Hey, it's self insert week and I'm a piece of garbage!

I took a break from drawing and decided to write something instead. This is directly inspired by the fact that I once openly admitted to wanting to get punched in the face at least once in my life.

The story features my own newsiesona, Pops (so-called due to the frequency with which I pop my fingers), my pal Max's sona, Ace (or The Ace of Cards), and mentions Sunshine and Bean, sonas of my friends Jessica and Joey, respectively.

If anyone is actually curious about these goofballs, there's a lot of doodles of them on my tumblr (pastelpeachpunk) under my art tag.

I stuck this under the Newsies 1992 tag, but it also features Romeo, a musical-exclusive character, so... there's that.

"We been playin' poker all week, we gotta play somethin' else."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, bridging the deck of cards in his hands. "You'se only complaining 'cuz you keep losin', Skitts."

Skittery scowled, opening his mouth to retort, but the words died somewhere between the good-natured roar of laughter and Kid Blink clapping him on the back. Instead, he rolled his eyes with unnecessary effort and ran his hand through his already-mussed hair. It was late, and a group of the newsies had gathered in the far corner of the lodging house's dorm to play cards. The circle of boys was comprised of Race, Skittery, Bumlets, Romeo, Kid Blink, and Mush.

"Alright, alright, pipe down," Racetrack spoke over the din. "We got a decision to make."

"Trade and barter," came the immediate suggestion from Romeo. A murmur of approval was evident among the boys, but too lackluster to spur Race to start dealing.

"I say we play cassino," Race said.

Skittery groaned. "You'se the only one who likes cassino!"

"Nah, Aces likes cassino, too," Mush interjected.

There was a pause.

"Speakin' of which," Racetrack began slowly, craning his neck to look past the group of boys and scan the dorm, "where is the ol' Ace of Cards, anyways? Pops ain't here, either."

It was true, they realized; the two most recent additions to Jack Kelly's inner circle were nowhere to be found.

"Maybe they'se stayin' with Sunshine? She an' Pops is real close," Romeo offered.

"Sunshine's got kid siblings, they ain't got room for overnight guests in that house. 'Sides, it's a school night," Kid Blink said, swatting at Romeo's head with his hat. Romeo rubbed his head, frowning.

"Should we go look for 'em?" Bumlets asked, glancing at the window. "It's past dark, could be trouble."

Racetrack was quiet for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, bridging the deck again. Then, "Somebody tell Jack where we're goin'."

There was a flurry of movement as the group scrambled to their feet, adjusting suspenders, pulling workboots back on.

"I'll check over by Tibby's-"

"Ace's sellin' spot ain't anywhere near there, dummy, look over by-"

"Pops said somethin' about maybe visitin' Queens sometime this week, do y'think-"

"Where's that new guy Bean live? Maybe they went to see-"

"-fell asleep on the trolley? By now they could be as far as-"

Somebody might have eventually told Jack, had the door not been thrown open with a bang right at that moment. Everything stopped.

Ace stood leaning against the doorway, knees bent awkwardly as they struggled to hold up Pops, whose arm was slung over their shoulder and whose head sagged down on their own chest. Ace's bangs were plastered to their forehead with sweat. Half-dried blood glistened on their lips and chin. There were red stains on the fronts of both their shirts, what seemed to be a direct result of Pops' face being pressed against the fabric. Ace scanned the room, taking in the frenzy frozen in time.

Seconds passed, which, in retrospect, seemed far too long.

"Jesus Christ," someone said, and then all Hell broke loose.

Bumlets reached the pair first, pulling Pops from Ace. He put his hand on Ace's shoulder and passed the shorter newsie on to Romeo, who looped their arm around his shoulders and managed to make it about three feet before Racetrack was supporting their other side. Together, they carried the unconscious teen to a bed.

Ace was not quite as lucky and was immediately surrounded by newsies shooting questions rapid-fire.

"What happened?"

"Was it the Delanceys?"

"You'se bleedin'-"

"They know they'se bleedin', nitwit!"

"Where were you?"

"Who do we need to soak?"

"Hey, hey!" Jack's voice rose above the rest. "What's going on?"

The talking stopped as Jack pulled himself the rest of the way through the window from the fire escape. Crutchie passed his crutch through the opening, hoisting himself into the room behind him.

"Jack- we thought you was up on the roof," Mush said.

"Yeah, we was, but we heard shoutin'. What's going on?" Jack repeated, taking in the boys' agitated expressions, unable to identify the cause.

The newsies cleared for Jack, leaving a two foot radius around Ace- all save for Bumlets, whose grip on Ace's shoulder only tightened, and Mush, who hung nervously beside Bumlets, exchanging worried glances with him.

The confusion slid off Jack's face like water and hardened into something between concern and anger. "Who did it?" he asked, taking it all in. There weren't any bruises on Ace's face, but the blood from their mouth was glaringly obvious. Subtler things, like the fact that Ace leaned heavily on the doorframe, most of their weight shifted off of one leg, and that one hand rested gingerly against their ribs, couldn't escape Jack's scrutinization.

Ace sighed, shaking their head. "Nobody."

The answer didn't sit well with the newsies, not that Ace had expected it to. Ace groaned, rolling their eyes as a chorus of We ain't buyin' that!s and C'mon, tell us who!s filled the air. "I'm tellin' ya, it wasn't nobody, if you let me explain-"

"Alright, so maybe you didn't get soaked by nobody, but Pops got punched. There's a bruise," Race called over the talking. "That weren't nobody."

Ace opened their mouth, paused, then squinted at Racetrack. "Are you accusin' me of somethin'?"

Racetrack sat back, raising an eyebrow. "I dunno, you got a guilty conscience?" he asked coolly.

The room erupted again. Mush shouted over the chatter. "Hey, let 'em talk!"

Jack spoke once the newsies had quieted. "Look, if you two got in a fight, you can go ahead and say your piece. Two sides to every story an' all that."

Ace sighed. "We didn't fight, I punched Pops and-"

"What'd Pops do?"

"Didn't fight, my foot-"

"You got a solid one in there!"

"I knew it, you-"

"I told 'em to do it!"

All eyes turned suddenly to Pops who had, at some point, come 'round. They sat up, wincing, wiped half-heartedly at the stream of blood blossoming from their nose, then stopped, pulling at their shirt to inspect the bloodstain. Pops made a face and a sound of disgust.

"Come again?"

Pops turned to Jack, rubbing at the blood on their face with a bit more vigor. "I was like, 'Hey, Ace, punch me in the face.' So they did."

"Did I break your nose?" Ace asked. Pops shook their head, grinning.

"Nah," Pops gently ran their fingers across a spot by their nose that they suspected would yellow into a bruise by the morning. "Gonna leave a mark, though." They dug around in their pocket for a moment, then removed their hat, fitting it back on their mop of curly hair.

Racetrack glanced between the two as if they had both grown second heads. "What? Why'd you ask 'em you punch you? And why'd you do it?"

"Well, we-" Ace began, but Pops cut them off.

"Can I tell it? Oh, gosh, lemme tell the story, I'm beggin' ya." Ace rolled their eyes, an act Pops interpreted as concession, and they continued. "Alright, so, Ace an' I went over to Sunshine's for dinner. 'Cuz, y'know, Sunshine's great, and her motha thinks I'm the bees knees, pretty much- God knows why-"

"If you'se gonna tell the story," Ace interjected, finally limping over to a bed of their own to sit down, "get on wit da damn story."

"Pipe down, I tells the story at exactly the speed I intend to," Pops mumbled, dabbing at their nose with the back of their hand. "So it's me an' the Ace of Cards, and we finish our meal, and we'se real grateful, we says our thank-yous and good-byes, and we goes out the door. Now, when we was eatin', we got on the subject of soakin'- which ain't exactly table talk, but that's b'side the point- and I got to thinkin' about all the beatings I've got over the years."

"So you thought, 'Let's add one more' and had Ace punch you? You'se an idiot," Kid Blink sighed, shaking his head.

"Hey, no interrupting. So's I think to myself, 'I'se gotten punched plenty of times, I gotten kicked plenty, too, but ain't nobody ever kicked me or punched me in the face.' And I think that's a shame, I oughta experience it, right? So I turn to Ace, and I said-"

"Be a pal, kick me in the face!" Romeo crooned in an imitation of Pops' voice.

Pops scowled. "If I could reach you without movin', I'd kick you in the face. 'Course I didn't ask 'em to kick me in the face, Ace's got strong legs. I said to punch me in the face. We'se already gone over that part."

"That don't hardly explain anythin'! What happened to the rest of you an' Ace, then, huh?" Skittery said, exasperation evident in both face and voice.

Ace and Pops exchanged a look. "Ah, well, see, that's the thing," Pops began slowly. "We was at the top of the staircase, right? So when Ace punched me, I kinda stumbled a bit, and when I stumbled, I started to fall backwards. In front of the stairs. So's I reach out for the nearest thing, and it's Ace, and Ace didn't know it was comin' or nothin', so I guess I just dragged the both of us right down the stairs."

"You guess?"

"Well, whaddaya expect, all I knows is I got that feelin' in your gut when you're fallin' and then my head an' half a dozen other spots on my body is killin' me!"

Bumlets, who had traveled with Ace from the door to the bed they now sat on, shook his head in disbelief. "But Ace, what happened to your mouth?"

Ace ducked their head. "Bit my lip real hard when I bashed my chin on a step," they said quickly, "it's no big deal."

"What about the rest of you, then? You was limpin' just a second ago," Romeo said, eyebrows raised.

"Ain't you ever fallen down the stairs before? I'm lucky my whole damn body ain't broke," Ace hissed, touching their hand gently to their side. "Plus I had to carry shortstack over there all the way back, and they'se small, but they ain't light."

"Rude," was the only half-hearted comment Pops made.

"Wait, wait, wait," Skittery said loudly. "You said you was just at Sunshine's for dinner. Why didn't you just go back up the stairs and ask Sunshine's family for help?"

Ace turned bright pink. "Well- see, I was just- Sunshine is Pops' good friend, and I was kinda just the guest-of-the-guest, and I... I thought it might look bad if I..." They trailed off, suddenly finding Pops' blood on their shirt far more interesting than it was twelve seconds ago.

"You were embarrassed to ask for help 'cuz you punched me in the face?" Ace couldn't see Pops' expression, but they could hear the amusement in Pops' voice. "Sunshine wouldn't'a been mad, she an' me go way back, she already knows the kind of nonsense I get myself into."

Ace rolled their eyes, exhaling sharply. "Anyways, I just thought that it was a bad idea, and I knew I could get us back, so's I did."

The newsies were either satisfied with the story or had lost interest enough to disperse.

Bumlets left Ace to get a towel they could clean themself up with, and Mush leaned against their bunk, watching as Ace somewhat proudly rolled up the leg of their pants to reveal a nasty bruise on their knee.

Pops sat back against the pillow on their bunk, closing their eyes as they carried out their namesake, methodically cracking every knuckle. Pops felt the mattress shift as someone sat down beside them, and opened an eye to see Racetrack holding a wet towel. He made as if to start dabbing at the blood on Pops' face, but they intercepted his hand halfway, nearly slapping the towel out of his grasp in their haste to take it.

"Sorry," Pops stammered, "it's fine, I got it." Race raised his eyebrows, an amused grin on his face. Pops focused their attention on cleaning the smeared blood off the backs of their hands, then their face.

"How you gonna know when your face is clean if you can't see it?" Race asked, holding out his hand.

Pops hesitated, then placed the towel back in his grasp, training their attention on the bunk above them. Race went to work.

"Remind me again why you wanted to get punched in the face?"

"It's an experience," Pops mumbled.

"Oh, yeah? Was it worth it?"

"It absolutely was," Pops said defensively. "Makes for a great story. Who else has ever gotten punched in the face and fallen down a flight of stairs in the same moment?"

"I'm sure Ace appreciates it." Race raised an eyebrow as Pops waved a hand dismissively. "You know, you oughta be more careful. This is the kinda thing that would only happen to you."

"You'se exactly right," Pops said, cracking a smile. "That's why I gotta keep it up."

Racetrack grinned in response. "You'se sayin' that now, but let's see how you'se feelin' tomorrow, when you're sore from bein' banged up and it's late in the day and you still got fifteen of the evening edition left to sell."

Pops pulled their hat off and tossed it at Race, laughing good-naturedly. "Fifteen, late in the day? I'm better than that, punk!"

The next day saw the newsies gathered at the distribution center, purchasing their regular stacks of papers. Romeo made a beeline for Pops after buying his, sitting down against the wall beside them to peruse the newspaper. "How's your eyes doin', after hittin' your head like that?" he asked after a moment.

Pops shrugged, setting down their paper. "Dunno. I fell asleep in my eyepatch, so I didn't notice anything this morning. Here." They slid their paper back into their bag, reaching up to undo the eyepatch. With both eyes open, they scanned the distribution center.

"Yep," they said finally. "Double vision's worse than usual, which stinks, but I'se had worse problems." They replaced the eyepatch.

"Is it doubly worse than usual?" Ace asked innocently, sitting down on the other side of Pops.

Pops flashed them a brief look, then got to their feet. "Extry, extry!" they called out, holding a paper high above their head. "Villainous newsie decks friend in the face, taunts them mercilessly with bad puns the very next day!"

Ace hopped up, brandishing their own paper in retaliation. "Extry, extry, hot story fresh off the pape! Curly-haired shortstack literally asks to get soaked, is offended when the request is acquiesced!"

Pops rolled their eyes. "Acquiesced? You been talkin' to Davey too much."

"You just plain been talkin' too much, friend."