David Does Manhattan XXX

i'm a sucker for the "jack goes to santa fe but it's nothing like his dreams" trope

manhattan, west virginia (WIP, scene scribble)

Jack watches, mouth agape, as the axe-headed dog tentatively grips the axe handle in its jaws like a bone. It looks at Davey, who is still pointedly chopping his tree, and then to Jack, who is still staring like an idiot. It’s eyes snap wide and it growls – its nose doesn’t wrinkle like a regular dog, the hard axe-shape being too pointed for it to do so, but its lips still pull back, showing off small, sharp teeth. Jack looks away with a jolt, his whole body shaking with the fury of his heartbeat – and with a soft scuffling sound, he can hear the dog disappear back into the undergrowth.

Jack sighs like he hasn’t breathed in ten years, his whole body going slack as he collapses against his stump.

“I told you.” Davey shrugs as he continues his chopping – the cheap axe-head slips off the handle, which he cavalierly tosses towards the bush from which the dog had first appeared. “Axe-handle hounds. Valuable part of the ecosystem here.”

Jack tries to speak – he musters some panicked garble. Davey finally looks at him again, brow quirked and – God damn him, the bastard is smirking.

“Are you okay?” He asks. “They’re not dangerous, you know. There’s much worse ‘round here.”

“It growled at me!” Jack manages to force out of his throat – Davey only laughs at him, and Jack hates him for it, and doubly hates him for looking so pretty while he does so, the ass.

“They’re not aggressive, Jack.” Davey says, far too casually. “Just don’t like being seen, that’s all.”

He’s quiet for a moment – the air between them is silent, save for the occasional smacks of Davey’s axe into the tree, and Jack’s shaky breaths. And then, softly, “most things here are the same way.”

There’s something behind the words – a truth beneath the truth, one that’s smaller and quieter, but just as important. Jack watches as Davey works – the tightness in his shoulders, the way his pupils flick over the bark, running away when they reach too close to the corners of his eyes – too close to where Jack’s sitting.

“Oh.” Jack says quietly, feeling more like an intruder than he ever has since arriving in this bizarro town. “I – oh.”

He rises from the stump, stumbles a little on uneven ground – he needs better shoes, his sneakers are barely holding up against the woodland floor – and grabs blindly, blunderingly, for his satchel. He turns on his heel, ready to run out of these woods and get somewhere where he can at least pretend he fits, when-

“Wait.” Davey calls, and his voice tethers into Jack’s shoulders with invisible strings. He whirls around far too quickly – Davey’s still watching him. Seeing him. Hands held towards his chest, still holding his axe at an awkward angle. There’s a soft curiosity sweeping through his posture, from the way he’s angling his neck just-so to the way he’s leaning all his weight onto the balls of his feet, like he wants to lift up on his tip-toes for a better view. It’s a fragile kind of curiosity. Intimate, almost. Jack would almost feel guilty for seeing it – but Davey’s the one who called him, wasn’t he? So… Perhaps it’s allowed.

“You, um.” Davey says quietly. “You should stay. If you want,” he adds, his cheeks twinging with a pinkness Jack’s never seen before. It adds some colour to his pale skin, raw pigment on cotton paper – it makes him look alive.

“If… I want?” Jack echoes, feeling oddly on the brink of – something he can’t quite name. Davey nods sheepishly, not meeting Jack’s eyes.

“If you want.” He says. “The woods can be dangerous, you’re – you’re not meant to go alone.”

Jack cocks his head at him.

“‘Cause of the hidebehinds.” Davey adds. Jack raises an eyebrow.

“You’re alone.”

Davey shrugs.

“They like me.”

He nods his head towards a skinny spruce tree. A large, thick arm, black-furred and far thicker than the tree itself, reaches out and waves at them – and then disappears again behind the trunk. Davey smiles – if Jack weren’t half losing his mind, he’d say he looks almost bashful.

“See?”

I completely agree with your post about 11 and how well Matt Smith embodies the exact necessary tone/expression for each beat of the script! I can't imagine someone else being able to bring to life that incarnation of the Doctor. Obviously 11's era and writing has its misgivings and flaws, but I still find a lot of joy rewatching those episodes, because you see this scared, lonely doctor who's still so enthusiastic and hopeful, even when the grief and rage gets to him. It's like seeing those emotions reflected in you, and a reminder that you'll feel that hope and appreciation for life/nature again, too. I think that emotional catharsis and sincerity is the heart of doctor who and what attracts us all to the show, to be given reminders that compassion and hope are a strength, not a weakness. Seeing his expression change during that part of The Doctor's Wife always, always moves me because of the kind of honor and awe that dawns on 11's face at his tardis using the exact words he uses to describe how he stole her. It's such beautiful, tender reciprocity between two beings that couldn't communicate their feelings in this way until right then 💜

yeah, couldn’t have worded it better myself if i tried.

i think i’ve said before that eleven is my least favorite doctor, but i need to make it clear that that doesn’t even come close to me disliking him, or even feeling neutral about him. he’s still incredible, like if we put these guys on a line from bad to amazing, all of them are so close to the amazing side that you’d have to zoom in to see the order. he’s just got the unfortunate fate of being in the weakest seasons of the show that i’ve seen so far, but if i was judging this solely off of the performance of the doctor himself? he’d be tied right there with david tennant, if not above him.

no matter the quality of the writing, matt smith is bringing his A game to the table. tennant’s performance before him has moments where his doctor is serious and cold, but he’s so generally affable that those moments sort of slide off to the sides. not that you forget about it, but that it feels like a lesser part of him. and matt smith’s performance follows that with a doctor who is silly and energetic and sweet, but I think he pulls off keeping the harder parts of the doctor to swallow in mind, the scary sides of his grief and anger. some of my favorite scenes for eleven are when he’s given the space to show the full range of the doctor. the two that really come to mind are obviously that moment in the doctor’s wife, and my other stand-out favorite, his scenes with river in angels in manhattan, where we watch him lash out at her when he’s scared and angry at the fact that it was her name on the book that’s fated his friends to be pulled from him, and then a scene later, he heals her wrist by sacrificing what little regeneration energy he has left, because he does love her, he does know he was wrong to let her be hurt, but he also doesn’t ask if he can do this to fix things beforehand and upsets her again.

it’s just such a delicate balance to pull off there to make that scene work, and he does it perfectly, brings across both how much potential he has as the doctor to hurt and to heal the people he loves. i think, in the hands of any other actor, i would find eleven really hard to watch, really unlikeable. but just like he manages to never let you forget those unbearably painful parts of the doctor’s personality, you also never doubt that, even when he lashes out at the people around him, he loves them so much. he’s just. you know. Going Through It.

(also, personal touch, i so love how physically affectionate he portrays the doctor to be. it’s a small touch that means the world to me. really pulls the whole thing together when you know this man is just jumping for an opportunity to hug and hold onto and kiss the people around him. rory getting a forehead kiss when the doctor sees him for the first time in months, my beloved, rotating that moment in my head forever.)

there’s just so much going on with him. he was a fantastic doctor. (hell, all the people that have gotten to play the doctor so far have been, in my eyes, which is astounding to me. just straight bangers the whole way through, i’m incredibly impressed by how much love and work you can see go into these performances.) i think if i rewatch his seasons again, knowing exactly what to expect this time around, i’ll enjoy them much more than i did the first time.

sorry for rambling on so long, but i just need it known how much i really do love eleven. i needed a bit to warm up to smith, i’ll admit, but he earned every last bit of praise i can give him.

WIP Wednesday

I'm supposed to be in bed already but I thought I'd share a little bit of my current WIP anyway, because why not get people excited?

Thank you for multiple tags on multiple days, @inexplicablymine @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onthewaytosomewhere @xthelastknownsurvivorx @littlemisskittentoes

Paying it forward with tags for... whatever you want to share, on whatever day @cricketnationrise @gayrootvegetable @cha-melodius and ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD LIKE TO SHARE because it's almost 11pm and I spent 3 hours making a photo collage and my brain doesn't want to work anymore.

Adventure Saturday, coming to an Ao3 near you... eventually. At some point in time.

This is going to be a long one, 13 chapters.

Teaser:

Alex gently sets the mug of steaming Earl Grey on Henry’s nightstand, then crawls back into bed from the other side, still wearing Henry’s hoodie. He starts pressing kisses to Henry’s cheek and his neck, any skin he can reach that’s visible. “Sweetheart,” he whispers with a kiss to Henry’s jaw. “Hey, baby, wake up,” he says, pushing his nose into the crook of Henry’s neck under his ear.  “Mmmh,” Henry says, eyes still closed but one hand groping for Alex. Alex takes his hand, lacing Henry’s fingers with his own. He glances back at the sound of paws on the floor, seeing David lose interest in them and abandon the room. “Alex,” Henry finally manages after more kisses, his voice still hoarse.  “Were you expecting your other boyfriend?” Alex teases, taking a moment to marvel at Henry’s bedhead, which is exceptionally mussed today.  Henry flips over and pulls Alex close to him with one arm. “Cretin,” he mutters. “Love you.” And if that doesn’t sum up their relationship, Alex doesn’t know what does. “There’s tea next to you. Drink it while it’s hot.” “You’re hot,” Henry mumbles back. “Did I say that out loud?” he realizes. “You did,” Alex confirms, holding back a laugh, “but I already knew that, and knew that you think that. I’ll still be hot after you drink your tea, baby.” Henry reluctantly pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches for the mug at his bedside table, a small smile forming on his face as Alex follows suit and tucks himself into Henry’s side. “Thank you, love.” “Do you know what today is?” Alex asks, dropping a kiss on Henry’s shoulder before reaching over to his own nightstand to grab his glasses. Henry squints at the ceiling, cupping the mug in two hands. “Um. Saturday?” he tries. “Adventure Saturday,” Alex adds. “Our plans aren’t until tonight but I thought we would head in early and get a nice dinner.” “Sure,” Henry agrees easily. “Wait, head in where? What’s our adventure?” Alex laughs. “You’re not getting it out of me that easily, but I will say that it is in midtown Manhattan. And dress nicely, but you don’t need a suit or tux or anything. Then again,” he adds, “you pretty much always dress nicely.” “So do you,” Henry says, sipping his tea. “You live in chinos.” “Not anymore,” Alex shrugs. “Not as much since I don’t do as many official appearances and stuff for the presidency. Much happier in jeans. You too; you wear jeans a lot more than you used to. You’re not in suits every day anymore.” “The shelter is hardly the place to wear a suit,” Henry remarks. “They’d laugh me out of the place.” “I’d like to see you in ripped jeans sometime,” Alex says, picturing it. “It’d be hot. And not carefully pressed, like you normally wear.”

I saw you in a movie I heard it in a song

Rating: T

Relationship: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly

Major Tags: Racetrack Higgins, Les Jacobs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, all the ways they could've met and the way they eventually did, Aged-Up Character(s), they're in their twenties, Artist Jack Kelly (Newsies), Jewish David Jacobs, Minor Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Minor Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Friends to Lovers

Length: 20.5k | Complete

Summary:

Davey takes his nephew on an outing one summer day in Manhattan, turns his back for one minute, and a stranger is pulling the kid out of the river. But it’s okay, right? His nephew is fine, and what Sarah doesn’t know won’t hurt her. After all, what are the odds that he’ll ever meet the stranger again? It’s New York City. Anything could happen. And anything does. Maybe there are red strings of fate threading through the universe. Maybe some things are always meant to happen, it’s only a matter of time.

Read on AO3!

I'm so excited to share this one for the @newsiesminibang24!! Huge huge thank yous to our wonderful moderator for all their behind-the-scenes work, and also to my artist @snowynsunny for their hype and cheer and the fantastic artwork they created that you can see here! 💗

Hi there darling . I have some questions about loustat moment in Memnoch & TVA .

Is there any quotes in these two books where Louis went to see Lestat or visit him ? Or for example do we know why Louis and Lestat's relationship disappeared in the most half of the Memnoch ? Why they weren't together anymore ? Or what happened in Rio between David & Lestat & Louie ? Why don't we have Louis visit Lestat after his short waking up in TVA ? why don't we have Louis in TVA with Lestat ? Or vise versa? 😢

Hey dear!

You mean what happened in the jungles? That made them part? And then made Lestat wander?

In short: no.

But I disagree their relationship disappeared, or that they weren't together anymore, as you put it.

Let me expand on that :) In Memnoch there is this very short sentence that tells us that it was Lestat who left:

"Perhaps I hadn't experienced it since I had left him, with Louis. We had been in some nameless jungle place, the three of us, when we agreed to part, and that had been a year ago."

Supposedly he went back to Rio to hunt, and there had his first run in with the "stranger", Memnoch.

Later Lestat remarks that

"Louis took to wandering more and more often, and he had been seen once by David in the company of Armand in Paris."

But he also remarks that Louis had been there, at Rue Royale:

"His rooms were in order; new books had been added. There was a vivid and arresting new painting by Matisse."

And, Louis is there when Lestat is "back" - he tries to make Lestat come home, to their flat:

"Come home with me," he said. Such a human voice. So kind. "There's time to come here and reflect. Wouldn't you rather be home, in the Quarter, amongst our things?" If anything in the world could have truly comforted me, he would have been the thing—with just the beguiling tilt of his narrow head or the way that he kept looking at me, protecting me obviously with a confidential calm from what he must have feared for me, and for him, and perhaps for all of us.

And... it is not correct that Louis isn't with Lestat during his coma. In TVA David tells us of Louis,

"wandering from dusty corner to dusty corner, and then back to his flat in the Rue Royale when he's convinced himself once more and for the thousandth time that no one can harm Lestat."

And Armand later remarks that Louis

"had neglected his own hunger to be here on guard."

So Louis is there during Memnoch, he regularly comes by "their home", and calls it that, too. And he is with Lestat during his coma, as told of in TVA and Merrick.

I don't think they were not "together" anymore tbh... I think that is too simple for their relationship.

But it makes the recent Loustat scene from Anne's diary all the sharper in meaning, don't you think?

“I can’t live without you! “ he said. “I swear, you wander off on me again, I…”

Lestat... wanders off. As mentioned in TtotBT, Memnoch, PL. It happens when he feels too deeply, hates himself too much, tries to protect Louis, or cannot stand "cleaning up" anymore he wanders off, or lets himself be driven away. There is this little comment in PL, that that is what happened before Louis went to Trinity Gate to Armand:

So I let them drive me away out of the cities, and even from New Orleans, I let them drive me away. My beloved Louis de Pointe du Lac left soon after, and from that time on lived in New York with Armand. Armand keeps the island of Manhattan safe for them—Louis, Armand, and two young blood drinkers, Benjamin and Sybelle, and whoever else joins them in their palatial digs on the Upper East Side.

It is quite meaningful imho that Lestat puts these things together, especially since we know Armand manages to rouse him from his coma to "clean up" NOLA, and how he speaks of it later, how he hates executing others in his function as prince.

He needs Louis to be safe... but at that point he cannot stand to be the cause of death for others of their kind, qualms which Armand does not share.

So... there are a lot of hints.

There are a lot of hints as to why Lestat might have taken to wander away from Louis, too - he is well aware that his

"blood will make a monster of what's there.

And he cannot stand it, and Louis (kind of) resents him for that, too. They both have to come to terms with it.

It's difficult.

Theirs is a very difficult journey, but it is also a very rewarding one. And... as Jacob said so pointedly, it's a love story. :) Their love story.

Behind the Scenes of Voyage of the Damned (Part 18) Excerpt from Total TV Guide's 2007 Christmas issue:

"Everyone got very twittery when it was revealed that Kylie was coming," says David Tennant, who plays the Doctor. "Of course, she arrives and she's incredibly normal - none of those things a pop diva would be. I think she enjoyed being one of the team - it must get quite exhausting being your own brand." The special picks up where the last series left off, when the Titanic crashed through the walls of the Tardis. In this episode the liner comes under attack from an evil alien force, but David is sworn to secrecy about how the plot unfolds. And when he talks about the details of this homage to James Cameron's 1997 blockbuster Titanic, it's hard to know what to believe. "About half way through, we break into Celine Dion. Kylie turns to camera and goes, '"'And now, Mr. David Tennant and I perform My Heart Will Go On.' It's a bit like those Two Ronnies Christmas specials, where they'd do a sketch and then say, 'And now Manhattan Transfer!'" he says. But David becomes more serious when talking about the look of the show, saying that visually it's one of the best - a sort of 'Doctor Who does disaster movie'.

Link to [ part one ]  of the Voyage of the Damned behind-the-scenes posts, or click the #whoBtsVotd tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

HEY EEL (i got the ask so im here ...) kinda silly but like.. personal hesdcanon for david is that he loves trains. yeah kinda autistic stereotype but idc!!! his favorite is the 999 (ny central and hudson river railroad no. 999) i think!! and he definitely fantasizes about riding the transsib... OKAY BUT i digress. the art request. david jacobs and trains combined. in whatever way you want. conductor david or david at a train station or . literally anything:3

ok so thank thank thank for the request

but i swear when i read the sentence 'david jacobs and trains combined' this image came to me so freakin clearly that i just

when i tell you i was crying while photoshopping this💀

ok but for the actual request :)

ok so after he ages out of being a newsie, in a perfect world he would marry jack and they'd stay in new york and adopt like three children and live three apartments down from race and spot

but in this world :)

jack actually leaves for santa fe, and boots becomes leader of the lower manhattan newsies (fight me they shouldve put boots in livesies i love him so much) and davey gets a degree in engineering somehow and becomes a train conductor.

four years later, jack realises that the thing he thought was santa fe that he was longing for was a fantasy, and decides to go back to new york.

that morning, davey looks at his work schedule and feels his throat close up as he sees "NYC -> SF: ROUND TRIP" on the board. he had been wishing for four straight (haha straight def not lmao) years that he would meet jack on that train back home, and for four straight years he was dissapointed every single time. maybe this time, he thinks, putting no real hope in it.

the trip there is uneventful, some toddler spills water but that's to be expected, he's still a kid. david remembers when les was still that age. giggling at anything his siblings did, clinging like a lamprey to his mothers skirts.

as they pull into the station in sunny santa fe, davey breathes in the clean light air, a harsh contrast from the pollution of new york. the sun glares into his eyes as he gazes out over the russet hills and golden grasses swaying in the breeze, and sometimes he thinks he gets why jack wanted to come here so bad.

out there, there's no one to tell him what to do. out there, the sky seems to swallow him up and make him feel like his mistakes aren't so devastating.

out there, he's free.

he pays no attention to the passengers boarding; he never does. they're just trying to get through their day, just like him. as the engines hiss underneath him and the wheels start to turn with a jolt, he starts down the aisles and asks for tickets, stamping each one and handing it back to the passenger, making eye contact with no one.

in the last car, the window car, he makes it to the last row. "ticket please, s-" he looks up to make eye contact for the first time at the sight of a familiar satchel, considerably more weatherbeaten than when he saw it last, but the same nevertheless.

"jackie?" his voice catches as he meets those cow-like brown eyes, more smile lines and a scruff on his chin, but the same man he had fallen in love with. jack smiles, eyes shining.

"heya, dave." he whispers.

Whistle Down the Wind, Chapter One

Word Count:  1372

TW:  Pining, unrequited love.

AN:  Part of a series.  The series masterlist here.

You were late.  Again.

Practice had run over (again), and so you found yourself sprinting down the street (again), your violin case banging against the side of your leg as you dodged around pedestrians, hollering apologies over your shoulder when you ran into anyone.

Luckily, it was only Sunday at lunchtime, so you probably would still get a table even if you were late.  Unluckily, if you were late again, Sonny would never let you hear the end of it.  Luckily, you were just sprinting with your violin and not, say, your cello or your keyboard.  

Unluckily, you hadn’t seen much of Sonny since he got himself a girlfriend.  So you tried to maximize your time with him when you could get it.

You had been friends with Dominick “Call me Sonny, everybody does” Carisi Junior since college.  You had gone to school with his younger sister Bella, and she had quickly adopted you and made you a member of her family.  How many holiday breaks, how many weeks each summer had you spent in the Carisi household on Staten Island?  Too many to count.  And while you loved Bella like a sister, it had taken even less time to fall in love with Sonny.

Who, sadly, did not seem to return the sentiment. 

You pushed the thought out of your head as you jay-walked and then entered the restaurant.  Sonny was already there, and when he saw you walk in, he tapped his watch in an exaggerated manner before standing up to wrap you in one of his patented hugs.

You allowed yourself to melt against him for a briefest nanosecond, breathing in the scent of his cologne and soap, before you pushed yourself away, stashed your violin, and shed your coat.  Sonny pulled your chair out for you, and your flashed him your winningest grin as you sat down across from him.

He looked good.  He had finally shed that ridiculous mustache that made him look like an extra in a 1970’s porno, and his hair was swept up and gelled to perfection.  He was wearing his grey Henley and the jeans that looked perfect on him.  He crinkled his eyes at you and grinned back.

“I know I didn’t just see you jay-walking,” he said by way of greeting.  

You rolled your eyes at him and scanned the menu.  “Don’t be such a cop.”  

He picked up his own menu.  “Over 6,000 people died in pedestrian related accidents last year,” he said, his voice stern.  “I’d hate to see you go out that way.”

“I plan on dying tragically while rescuing my family from the wreckage of a destroyed sinking battleship,” you replied, dead-pan.

Sonny snorted by didn’t reply.  That’s what the two of you had originally bonded over: movies.  Bella didn’t have the attention span for movies – especially indie ones – so there were many summer nights in college that you found yourself on the Carisi rec room couch, curled under Nonna Carisi’s crocheted blanket in the frigid AC, watching some Wes Anderson or David Lynch (or once, very uncomfortably, a Harmony Korine film) with Sonny.  The first movie you had watched together had been “the Royal Tenenbaums.”

The two of you ordered lunch and then caught up.  He told you about his new stint at Manhattan’s SVU and his classes at Fordham Law.  You told him about the multiple gigs you had with your music – your cover band, your work at weddings, your growing portfolio of producing work.  He told you about his parents (bored empty nesters), you updated him about yours (bitter divorcees who lived halfway across the country).  Then you came to the topic that made your stomach turn with jealousy.  Significant others.

“How’s Nicole?” you asked, keeping your voice level and nonchalant.  

Sonny swallowed his bite of food.  “She’s good,” he replied.  He wiped at his mouth.  “We’re good.”

You nodded.  “That’s good.”  You focused on your plate, pushing the remains of your chicken piccata around. You could feel Sonny watching you, but you didn’t want to look up at him.  You had met his girlfriend exactly one time, at a Carisi family dinner. Nicole was the opposite of you: polished in perfect makeup and perfect clothing that fit perfectly.  She obviously went to the salon regularly – she didn’t have visible roots (despite Bella snarking to you once that Nicole wasn’t a natural blonde), and her nails were polished to a high shine.

In your meaner moments, you would reflect that she wasn’t very nice – she spent that dinner stealing glances at her phone, and she didn’t talk about anyone but herself.  But you tried to be happy for Sonny.  If he was happy, you were happy.  You could deal with the bittersweet feeling of being invisible.

“So everything’s good then,” Sonny teased, and you looked up to see his bright blue eyes twinkling at you.  “What about you?  Seeing anyone?”

You gave half of a shrug.  “Nah.”  You pushed your plate aside and flagged down the waitress for the bill, which Sonny snagged from you before you could get it.  He put down some cash and replied.

“You shouldn’t be so picky,” he said.  “I’m sure you could find someone if you didn’t have such high standards.”  You winced at this unintentional barb but tried to cover it up with a smile.  Of course you were picky – of all the people in New York City, there was only one Sonny Carisi.  And he was unavailable.

“You’re right.”  You stood up, put your coat on, grabbed your violin, and waited for him to follow. “The next time a guy with a rapey vibe hits on me after one of my gigs, I’ll just be less picky.  Thanks for the official advice from Sex Crimes.”

Sonny snorted as the two of you walked out of the restaurant, but he looked serious as he turned to hug you goodbye.  “Be careful out there.”

You hugged him back awkwardly, shielding part of your body with your violin.  Between both of your busy lives, you never got to see your friend anymore.  Lately, you only had time for these quick lunches before each of you went back to your separate lives.  

When you had graduated from college, you had moved to Manhattan to start your musical career, and Bella had stayed behind in your college town to wait for her boyfriend Tommy to finish his stint in prison. Sonny was a new detective, and the two of you spent a lot of time together, watching movies and cooking for each other when the other was busy.  

But as many times as you fell asleep on his couch, it never progressed beyond friendship, and your time together waxed and waned depending on if Sonny was seeing anyone.  And lately, any free time that Sonny had was spent with Nicole.  He had cancelled and rescheduled this lunch three times before it actually happened.

So you only hugged him back halfheartedly. Because you could feel him pulling away from your life more and more, and when you were nestled in his arms, even in a friendly hug, it reminded you of what you didn’t have.  Of what you’d never have.  

You pulled away after a moment, then smiled up at him. It made your heart ache to feel that you were losing him, but you could always channel that pain into your music. Maybe sell it as scoring to some sad romance movie where the woman dies at the end and the man walks away into the rain when the end credits start.

“See you around soon, stretch,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.  “And thanks for lunch.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he replied.  He chucked you on your shoulder, then turned and walked away.  You watched him for a moment, enjoying the sight of those jeans that really did fit him perfectly.  Once he rounded the corner and was out of sight, you checked the street both ways and jay-walked towards your own apartment.  

Because you weren’t joking about using your heartache for your music.  The sharp sting of your unreciprocated infatuation would make for a great string piece, and you already were composing the main theme in your head.

I saw you in a movie I heard it in a song

by, Somanywords by Somanywords Davey takes his nephew on an outing one summer day in Manhattan, turns his back for one minute, and a stranger is pulling the kid out of the river. But it’s okay, right? His nephew is fine, and what Sarah doesn’t know won’t hurt her. After all, what are the odds that he’ll ever meet the stranger again? It’s New York City. Anything could happen. And anything does. Maybe there are red strings of fate threading through the universe. Maybe some things are always meant to happen, it’s only a matter of time. Words: 20505, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Les Jacobs, Jacobs Family (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, all the ways they could've met and the way they eventually did, Aged-Up Character(s), they're in their twenties, Artist Jack Kelly (Newsies), Jewish David Jacobs, Minor Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Minor Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Friends to Lovers read : https://ift.tt/1G5I6Ds - April 21, 2024 at 10:32PM

Give me something from the restaurant au, any scene you really want to write <33

this is a little cheating because i’ve had this written for a while, but: here’s a little snip!

———

“Alright, great! So, that’s a number four, medium well, no mayo. For your side, do you want fries or a side salad, Sir?”

“What kind of fuckin’ question is that? It’s a burger. What kind of hippy-ass place serves a side salad with a burger?”

David Jacobs loves his job.

He does. This job, waiting tables at an expensive burger joint in the heart of Manhattan, is admittedly one of the better ones he’s had. Sure, he gets his fair share of shitty customers- like this rough and tumble wannabe cowboy, who no doubt got roped into his wife’s vacation to the Big Apple- but you get shitty customers everywhere. At every single restaurant he’s worked at, of which there are many, he’s had bad tables. Eight tops that only give him a meesely five dollars for a tip, macho guys who like pointing out that David’s ears are pierced and therefore he must be one of those queers, moms that bitch about how long food takes to get to the table even though he’s just sent the order in five minutes ago… Shitty customers are everywhere.

And David loves his job.

So, he nods, and smiles, and lets out his practiced-to-perfection laugh. “I know, right?” He says, looking the man in the eye. “Side salads at a burger restaurant? It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s policy to ask anyway. I’ll get that order in for you guys here in just a second, and it’ll be out shortly.”

The man with the bushy mustache and beer gut seems satisfied now that David has proven he’s not a hippy-ass who likes side salads, and he gives him a grunt of acknowledgement. David takes the menus, smiles at the table, and walks straight to the iPad in the corner next to the bar to send the order to the kitchen.

He’s just about to press the send button when he hears a voice to his side, high pitched and squeaky, say, “What kind of hippy-ass, liberal-ass, blue state, gay-ass restaurant serves a side salad with a burger? Do I look like one of them queers? Yeehaw, America, I wanna fuck my gun.”

David rolls his eyes as a laugh rips from his chest. He glances to the side and sees Albert there behind the bar, slinging a towel over his shoulder; Al has this cocky little smirk on his face, matching the awful southern accent he had just tried to do. So far, Albert is the first friend David has made here— he just started at this restaurant about two weeks ago, and Al latched onto him by his second day— and David is always thankful that the hostesses put him in the section closest to the bar. Albert makes the lunch rush bearable.

It takes David a second to stop giggling, but as his laughter dies down, he reaches over the bar and slaps Albert’s shoulder. “Fucking hell, I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who had to hear that. If I survive this table without shooting myself, you owe me a beer.”

“What’s his problem, anyway?” Albert asks, leaning with his palms against the cool mahogany of the bar. “Stick up his ass?”

“Wife dragged him to New York,” David responds, placing the menus from the table underneath the iPad stand, and he makes a note to let Smalls and Spot know that the menus in the back are ready to be brought up to the hostess stand. “The entire time I’m trying to take his fucking order, he’s all like, ugh, I hate this, these burgers better not be for pansies, this better be good like Texas burgers, and I’m just waiting there, like, okay, just give me your goddamn order already. I wanted to die, Albert.”

Albert snickers, then glances to the side and straightens up. “Well, don’t go dyin’ yet, Jacobs. You just got here, and I like you, so if you leave, I’ll have to kill you.” He grins again, then nods his head to the left. “Your four top on twelve looks like they’re ready for the check.”

David nods and taps the bar twice. “Thank fuck,” He says under his breath, and shoots Albert a tight, closed mouth grin. “I’ll be back to ruin your shift later.”

“Can’t wait.”

From then on, the rush takes over. Closing checks, pre-bussing tables, running food— it’s a madhouse in the restaurant for about two hours. David knew it would be. Pulitzer’s is conveniently located just a few blocks from Times Square, so the weekend rush is always awfully full of tourists, and it may suck in the moment, but David really likes it. It’s kind of fun, actually; in the few minutes of downtime he has on this job, he makes conversations with his tables, hears their stories. He gets to know them, even if he’s just a fleeting little nobody in the grand scheme of their trips.

At the steakhouse he used to serve in, he got to be part of a few proposals, which were always stressful but incredibly rewarding at the same time. Unlike a lot of his coworkers, he actually loves having little kids sat in his section, and as a professional big brother he enjoys joking around and listening to them babble on about whatever their mind deems important at that age. He talks to tourists about their travels, gives recommendations for hidden gems around the city, and makes them feel at home for the thirty to forty-five minutes he’s taking care of them for. It’s the least he can do, honestly.

And, well. The tips are always better when you add a personal touch.

That’s what this is about, right? The tips. The money. Working for pennies is bad enough, but working for tips is a game. You have to choose the right action, say the right words. Morph yourself into someone you’re not. Pretend you don’t like side salads and form an alliance with the mustachioed cowboy from Texas. Play up how many times you go to synagogue to please the Jewish grandma who comes in with the grandkids. Talk politics with republicans and hide the rainbow pin on your shirt collar.

David has experience at this. It doesn’t make him any less bitter.

‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 Behind the Scenes: How Fashion Defines Each Character (PHOTOS)

by Kelli Boyle

Julian Fellowes, the creator of Downton Abbey (2011-2016) [mod note: on PBS in the US], set that upstairs-downstairs series at a palatial British estate on the eve of World War I. He moved his newest costume drama Stateside to the streets of New York City. Set in the late 1800s, The Gilded Age, which has its second-season premiere on Sunday, October 29 on HBO (streaming on Max), pits the new money of railroad barons against the old money of New York society. The powerful fight for control of the city and use their wealth to measure social success. And dressing for success was its own full-time occupation.

When researching women’s fashion in 1800s New York, the show’s costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone saw one thing clearly: “Their life was a catwalk. There was this enormous excitement” when the ladies trekked the bustling, dusty streets of Manhattan. Her job was to recreate that excitement for contemporary viewers of The Gilded Age.

Fashion as a Sign of Status

Who’s doing all this promenading? Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson) arrived in NYC with no money and was taken in by her aunts Ada (Cynthia Nixon) and Agnes (Christine Baranski), both living off an inheritance. Then the newly affluent Russells—headed by railroad baron George (Morgan Spector) and wife Bertha (Carrie Coon), who is determined to break into polite society—moved in across the street.

Ada Brook (Cynthia Nixon) and Agnes van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) head to church on Easter morning in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 premiere. Niece Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson) follows close behind (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

The frill thrills continue in Season 2, especially in a pivotal garden party scene (pictured below) that TV Insider observed being filmed in September 2022 at New York’s lavish Old Westbury Gardens estate. (Westbury House was previously home to an heir of the Phipps family, real-life Gilded Age figures whose patriarch made his fortune alongside Andrew Carnegie at his steel company.) On set was Fellowes, whose smart black suit and tie were the only dark hues around.

Gladys Russell (Taissa Farmiga), George Russell (Morgan Spector), and Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon) step out for Easter mass in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 premiere (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

Historically Accurate Costumes

It’s a testament to the wardrobe department that the stunning colors of the sprawling grounds nearly pale in comparison to the vibrancy of the women’s period garb. Despite the sepia-toned images in history books, Walicka-Maimone says, those bright tints are decidedly historically accurate. She has a library of more than 35,000 reference images to prove it.

“It’s shocking to our modern eye to see the explosion of color from that period,” she said. Production designer Bob Shaw (who won an Emmy for his work on Gilded Age) was present to share his creative process, which, just as Walicka-Maimone described of her own work, is “deeply steeped in history.”

Nicole Brydon Bloom joins the cast for Season 2, pictured here at the garden party with Blake Ritson’s Oscar van Rhijn (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

He does note that, when deciding between “what is correct and what feels correct,” the latter always wins. Creative liberties are taken to “build [character] histories into the costumes,” Walicka-Maimone added.

A Garden Party to Remember

Take Brit newcomers Dashiell Montgomery (David Furr) and his daughter, Frances (Matilda Lawler), for example. Nephew by marriage to Baranski’s Agnes, Dashiell requires more “toned-down” attire suitable for social outings, which contrasts with Season 1’s primarily business and formal menswear.

Aurora Fane (Kelli O’Hara) and husband Charles Fane (Ward Horton) attend the garden party in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

Dashiell must escort Frances through society in his late wife’s absence. One consideration for Walicka-Maimone: “This is a girl who doesn’t have a mother, so there’s probably extra care from all the other family members in [dressing her],” she said.

Meanwhile, Marian, who Jacobson said is “shining this season and sees herself in [younger] Frances,” will be more open to a strategic marriage. Marian’s “not necessarily cynical” after being jilted by Tom Raikes (Thomas Cocquerel) in last season’s finale, the actress continued, but the heartbreak gives her a “spice and edge.”

Don’t count out the possibility of a romance with Larry Russell (Harry Richardson), son of the railroad titan, which was teased last year. Jacobson shared: “They will definitely continue to deepen their friendship.” Old money and new money unite!

hi pidge!! 14, 21 and 29 for the ask thingy pls :)

hi kat!!

14. if you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

manhattan wv was always intended to be a graphic novel even before i applied it to newsies, the only reason it's not is because i can't draw and am too scared to ask an artist if they want to collaborate (and also because even if i was confident enough to ask someone, i just don't have the time for it rn). but i REALLY want to turn MWV from a fanfic into an original graphic novel at some point :)

21. have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? if so, why?

christ so many times. the 'why' is usually because it just didn't serve the story enough - tbf i am pretty loosy-goosey on stuff like that, since i do enjoy having 'useless' dialogue or thought processes that go nowhere as long as they provide enough insight into the characters and their dynamics (fanfiction's not always about being full blown novels man!! sometimes fanfic is about getting to know the characters and seeing where they take you!!) but sometimes i just run so far away w it that i have to say 'no hang on roll it back a little'

29. share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (if you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

so i was planning on making a newsies/billie the kid crossover fic in which davey and david are estranged cousins, but i kind of gave up on it for a few reasons - one being that i just don't see many people reading it, and while i do enjoy exploring character dynamics in fics and don't NEED an overarching plot in order to write something, i still couldn't see the fic really going anywhere. nonetheless i have always wanted to share this opening section:

It’s not that Davey and David are similar.

Well – they are, of course. The two are nearly identical, more twins than cousins. Jack can barely wrap his head around it; he’s known Davey since middle school, and he likes to believe he’s something of a Davey-genius at this point. Jack’s an observer, after all (he refuses to be called an artist – some doodles in a notebook does not equal art) and he’s spent most of his life watching from just beyond the border. Watching how people moved, how they talked, what words they liked, when to duck his head and look sheepish enough to steal a few scraps of their pity, when to squeeze his fists and snarl his lips just enough for them to run away with their tails between their legs. Studying how their faces change when they think no one’s looking. Hearing how they talk when they think no one’s listening.

So it doesn’t matter that David has Davey’s exact nose, sharp and arched into an elegant angle; it doesn’t matter that he has Davey’s hair, the same shade, the same curls, the same stubborn cowlicks that stick out at the back, and it doesn’t matter that he has the exact same smirk Davey gets when he’s been especially clever. Because Jack knows better. He knows Davey.

That’s not to say it didn’t catch him off-guard at first. When he'd yanked Davey’s bedroom window, all Jack had cared to say was ‘heya, Dave!’ as he always did and swing himself right into his room. The denim jacket was no surprise – it was new, but it wasn’t out of the question for Davey to wear one. The bright pink middle finger painted on the chest was a bit more provocative than Davey’d usually go, but not unreasonably so, nor were the pins and patches that riddled every inch. It made enough sense. The denim jeans were a question mark – Davey would sooner die than go double-denim, it’s one of his cardinal sins. But still, it wasn’t enough to knock Jack over; maybe he just didn’t have any other clean pants. Now that sounded like Davey.

The eyes, though. The eyes were what did it.

That’s not to say Davey wearing eyeliner would be bad – it’d be encouraged, actually, but Jack didn’t say that, not out loud. No, the eyeliner wasn’t the problem, nor the colour – the match of their irises was damn near perfect. It was the coldness. The flint-sharp edge. The fight reflex that’s built into the surface, the way a stray’s eyes look when it’s rearing up to bite. That was when Jack realized.

“O-kay,” the boy who was not Davey drawled, “I ain’t, like, opposed to havin’ a hot stranger in my bedroom, but…”

And, well. Jack certainly knew Davey well enough to know he wasn’t southern.

David isn’t – bad. Not really. He’s a bit of a shit and he likes to stir the pot, but he’s not bad. Just a soldier without his unit.

“They’re in California,” David had explained over some OJ and a very flustered apology from Davey. “Money’s tight, the truck’s small, and Mouse is only little. Them n’ Peaches, they need all the space they can get.”

“But once the apartment’s set up-”

“Then I’m outta your hair,” said David, cutting right across Davey with a stare that could rust metal. Davey’d only pursed his lips and stared into his juice like it held the secret to why life was such a shitstorm.

David’s not a bad guy. Jack recognizes that spark; it’s the last spark a fire musters before it gives out. He just needs to rekindle, that’s all. Revive himself. And that’s hard to do when you’re alone in the storm – Jack knows that better than anyone. Still, it’s hard for Jack not to pick sides – Davey is his favourite, after all.

“Gimme the signal,” he tells Davey one night when he’s sleeping over at Jack’s, the two of them huddled over Jack’s laptop as they watch Tombstone for the millionth time, “and I’ll tell him where he can stick it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Davey scolds, but Jack could tell he was smiling. “C’mon, Jack, you know what he’s going through – cut him some slack.”

Jack only grumbles and shovels more chips in his mouth, so he doesn’t have to answer. He does know, of course he knows, it’s why his chest got all warm and gooey when Davey asked to stay over so David could have their room to himself for a few nights – privacy’s a rare gift, especially in someone else’s home. But Davey’s his favourite, and that goes above every other rule Jack has.

“Just – give him time.” Davey says quietly. “He’s a nice guy under all the armour. He just doesn’t know how to take it off yet.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Have you talked to ‘im?”

Davey flushes beautifully, tucking his mouth against his closed fist.

“I, um…” He mumbles sheepishly. “I may have asked him how he got his eyeliner so nice…”

He’s expecting Jack to laugh. Jack can tell. It’s all in the shoulders – Davey winds himself up when he thinks people are going to laugh, turns himself into a tight clamshell no one can break into. They’ve been friends for years. Jack knows Davey’s gay. He’s seen Davey in skirts and lacey gloves that still won’t leave his mind. Davey’s seen Jack helping Medda apply stage make-up – he’s seen Jack wearing stage make-up.

Armour’s hard to get rid of, Jack supposes. After a while, it just… Fuses to the skin.

“Did he show you?” He asks. They’re missing the movie, but it’s worth it for the way Davey brightens up.

“He did my whole face…” He smiles, ducking his head. “I took pictures, if you wanna see…?”

Jack wants absolutely nothing more. He doesn’t even make a fuss when they talk all the way through the final duel between Doc and Ringo – the pictures of Davey’s long, elegantly lined wings are worth more than a million ‘I’m ya huckleberry’s.

(He still makes them rewind, though. It’s the principle of the thing.)

For the Platonic Yandere Gargoyles AU, if Reader is Elisa's ward from the first post I made, I wonder what would happen if Xanatos caught wind of it, and decided to get to know Reader... And after getting to know them, let's say he would potentially try to have a custody battle over them, and that would NOT be pretty.

Reader can choose who they want to be with, yes (I'm going with Reader is a teen, so they have to have a legal guardian). But Xanatos has money, connections, and can make the lives of everyone else hard or downright awful, if he wanted. Elisa can possibly catch him in another crime, but he wouldn't be held for long, and the cycle would start again. So, what does Reader suggest?

Split custody.

It isn't a perfect solution. But it leaves no room for argument. David and Elisa won't have to fight it out, and Reader doesn't have to feel pressured (or worry if they're about to earn the wrath of anyone). (Reader wouldn't, no, never, but they survived a horrible crime or witnessed one, so they're imagining everyone as a possible enemy, even if they like them).

Begrudingly, Elisa settles for it. It's the only solution that won't leave Reader without a guardian or take them away from her completely. Xanatos plays it off, but for all anyone knows, he planned for this scenario. And Reader is now dealing with two guardians who do not like each other, but only try to show their best side to Reader...

Elisa is pretty good as a guardian. Making sure Reader takes their online/homeschool classes (due to what happened to Reader, it was decided that kind of education might be best), letting Reader sometimes go with her to different parts of Manhattan, getting Reader and the gargoyles to be friends, even teaching Reader how to cook... Not to mention she encourages them to follow any hobbies they have, especially if those hobbies might relieve some of their trauma. She's kept a lot of things she does secret from them... Such as studying the crime that involved them, and her investigation of any clues or leads to the criminal/s who did it... Watching Reader every now and again when they sleep, because she worries about them, especially when they talk in their sleep, begging someone to not do something, to not hurt them... If she tells the gargoyles about it, it isn't hurting Reader, and the faster they catch who did this to them, the faster Reader won't have to live in constant fear. It doesn't escape her notice how they pull away from contact, the panic when they fear they've done something wrong, the wariness in their eyes and posture, like a wounded animal trying to appear brave... She likes them. They're a good kid in her eyes, who was dealt too heavy a hand. And when Reader finally trusts her enough to tell her their story, what really happened to them... she let's them squeeze her hand as tight as they need, and is pulling them into a hug once they're done. She's glad to have earned their trust, at least enough of it that they'd tell her this... And if she decides that Reader is safer being with some of the gargoyles while she's busy at night, then it's just being a good guardian, a good friend, a good parent...

Xanatos likely only wanted Reader at first because they were someone Elisa cared about. Then because he found out the gargoyles were becoming friends with them. Being Xanatos, he had many, many plans to get on their good side, to sway their favor, to win them over... And each one... fails. It's almost funny, how Reader seems to see through him, seems to know when he's trying to pull one of his tricks in front of them. And he likes that. That it isn't easy, to get them on his side. Xanatos likes a challenge, and if Reader is someone who doesn't fall for his plans... that makes them that much more worth it to him. Except... getting to know them, he grows slightly... attached. They're not easy to extract information from. What he can tell is they don't trust anyone, not completely. No one. Not even Elisa, or even the gargoyles. He's tried to twist that in his favor, and used it against them... But even they're aware of it, and to them, they're in the same boat as him: trying to get Reader to trust them, more than just the barest crumbs of it. Perhaps Reader is talented with something: painting, music, poetry, even being sly... That only adds to his interest, only makes him want them as a ward, perhaps an ally... Trying to pry them from Elisa, though, proves difficult. Not impossible, no. But he does want them to like him, and that won't happen if he rips them from the only guardian they have. But then they come to the conclusion he had already reached: Why not let BOTH of them be their guardians? It wouldn't hurt. And it gives him the time to prove himself a capable friend, if not a possible... parent...

This is not to mention Goliath, who also wants a chance at being Reader's guardian, and is trying to find a way to help them feel safer around him and his clan... And once he knows Xanatos wants them, is getting involved...

Thus begins a three-way battle for the custody of Reader, who is praying to the heavens and whoever/whatever is listening to calm down the... care? of these adults... At least they're all friendly so far...?

Part One: Reader and Elisa...

One of the funniest subplots in the Donald Trump Indictment Show—which centers on the hush money payment made to porn star Stormy Daniels in 2016—involves the multiple reports that, after predicting to his followers that he would be arrested on March 21, the ex-president and his allies came to believe he was in the clear.

Trump, The Washington Post reported late Thursday, “had grown cautiously optimistic” in recent days, after “advisers had counseled him that a possible indictment by a Manhattan grand jury…would not come for some time—if at all.” The former president, the outlet noted, was apparently so unconcerned about the prospect of being charged that he’d “even begun joking about ‘golden handcuffs,’” which is probably not something one does if one thinks there’s a legitimate possibility they might be indicted, convicted, and sentenced to time in prison. “It was a surprise to everybody,” David Urban, a longtime Trump adviser, told the Post, which noted that “some of his lawyers had been preparing to take a few days off.” Following the indictment, The New York Times similarly reported that “Trump and his aides were caught off guard by the timing, believing that any action by the grand jury was still weeks away and might not occur at all.” The paper of record noted that Trump had recently been “telling nearly anyone that he was in a good mood and that he believed the case against him by Alvin Bragg, the Manhattan district attorney, had fallen apart.”

Of course, the biggest indication that Trump indeed believed he’d outrun Bragg? His taking to Truth Social on Wednesday to write: “I HAVE GAINED SUCH RESPECT FOR THIS GRAND JURY, & PERHAPS EVEN THE GRAND JURY SYSTEM AS A WHOLE…. THE GRAND JURY IS SAYING, HOLD ON, WE ARE NOT A RUBBER STAMP, WHICH MOST GRAND JURIES ARE BRANDED AS BEING, WE ARE NOT GOING TO VOTE AGAINST A PREPONDERANCE OF EVIDENCE OR AGAINST LARGE NUMBERS OF LEGAL SCHOLARS ALL SAYING THERE IS NO CASE HERE.” Sure, that could have been an unabashed attempt to sway the jurors through flattery—but, in retrospect, those very much sound like the words of a man who was extremely confident he was not going to be indicted. “Such respect”! “The grand jury system as a whole”! “The grand jury is saying, hold on”! Do you think he still stands by these statements? If there were ever a time for the internet-ism “ROTFLMAO,” it would be now.

In related news, according to the Times, Trump was less focused on “the legal consequences” of the indictment Thursday than “the political implications.” Trump previously said he would not drop out of the 2024 presidential race if charged, boldly claiming that being indicted might actually help his chances of making it back to the White House. One adviser told the Post that the ex-president and current presidential candidate is planning to “milk [the indictment] for all it’s worth politically.” And while Trump has reportedly raised millions since he first claimed he’d be arrested earlier this month, it does not appear that people are reacting exactly as he had hoped.

Per the Post:

"The causeway that leads to Mar-a-Lago has long been a rally spot for Trump supporters, especially during his presidency, when they would regularly gather to cheer on his motorcade. But as the sun set along the causeway Thursday, more people were fishing for sand perch and croaker than had shown up to support the former president. Shortly before 8 p.m., only a half dozen Trump supporters had amassed in their usual spot."

Meanwhile, according to the Times, on Thursday, “a large group of former Trump Organization employees was quietly cheering the latest developments via text messages.”