted power into the body before him, he saw some of the wound closing, but not enough. Even if it already transformed to a pain in his head, his veins burning hotter the closer they were to his hands, to where he concentrated the magic, he had to continue.

Still, there was no sign of consciousness for his King.

There was no telling how long he'd been pouring all he had in, when his vision started to narrow, everything apart from Skittery's face blurring, his magic core in his chest aching, trying to flow magic instead of only drippling the meagre rest it must at that point be, the concentrated magical power now burning not just inside but his skin, his hands blistering and the skin breaking, the smell of burnt flesh once more present on this battlefield.

"It has to work, he has to live, I'll do whatever it takes, please.", he pleaded to whoever was willing to listen, whichever power might have mercy with him as he fought to keep his love from the forces of death. Death might be inevitable.

But it didn't have to happen today.

One last flaming hot surge of power went through him before he burnt out completely, leaving not just his own hands at ruin, but a faint blistering over the healed scar on the King's chest, finally closed and hopefully again with enough blood that he would make it.

"Michael? Mica, c-can you..." Bumlets fell forward, suddenly only embers of himself remaining, barely catching himself with his destroyed hands, biting his lip in pain and instead resting on his elbow, needing to hold on until he saw if it worked or not.

"Mica, wake up, please."

His own consciousness, maybe his entire lifeforce was fading, fire smouldering, but he needed to know.

Brown eyes fluttered open, breath shallow but there.

Bumlets didn't even hear his King ask what happened or call his name before he already collapsed, fingers and hands burnt, and eyes almost completely blue and golden, bloody tears having streamed down his face.

The only important thing was, that he’d survived. And with his duty fulfilled, there was nothing holding the mage afloat in the currents sweeping him into the darkness.

Ever since he'd heard the horns signalling the end of the fight, Swifty had one thought in his head: where were Michael and Alejandro?

He hadn't seen the King or Court Mage in a long time, but it wasn't unusual to not see them at the front lines. Still, he couldn't start searching for them right away, in absence of the King he was the highest authority, he had to organize the retreat, give orders of transporting the dead, help save what could be saved. His back and side hurt, but it didn't seem to be a major wound, so he just pushed on, giving answers and plans out, helping other knights get up and to the medics.

As it was mostly calm, he went to that tent himself, expecting Bumlets to be there, healing what he could, but the nervous face of his apprentice, Flipper, already told him that couldn't be the case.

"Sir Vincent, have you seen my Master, I can't find him and-"

"I need a medic, quickly, t-the King and the court mage-"

Swifty and Flipper both quickly looked at the knave running into the tent, worry evident on their faces.

Something big must have happened.

Swifty intercepted the knave and doctor as they ran out. "What happened to the King?" and mage

The knave sighed in relief, motioning for him to please join them. "Sir Vincent, I'm so glad you're here, we need to get the King transported, he was gravely injured, and I got Maester Alejandro to heal him, but I'm not sure if it worked and now the Wizard isn't... he isn't conscious, I didn't know what to do, so I got more help."

Skittery mortally wounded, Bumlets using an excessive amount of power to heal him... it felt like a nightmare come to life, but Swifty had to push on. They needed medical attention as soon as possible.

The sight was even worse than he'd imagined, Bumlets half laying on Skittery, blood running down his face and his veins almost seeming to faintly glow blue and golden, pulsating the closer they were to his hands.

And oh his hands... even from what he could see, one hand still by Skittery's chest where he could see the remnants of a nasty scar and slight burns, it looked like all fingers and the flesh of his hand were burnt, skin having cracked and almost burst open to let out all the power he must have poured into their King's body for even the sliver of a hope to save him.

And at least for now he could hope that it worked, seeing Skittery's chest rise slightly and his half-lidded eyes trying to focus on them.

"S' Vincent-"

"It's okay your highness, we'll bring you to the infirmary tent as soon as you've been looked over.", he said quietly, hoping to bring attention to the fact they weren't alone and that the others would only assume he'd been addressed by his title and nothing more familiar.

So the medic could have access to their King, Swifty carefully lifted Bumlets off him, finding his heart weakly beating and breaths coming out of his mouth. At least he hadn't died at the ritual, even if it seemed to be a close call. Far too close for comfort.

Swifty attempted to at least clean him off the blood in his face while the others were distracted, wanting to give some comfort to his lover even if he couldn't show more. It hurt him and Swifty didn't know what he should think or do, this wasn't anything at all he could help with and he didn't know how to act, what could he do to help him, would he even wake up-

"Sir Vincent, can you carry his highness? With the rest of his armour on we can't move him properly and he needs to be transported as soon as possible.", the medic half ordered of him. Skittery's quiet pleads helped his decision too.

"I can, but we also need to take the mage, this doesn't look good."

The knave nodded, doing his best to pick up Bumlets, even if not in a near as comfortable carrying position as Swifty did with the King. Well, at least Bumlets was unconscious and hopefully wouldn't notice.

With Skittery in his arms, Swifty felt more grounded again, holding him a bit closer than he needed to, moving his thumb reassuringly against his love's arm. The warmth he felt meant to calm him as much as it did Swifty himself. Both men could have been cold and lifeless when he'd found them, and he wouldn't even have known to help them.

Sure, there were no indicators, but the King must have been injured somewhere near the fight, Swifty should have been there to protect him, to stop the need of magic healing him at all, and yet… it seemed he’d only managed to protect Skittery when he was still a prince, mostly hidden from the world and even later when they’d challenged his father, but there was no guaranteed protection he could still give him, no matter how much he wanted to.

It ate him up that he had no power to do anything, to preserve the lights of his life, the sight of Alejandro concentrating on a book or brewing a potion, brows slightly scrunched together and mouth twitching when he went over an ingredient he didn't like to prepare. Or Mica sending him an annoyed look between political inquiries, needing a short hug in the few seconds they could sometimes be alone between rooms, needing to recharge just the slightest bit to hold on to his duties.

But he'd have to trust that they were strong enough to hold on, and that they could be helped.

tags for who said they wanted to see it, I hope that's okay: @thatoneandlonelyemo2005, @bumlets-appreciation-blog, @what-the-newsies