#Alex Snyder

[i-didnt-do-1t]

Snyder paid for the funeral.

He paid for everything.

The casket and the headstone and the procession through the gates of the refuge that ended in the courtyard with the boys stood along the cobblestone, dressed in black and heads bowed.

The stark white of Snyder’s shirt contrasted sharply with the coal black of his blazer and over coat. The pale of his skin.

It was an effortless attention he drew as he walked behind the coffin, hands clasped behind his back. The picture of solemnity.

The silence settled, as he reached the top of the possession, a hand gently rested on the rich wood of the coffin.

It didn’t even reach five foot in length. He ran his hand along the smooth mahogany as he made his way to the steps of the refuge door.

The quiet was pressing, claustrophobic, the cold air cutting. It was early November and it hadn’t snowed yet, but the dark clouds were looming, hovering low and heavy, and this time in the afternoon it was near dark already.

Snyder stood at the steps in silence, enough time for the cold to melt into bones and cut through the thin fabric of the shirts the boys had been forced into, before he spoke.

“It’s a sad day for us all.” His voice rang amongst the high walls and the brick. He didn’t need to raise his voice. He had all eyes on him, everyone listened. “We’re gathered here to pay our respects to the young Michael Sullivan, who, as we all know, was killed earlier this week in a brutal accident.”

He paused.

“Accident.” He let it stand. “A wrong descriptor, maybe, more aptly, a brutal death due to the careless negligence of his alleged loving older brother. Well, I ask you boys, where is Jack Kelly now.”

The mahogany casket was light enough it only took four pall bearers, refuge guards.

“Because it isn’t here, at his brother’s funeral.” his jaw tensed as he swallowed. “This is what happens when you forget your place. Francis promised his brother freedom, and he earned it, but at what cost.”

Against the black of Snyder’s coat, the first few drifts of snow settling upon on his shoulders, and upon the coffin, were obvious.

“All I can ask of you boys now, is for you to join me in prayer. Let us act as older brothers to Michael, caring and loving, as we miss him and send him to our lord god in heaven, in Sullivan’s place.”

[noxexistant]

michael sullivan haunts his brother, but he haunts other people too. his death had had witnesses, after all — an audience of them, filthy sunken faces pressed to the barred windows of the refuge, watching cowboy make it out. watching michael be left behind, black like ink spreading on the cobblestones around him.

michael sullivan haunts oscar delancey. he’d been one of those faces in the window, grateful in that instant that he’d had the sense — the feeling of cloying dread, the knowledge that this couldn’t go well, that kelly couldn’t be so lucky — to keep morris behind him, blocked from seeing. but oscar had seen.

he’d watched longer than all the rest of them, kept watching even as all the others fell away, crying or sick or simply bored of the show. he’d watched as michael sullivan was scooped from the stone like an animal struck, watched as pails of water were brought out and upended in a marching sequence, washing the blood to a sickly watery pallor that never fully ran clear, just spread and spread and spread.

he hadn’t told morris what had happened, not that day. but he’d held morris particularly tight in their narrow, shared bunk that night. hadn’t slept. every time he closed his eyes, he saw kelly’s little brother dead in the street. thought about morris, just as small. just as bloody and dead. so he kept vigil over his little brother, holding him close and alive and whole.

he thinks about michael often. more a ghost now than human. oscar had never paid him much mind when he was alive, no interest in a kid beside his own. but now michael is always there, in the back of oscar’s mind and the blood on the streets and the angles of morris’ face that holds a similar ghost of his own youth even though oscar had held him tight enough for him to survive it. oscar thinks about michael and it’s a lesson to keep morris closer, hit harder, follow the goddamn orders that he’s given and not step out of line, because stepping out of line puts you in the line of fire.

the line of wagon wheels and hooves and snyder’s sick face clear as day even from the distance, amusement like somebody had whispered a joke in his ear right when the kid fell.

so oscar thinks of michael. and he does as he’s told, and he looks after morris, and he swears to god and himself that he’ll never be kelly.

and morris will never be michael.

[starlightandmusings]

do you think there's any backstory on why Snyder is such an asshole?

thank you for the ask!

ah, snyder. i drafted a little backstory for him when i was a kid, which inspired this ant-burning headcanon. i've also taken one (1) psychology course, and from that great expertise, i posit that snyder exhibits some degrees of psychopathic behavior (combined with the now-obsolete sadistic personality disorder, schadenfreude, and possibly even a bit of machiavellianism.)

the roots of psychopathy are still debated, but it's thought to be a combination of genes & environment (as are a lot of disorders.) traumatic brain injury (that damages the prefrontal cortex) can cause psychopathic tendencies. the influence of childhood trauma on this specifically is still very much debated, but i've always headcanoned that his father was physically abusive and his mother was neglectful; in addition, sexual abuse can affect social growth. according to one psychiatrist (hervey m. cleckley), a psychopathic person is someone who can imitate a normal/charming/bright person but is inwardly lacking internal personality structure. given his success in the business world, that sounds familiar!

to expand on environment, i think snyder's parents were likely immigrants (possibly even ashkenazi jewish, like the jacobs family, depending on how you look at the root of his last name.) 13% of all families with the last name snyder were located in new york in the year 1880! hc'ing that he was indeed ashkenazi jewish, i'd wager he faced antisemitism and persecution from his peers, further establishing his identity as an outcast. i'd imagine he felt pressure to prove himself and become powerful, and that combined with his genes and trauma became a grease fire.

tl;dr snyder was probably (definitely) abused as a child and developed some mental deviations. i'd have to think about alex snyder (as nigel snyder's son -- noxexistant's headcanon) some more bc motivations would be different, but for now, that's my take on the classic nigel snyder.

[welcometohelck]

[ratfreecog]

What if snyder had manipulated jack more during the strike like telling him to talk to the other boroughs get them to back down or he and his friends would pay

That is literally what happens in the show but I sometimes want to dive deeper into it. Like in the musical Snyder is kinda just a villain. Which he is obviously but like it doesn’t feel really like he’s a real person who could actually hurt them, just a character who happens to be the villain so they hate him. which I think is why a lot of people say 92sies Snyder is way creepier. That’s also why I’m so goddamn obsessed with Alex Christian’s Snyder. In the context of the world Snyder isn’t just a character, he’s a real, dangerous threat. He wants to hurt them. He wants to tear them apart and make sure they suffer. He’s evil. It should be terrifying. He is all of the newsies, especially Jack’s, worst nightmare come to life. When he threatens them, it’s not just empty threats. It’s not something he can run away from. I think if it were more serious and not a disney musical Jack wouldn’t have bounced back so easily, and he would’ve tried much harder to convince the others not to continue the strike. Any mention of the strike after the rally should’ve shut him down. He was done with it. Especially with Crutchie in the refuge, continuing the strike could mean killing his brother. He knows Snyder would do it. So I do wish to dive deeper into that

[tornrose24]

Continuation of that one crossover, featuring me, @artistcaptainbendy.... Oh, hey there, @candyheartedchy!

[mikyapixie]

🦇HAPPY BATMAN DAY🦇

Happy 85 years of Batman!!!

V1

I made this while listening to The Future by Mystery Skulls, unexpectedly it was good motivator!!!😁😁😁

[darkimpala1897]

Buck and Bucky wedding would be pure chaos I'm just saying.

Bucky would walk down the aisle to 20th Century Fox Fanfare, because he's Bucky.

Hambone, and Douglass would do drunk karaoke.

Brady would be the one crying the entire time and I mean the entire time.

Blakely would be trying to sleep with the groomsmen.

DeMarco snuck Meatball in, who ate everything.

Rosie would have the best speech ever.

Crosby would have a drunk speech.

Bubbles would embarrassingly dance around, making everyone question who invited him.

Curt would be spilling all the embarrassing stories, he definitely knocked down either the wedding cake or ice sculpture or both well screaming "I'm Irish" at the top of his lungs.

Dickie is trying to clean up Curts mess.

Quinn lost BabyFace, and Bailey within five seconds somehow.

Winks and Ken are just filming the entire thing.

Kidd and Harding are just old man dancing together.

Helen is wondering why she came.

Sandra and Marge are also questioning why the fuck they came.

Murphy and Fredkin are literally the most chill ones, but Murphy eventually gets so drunk that he starts taking off his clothes.

Smokey is making sure nobody gives themselves alcohol poisoning, he ends up herding everyone home like drunk cattle.

Stormy is just embarrassed to know these people.

Daniels, Jefferson, and Macon were dragged to this shingdig by DeMarco who said "It'd be fun." And fun was one way to describe it.

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

[caffeine-disaffecto]

- boo gi nights costumes !!

[i-didnt-do-1t]

She was two glasses of whiskey deep when she finally brought it up. Before leaving for the evening she had stared at herself in the mirror, hair pinned up and make up perfect and dress smoothed down, and told herself that she was not going to bring it up.

She wasn’t counting on getting drunk. Or even tipsy. But she wasn’t used to drinking and Oscar was persistent. So it was his own fault, really.

“I wanted to ask you about the refuge.”

It was enough for him to look up from the sticky table to meet her gaze. Eyes glassy and drunk and oddly vulnerable the way he sometimes got before the alcohol made him violent.

“…the refuge.”

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck do you wanna ask about that.”

“I’m working on an article.”

It was something she’d kept secret, that she hadn’t told anyone else yet.

Not even Jack.

Because she knew how he got when she mentioned the refuge, all clammed up and anxious and snappy. She had notebooks with pages filled about it, things he’d mentioned in passing and paragraphs of those more vulnerable moments, the half asleep ramblings when he’d woken up from bad dreams and she’d held him as he curled in on himself, biting back a sob and avoiding her gaze like his life depended on it. She never took it personally, of course she didn’t. But she wrote it all down when he told her he was going in a walk, hid the notebook by the time he was back 20 minutes later, his face clear and eyes still distant; acting like nothing happened.

“I’m writing an article,” she repeated, “I thought that if all the abuses came out to the public-“

Oscar barked a laugh. “The abuses. The fuck do you know.”

She shifted, the bar stool under her moving more than she expected. She didn’t want to put her hands on the table top, sticky. “More than you’d expect. I knew Snyder growing up, you know.”

“You what.”

“He’s only a few years older than me Oscar. Often at those parties we were the only two anywhere similar in age.”

Oscar stared. “What?”

“Alex. Snyder.” She paused. “I didn’t- there were so many years he was running the refuge and I- I assumed he was actually doing good work, like he told me.”

“You know him.”

“I thought I did. But then I grew up. And now, I’m trying to gather evidence for an exposé, if you’re willing to tell me anything.”

For a moment, Oscar only stared, and then knocked back the rest of his drink unflinchingly before he pushed himself off the barstool.

“Oscar-“

“If you really want me to talk about this shit I gotta have something else, Pulitzer.”

She swallowed, the room swimming, slightly.

“Can I have one too?

He groaned, dragged a hand down his face.

“Sure. Yeah. But only if you’re payin’.”

[noxexistant]

“snyder the spider, a real sweetheart.”

[xenoslapdog]

Finally showing my inner multi fandomer😈

Dw guys, xeno is alive and well. (I accidentally did Stanley dirty, sorry y'all)

[whoops-im-obsessed]

Young Snyder raises so many questions bc like, how did he get into that position of power so young? What made him want to do this? What are his motivations?? Does he have family? History with the newsies? Its kinda made me realise how little we know about snyder

[ratfreecog]

Snyder not being portrayed as an older man for once is messing with me. Snyder being younger can change his character so intensely it can change his motives his beliefs his history. He is by far the most evil character in newsies and the idea of it not just being because he’s an old man doing his job who hates kids because he can is. So interesting. Anyway who wants to brainrot about Alex Snyder with me does anyone have any details about this performance because I’ve based all of this off of four pictures

[tornrose24]

I remembered these guys had colorful game show outfits and needed them to meet. Can you even imagine the choas that could come out of this? (Also, maybe this was also an excuse to draw an actual live action Dana Snyder character).

(Also... ah yes, it's the return of goth baby!Lydia. Also Colosso may or may not have kidnapped Chloe just for this moment.)