#I literally brought out my Jack Kelly hat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wordshakerofgallifrey · 6 years ago

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OKAY LISTEN UP KIDDOS, YA GIRL SAW NEWSIES LAST NIGHT IN TULSA AND I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT SO BUCKLE UP (or keep scrolling, I can’t tell you what to do):

okay so first of all, their Jack Kelly was one of their choreographers which amused me to no end

Spot was another one.

LEGENDS

THE SET

it was like two sets of stairs and a middle piece that doubled at the circulation window and during the Santa Fe prologue you could see the newsies “sleeping” on the steps

when Jack sang “Would I let you down? No way.” he kinda grabbed Crutchie’s chin to make sure he was looking at him

Jack wore a red bandanna around his neck

it may have been out seats, but everyone looked small on stage except the Delancey’s. bois were easily taller than Davey, and Davey was at least 6 foot

Race’s deliveries were spot-on every. single. time. it was wonderful.

During Carrying the Banner, one newsies grabbed another’s feet and they did that wheelbarrow thing in circles

none of the main newsies cast (except Spot---we’ll come back to this) were girls, but the entire ensemble newsies was made up of girls and they were the ones doing all the flips and stuff it was so great.

when Katherine gave Jack her fake headline “Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Trouble��, she yelled it like a newsie.

when Davey and Les arrived on that first day, Les waved at everyone who got close to him, the kid was so cute

Nunzio reminded me of Tan France and kinda had the whole “gay stylist” vibe going on

on “shaving is tricky, the razor should float/shave me too close, and you may slit my throat” Nunzio kinda looked like he wanted to

Pulitzer definitely stiffed Nunzio for his shave and Nunzio was not happy

Hannah was clearly against raising the pape price from the beginning

when Les sold his last paper with “buy a paper from a poor orphan?” and the lady bought it, Davey could not believe she bought that

during the chase with Snyder, the stairs moved around as they ran up so that Snyder started out right behind Jack, Davey, and Les but ended up on the other side of the stage

in the theater, when the Bowery Beauties came in and started stretching, and Davey pushed Les behind him

one of the Beauties waved at Davey and poor boy looked like he was ready to die but he waved back.

MEDDA SLAYED ME

she interacted with the little “audience” on stage, even giving Katherine a little wave

there were like 6 Bowery Beauties during “I Never Planned On You/Don’t Come A-Knockin’” and they are all the loves of my life

Katherine was incredibly sassy and I loved her

“I’m sure somewhere someone cares! Go tell them!”

Davey carried Les in on his back on the second day

During “The World Will Know” when Les yells “He’s gonna be begging for an appointment to see me! You got that?” the guard grabbed Les’ hat and tossed it to the side before walking away. Davey had to hold Les’ hat for the rest of the song

“Alright who wants Brooklyn?” every. single. newsie. turned away. some completely turned their back to Jack. Davey and Les were very confused.

Jack acted all flustered when Katherine showed up at Jacobi’s before he started acting all flirty again.

Katherine was all sassy throughout this entire scene, but looked like she genuinely felt bad when Crutchie said “Ya don’t gotta be insultin’! I gotta nickel!”

“Watch What Happens” when Kath sang “what a face, face the facts,” she took a step back like she was trying to physically distance herself from that thought

right before “Seize the Day” when the Delancey’s come by, Davey steps up behind Les and like wraps his arms around Les’ shoulders like “Don’t you touch him”

Davey’s VOICE was so fantastic

one of the Delancey’s caught Les right at the beginning of the fight and made it across the stage before Jack decked him and Davey and another newsie got Les back.

literally everyone protected Les it was so sweet

SANTA FE OH MY GOSH JACK WAS SO AMAZING

act 2!!!

the audience stepped on Race’s line “To prove they’s still alive” and he said it twice, but then Katherine came in so no one heard it RIP

I died when Race said “erster” so I missed everyone’s reaction but then he used the pape to illustrate “ya fancy clam wit’ the poiyl inside” and it was amazing

the tap was phenomenal and they brought out jump ropes and did cool stunts with them

Albert swung his broom at someone and I heard one of the guys say “Ay watch the broom, Al!”

Katherine counted the beats as she tapped the first time and then all the guys booed her

in the little interlude between KONY and LFTR, Katherine led a group of girlsies in a little tap routine and it was adorable

Crutchie knocked over his fake candle in the middle of the song and picked it up really fast and started patting out the “fire”

Davey killed “poor guy’s head is spinning” honestly it was amazing

really all four of them in the reprise were SO AMAZING

they changed one of the lines: “Humpty Dumpty is about to crack”>>”‘Cause all for one makes up for all we lack”

it’s so funny to me watching Newsies with people who haven’t seen it and it gets to the reveal that Katherine is Katherine Pulitzer because half the audience went “OOOOHHHHH”

OKAY NOW GIRLSIE SPOT CONLON

not to be dramatic but I’m in love with her

she’s such an icon

she wore a little bowler hat with a red ribbon around it and had a toothpick in her mouth and she did this kick on “Kick ya halfway to Queens” and it added five years to my life, no joke

When Jack finally showed up to the rally she sarcastically slow-clapped even after everyone else finished clapping

honestly I don’t know whether I want to be her or marry her

On the rooftop, when Jack told her to give it her best shot, Katherine reared her arm back like she was going to hit him but grabbed his face and kissed him instead and he f r o z e a sec before he just kinda leaned into it, it was so soft

they were really soft in this scene God bless.

at the very beginning of “Once and For All” when it’s just Jack, Davey, and Kath singing, Davey had his hand on Jack’s shoulder and Katherine came up and held Jack’s other hand and then she and Davey grabbed each other’s arms aND I LOVED IT

that key change? oh hell yes. I cry.

in Pulitzer’s office when they mentioned the Brooklyn Bridge, Spot tipped her hat

when the governor came in, Jack, Davey, and Spot tried to get out of the way and Davey and Spot ended up holding hands and Spot freaked

Hannah was so proud of them, it was so cute

on “NEWSIES. WE WON!!!!!’ Spot jumped up and grabbed Davey and kissed him and Davey didn’t know what to do at first it was fantastic

THEN CRUTCHIE CAME BACK MY BOY

and they brought Snyder out and he got to put the cuffs on him and Crutchie kicked him as he said “You’ll be laughing all the way to the pen, little man!” and honestly what a legend

I missed the very important plot stuff here (where Roosevelt suggests Jack illustrate) because Spot and Davey were on the other side of the stage being all cute and shit, and he kissed the back of her hand and she looked all blushy and then she smacked his ass as she walked away and Davey was flustered.

Katherine and Pulitzer hugged before he left and it was very sweet

“What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Sandstorms?”

“New York’s got us...”

“Wherever you go, I will be right by your side.”

“For sure?”

“For sure.”

JACK JUST STAY ALREADY

OF COURSE HE DID I KNOW HOW IT ENDS BUT IT WAS REALLY TENSE

THIS HAS BEEN A VERY LONG RECOUNT OF THE TULSA PERFORMING ARTS CENTER’S PRODUCTION OF NEWSIES

I’M STILL DEAD.

#wow this is so long #BUT I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY #AND THE SHOW WAS SO GOOD #newsies #tulsa newsies #y'all go see what productions you can they're so fun #disney talks too much #(way too much XD)

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eisforeidolon · 6 years ago

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Episode: Gods and Monsters

Okay, so my ultimate feeling about this one was that there was five, maybe ten minutes of worthwhile episode actually in there. To be fair, a lot of it didn't feel like it was actively terrible to me, just kind of wheels-spinning pointless.

I think I've already talked about the mirror scene? I have to admit it didn't have much of an impact since I'd already been spoiled for it. It was done well, there just wasn't a whole lot to it. Though I did get a certain amount of amusement out of wondering if Michael was regularly playing dress up with Dean in fancy clothes to lure in monsters for his experiments (a whole grave pit full!). Which made me wonder about how many monsters we've seen recognize the Winchesters on sight and if that had happened. Watching that would have been a lot more entertaining for me than most of this episode.

Why be the hunted when you can be the hunter? Why write original dialogue when you can just throw out bad clichés! Again, while I can appreciate Jensen's acting, I just am not compelled by this whole super monsters storyline. Not least because I suspect that it's Dabb and co.'s way of getting what they wanted to do with Wayward - throw out all the rules so they could just lazily make shit up as they go along. Not to mention it's so blatantly cribbed off the Eve plot. Maybe they’re thinking Michael will seem more ominous if they rarely show him, like the shark in Jaws, but it’s just leaving him pretty flat and generic as a villain. I do think it's pretty funny the first thing Dean does after Michael skedaddles is take off the silly hat.

I feel like I should have something to say about Sam hunting for Michael with AU!Bobby and Mary? Except I don't, really. What little of it there was didn't make much of an impact. It felt like any other set of scenes where the brothers split up to investigate but AU!Bobby and Mary were … there, I guess. The only real thought I had about it was that the “joke” of Bobby forgetting what DNA was exemplified what Mark Sheppard said about the writers trying to force humor in rather than letting it organically happen. Though, hey, at least it got Nick off my screen for a little while here and there.

Speaking of which, I guess it’s time to talk about the majority of the episode, which could easily be titled Castiel’s Adventures as the Worst Babysitter Ever. Yet it was even less entertaining than that sounds.

Have I mentioned lately how much I just absolutely do not give a single fuck about Nick or Lucifer or any further characters on SPN handed to Mark Pellegrino to artificially keep him around? The whole attempt at a touchy-feely moment with him whining at Castiel is just fucking interminable and incredibly boring. Vessels get amnesia about what happened before they were possessed now … so Pellegrino can ham his hammiest through another quote unquote storyline. Yay. The thing is, I would maybe be interested in the idea of exploring how long-term possession affects a vessel after the fact in terms of mental state/memory/whatever … if it was literally any other character. The whole, “Nick magically doesn't know his family's dead, on noes! Nick randomly killed a guy, oh noes!” Holy crap, I don't care. I don't have anything personal against Pellegrino or anything negative to say about his talent as an actor, but at this point I would automatically opt out of literally anything he's in I am so sick of his face.

I tuned out through most of it (hey, at least this sweater's getting closer to done). The only part that really even seems worthy of comment is how having Nick call Castiel out on his using Jimmy Novak becomes just another excuse for the writers to try to retcon sympathy into Castiel's past acts. I don't think we need to harp, however many seasons later, on Castiel screwing the Novak family. If we are going to bring it up, though? Let's not keep playing this game where we try to turn it into a pity party for poor woobie Castiel. This is just like what they did with Mary's deal, they brought her back and made her stone cold to her sons just to get to a resolution justifying a deal that was … perfectly understandable in the first place! Likewise, I think most of us were clear that Castiel was a different creature in season four that didn't have the perspective to consider the consequences to Jimmy as a person. Trying to go backwards, first with rewriting the rules of angelic possession to give him a special exception vessel (it’s okay I took Jimmy’s life away, he’s in heaven now!) and here playing it like, “Oh, look at my teary-eyed sad face! Pity me, I'm just so very sad I ruined three human's lives!” I mean, it’s canon that Claire was praying to him for literal years for help and he apparently just tuned it out until it was convenient to deal with her and hasn’t bothered with her since the Winchesters foisted her on Jody. Poor Castiel! Again, this is actively less sympathetic to me than if the writers had just left the whole thing untouched as understandable choices firmly in the past.

The absurdity of the conversations between Castiel and Nick is not helped by the idiocy of how of literally everyone there, Castiel is the one who should be least perturbed by an inability to separate Lucifer and Nick. Come on, he's an angel himself, the idea that he's got some kind of human hangup about a clearly human Nick when we've seen angels recognize each other in different vessels is just absurd. The same old bullshit the writers keep pulling now where Castiel is human-like when it's convenient and angel-like when it's convenient.

I think Castiel's pep talks to Jack were at least a little better done, but that doesn't say much. It also would have been more heartwarming for Castiel to go on about how Dean and Sam had to struggle and learn for years to get where they are if it wasn't plugged in by writers who think the best possible new characters are ones that become the most awesome hunters pretty much immediately with no indication any work or effort was involved. If I wasn't so bitter about that and more actively invested in Castiel (whoever he is this week) and Jack (who I feel I barely know, still) I probably would have liked those scenes a lot more.

Then again, considering the immediate mood whiplash at the end with Jack's turn from cuddly woobie to, “Hey, let's kill Dean”? Maybe not. No, I don't think Dean would want it any other way, but that's some impressively compelling proof you're a counterfeit Winchester, kid.

The actress playing the vampire Michael let escape did a pretty good job of making what Michael was doing sound scary and ominous. Likewise, the couple playing Kelly's parents were convincingly warm and lovely people that made that whole scene more poignant than it might have otherwise been relying on the writing alone. It was actually a pretty good mix of heartwarming and sad - but also with a palpable edge of uncomfortable deception, considering who Jack really was. Calvert's performance was solid there, too, I just can't help but be annoyed that once again, Kelly seems like more of a 3D character now she's dead.

I’m never going to care about Nick, but most of this? If it had been side plots or individual scenes from other better episodes, I’d have no objection. As an episode itself, though, it just feels like a bunch of minor asides put together to kill the available time, which is a baffling choice in a season that will have three less episodes.

#spn season 14 #spn 14x02 #writer incompetence #negativity for ts #anti mark pellegrino #anti castiel #long post

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krustywhore · 7 years ago

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i could never rescue you

here you go my dude;) i was literally living for this prompt so thank you, this went from being a quick one-day fic to a 4.3k monster so enjoy!Hell is less of a place and more of a feeling. It’s the feeling you get when your hopelessness suddenly feels universal as if the things you hated about yourself, everyone around you hated too. It’s like the few good things in your life are falling apart and you’re inches away from saving them, but you always fall short. Hell is knowing things will never be the same and being forced to confront it every damn second.

So Jack Kelly was in hell. He was in hell because right outside the refuge, everything he built was crumbling to the ground and now he had no way of putting it back together.

As his bruised and bloody face hit the harsh concrete floor in the refuge, he could hear Snyder laughing behind him as he bolted the door shut. He sat up to a crowded room full of children starring him down and he knew he was screwed. He had no idea what was happening outside and for all he knew, the strike was still going.

Well, at least they all still had each other. One quick scan around the room told him none of his boys were there and that brought him some strange sense of relief. At least they were safe at home. They could be beaten and bloody and he couldn’t fix that now, but at least they were home safe.

He tried not to scare the kids much younger than he was as he made his way over to the window he remembered so vividly and stared out at the now-barred view knowing this time, there was no way.

Time usually passed slowly in the refuge, but in times when he had no idea what was happening, anything could’ve gone wrong and it felt like everything was happening in a blur.

So the door opening again was not a welcomed sight. Yeah, Jack knew what that meant and he knew his only chance was to hide and hope that if Snyder had somehow only come to drop another kid off, that he wouldn’t take another one with him for ‘play time’.

And, like magic, he was right. He heard the horrible sounds of a kick to a young stomach as yet another body hit the ground hard. He winced but felt his nerves relax a little bit when the door creaked shut.

Everything was fine until he heard a weak and pained voice hiss, “F-fuck y-you.”

That voice. He knew that voice. He’d recognize that voice anywhere and if that was who he fucking knew it was then that meant there was no one to look after the house and if there was no one there then-

“Race?” The boy whipped his head around, his curls flying wildly as he gripped his hat over his chest. His eyes were wide and terrified as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the other.

“Oh thank fuck,” he mumbled, practically diving into the older boy as he hugged him tightly. “Jackie I’s so scared.”

Jack chuckled humorlessly, reciprocating the gesture as the two held tight.

“I know, kid. You’s gonna’ be okay, I’ll make sure of it,” Jack reassured him, burying his face in the crook of the other’s neck. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Racer.”

But Race wasn’t having any of it.

“No way, it’s both a’ us or neither. I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you’s,” Race argued stubbornly, a slight tremor in his voice that Jack could tell clearly, but chalked it up to the initial stress and fear of what was happening. “They need you’s more than me, I ain’t lettin’ you do anythin’ stupid n’ self-sacrificing.”

Jack smiled a little as they separated, making sure to lead the boy off to the corner by the window just in case Snyder or any of his goons were to come back.

As much as he hated to admit it, the things Race was saying didn’t matter in the slightest. He messed up once and he would never let it happen again. Besides, he knew it was his fault the boy was even in there with him in the first place. For someone hat was constantly out in the city, especially after dark, Race was smarter and slicker than most. He never got caught and was honestly the last newsie in New York that Jack would’ve ever expected to see stuck in the refuge. It didn’t make sense, in all honesty. He was always so careful with everything he did and Jack legitimately thought the strike would be no different.

Yet, here he was.

“Racer, what the hell are ya’ doin’ here?” He spoke with a tired confusion as the two sat side by side against the wall.

Race said nothing but he shook his head, leaning back against the wall.

“I’s serious, Race. You’s always been so careful. I never met someone that could somehow find a way outta’ everythin’ like you do, but here ya’ are.”

Race sighed and stared over at the window. Jack swore he heard a sniffle.

“I couldn’t let ‘em take ‘im,” he mumbled, not meeting the other boy’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack, I jus’…I knew you was gone n’ I knew tha’ last thing you would want was for Crutchie to end up ‘ere, so’s I stepped in.”

Jack could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears. That…that made sense, but Crutchie? No, they wouldn’t have gone after him. Would they? No. Unless…god, everyone knew that the way to get to Jack Kelly was by ruining him through others. Whenever the people he loved were in jeopardy, everything simpler. They always mattered more than he did. If there was ever an option, he would put every single one of his newsie boys before himself.

He took a glance at the boy to his left. The one who saved Jack's best friend and let himself get screwed over as a result. He was staring out the window like he had already given up and let tears tumble down his cheeks.

Yeah, he thought. He definitely would.

“Okay, Racer. It’s okay, c’mere,” he mumbled, pulling the younger boy into his side as he slid an arm around his shoulder. “I know ya’ didn’t jus’ do it for me, but thank you so much. He’s…yeah, ya’ know what he is to me, but just…thank you.”

Race sniffled sadly, curling up to the other boy as he kept staring out the window.

Jack, despite how easy it was, he never thought he would be back in the refuge. When he started leading the Manhattan newsies, he felt like he was on top of the world. He never once imagined that he had a chance of being back, let alone getting one of his boys dragged there with him.

It seemed so easy getting out the first time, but now…things were different. There were a dozen guards, the doors were bolted shut, and it seemed like every time the main door opened, it would be the last.

He tried to push down his thoughts, knowing that any sign of potential weakness would come back to haunt him, but he couldn’t find that same hope he had the last time he had been in the

But this time he wasn’t alone. This time he had the obnoxious Italian kid he’d known as a little brother for the better part of his entire life. He had a little piece of home with him to keep him going. Albeit, that ‘little piece of home was almost a whole head taller than him, but he was like a little brother. Always had been.

So Jack found a way to fall asleep and, for once, made it through the night.

The light from the window was the only thing harder to sleep with than the brick wall behind them and the concrete floor they were slumped over. Despite the fact that they both could agree they’d rather be out selling than anywhere else, it was nice for once to be able to sleep past daybreak.

“Damn, how’d ya’ do this for three months?” Race grumbled groggily as he rubbed his eyes. He started to stretch out his and instantly winced, curling back in on himself.

“Got used ta’ it, I guess. You okay?” He took one glance beside him and Race was desperately clutching at his chest. “Racer, talk to me, what’s going on?”

Jack crawled around him, kneeling as he tried to coerce the boy to open up and let him help.

“It’s fine, Jack. I’s fine, just a lil’ beat up s’all,” he spoke through gritted teeth, keeping up his steely stature, but giving in as Jack grabbed his wrists and took a look at his chest.

“Antonio, I swear, you’s gonna’ regret it later if I don’t get a look at ya’,” he argued, momentarily cursing himself for pushing the kid to do it, but he was relieved when the Race started lifting off his shirt carefully.

There, staining through his undershirt, was a giant gash along his chest, surrounded by bruises and covered in dried blood around the edges.

Jack didn’t even know what to say as he simply sank his head into his hands. This, this could really fucking break them. If Snyder laid a hand on Race, let alone if he somehow found out about his injuries, he’d be done. There wouldn’t be anything left that Jack could do and he sure as hell wasn’t going to risk that.

He tugged off his vest, neither of them speaking other than Race’s occasional winces as Jack fastened the fabric as a makeshift tourniquet of sorts.

“That okay?” Race nodded, keeping his head down as he laid back against the wall. “Good. You’s tough, kid. Ya’ really had me goin’ for a second, but that’s the best I’s gonna’ be able ta’ do before we get ya’ out a’ here.”

“You mean us. I ain’t leavin’ wit’out you,” Race spat, clearly annoyed that Jack seemed to not care one bit about getting himself out.

“I get it, ya’ don’t like it, but we’s gotta be realistic, Racer. It’s been almost five years since I last busted out a’ here n’ things is real different. The best chance we’s got is ta’ get you’s out as soon as we can. There’s no way we’s gettin’ out together n’ the only way you’s stayin’ in ‘ere longer than me is over my dead body, got it?”

Race sniffled and rubbed his face with his sleeve, a shakiness to his breaths.

“Please don’t say that,” he mumbled so quietly Jack could barely hear it, but he slid an arm around the boy’s shoulder and helped him up off the ground.

Jack didn’t know what to do. It was like talking to a stranger. This Race wasn’t the same Racetrack Higgins he found every second of every day with the world’s widest grin on his face. This wasn’t the Race that would wake up before anyone else just to take a jog around the city. This wasn’t the same boy who didn’t have a care in the world and could somehow charm his way out of anything. No, this Racetrack Higgins was trapped and he knew it with every fiber of his body.

This Race looked like he’d just seen a ghost the moment the door swung open mere moments later. Jack couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of getting hurt or of another one of their friends getting tossed in their with them, but he honestly didn’t know which was worse.

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it. Jus’ keep quiet, okay?” The way he spoke with such certainty had Race nodding furiously and practically cowering in the corner under the window. “Good. Good, yeah that’s real good kid. Stay right ‘ere n’ no matter what, don’t say anythin’.”

Jack stood carefully, creeping out from behind a bunk full of equally-terrified kids as Snyder stepped into the room, a cane in hand.

“Where’s tha’ new kid?” He hissed, his voice like poison as Jack and Race looked at each other. The latter had gone sheet-white, trembling as Jack gave him a small smile and stepped out of the shadows.

“Right ‘ere, sir,” Jack spoke calmly, making sure to sound just a little bit scared, not that it was faked at all.

Snyder let out a sick laugh, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention to Jack.

“Nice try, but I ain’t lookin’ for ya’ this time, Kelly,” he seethed, spitting in the boy’s face as Jack tried his best to stand still without crumbling to his knees. “Where’s tha’ kid that ruined my leverage? That blondie.” Jack exhaled with the weight of a crushed plan as Snyder gripped the front of his shirt and tossed him to the side.

“Ahh, hello there. Now, if I can remember right, you’s the little punk that almost made me lose that one,” he spoke, stepping closer and closer to Race as Jack scrambled off the ground. The moment he stood, Snyder’s finger was pointing right into his chest. Shit. “I’ll have a field day wit’ Kelly later, but you’s the one I really can’t wait to play with.”

Those words. Those were the words that meant you weren’t getting a beating. The most horrific words that man ever uttered to that room full of kids. He wanted to play with him. With Race. No, there was no way. Jack knew the kid could take a beating, hell he could probably take a hundred, but he knew what Snyder wanted and he knew for a fact Race wouldn’t last a second.

“No! No, I’ll do it! Jus’, don’t…touch him jus’ yet,” Jack interrupted, shoving himself between the two, kneeling in front of Snyder and keeping Race firmly behind him. “Please, I’ll let ya’ do whatever ya’ want, jus’ don’t hurt him, please.”

Race was practically sobbing behind him and Jack just hoped maybe Snyder did, in fact, have the tiniest bit of humanity in him, but deep down he knew there was no way.

“Oh how sweet, ya’ think it’s that easy? Nah, ya’ ain’t as pretty as ya’ used ta’ be,” he breathed, leaning over into the boy’s face so close Jack could smell the whiskey on his breath. “This one, well, jus’ look at ‘im!”

Race whimpered shyly, grabbing onto the back of Jack’s shirt to ground him.

“You...can’t…touch…him,” Jack practically growled. It was a whole different side to him he’d never noticed before, but really the only thing running through his head in that moment was that there was absolutely no way he would let Snyder do to Race what he had suffered through so many times before.

Snyder seemed to think he was pathetic, which he probably was compared to this monster, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care. He lunged at Snyder, his fist smacking into the man’s jaw as a radiating smack filled the room. Everything went by in a blur and before he knew it Snyder was on the other side of the door, bolting it shut and clutching his clearly-broken nose.

Jack sank to his knees in front of the door, resting his forehead against the cool metal and breathing heavily. He glanced down at his hands, examining the damage he had done on his knuckles before simply wiping the blood on his trousers and accepting it was worth it. When he stood up and composed himself, the room full of kids were staring at him with a mixture of terror and awe. He smiled slightly, hoping the kids weren’t afraid of him, but it seemed to work.

When he stepped back into the corner, Race practically launched himself off the floor and clung to Jack. The latter chuckled, patting the other’s back as he held just as tightly.

There wasn’t much to do when you weren’t being beaten senseless or taken back to Snyder’s private room for ‘play time’. In fact, really the only thing you could to was sleep, which meant that Jack and Race sat on the window sill and talked. Yes, it was mostly just Jack’s attempt to try and get Race to forget about what was happening for a little while, but they hadn’t actually talked in a really long time. Most of their conversations were either about the strike, or their leadership duties, or the kids back at the lodging house, but they never actually sat down and talked to each other.

“I’s gonna’ kill Albert if he doesn’t do what I told ‘im when I left,” Race grumbled, leaning into his hand as he continued staring out the window. The fire escape was right there just inches away, but the bars over the window just taunted them that there was no easy way out. Even the window could be opened easily from the outside, but no matter what, there was no getting out through there. “N’ if he is, that son of a bitch better hurry up.”

Jack chuckled, shifting slightly as he watched the people milling about on the streets below.

“What was it?”

“What was what?” Jack rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What’d ya’ ask ‘im to do, ya’ dolt.”

Race flushed red as if he only just realized Jack had heard what he had said. “It’s nothin’, I jus’ needed ta’ see somebody.”

Jack figured he probably didn’t want to talk about it and, if Albert actually did bring whoever it was, he figured he’d find out eventually.

And he did, just after the sunset and most of the other kids had started going to bed. It was like a whole different world in that room without Snyder coming in and terrifying everyone.

Jack was sitting against the wall, picking at the bricks and grout as Race sat on the windowsill, humming softly. Jack wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he heard a soft rattling outside the window and Race’s excited squeal was enough to steal away Jack’s attention. He looked to the window and almost jumped as he saw a figure on the other side, both boys eagerly trying to open the window as Race slipped his wrists through the bars.

Jack stood to get a better look as Race and the boy quietly pried open the window.

“Jack, please don’t freak out, I’s gonna’ explain, I swear, but jus’…try not ta’ freak out,” Race warned, leaving Jack confused as to who could possibly make him freak out, but he shrugged and sat down beside the boy, practically falling over when he saw who was there.

“Spot? What the hell are ya’ doin’ here? After everythin’! How dare y-” Jack hissed with a violent whisper as Race tried to dispel the situation.

“Jack! Jackie, calm down, it’s fine. It’s fine, I swear. Yeah, Spot, I’s mad at you too, but please don’t hurt each other, it ain’t worth it,” Race groaned, looking between the two as he sighed, slowly reaching his hand through the bars and wrapping it around Spot’s.

“O-oh so you’s…wait this is-oh fuck, okay, I’s gonna’ stay outta’ your way, but Spot, I’s gonna need ta’ talk to you’s b’fore ya’ go,” Jack rambled as he backed away, confused out of his mind and slightly amused.

Race chuckled as he leaned against the bars, feeling Spot’s forehead meet his own as they both watched their hands. Spot took his thumb and ran it over the other boy’s knuckles, keeping them both content.

“I missed you, ya’ know,” Race mumbled, keeping as quiet as he could.

Spot chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I missed you too, T.”

There was a brief silence that settled between them as they simply tried to pretend that there wasn’t a painful grid keeping them apart. If this was the best they could get, that was enough for them to be okay.

“Shit, Racer,” Spot swore, startling Race as he broke their silence. “This is all my goddamn fault, if I’d a’ jus’ been there I could’a done somethin’ n’ you wouldn’t be stuck in ‘ere n’-“

“Stop. Jus’…stop,” Race breathed, shaking slightly as he gripped Spot’s hand tightly. “I dunno’ what I’d do with myself if you’s was locked up in ‘ere, Spotty. I don’t blame you’s at all, not even a little, but please…jus’ tell me you’s wit’ us. Tell me you’s joinin’ the strike.”

Spot nodded reaching a hand through the bars the card through Race’s hair gently, pulling his head down as he pressed his lips softly to the boy’s forehead.

“I’s with you. I’s with you n’ I’s with Manhatt’n. Brooklyn’ll take care a’ the rest a’ the strike n’ i’s gonna’ get you outta’ here. I promise you,” he spoke, a genuine confidence in his voice. “Now come ’ere, let me see ya’.”

Race smiled shyly as he shifted closer into the light from the room. Spot reached through the bars, cupping Race’s cheek as he ran his thumb over the darkening bruise around his eye.

Jack looked up from unravelling a hole inches trousers and for a second he panicked. Spot had his hand on Race’s face as he couldn’t see what the latter’s face looked like, but something inside of his just…flipped.

“Hey!” He lunged to the window, practically yanking Race away as the two freaked out. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

Spot stared back at him as if he was delirious as Race was wrestling himself out of Jack’s grasp.

“Get off a’ me!” Race was torn. Yeah, Jack probably had good reason, but he had this sinking feeling in his chest that he needed every minute with the people he cared about so if Jack was holding him back, he clearly wasn’t afraid, or at least just in denial.

“Kelly,” Spot hissed, a twinge of embarrassment in his eyes as he stood outside the window, fists clenched at his sides. “Get…your hands…off him.”

Jack froze. He let go instantly, slowly backing away with terror-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry…,” he mumbled softly, his eyes fleeting back and forth between the two. Not those words. No. No he wasn't like that. He couldn't stop hearing his own voice spitting those very words at Snyder and almost threw up just thinking about someone using the same line towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please jus’ don’t hurt ‘im, I’s sorry, I can take it, jus’ don’t hurt him please!”

There was silence in the room as the quiet chatter amongst the few kids that were still awake stopped abruptly. Race rushed to his side in the least threatening way possible and just slid to his knees in front of him.

“Jack?” He kept his voice soft and careful as he waited for the boy to respond. Jack only lifted his gaze slightly, pure terror in his eyes as he met Race’s. “Oh, Jackie, I’s so sorry. I know ya’ didn’t mean it, believe me! Thank you so much for tryin’ ta’ take care a’ me, I owe ya’ my life for that, but ya’ got nothin' ta’ worry ‘bout. I promise you. Everythin’s gonna be okay. He ain’t gonna’ hurt me, but if he did, he knows I’d soak ‘im right back.”

Jack seemed to breathe a little easier after that. He nodded slowly, blinking a few times as he looked away to rub his eyes, but he sat up on his knees and took a deep breath.

“This place messed me up, Racer,” he sighed, moving his fingers slowly through his hair. “It’s been years, but I guess I still ain’t over it. Believe me, I trust ya’ to take care a’ yourself, but I jus’ worry ‘bout someone layin’ a hand on ya’ that might not be a gentle one.” Race nodded shyly, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair back behind his ear. “Jus’ promise me you’s gonna’ be careful. Don’t let ‘im do anythin’ ta’ hurt ya’ or I’s gonna have ta’ kill ‘im.”

Race laughed lightly, looking back behind them to Spot still seated outside the window and nodded.

“I gotcha’, Jackie,” he grinned, jogging back over to the window with Jack walking close behind.

“Everythin’ okay?” Spot turned to Race and asked the moment he sat down. Race smiled and nodded, reaching back out through the bars as Jack sat opposite him on the windowsill. “Good. Kelly, I already told ‘im, but we’s wit’ the strike. Brooklyn n’ the whole rest a’ the city’s newsies. We’s gonna’ finish this thing n’ get the two a you’s outta’ ‘ere in no time.”

Jack nodded, slightly afraid that everyone was going to keep going without them, especially since he couldn’t be there to look after any of them.

“Make sure my kids is okay, yeah? They’s all gonna’ put on a brave face, but if we’s the ones stuck in ‘ere, they’s got no clue what ta’ do. I ain’t askin’ you ta’ go run Manhattan, but at least during tha’ strike, make sure they’s all takin’ care a’ each other,” Jack requested as Spot spit in his palm, sticking his hand through the bars as Jack did the same. The shook firmly and not without a mutual smile.

“Don’t worry about a thing, we’s gonna’ finish this thing in no time,” Spot joked, turning to Race. “I’ll come back n’ see ya’ tomorrow, yeah?”

Race smiled a little as he nodded.

“Stay safe, both a’ you’s. I love you, I’ll see you’s tomorrow, Tony,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the latter quickly through the bars before ducking away into the night.

Jack smirked as he looked over at Race, noticing the dark red coloring that covered his entire face. He waited just a moment before deciding to interrupt his little 'moment'.

"He good to ya'?" Race looked up at him and beamed, nodding slightly and bouncing his curls out of their position. "Good. Don't ever let it change."

Jack crawled back to their spot by the wall and pulled his cap down over his eyes, feeling Race move in beside him just moments later. They would be okay for another day.

#sprace #jack and race are precious #also protective mama bird jack??? god tier concept #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #race higgins #spot conlon #newsies angst #my writing #i could never rescue you

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savory-n-sweet · 7 years ago

Text

Newsies Headcanons (Modern High School AU)

Masterlist

Warnings: one swear under Albert Order: Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, Davey Jacobs, Albert DaSilva, and a quick mention of Spot Conlon

Sorry there’s only three boys, it’s just so long omgomgomg (i have so many ideas but so little motivation)

Jack:

always has doodles on his arms and hands

if he’s wearing shorts, he draws on his calves and/or thighs

he also draws all over his notes (and davey, if he’s close)

if he finishes classwork early, he draws on the back, if theres a back

he’s very quiet in classes where he doesn’t have any friends (art and spanish)

he’s thankful they arent in his art class

he gets more work done when his pals aren’t there

he doesn’t get anything done in spanish, though

theres no one there to push him to get things done

he either sleeps or draws there

he also wears jeans all the time

each pair he owns has paint or marker or pen stains on them

all of his clothes do, honestly

he wears tee shirts more often than not

davey keeps an extra sweatshirt in his locker for him because he always forgets how cold the school is

jack’s also always nice to everyone

he gets it from crutchie

he also lives off coffee

he’s a cranky dude if he doesn’t have a morning coffee

it doesn’t even have to be good coffee, he just needs caffeine in his system before eight in the morning

Race:

always has salmon or a pale pink on him

it’s either a dad hat, a tee shirt, or a sweatshirt

he looks poppin in those specific colors lemme tell you

he always has a deck of cards on him

flirts with everyone, no matter what

people don’t know what his sexuality is because he flirts with literally everyone

he doesn’t care, he hates labels anyway

his nails are always painted

jack sometimes uses acrylic on him for more intricate designs

race doesn’t usually use a top coat but when jack paints them, he uses one

he mostly just likes watching the brush work

bites his nails

but that’s why they’re painted

he’s a “down for anything” , “go with the flow” kinda guy

he really just likes being with his friends

he also really love hikes

nature brings him peace

he especially likes them in the spring and fall

spring because the flowers are breathtaking

fall because the changing leaves are just as breathtaking

hates them in the summer, though. he thinks its too hot

also really loves ham and cheese sandwiches ????

he also volunteers at an animal shelter

and has brought home a dog and a cat

his parents weren’t happy about it but now they love those two animals

is growing larkspurs in a mason jar on his windowsill

his cat likes sleeping by them

takes night showers

he enjoys sleeping in

he has those lights that you can control with an app

his rooms always blue or purple

Davey:

such a mom friend

always has extra water bottles in his locker

also has extra money so his friends can get their own in case he forgot (which is rare)

brings race lunch sometimes because the boy doesn’t know how to take care of himself

extra sweatshirt for jack, as said before

wont physically fight for them but boy can he roast people

if the time came, he’d throw hands

his hands are always cold

he always has lotion in his bag

and deodorant

and some snacks

and a book for himself

davey and i are literally the same oh my god

he always finishes his work early

he works on homework in other classes because he works so fast

he tutors his friends because he loves them and wants to see them succeed

he has a bookshelf in his room that’s alphabetized

he doesn’t les in his room out of fear his bookshelf will get messed up

musicals are his guilty pleasure

only watches them with crutchie, though

SCENTED CANDLES

always has one lit in his room

has a bunch all over his room, though

if he lights one, he will not burn another scent until that ones gone

Albert:

is always on the subreddit no sleep

he gets scared by these things but reads them anyways

he’s also very antisocial

he’d rather be home, reading or sleeping, than with a lot of people

unless he has work to do

then he’s partying like theres no tomrrow

will fight for his friends

but can also ensure a sick burn

dont fuck with him he has the power of god and anime on his side

he likes playing call of duty, but not on xbox live

he hates the kids on there

he made one cry once (the kid insulted him so he did the same)

likes taking pictures of his friends, both candid and posed

everyone but spot hates it

quick spot headcanon: he’s just such a happy boy. he always has a yellow bracelet on his wrist, but wears pale yellow sweatshirts a lot

(no one said these had to be accurate)

he’s always fidgeting

his leg is always shaking

or hes tapping or clicking a pen

race tries to distract him by playing cards with him

it works sometimes, but it isn’t a surefire way

he knows it’s annoying but he can’t control it

he can surf really well ???

also roller blade

he tries to interact with stray cats on the streets

it usually works

he has a bag of cat food just for the neighborhood cats

sometimes those cats just yell at his back door

he also sleeps in class a lot but still manages to have good grades

he’s also rarely there (he gets overwhelmed easily)

they all wonder how he does it

wow can yall tell who my main man is just by the length of these headcanons

tag list: @brooklyns-here-for-ya-erster @albertdasillva @who-is-the-king-of-new-york@mybonnye @tornado-anon @newsies-trashboat @spot–conlon @notes-the-newsie @musical-trash-meg @racetrackscigar @rebecko @albertslamb@falloutboyzintheattic @auspiciousdaveyjacobs

#jack kelly #jack kelly headcanon #racetrack higgins #racetrack higgins headcanon #davey jacobs #davey jacobs headcanons #albert dasilva #albert dasilva headcanons #newsies #newsies live #this is mediocre #enjoy oof

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jackscrutchie · 7 years ago

Note

10 AND 44 FOR JACKCRUTCHIE HELL YEAH (Jack would totally let Crutchie stand on his toes while they dance around the room)

A shy kiss and a slow dance!

There was a small dance studio on the way to Medda's theater. Most of the time when Crutchie would walk by, the curtain would be hanging low in the window -- Blocking curious and wandering eyes from the outside. Crutchie loved to peek in, gazing between the fabric of the curtains to see small glimpses of the people dancing inside. He leaned his crutch against the brick and crouched down, pressing his freckled nose to the glass.

It was the waltz again. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3 -- They always seemed to glide so effortlessly across the floor. It was graceful, beautiful, elegant. Oh, how he envied them. To be able to do something that lovely. To be able to hypnotize someone as he'd been hypnotized by them. He could watch them for hours. He longed to see a show in a big fancy theater... A click from the door snapped him out of the daze. His breath hitched. He'd been caught.

"You!" An older woman, wire thin pointed a finger at him. "Shoo, shoo!" She hollered, flapping her hands at him.

Crutchie stumbled to his feet, grabbing his crutch. "I - Sorry, ma'am! I just --"

"No! Get out of here! You're distracting my patrons! Get!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He pulled his hat from his head and gave a quick bow. "Sorry!" He spun on his heel -- And fell. He felt the skin on his knee break, sucking in a sharp breath.

The old woman scoffed, turning her back on him. "Vermin."

"Goodness! Are you alright?" A girl's voice rang out. It was like music.

Crutchie turned his head, his face pink from embarassment and saw... A princess? The sun made her brown eyes shine. Her skin glowed. Strands of her dark hair fell into her face. She was a star. "Oh! Uh... Yeah. I'm uh --"

She pushed by the old woman and floated to Crutchie's side. She had been one of the people he'd been watching inside. "Are you sure?" She offered her hand, her sparkling eyes welled with concern.

He nodded slowly, once again hypnotized by the wonder of her. "I --" He reached for her hand, but pulled it back. His were rough and dirty. He couldn't make a princess touch his grubby hands... When was the last time he had had a bath? "I'm okay!" He smiled up at her, using his crutch to pull himself back to his feet. It was as far from graceful as you could get. His crutch wobbled under his weight. He muscles strained. "There --" He stood, and hopped to face her once more. He tilted his head up to meet her eyes and grinned. "Good as new!"

She smiled, and set her delicate hand on his shoulder. "Come watch us dance any time you'd like, darling. I'll take care of that woman."

"Charlotte!" The old woman poked her head around the corner once more. "Come!"

"Yes, madame." Charlotte grimaced, sticking her tongue out. "A man woman. I work with a mad woman."

Crutchie chuckled then bit his lip as he caught the woman's cold gaze. "Good luck, miss."

"Take care." And just like that, Charlotte spun and glided back inside. She was gone in the blink of an eye, the door slamming shut behind her.

Crutchie stood frozen for moment, stuck in the stupor Charlotte had trapped him in. Grace, elegance, beauty... Three qualities Crutchie would never possess. Qualities he couldn't even begin to dream of. He was clumsy. He only had one working leg, and despite that, two left feet. Sometimes he stuttered, sometimes he spoke without thinking. He sighed, setting the dusty hat back on his head and walked -- Slower this time, his limp a tad more pronounced. Jack would ask him what happened...

Jack! He was supposed to be at the theater by now! "Son of a --" He cursed under his breath and moved. The last thing he wanted was for Jack to worry about him -- Again. So he ran. He forgot about grace and elegance. He forgot about Charlotte. He ran until he got to the stage door -- And walked inside. He moved carefully, avoiding any pieces of set that happened to be lying about back stage and stuck his head out from behind the curtain.

The theater was empty, as it usually was when Jack painted his backdrops. The only sounds came from the lone pianist as he practiced a piece of music. It echoed off the walls of the theater, engulfing Crutchie in it's story. He wondered what the words were... He turned and --

There was Jack. In a world completely of his own, adding stroke after stroke of paint on to his canvas. There was a castle peering out from behind trees, a path leading into the woods. Flowers littered the bushes. Crutchie could almost hear the bird in the painting sing. His eyes found their way back to the artist. Jack was graceful in his own way although it may not immediately seem that way. The way his brush moves on the canvas, the way he's so gentle and delicate with not only his paintings but -- Crutchie felt his cheeks flush.

"Heya, Jack." He let himself step out from back stage. "Sorry I'm uh -- A bit late."

"Hm?" Jack tilted his head, but didn't look back. His focus still on the painting.

"Right, yeah. You're uh -- You're still in... In your head. Sorry!" He stumbled for words, almost with the rhythm of the music. He shouldn't have said anything.

"Huh?" Jack snapped out of it and turned his head, paint smeared his forehead. His hands were covered in different colors -- "Oh! Sorry, Crutchie." He smiled.

Crutchie's heart skipped a beat. His smile was elegant. "It's... It's okay! I didn't mean to interrupt or nothin'!" He gestured with his hands. Awkward.

"Don't worry about it!" He reached out his hand. "I'm glad you're here."

Crutchie moved slowly, trying to hide the extra bit of limp from his skinned up knee. "What're you paintin' today?" He let Jack wrap his arm around his waist as he reached him, his head finding Jack's shoulder without second thought. They'd been far more... Affectionate lately.

"A maaagical forest." He drew out the word and grinned. "Is it magical enough?"

"It needs more fairies. Or fireflies."

"Fairies and fireflies. Got'cha." Jack pulled him close. "But uh - Don't think I didn't notice. What happened?" He didn't look away from his painting.

"Oh." He sighed. "It wasn't anythin' serious. I just moved too quick and fell over." He knew what was coming next --

A gentle laugh. "Charlie, you clumsy thing... Be more careful." His voice was music. Just like Charlotte's had been. It was full of sincerity and full of love. Jack deserved someone graceful. Someone elegant and beautiful. Not someone like...

"Yeah, yeah." Crutchie forced a laugh and nudged him. "I can't help it! I got two left feet!"

Jack, satisfied with his reply nuzzled his cheek against the top of Crutchie's hat. "You said you was late... What kept you?"

"Jack Kelly if you get paint on my hat again, I'm going to make you regret it."

"Oh yeah? And what exactly does that entail?"

"Believe me, Kelly. You don't want to know." Crutchie turned his head slowly upwards to give Jack the most intimidating face he could muster.

"Oh, spare me! I've done nothin'!" Jack clasped at his chest, wounded.

"Don't make fun of me, you bastard!" Crutchie laughed, swinging his crutch around to smack Jack gently in the foot.

"Ah! Freddie! I'm being attacked!" Jack shouted, grabbing his knee.

Freddie, the pianist, smiled and ignored the calls for help. His music continued, drowning out Jack's cries.

"I didn't even hit you in the knee, you buffoon!"

"The hit was so powerful I think it shattered my entire leg. I'm suffering Charlie Morris. Show some mercy."

"Oh! You want mercy?" Crutchie laughed and took a step, "I don't know what that wor -" His crutch slipped from under him and he was falling again.

"Hey!" Jack lunged forward and grabbed him, putting him back to his feet. "What's the matter with you today, huh?" A smile.

"D - Damn these legs..." Crutchie chuckled. "Always makin' a mess of somethin'."

"I don't know 'bout that..." Jack pulled him close, lacing his paint stained hand with Crutchie's freckled one. "So you're a little clumsy. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. Remember that time I fell down the stairs? I ain't ever seen you fall down any stairs."

Crutchie smiled and tilted his head down. He had a point. So what if he was clumsy? It didn't make him any less... Crutchie. "Jack?" He looked up at Jack's smiling face and squeezed his hand. Bravery -- "I want..." He took a breath. "I wish I could dance."

"Dance?" Jack raised a brow. "What brought that up?"

"I was... Watching people dance at that studio down the street today and -- I want to learn how to do it." He studied his face, looking for any sign of harsh judgement. Of course, there was none. "It's so graceful and... Pretty, you know? I just wish I could be like that once."

Jack smiled, pushing hair away from Crutchie's eyes. "I ain't a real good teacher, but... Here." He gently took the crutch from the boy and set it on the ground, carefully scooting it away with his foot. "Step up."

"What?" Crutchie raised a brow, confused.

"Step on my feet."

"What... Are you talkin' 'about, Jack. I ain't steppin' on your feet." Crutchie laughed, shaking his head up at him. He was crazy. This was crazy.

"Aw, come on Charlie." He grabbed his hand and set it against his own shoulder. His right on the small of Crutchie's back. "Now.." He grabbed his other hand, holding it tight. "Step up!"

This was... A terrible idea. An awful and terrible idea. A disaster waiting to happen. But -- Crutchie knew better than to keep denying Jack of something silly like this. He would whine and whine and whine until he either got his way, found something else to whine about or fell asleep. So - Here goes nothing.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Crutchie pulled himself onto Jack's feet - Straining a bit with his bad leg, but in the end...

"See? That ain't too bad, huh?" Jack pressed his lips softly against Crutchie's forehead.

"What are you gettin' at, Jack? Ain't no way you're goin' to -- Ah!" He clung to Jack as his feet began to move. Jack's feet carried Crutchie's in a slow dance, gliding across the floor to the music still flowing from the piano.

"See? You're dancin'!" Jack beamed down at him, moving with ease around the stage. "One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three..."

Crutchie looked down at his own feet, supported by Jack's own. He focused on Jack's voice, counting out the steps. His voice soft and sweet, blending with the song that carried in the air. He'd never felt so --

"Beautiful, huh?" Jack whispered against his hair. "You're doin' a good job."

"Don't... I ain't... You're doin' all the work." He looked up, his cheeks flushed.

"Maybe so. But you're enjoyin' it, right? It's what you wanted." Jack held him close, making sure to keep him balanced as they moved.

Crutchie bit his lip and smiled. He was right... It is what he wanted. He let himself get lost in the music once more, laying his head against Jack's chest. He let his eyes close, imagining himself dancing in front of a crowd. His leg at full health, Jack as his partner. A crowd of people smiling, being moved to tears by their performance. He imagined himself inspiring other children with disabilities. He imagined a wedding.

"Charlie?" Jack breathed out, squeezing his hand -- Their feet still moving together. "Hey."

"Hm?" Crutchie snapped out of his daze, and looked up at him. The music had stopped. "Oh. Hah.. Sorry?" He stumbled back and off of Jack's feet.

A laugh. "Don't be sorry! Ain't nothin' to be sorry for." He reached up to straighten his hat, despite it not needing to be fixed. It was something he did a lot. Crutchie recognized it now as a nervous habit... A bit of his shyness showing through. "Freddie left a few minutes ago but -- You looked so..."

"I was." Crutchie smiled. It lit up the room.

"Ah.. Good." He reached behind himself, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I thought you might... Like that."

Crutchie nodded, stretching his fingers out by his sides. His own shyness. "It was... Good."

That's when he realized. He had elegance. Elegance in his energy. Elegance in his smile and in even in his clumsiness. Just as Jack had his awkwardness -- In his nervous ticks, in his jumbled flirting. They loved each other as they were. Love.

"Jack you..." Crutchie laughed a little under his breath, "how do you... Always know what to do? Or what to say?" He wrapped his arms around Jack's center, nuzzling his freckled nose into the fabric of his shirt. "You --" He flushed, chewing on his lip once more. "If you want..." He tilted his head up, his eyes lingering on Jack's lips for a fleeting moment.

"Hah..." Jack's own face flushed, his lips curling into one of his signature grins. "Don't uh - Mind if I do." Jack leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. It was slow. Graceful. Down to his nose. It was sweet. Elegant. Finally their lips pressed together, full and passionate. Beauty.

#newsies #jackcrutchie #jack kelly #crutchie #hiccup writes

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gayveyjacobs · 7 years ago

Text

Something Magical

A birthday fic for the sweetest, loveliest person ever, @littlefettuccinealfredo

I hope you have the best gosh darn birthday, ilu, enjoy the fic and your birthday and your NEWLY-ACQUIRED VOTING RIGHTS!

And here’s the AO3 link

Jack Kelly is an artist. He uses paints and makes sketches and he does these things well. Unfortunately for him, his best friend happens to be an asshat named Racetrack who enjoys making the most ridiculous bets and wagers and, since they’re both barely making ends meet, it was almost always their prides on the line. The last bet had been won by Jack and had resulted in Race having to borrow an outlandishly bright jester’s costume from their school’s drama department, and wear it for the rest of the day while feigning complete unawareness about how silly he looked. After that, Race got his revenge when Jack hadn’t managed to down a whole bottle of ketchup in 20 seconds which was why Jack was out here on the street with some cards, a top hat, some gloves, and a cape.

Since Race is dating Spot, and Spot and Jack practically grew up together, Race managed to get hold of some embarrassing information about Jack’s childhood, which was the basis for this particular wager’s penalty. Unfortunately for Jack, Spot knew about his pre-teen phase where he was obsessed with learning to do magic tricks, thinking that it would do well in impressing acquaintances and potential love interests. Needless to say, Spot managed to talk him out of embarrassing himself completely in high school by telling him that it was a terrible idea. It was especially good advice, since some of Jack’s magic tricks required doves or birds of some sort, which, in hindsight, would probably be a bad idea to have brought to class. Still, there wasn’t much to be said about how well people would have reacted to a goofy thirteen-year-old whose standard introduction would be “pick a card, any card,” while showing up at school with a top hat and white gloves. Fortunately for Jack’s social reputation, he’d taken Spot’s advice and dropped the Mysterious Magician persona he had planned on taking on, and a few years down the road, he came to realise that he probably owed Spot big-time for that.

But that help came at the cost of his pride now, years later, as Jack stands on a sidewalk in New York during winter, dressed ridiculously in the tackiest magician’s outfit ever, featuring a top hat and a matching cape, both with bright glittery stars on them. The penalty that Race had set had been, verbatim, “You’re gonna have to wear your magician stuff – which I know you have – and keep doing street magic until people give you like, 20 dollars.” Race did not account for the fact that Jack’s Junior Magician Costume would have been way too small for him at this point, and while his top hat still fits, the same couldn’t exactly be said about the cape. If worn correctly and tied around his neck, the cape would only reach a little bit past his waist. So instead, Jack had safety pinned the cape to the shoulders of his black vest (worn over a white shirt, since he is a professional), and it managed to at least go past his… derriere.

By this point, Jack hasn’t been out in the streets for too long, and he’s managed to accumulate seven dollars. He managed to get $3 from the trick where he had an audience member sign a card, placed it in his deck for shuffling, and then, literally spat out the signed card. Usually, families would be much more willing to stop, since kids were easily baffled by these things and then their parents would be more inclined to leave him a dollar or two, to look generous in front of their kids. It’s not the worst thing he’s done because of some bet, he thinks, except that it’s pretty cold, and he’s gotten more than a few condescending looks from some college students who seem to be around his age.

Right now, more than ever, Jack Kelly really, really regrets how silly he must look, because a few feet away, there’s a tall, dark haired young man who should be about his age, dressed in a dark blue coat and he’s gorgeous. Ordinarily, he’d be pretty pleased to spot someone this good-looking, but he can’t exactly go up to the man with any of his usual confidence while he’s dressed like a bad excuse for a magician. Instead, he tries to avoid being spotted by the man – nearly impossible, given his sparkly accessories – and tries to show off his tricks to some other passers-by. It’s just his luck that everyone but the man just ignores him, and Jack has to try really hard not to be any more embarrassing than he already looks when the man approaches him. But then, Jack thinks to himself, “go big or go home.”

Since he’s already doing street magic, he figures he might as well jump on the rare occasion that a person this attractive is showing interest in him. Making eye contact with the stranger, who seems a little shy, Jack calls the man over with a confident grin. “D’ya wanna see somethin’ magical?”

A little reluctantly, the man steps towards Jack and says ‘sure’, giving him a polite smile. With a bit of flair, Jack makes a rose appear out of thin air and presents it to the man. As he offers it to the man, bowing slightly, he says “I figured it’d be a waste if I didn’t get flowers for the most attractive man I’ve seen all day.”

The man’s face goes pretty red at that, and he lets out a small laugh. Accepting the rose, he raises an eyebrow and says, “That’s flattering, but that was a pretty obvious trick. I appreciate the rose, though.”

“Skeptical, ain’t ya?” Jack asks. “What’s ya name?”

“David…well, Davey.”

“Alright, ‘David well Davey’, I’m sure one of my tricks’ll impress ya.”

“I doubt it,” Davey says, just a little bit smugly, “but you’re free to try.”

For some reason, Davey is actually pretty good at discerning the exact the secret behind each of his tricks. When Jack cuts a dollar note straight down the middle and reveals that the note is perfectly fine, Davey watches with only mild interest and his arms crossed before quickly revealing the secret behind how it’s done. Jack is frustrated, impressed and very interested in Davey at this point. After that, Jack borrows a dollar from Davey and he manages to make a pen go right through it without leaving a single mark on it, but Davey is apparently as clever as he is beautiful, and he explains the trick back to Jack with little effort. He has a rather amused look on his face, that he tries to keep polite, as Jack gets visibly frustrated and a little disheartened that he’s seeing through all his tricks. The card tricks don’t seem to trip him up either, and Davey somehow knows what can be done with some sneaky shuffling methods. In the midst of all this, a crowd has gathered to watch the conversation between the illusive and poorly-dressed street magician, and the seemingly all-knowing skeptical audience member.

“How d’ya even know all that?” Jack asks, both in frustration and in genuine curiosity.

“I got really obsessed with learning how magic tricks work, once. I ended up almost pulling two all-nighters because of it,” Davey says, a little embarrassed by the fact.

Jack can’t help but to laugh at this – it’s an amusing, and somehow endearing, reason to be this knowledgeable about street magic. “Alright, alright, smart guy. C’mon, hands up, yeah?” he says, grabbing both of Davey’s hands and placing them face-down between them. Davey complies wordlessly, and even though he’s blushing from the unexpected touch, the look on his face shows that he’s skeptical that this trick will trip him up any more than the last one.

“Alright, what’re ya – left or right-handed?”

“Left-handed.”

“Yeah? Well then put down ya right hand, then put your left hand into a fist,” Jack says. Davey does as he’s told, and forces himself not to roll his eyes.

“Now, watch this,” Jack says, before opening up a Sharpie and drawing a tiny ‘x’ on his hand. “Ya see this?” he asks, before noticing the curious crowd that has gathered, and showing his arm to a few of the nearer audience members. He pockets the Sharpie first, before looking to the crowd with a confident smirk on his face. “Now, I’m gonna just pick up this cross–“ Jack pinches at the skin where the tiny cross is drawn, and it comes off almost immediately, “-and I’m gonna sprinkle it over…here.” He makes a sprinkling motion over Davey’s closed fist. The crowd is now visibly reacting, excited and expectant to see what happens.

“Alright, now open ya fist up and take a look,” Jack says, confident.

As expected, a small ‘x’ is visible on the palm of Davey’s hand. The crowd becomes noisy with amazed gasps and overlapping questions, all variations of “How did he do that?!” For the first time since their meeting, Davey looks perplexed.

“Well, can ya explain that one, smart guy?” Jack says, teasingly. The lack of an immediate response is telling enough. As most of the crowd starts to disperse, pleasantly surprised that the skeptical audience member is as baffled as the rest of them, a few of them leave bills into the little box that Jack has left out. It totals up to $23, which means that the bet is finally over.

Glancing around at the remnants of the crowd that stay expectantly for more, Jack says “It’s time for me to take my leave, so thank you all very much!” What’s left of the crowd leaves as well, as he takes off his cape, gloves and top hat and shove them into a duffel bag, along with the box he’s been collecting money in. When he looks up, bag on his shoulder, he notices that Davey is still standing there. “Can I getcha something, Davey?” he asks, teasing.

“How did you do that last one?”

“If I told ya that, I’d be out of a job here!” Jack jokes, before winking and walking towards where he knows the nearest café is – it’s cold and he wants a hot drink. Davey shadows him as he does this.

“Jack, c’mon!”

Jack turns around to Davey, and stands a little too close to him than what’s probably socially acceptable. Dialling his charm up to 100, Jack smirks as he gently cups Davey’s cheek with one hand. He then caresses Davey’s cheek for a moment, before pulling the rose from before out from behind Davey’s ear, and holding it out to him again. Grinning, he says “A magician never reveals his tricks.”

At this point, Davey is extremely red, and extremely baffled, not only because he has a pretty hot stranger hitting on him with cheap tricks, but also due to the fact that said stranger refuses to tell him how he did that damn trick. While he recovers from Jack’s proximity and open flirtations, Jack has already continued to walk away at a leisurely pace, apparently enjoying this interaction. Honestly, Davey admittedly can’t tell whether he wants to chase Jack down for his answer or for his number, but both are pretty damn good reasons, so he jogs to catch up with Jack again.

“If you’re not going to tell me, at least give me your number,” Davey insists.

“Woah, there! All this for just a magic trick?” Jack teases, despite the fact that he’d been hoping for exactly this.

“No! Well, not really, anyways. It’s just, you’re really– I just kinda thought that you, would maybe want to– I, uhm– you’re really nice and you look nice? I mean–“ Davey trips on his words. He’s not exactly the kind to just ask someone out on a whim like this, but the very attractive magician gave him a rose and was easy to talk to in a way that strangers never were, and on top of that, Davey still wasn’t entirely sure how the Sharpie trick had worked, and so it was reason enough to try and at least befriend the man.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Jack says, interrupting Davey’s fragmented monologue. He hands Davey his phone, with the screen showing the page for adding new contacts, and Davey gratefully takes it. “I was really hoping that you’d ask, anyways. But after all that,” Jack says, gesturing vaguely to the rose, “I figured that you’d say something if you were interested.” Grinning, he adds, “And I didn’t want ya saying you’d go out with me just to find out how I did the trick.”

Davey laughs at this, and he hands back the phone. Jack calls the contact for a second, so that the number shows up on Davey’s own phone, and Davey can save it later. Davey thanks him for this, and Jack tells him that he’ll text Davey later, and they say their goodbyes. He watches as Davey starts to walk away.

“Wait,” Jack calls out, suddenly. “Look, I know I’ve got your number and whatever, but I’m about to get some coffee. D’ya... maybe wanna join me?”

Davey lights up at this, and answers, “I’d love to.”

#fic #mine #davey jacobs #Jack Kelly #Javid

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thisisdefinitelyaboutyou-blog · 7 years ago

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Watching ‘To the Bone’ to try take my mind off shit.

That relatable moment when your low weight prevents you from pushing heavy things on wheels around successfully.

When your sit-up groans sound like you’re about to orgasm. That’s never happened to me personally.

When people give you vibes that they think you should be put on a food-calorie-content-trivia-game-show.

Ellen’s mum has been on the screen for less than 3 seconds and I can already feel she’s mostly useless.

Oh wait; her step-mum.

Jack must be her dad.

... and he sounds like a total piece of shit even though he hasn’t appeared on screen yet...

No wonder this girl has issues.

Damn Lily. That’s some method-acting-imbued-with-IRL-experience-shit with those ribs.

Congratulations step-mum bitch. Did you seriously just body-shame someone with an eating disorder?

Of course you did.

Photo and all.

Ellen, Effy wants her shirt back

Casual ableism with the R-word. Ugh.

Twice. Couldn’t they have used ‘tacky’, ‘garish’ or ‘straight up shite’ instead?

Ellen and her sister are step-siblings.

Even Ellen’s biological mum isn’t doing quite so great with parenting.

RENFREW GETS A SHOUT OUT.

Ellen’s biological mother is also mentally unwell, according to the useless step-mum.

HI THAR KEANU.

I’m still crushing on you like 20 years after I first heard about your existence lol

My periods never stopped.

LOL okay I don’t know how things go at treatment centres because I’ve never been to one, but I don’t think Keanu-psych-doctor-character’s speech to Ellen would ever happen IRL.

Step-mum thinks Ellen’s a lesbian. Step-mum, may I have you attention please: not all women named Ellen are lesbians.

“Pussy, you mean” Ellen smashed it.

Step-mum just brought Ellen a burger-shaped cake reading “Eat up, Ellen!”

Can someone please put this woman in a deep fryer already?

Token British guy lives at the treatment facility I see.

Of course he’s from London. That is literally the only place that exists in the UK after all.

Did this guy just use the words “sordid tale”?

The cringe is strong with this one.

OMFG STEP-MUM STOP STARING AT PEARL LIKE SHE’S SOME KIND OF ANIMAL CAGED AT A ZOO OKAY?

LOL at neurotypical step-mum thinking the nurse doesn’t know the tricks.

I think Ellen would KNOW not to talk about numbers if she’s been to treatment before. Just saying.

Oh Pearl. We know you’re trying <3 Keep on trying okay? <3

British boy does ballet.

British boy is immensely irritating.

He’s a Manic Pixie Dream Boy whose entire on-screen presence is dedicated to cheer up Ellen with his quirky charm and general instability. I’m calling it.

Blonde woman seems like she likes her gossip. She also seems like my age or something.

Ellen presumably ran some thinspo tumblr with her drawings.

Is that Anna?

Is Anna Emily fucking Fitch?

Yes. Anna is Emily fucking Fitch.

Effy still hasn’t gotten her shirt back.

Oh my fucking god step-mum shut the fuck up please thanks.

“I’m sorry that I’m not a person anymore. I’m a problem.” :’(

“Fuck fault!” I like how Keanu said that.

Wow step-sister Kelly. “Just... eat.” That’s not how it fucking works.

Someone died “because” of Ellen’s artwork.

Ellen’s sneaking under Emily’s bed.

Puke bag!

Anna. Mia. What aptly named characters.

Pearl’s “Yay” over the blonde lady’s possible baby shower was too cute <3

British boy is trying to talk to Ellen outside.

He is such a terribly annoying knobhead.

And evidently socially inept, which makes me feel a bit less annoyed towards him.

“Pretty soon you’re going to be flopping round here like a boneless fish,” said Lobo. I like Lobo. Even if she says things like this.

Luke brought her Ellen Goo-goo-whatever-they’re-called treat. Ugh.

He also reminds me of Tony-two-hats from ‘My Mad, Fat Diary’, but Tony-two-hats was actually likeable.

SERIOUSLY FUCKING BACK OFF KNOBHEAD.

Why is therapist Keanu suggesting a name change? I mean really? That’s more cosmetic than fucking trying cosmetic surgery in a bid to start anew.

Eli.

Sounds like E-LIE.

Like with Ellen’s tumblr being an ‘e-lie’ kinda thing?

Did they do that on purpose?

How stoned am I?

Knobhead is grateful she’s not gay.

Hey Knobhead! Listen up!:

He’s asking her out...

Ellen please don’t bother with this knobhead.

Please.

Too late.

Is this bagful of shit using cancer as an excuse to get drinks without ID?

I heard this movie was going to be problematic; but wow.

ELLEN RUN.

Keanu is back <3

And he’s taking the patients on a trip!

Oh lord. My eyes are rolling back so hard into my skull with this art-rain-room-shit thing.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be hit any harder in the face with that kilogram of mozzarella, knobhead broke into a dance.

On wet tiles.

With a fucked knee.

[faux applauds]

Everyone’s joining in...

You should have all done this on acid bro.

Knobhead beckons Ellen to join him.

They’re hugging.

This shit should be raining grated parmigiano.

WOW THANKS I’M CURED:

This attempt at art therapy is cute and all but its is not how any of this works.

At all.

Why is this movie making it seem like one platonic date with a knobhead with a British accent can make people with restrictive-type eating disorders magically eat again?

Blonde lady with the bun in the oven just used the word ‘spaz’.

This movie sinks lower and lower by the minute (and I actually had pretty high hopes for it).

I’m pretty sure that treatment centres aren’t this “fun”.

Not even the radical ones.

I refer to it as “fun” because it looks as forced as fuck.

Just saying.

Or maybe I’m just being an exceptionally cynical asshole tonight.

I can’t wait to see what everyone else on tumblr is saying about this.

I purposefully avoided tumblr reviews before watching it.

Knobhead is swinging Ellen on a swing outside.

Did he just seriously out-rightly ask her whether she’s ever been sexually assaulted?

“Because it’s a big ‘rexie’ thing?”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Knobhead is so gross and creepy and sleazy.

He’s asking her whether she’s a virgin like he’s asking her for the time.

If Knobhead was meant to come off as endearing, it seems to me like he’s anything but (save for like one second earlier on)

No one cares about your boner asshole.

Is he asking her for a blow-job?

They’re making out.

I want to throw up.

HE SAID IT. KNOBHEAD’S FALLING IN LOVE WITH ELLEN.

Ellen run.

Oh my god. “I’ve known you for two years!” KNOBHEAD GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THIS GIRL NOW. YOU HAVE ISSUES SHE HAS ISSUES AND YOU’RE BEING A PISSY DICK.

That tumblr shit with the parents of the dead girl sending Ellen pictures of their child with her wrists slit was brutal.

Wow. So Ellen is opening up about how love scares her and Knobhead is just telling her that her thinking is “all kinds of wrong”.

Way to invalidate someone’s feelings asshole.

Oh no. Blonde lady seems to be having a miscarriage.

:’( :’( :’( No :’( :’( :’(

Ah. Keanu has just pulled the ultimate neurotypical bullshit line to the effect of:

“It’s not what happens to you that matters. It’s how you deal with it.” Yeah. That totally fixes shit for someone with a cluster-B personality disorder asshat.

I think that line kind of confirms that whoever wrote this movie didn’t really know what they were writing about. Not really, anyway.

I’m so disappointed Keanu is making a comeback in THIS OF ALL THINGS.

Emily deserved better too.

Can someone shut this treatment centre down already?

Poetry reading.

It’s called “Courage”.

Is she going to read the whole fucking thing?

Stopped after the second stanza.

Now therapist Keanu is talking about his love life - or lack of thereof - because Ellen asked. Pull the next one.

What fucking therapist encourages someone days away from being tubed to attempt embarking any kind of relationship?

And now he’s telling her she doesn’t need anyone to save her. Make your mind up therapist Keanu.

Before Keanu says another word: Having a mental illness does not mean you are incapable of dealing with the hardships of life.

Grow a pair is concisely and literally the advice this therapist is giving.

Without the want to be any more negative than I have been, Ellen has a good point in noting how therapist Keanu’s methods are lacking.

Ellen’s leaving. I’m almost relieved.

Knobhead’s hobbling towards her.

Wow. Knobhead’s making it all about him again.

This guy is just yikes.

RUN BABY GIRL. YES. FREE AT LAST.

Ellen’s made it to the station.

And she’s passing out.

Ellen can now wrap her hand around the circumference of her upper arm.

Ellen’s gone back to her biological mum’s.

Ellen’s mum’s partner is also useless. Damn.

This child is dying and all you want to do is talk about family drama and how shit her step-mum is?

This just happened:

Hippe-farm-loving-Ellen’s mum wants to feed her adult daughter to make up for not holding her enough as a baby or some shit.

In a fucking ritual.

By someone who wrote a book about ‘the guiding white light’ or whatever.

She literally brought a fucking baby bottle full of milk to feed her grown ass daughter like an infant.

This is literally what persons of colour mean when they say “white people peopling”.

Wow. And now her mum’s like “I can’t handle this shit!” again.

“Feed me please”. She sounds so sad :’(

This is so truly sad.

Ellen’s fed and off for a trek.

Now Ellen’s passed out/fell asleep in the wilderness and has suddenly ‘woken’ up looking healthy and polished with Knobhead standing over her.

She’s dreaming (or dying).

She’s kissing Knobhead while sitting on a tree branch

And now she’s looking down and seeing her emaciated, naked self lying on the ground.

She’s eaten a piece of coal Knobhead gave her which references a line in the poem read earlier. Deep.

She’s awake.

This shit has started triggering me a bit now, right at the end. Fucking bones.

Back at the clinic.

She’s going to be okay, she said. Okay.

Her dad never did appear on screen.

Can I have my time back?

#to the bone #ednos #eating disorder #eating disorders #anorexia #bulimia #mental illness #ableism #effy stonem #manic pixie dream girl #manic pixie dream boy #emily fitch #skins #tony two hats #my mad fat diary #keanu reeves

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studentsofshield · 8 years ago

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What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?

By Vincent Faust

(This was originally published on October 25, 2015)

Is Superman still relevant?

This is a question DC has struggled to answer since he came back from his heavily publicized death in 1993 (if not further back). An almost innumerable number of casual superhero fans will argue that Supes is no longer relevant. Legions of hardcore comics fanboys will go to bat for this position too. He’s too idealistic. He wears underwear over his pants. His secret identity is dumb. Why is our intended number one superhero not even from our planet? He’s way, way too overpowered. But at the same time, with all that power he doesn’t do all that he can do, he holds back. He’s an outdated hero from a forgotten era. These same sentiments are thrown around to a lesser extent toward Captain America. What went wrong? Can the “Big Blue Boy Scout” be saved? Joe Kelly’s revered “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice and the American Way” tries to address this question.

Action Comics Vol 1 775 (2001) Written by Joe Kelly; penciled by Doug Mahnke and Lee Bermejo; inked by Tom Nguyen, Dexter Vines and others; colored by Rob Schwager; lettered by Comicraft

Superman hasn’t had a truly mass appeal ongoing title in years. Superman and Action have been critical and financial disappointments since the New 52, outside of the esoteric bits Grant Morrison did that were bound to not be film source material or mega sellers. James Robinson, Kurt Busiek and Geoff Johns (among others) were juggling him before the reboot with middling success. It seems that almost every great Superman story is a limited series or one-shot. All-Star, Birthright, Secret Identity, Man of Steel, Red Son, For All Seasons. Is he just hard to write for?

Much of the public dislike and misunderstanding of Superman has to do with his appearances in media outside of comics. Superhero adaptations had almost universally been bubblegum for decades. Batman ‘66 defined campiness, intentionally or not. Early serials were poorly adapted, purely picking up the superficial aspects of the characters and stories that had proven so memorable on the page.

In 1978 Richard Donner changed that forever. He set out to prove that superheroes could work on the silver screen. Marlon Brando and Gene Hackman were involved. He figured out how to achieve the flight effect convincingly. It worked. The film was a massive success. Millions were inspired by Christopher Reeve’s portrayal. Everyone knows John Williams’ iconic theme just the same as his other masterpieces from Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter or Jurassic Park. They can whistle it on cue. Despite it’s successes, the film started a blight on Superman’s reputation that wouldn’t be realized until years later.

Donner can’t be faulted for being a devout Superman fan. Years later, he would co-plot an acclaimed Superman story with Geoff Johns. However, perhaps he was too into the early Silver Age stories of his youth or had too much boundless imagination. His Superman had nigh endless powers. At the climax of the film, Lois Lane dies. Superman infamously flies around the Earth so fast that he manages to reverse time and save her life. Though arguably cheap plotting, the idea was novel and it made for a visually and emotionally memorable set piece. This stood out to the audiences though. It was a great movie, but people like underdogs and characters with faults. Spider-Man is ridiculously popular for a reason. The dude can just reverse time whenever he screws up and has only one weakness to a rare rock.

youtube

Jerry Seinfeld, another fan of Supes, brought this argument even more into the mainstream through bits on his show and some Amex commercials.

youtube

In his original stories by Siegel and Shuster, Superman could simply leap over buildings in a single bound. The more writers, artists and crazy stories that he was strung through, the more powers he picked up along the way. Flight, super strength, super speed, heat vision, X-ray vision, super hearing, super breath (with freezing ability), and depending on your canon, literally anything else. Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths, John Byrne tried hard to boil Superman down to his basic power set. The problem was that the average American was not reading comics in 1986. Their vision of the Man of Steel was still Richard Donner’s interpretation, and neither Bryan Singer nor Zach Snyder has done much to waver that in the meantime.

Parallel to the public’s souring on Superman, a new crop of superheroes was popping up that directly challenged his ideals. In the 1990s, Image comics boasted how their characters and stories dealt with the moral grey and weren’t simple 1940s cardboard cutouts. They killed the murderers, rapists and child molesters of the world. Marvel and DC understandably chased after this success and pumped up characters like the Punisher, Deadpool (interestingly Joe Kelly is considered Deadpool’s biggest innovator and signature creator) or Lobo. Though in retrospect many of these stories are considered garbage, they sold bucket loads.

A new wave of writers and artists were popping up too. Some brilliant men from across the pond with trademark UK dark humor and cynicism to infuse into these stories. Though your early image anti-heroes were throwaway pieces of shit, some of these books were genius. Warren Ellis and Bryan Hitch’s Authority was arguably the peak of this. A superhero team with the motto “by any means necessary.” They fought “God” at a point. Though not the top of the charts, the Authority is easily one of the most influential projects of the era, its DNA of moral ambiguity and wide screen action bleeding into everything under the sun.

“What’s So Funny” starts with a new superhero team making their entrance by obliterating a giant mutated creature, along with half of the city around the battle. They announce themselves as The Elite by forcefully downloading their manifesto to every computer in the world (a la Apple and U2). They then completely demolish a team of villains that had aims to turn Tokyo to rubble.

The reader is introduced to these infamous newcomers on the scene. We have Menagerie, a buxom woman with a symbiotic suit reminiscent of Venom or Witchblade; Coldcast, a comically humongous, muscular Black man accessorized with manacles and chains with abilities of electromagnetism; The Hat, an elemental with his eponymous fedora from which he can pull anything he desires; and their leader Manchester Black, a smoking, Union Jack graphic tee, Doc Martens and leather trench coat-clad, purple-haired, incredibly powerful telekinetic. Black’s inspiration is practically transparent, whether it is The Authority’s Jenny Sparks or more broadly the British writers aforementioned.

Superman comes across them multiple times, witnessing their scorched Earth tactics. All the while, their approval ratings are soaring.

A powerful series of panels shows a group of young kids playing “superheroes” like they would cowboys and Indians or army games. The kid playing Superman is pissed and storms off with, “I can’t KILL you, but YOU can kill ME! How can I stop you if I CAN��T KILL?” His friend dressed as Black replies, “You CAN’T. So let us kill YOU. And you can be SOMEONE ELSE.” Over a beautiful Metropolis sunset, “Okay, kill me an’ I’ll be somebody COOL. Bein’ Superman IS SO BEAT” is captioned.

In bed, Superman discusses with Lois his plans to put the Elite in line.

Superman - “People have to know that there’s ANOTHER WAY, Lois. They have to hear a voice of COMPASSION and FAITH instead of SPITE and ANGER. They have to see that SOMEONE believes in humanity strongly enough…”

Lois - “To DIE for them?”

Supes requests the battle be held off-planet to prevent collateral damage (something slightly altered for the animated adaptation of this story).

Black monologues that “This isn’t about LOVE. It’s about removing the cancers that fester in us and flushing them down the TOILET. The people don’t WANT babysitters in SPANDEX to slap them on the wrist when they’re bad. They want SURGEONS to cut the ugly bits from them and CHARGE them through the moral NOSE. DOCTOR MANCHESTER BLACK at your service.”

After initially wrecking the Man of Steel and thinking they have won without contest, the Elite are surprised by Superman coming back and seemingly killing all of them off without much effort.

Before dealing with Black, he’s asked “How does it feel to have your FLAWS EXPLOITED? To be DECONSTRUCTED? How does it feel to WATCH DREAMS DIE?”

He proceeds to whip out the heat vision, to the amusement of Black. Supes then explains that he just performed surgery and removed the abnormality in his foe’s brain that lent him his powers. Black breaks down in tears and yells that the Big Blue has shown the world that he’s no better than the Elite. Superman turns to the cameras and explains how Black’s morals that he briefly borrowed aren’t right. He states, in an almost fourth wall breaking manner, “I don’t LIKE my heroes ugly and mean. Just don’t BELIEVE in it.”

The issue ends with the poignant final page that begins this post.

“Dreams save us. Dreams lift us up and transform us. And on my soul, I swear… until my dream of a world where dignity, honor and justice becomes the reality we all share, I’ll never stop fighting. Ever.”

Through this story Joe Kelly argues that, even with his endless powers, Superman is still important to our world, both in the DCU and in real life, as a powerful aspiration to reach toward.

Superman is often compared to Jesus. In reality, a pair of Jews gave birth to this monolithic figure that an entire fictional mythos revolves around. On the page, a mighty civilization sends their last son to ours to protect and inspire us. Cinematographers are especially huge fans of pumping up this parallel. Superheroes taught me my morality. Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Bruce Wayne and Charles Xavier are my biblical figures.

Action Comics 775 is considered one of the greatest Superman stories of all time. Hell, it’s considered one of the greatest comic stories of all time. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I have to agree that it is one of the best Supes stories of all time. It isn’t without its faults though.

The biggest flaw of the story is pacing. A running start to immediately introduce us to the Elite is a great idea. The initial reactions of media types and then-president Lex Luthor are handled well.

Once Superman actually meets the Elite, the plot moves along way too jarringly. Part of the problem is the conveyance of action. The quickness of the first scene makes sense to show the sheer power of the Elite. Their splash page introduction is on point. The second fight they crash with the Klee-Tees suffers from poor storytelling from the art team. It is simply unclear how time passes and movement occurs between the panels. It’s unknown whether this blame should fall on Kelly’s script or the execution on pencils.

The Lois and Clark conversation in bed is executed perfectly though. The monochromatic coloring on these pages works wonders to set the mood. The shot of Superman standing in the street right before calling on the fight is beautiful.

The final fight is way too confusing to tell what is happening. The action should be epic and brutal, not jump cutted along. This is handled a little better in the DC animation version of the story simply due to the differences in the two media. However, this isn’t an excuse when plenty of comics convey action expertly.

I’ve harped on the art a bunch. I’m honestly not a huge fan of this art style in the first place, removed from the actual execution of the story. So I concede bias. However, part of my dissatisfaction may be explained by the fact that this single issue has a grand total of six inkers on it. The premise and most of the script is top of the line though. Oftentimes writers are given too much credit in comics. Their name comes first on the cover. Artists arguably do the most work in actually telling the story. That is the downside with this book, but also why Joe Kelly deserves most of the recognition for its genius.

I think there are a few things that could have been done by Kelly and DC to truly ensure this would stand the test of time as a masterpiece. It desperately needs more focus on the artistic side. I’m honestly not really sure which parts of the book Mahnke did and which ones Bermejo did. I’m not a giant fan of the style, obviously if they somehow got someone like Brian Bolland it would probably be better. However, even accepting the general style, there should have been one penciler and one inker. Speaking of Bolland, it makes a little sense to compare this to The Killing Joke. They’re both highly regarded single issues.

“What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice & the American Way” stands as a legendary story. Probably one of the absolute best single issues in comics history.

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