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Historical Fic. RP:
Historical Fic. RP:
WARNING: You don't have to know a lot about history to do this RP. I will be posting background historical information.
Hey guys! So, I started a story, based off of one of my favorite movies, NEWSIES, and I thought about how much fun a Newsies RP would be. The story takes place in 1899, in New York City, at the time of the 1899 Newsboys Strike. If you join, you can take one of these character jobs:
NEWSIE: ages-7 to 17 years old. Your job is to sell The New York World, a newspaper run by Joseph Pulitzer. Newsies were mainly boys, but I will accept one girl newsie. Post a nickname hat suits you, as well as your real name.
RICH KID: Age 11-17. Your family knows Mr. Pulitzer, and you can choose to be for or against the Newsies strike.
FACTORY WORKER: Age 9-21. Your life is extremely hard, as you are just a kid, and can't go to school, because you have to work all day. Can be girls or boys.
NEWSPAPER WORKER: Age 29-60. You work by distributing newspapers to the newsies, and to try to shut the strike down. You are against the strike.
NEWSPAPER REPORTER: Ages 21-60. You either work for The World, The Journal, The Times, or The Sun. If you work for The Sun, you can report on strike news.
NAME: Willow
NICKNAME(S): "Will" "Eagle"
JOB: Newsie
AGE:13
N OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN: Brooklyn, as she is one of Spot Conlon's newsies.
BACKGROUND: Her parents died when she was six, leaving her alone on the streets of Brooklyn. She was taken to The Refuge, a kids jail, at age eight, for stealing food. She escaped after inly a day, because she was so skinny, she sld through the bars on the windows, and climbed down to the streets. She ran away back to her old home by the docks. There, she was taken in by an old friend of the family's, Spot Conlon, who is only a year older then her. They both became newsies, and both her and Spot gained a reputation for being the best newsies in New York. Her dream, however, is not m qq. Mo hawk headlines, it's to write them. She is very smart and loves to learn and read and write, and a talent and a passion for it.
POSITION ON THE STRIKE: Will is all for the strike, and she was the one who convinced the Brooklyn newsies to help the Manhattan newsies with the strike, after spying on them to see if they had the guts to go through with the strike, and FIGHT!!
Please post if you want to join! We'll see how many people want to join before we start the RP.
submitted by Willow, age 13, New York, 1899
(May 4, 2016 - 9:57 am)
(May 4, 2016 - 9:57 am)
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
(May 13, 2016 - 8:45 am)
Yay! We're starting!
Also, I checked out the movie from the library, and it was AWESOME!
I am obsessed...
Samantha~"Mother, no! I can't! Not to him!"
"Mr. Nicolson is a fine young man. He will make a spectacular husband."
"I would rather die then marry him!"
"Darling, you don't mean..."
"Don't call me that!" I yell, then sprint up the marble stairs. I don't care if running "isn't ladylike." Sometimes you just have to do it. I head up to my room, where nice, yet definately poorer clothes await me on my bed. If I don't hurry, I'll miss driving the nun's carrage at 6:10 in Brooklyn.
Of course, Mother doesn't know about that.
So... sorry it's so short! I didn't have much time to write, but I will continue soon.
Au revoir!
(May 13, 2016 - 8:54 am)
WARNING: Slight violence in the middle of the story.
Willow~ I race down the street, away from Romeo, who is twice my size, an' therefore, frightening. Although I will be fourteen soon, an' I am quite tall, my strategy is to fight only when I absolutely need to. Although he don' like to admit it, Spot is the same way. He is tough, mind you, but the best fighting he does is with his cane (gold topped one, found in an alley) and his slingshot. Wese better aimers den we is punchers. But Romeo's a fighter, an' a flirt, two tings dat don' go too well. I skidd to a stop in front of a horse-drawn carrage, where a buncha nuns croud in the back, waitin' to give out bread to those "poor, lost, unfortunate, children."
I look down the street, and see Spot jump on Romeo.
"No'un messes wid Will or me. You got dat? You got dat?"
Poor, lost, unfortunate children, my eye.
Spot an' I have always been best friends. Ever since his parents abandoned him, and he found me outside da kids jail, the Refuge.
I hated that place.
We decided to woik togeder, sellin' papes in Brooklyn. What we didn't know abou' was Jinks.
The King of Brooklyn.
He was tough, mean, an' dounright nasty. He had a mean streak, an' never let us forget who was boss. Every week he'd pick on the smaller newsies, or small pardners, an' soak 'em.
We tried to stay outta his way.
Until, one week, he decided to pick on us.
He watched us, our sellin' spots, waht we did, every move we made. Spot was just over a year older den me, but we were small.
Small enough fer us to get soaked.
So he attacked.
It was a Wednesday.
He started wid me foist. He jumped me in an alley, grabbin' his can, an' ready to beat da snot oudda me, an' maybe all da life as well. Spot saw him, and jumped on his back. Jinks got to his feet, an' was ready to kill us, I don' lie, when Spot fired his slingshot. It hit him right between the eyes, an' he fell into the street.
We didn' stick around for the res' of it, but we heard dat he was run over by a carrage.
The King of Brooklyn was dead.
Woid got around, an' before you knew, Spot became the most respected newsie in New York.
The New King of Brooklyn.
I shake myself outta my flashback, an' run toward Romeo an' Spot.
(May 13, 2016 - 6:47 pm)
Samantha~I watch the cook turn the corner, to enter into the pantry, and I take the chance, slipping into the kitchen out of view, and out a door that leads into an alley. I then walk around the rest of the houses, in fear that one of our rich neighbors may notice me, and stop at a corner, hailing a carriage.
"Take me to a church in the Roman Catholic Diocese of Brooklyn," I say as I get in, and he tips his hat.
"Right on, miss," he says in a heavy accent, and starts the buggy.
At top speed.
Mother would not be pleased if she knew I was here. I think, as the carriage skidds around corners, but, unlike almost every young lady I know, I did not plead for the driver to slow down. It is quite fun, going fast, I think.
When we arrive in front of a church in Brooklyn, I pay the driver extra for his quick service, and may I add, the fact that he gave me a chance to have a jolly good time. I didn't tell him this, but you could tell he was gratified by the way his eyes gleamed.
"Tell ya what," he says, "I'd be happy to pick ye up any day youse comes about these parts."
I thank him, and walk into the church, where Sister Augusta is waiting for me.
"Dear child," she says, and I smile.
"I'm here to help drive the buggy, and distribute food."
"Bless your heart! Indeed, you shall help us. The carriage is out back, and we shall start soon."
I thank her, and walk out of the church to the back, where Sister Lavina and Sister Mary are waiting.
"Sisters," I curtsey.
"How are you, Samantha?" Sister Mary asks. "Please, get in."
I waste no time, and climb in the front, where a large horse sits in front of me.
"Pardon me Sisters, but what is his name?"
"Her name is Roberta."
Roberta.
Interesting name for a horse.
The sisters finish loading up their baskets of bread, and their buckets of coffee, and we're off.
Off to feed the hungry, and provide glory to God.
Or something.
(May 14, 2016 - 10:49 am)
Here's Martyna(She doesn't have a face because I'm horrible at drawing them!)
(May 15, 2016 - 9:48 am)
It didn't show up. Here, I'll try again.
(May 15, 2016 - 11:16 am)
PLEASE TOP!
PLEASE TOP!
(May 17, 2016 - 8:52 am)
Hey everyone! So...it's Willow here (you knew that) and I am posting a quick annoncement that I AM NO LONGER POSTING AS WILLOW. So, I love my charrie, Willow, but I have been searching for a nickname for a while, and I have decided on one.
I, Willow, am now Brooklyn Newsie!
So please, don't be confused when Brooklyn Newsie starts posting a story about Willow. I am an official fansie (Newsies fan) and I like this name.
Willow OUT.
(May 17, 2016 - 5:30 pm)
NAME: Juniper
NICKNAME(S): "June" "Fox"
JOB: Newsie
AGE:13
PART OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN: Brooklyn
BACKGROUND: June's mother died in childbirth, leaving her father to look after her. When she was eight, her father became ill, and died shortly thereafter. She was sent to an orphanage, where she was the youngest girl, and everybody picked on her, including the man who ran the orphanage. She ran away after only two weeks by pretending that she needed to go to the market, then ditching her "chaperone" and hightailing it to the docks. She then lived for two years by sleeping in an old boat with a hole in the side, and stealing food from the market. Eventualy, when she was ten, nobody was looking for her anymore, so she became a newsie. She wishes she could do more, and for now, the strike is a major step up from the last three years.
POSITION ON THE STRIKE: June thinks that the strike is the best thing since the "Sherlock Holmes" adventure. She'll do anything and everything it takes to keep everyone going until the newsies get what they want.
(May 18, 2016 - 9:36 pm)
Yay! Another newsie! Please join, Juniper.
(May 19, 2016 - 8:54 am)
I am joining
(May 19, 2016 - 5:33 pm)
Yay! We started! This will be short, I am very tired, sorry.
"Hey!" I spit out a mouthful of dirt, and looked up to glare at Martyna.
"Oh! Martyna! I didn' know it was you!" Martyna, as always, didn't smile as she held out her hand to help me up. I accepted it, and then scrambled to pick up the contents of her basket.
"I am so sorry, I didn' see you, an' I wasn' lookin' where I was goin', an' I REALLY didn' mean to run into you, an' I'm so sorry!" I babbled.
She shook her head, gave me a look that said "It's fine," took her basket, and was gone.
"Oh... okay then."
And I set off to join the rest of the newsies at work.
(May 19, 2016 - 10:44 pm)
TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!! TOP!!!
(May 20, 2016 - 2:19 pm)
Top!!! Top!!! Top!!! Top!!! Top!!! Top!!! Top!!!
(May 20, 2016 - 8:14 pm)
Willow~ I race ahead, to where I see a bread cart, handing out food, an' a small boy an' goil, waitin' for somethin'.
"Grin! Fox!" I yell, an' they wave back.
"Will!" says Wally, or Grin, which we call him because of his optimistic nature. "Guess what? I saw a rat today. A real big un'! Me ma said don' touch it, but I tought it was real facinatin'!"
Only Grin would find good in a rat.
"Guess what?" Juniper, or Fox, says. "'Dey got cawffee today! Real cawffee! It may be curdled, but it's all wese got."
Spot walks up. "Taught Romeo a lesson," he says. "He ain't gonna mess wid us none."
"Ain't it a fine life!" I laugh.
We push our fists into the air.
"Carryin' da Banner!"
"Tough and tall!" says Grin, stickin' his chest up in de air, like hese some sorta big shot. We laugh.
Checkers and Chess, big bulky guys walk up wid deir clubs.
"I smell money!" says Checkers, taking a deep breath.
"Youse smell foul!" I say, wavin' my hand in fronta me nose. Checkers jumps, fists raised, ready to get me, when Romeo comes out of nowheres, unknowingly blockin' Checks's shot.
"Met this goil last nigh'!" he says excitedly.
El' elbows his way to the front of the line.
"Move your elbow!" says Fox.
"For a buck, I might!" says El'.
He gets in line firs', an' takes his hat off. Everyone does the same, an' Fox halfheartedly trys to ajust her overall straps.
"Just gimmie half a cup," says Spot eagerly, while he eyes the black liquid eagerly.
The air fills with normal newsie chatter.
"I gotta find me a new sellin' spot," says Fox. "Dey see me to much by da harbor."
"You can come wid us to Coney Island, or Sheepshead," Grin suggests.
"Try any banker, bum, or barber," says Spot
"They almost all knows how ta read!" I joke, while grabbing cawfee from the pretty lady, who looks like she is driving the carrage. She looks around, an' plunks something in there.
"For you and your friends," she says, an' grabs anuder cup.
I peer in.
It's five one-doller coins.
I stand in shock.
"Guys! I gesture to Spot, Grin, and Fox. "Come look at dis!"
(May 20, 2016 - 9:06 pm)