redamancy (on hold)

Safety | Spot Conlon

Requested: No
Warnings: Mentions of blood, sadness, and possible cringiness
Enjoy!

Your POV:
I am Y/n Larkson. I am the daughter of the famous, Medda Larkson, my father having left her when I was born. I am close friends with most of the Manhattan newsies, although I'm not around them enough to have the thick New York accent that they have.

It was the night of the Newsies' Rally and I was looking through my dresses with my mother because she wanted me to look nice even though I wasn't performing or anything. She had me try on every dress I had until we found the perfect one.

Once I put what felt like the millionth dress on, I came out from behind the curtain and my mother was near tears.

"Oh look at you all grown up!" She said, tears threatening to fall.

"Ma, I'm only fifteen! You can't get rid of me that easily," I said laughing. She smiled and looked at the clock.

"Annette!" She called for her makeup artist and dear friend.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Could you please do Y/n's makeup while I get ready for the rally?"

"Of course," my mother glanced at me once more before heading to her dressing room, "Y/n, you look wonderful!"

"Thank you!" I said twirling around. I had on a pale blue skirt with a white blouse. There was a blue ribbon tied around my neck that matched the skirt.

She got right to work on makeup and was done within twenty minutes. My mother came in soon after and started to do my hair.

(A/n I don't have time to write a hairstyle everyone's hairtype, but really anything with a blue flower in it)

By this time, it was about 7:30, and the rally started at 8:15. Jack got there at about 7:45 and I helped him set up. Jack was like my brother. We grew up together and I knew all about the whole "Francis Sullivan" thing. Anyway, the rest of the Manhattan Newsies got there at 8:00, and most of them couldn't stop staring at me. Jack, being the overprotective-brother-figure that he is, made sure everyone was busy eithier filling glasses with Root-Beer, setting up tables, or helping Mr. Brian Denton set up his camera. I decided to wait near the door to welcome the other Burroughs.

At around 8:05, the Brooklyn Newsies and their leader, Spot Conlon, arrived. Spot Conlon was at the front of the group, and was the first to notice me. I, however was too busy talking to Jack about the whole strike to notice him until he and his newsies we're about two feet away.

I turned my head to see about fifty newsies. One in particular stood out to me. He had bright red suspenders, a pimp cane, a slingshot, dirty blonde hair, and peircing blue eyes. He walked up to me and stuck his hand out for me to shake. He didn't do the signature newsies' spit first, he just held his hand out to me.

"Spot, Spot Conlon."

"Y/n, Y/n Larkson." I replied, shaking his hand.

I heard Racetrack come ask Jack for something and heard Jack walk away.

"So your mudda is the famous Medda?"

"Yes."

Spot signaled to the rest of the Brooklyn Newsies to go either find seats or help out.

"So Miss Larkson, do youse sing or dance like your mudda?"

"No, Mr. Conlon, I do not. I prefer to be watching, rather than performing. I do, however, paint some of her backdrops and props."

"Is that so? And what do youse do in your free time odder dan art?"

"It depends on the day, sometimes I will hang out with the Manhattan Newsies, but usually my mother prefers me around girls, so I am forced to be around the bratty rich girls of my age, such as Mathilda Snyder and Hannah Pulitzer."