ra ra Rasputine, Russia's greatest love machine. . . has nothing to do with this story. Newsies, Vampires, Modern day highschool. What more can a fan want?

Spot was no longer the overblown boy hero of a ragtag bunch of Brooklyn newsies. After the strike, offers had started to come in. Political groups wanted him, The Dead Rabbits, Tammany Hall, they all wanted him.

Awake in his bed, as the filtered moonlight carves shadows across his heaving chest, David Jacobs wipes his mind of grey tweed and starched linen. Slashy Javid overtones.

Something about the way the smoke spiraled into the air from the space between his lips made you want to breathe it in like pure oxygen, the adverse effects of secondhand smoke be damned. Angsty Skitterace. Rated for cursing. Race week fic.

As David watches Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage drive away with Jack in tow, he can’t help feeling a regretful despair over the fact that he never told Jack how he really felt. Slash, Javid. [Complete]

COMPLETE! Kloppman dies, and it's everyone for himself to see who gains control of the Lodging House. How much betrayal can these poor boys take?

COMPLETE. Racetrack doesn't interfere with the affairs of others. So why does he agree to take Dutchy to the Dark side of New York City on an impossible mission? Why does he care what happens to Specs? He's seen it before. He's seen it all.

COMPLETE. After all, Race was my best friend, and she… Race was my best friend.

[SLASH CONTENT] I came into it trying to help a friend. I never asked to get caught up in the middle of it all. But I am, and now I'm stuck. Such is the life of a turn-of-the-century fag hag.

*Chap 22* St. Vin's is a boarding school for out of control teenagers. Your parents give you three strikes and you're out, straight to St. Vin's. If the rumors are right, fear has been struck deep into your heart. If only they really knew about St. Vin's.

The cab driver turned his head quickly. “You have to say goodbye to a girl or something?” he asked, suddenly sympathetic. The passenger ducked his head. “Or something,” he agreed. (Slash)

Racetrack likes to roll his own cigarettes, and Jack likes to watch. [oneshot, slash]

[Finished!] Baseball, Kid said slowly, horrified against his will, is not homoerotic. [Contains slash, angst, and baseball. For Blink Week.]

Jack was Peter Pan, and I was his Wendy. The streets of New York were our Neverland. But I couldn't stay in Neverland forever. [Sarah's story, years poststrike.]

Once, Bumlets asked Dutchy why he only painted graffiti, not real art. Dutchy said because graffiti was real art, the art of the people. It was alive. [modern, violence, language, slash]

It seemed like the right thing to do, so I kissed my best friend. [Slash.]

Four slash stories, tied together by the common thread of Spot's birthday party and lots of alcohol. [rated for slash, swearing, nearnudity... FINISHED.]

COMPLETE "Is everybody ready?” "No. But we’re going anyway. What other choice do we have?" [slash, language]

The newsboys, with the help of a stolen vial, gain the ability to see the world as it truly is... pixies, vampires, and guardian angels included. [slash, violence]

[complete!] [slash, snittery and eventual blinktrack] Blink, Racetrack, Snitch, and Skittery head off to senior retreat and find God... among other things. Rating for language, slash, and gratuitous babble about porn.

Last August, New York City faced the biggest blackout in its history. But luckily, our boys can always find things to do in the dark... [FINISHED. Features BlinkMush, SpecsDutchy, JackDavid and SpotRace.]

Modern day newsies at summer camp. Will wacky hijinks ensue? Gee, ya think? COMPLETE.

Welcome to Park Row School in downtown Manhattan. We are extremely elite, only take the richest of the rich. Think you can handle it? (UPDATED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A YEAR)

**FINISHED** The Jump of Honor. A harmless initiation for all new newsies, until something goes terribly wrong... *R/R! Gift wrapped Newsies to my reviewers!*~

David Jacobs is all grown up. . . and he's taking on Manhattan himself.