#i think i do still see Oscar and Morris as set ages but I like my idea they can't quite remember

[riding-palominos-every-day]

Feeling silly so here's my full list of age hcs for the newsies + additional characters

Les's is definitely canon and Jack's is almost definitely given his line in Santa Fe, Kid Blink and Boots' are canon to the original movie script

Manhattan

Jack - 17

Davey - 17

Crutchie - 15

Les - 9

Racetrack - 16

Albert - 16

Specs - 17

Finch - 14

Romeo - 11

Henry - 15

JoJo - 15

Elmer - 12

Buttons - 14

Kid Blink - 16

Mush - 15

Mike - 13

Ike - 13

Sniper - 16

Smalls - 13

Tommy Boy - 14

Splasher - 16

Barney Peanuts - 13

Kenny - 15

Boots - 15

Skittery - 17

Brooklyn

Spot - 14

Hotshot - 18

Myron - 16

Bart - 17

York - 15

Mack - 15

Lucky - 16

Scope - 17

Stray - 16

Pips - 11

Ritz - 12

Splint - 15

Willie - 16

Misc.

Vince - 12

Katherine - 19

Oscar - 15

Morris - 17

Darcy - 18

Bill - 19

[somedayonbroadway]

Hmmmmm. Tangled The Series Henris AU? I love that series.

Okay, this show was so interesting and Henry’s is a really intriguing ship and I’m finding that I actually like it more and more. I do have to be honest, I don’t think I actually watched every episode of this show. I think I missed a lot. I need to watch the whole thing.

So for this outline I will be using a lot of the characters that I typically put more in the background. This will be interesting.

So….

Tangled: The Series AU

Characters

Henry — Rapunzel

Morris Delancey — Eugene Fitzherbert

Mush — Cassandra

JoJo— Varian

Oscar Delancey— Lance Strongbow

Mike and Ike — Angry and Red

Specs — Maximus (but human)

Snyder — Mother Gothel

Seitz and Bunsen — The Stabbington Brothers

Bryan Denton — Captain of the Royal Guards

Jack Kelly — Hook Hand

Crutchie Morris — Hook Foot

Henry (Rapunzel)

Henry had always been special. Ever since the day he was born.

He wasn’t the only one who’d known that.

On the night after his birth, he is stolen, taken far away and held captive (unknowingly) by a greedy man who wants to have the power Henry was born with for himself in order to keep himself young and live forever.

For the first eighteen years of his life, Henry is unaware of this and believes this man to be his father, growing to trust and respect him.

But Henry had always had a dream to go outside and see the world, though he was never aware.

He has a dream to see the floating lights that always appear on his birthday.

When one day a thief breaks into his tower, mean to him at first, Henry takes his chance and gets out, going on an adventure that changes his life forever.

Along the way, he falls in love.

Now, he’s back with his family, at home at the castle, suddenly a prince who has no idea what he’s doing.

Forced to adjust to this new life, Henry tries to learn everything he needs to know. Taught for the most part by his trusted Valet, Mush, adopted son of the captain of the royal guard.

Mush and Henry are fast friends, pulling together after Mush finds Henry crying alone in his room, overwhelmed and terrified that he was going to screw up somehow.

Henry’s parents adore him, despite not knowing him for the first eighteen years of his life. He loves them just the same, but is hurt when his father placed restrictions on his freedoms.

See, in order to learn about the kingdom, Henry loved to ride through it and see every bit of it as often as he could.

He and Morris, the thief who’d stolen his heart and then kept it close, would go on nightly rides with Mush following them close behind

Henry’s father says it’s too dangerous.

That same night, the rehearsal for Henry’s coronation is scheduled and Henry is already on edge, feeling as though the walls were closing in on him.

Being locked in a tower for eighteen years seemed to make him a bit restless and a bit claustrophobic

When Morris proposes to him that night, the stress of everything and the thought of never leaving the castle again gets to him and he declines, running off to his room and trying to figure out what to do.

Mush suggests they run away that night.

Henry and him sneak out into the kingdom, actually leaving the walls of Manhattan altogether and stumbling across some mysterious rocks that Henry just seems to be drawn to.

Despite Mush’s insistence not to touch the rocks, Henry does anyway, unable to stop himself

While his hair does not grow back, his powers do, but this time it’s energy sources from his hands.

Mush rushes Henry back to the castle and helps him hide away, not wanting anyone to know.

It’s painful for Henry to keep such a secret from Morris, but he does for a while, not wanting anyone to know he’d snuck out.

Nightmares haunt Henry’s dreams after this happens, making him fear that bad things are coming to Manhattan

While Henry doesn’t necessarily have all of his healing powers back, he finds he can create force fields around him and those close to him to protect them from harm.

With the help of a young Alchemist named JoJo, Henry and Mush set out to find out just what the rocks did to him.

After confessing how his powers returned to his boyfriend, Henry explains to Morris why he couldn’t accept his proposal

The two remain in a relationship, getting married years later after all of the chaos is placed far behind them

Morris Delancey (Eugene Fitzherbert)

Growing up an orphan with only one brother, Morris learns how to be a thief out of necessity, finding that it came naturally to him

He is not necessarily a people person, but always did try, as the oldest of the orphanage he grew up in, to keep the littler kids entertained and hopeful and happy

He loved to read stories of a devilish, daring adventurer by the name of Flynn Rider

After aging out of the orphanage, he adopts the name until he nearly drowns and confesses to a certain magical boy with long brown hair that he’d tried to become a fictional character who had everything because it was better than being an orphaned kid with nothing

While parading around as the mysterious Flynn Rider, Morris begins to get more and more daring, eventually working up the courage to trick to other thieves into helping him steal the crown of the lost prince of Manhattan

After getting chased by the royal guards through a deep forest, Morris stumbles across what looks to be an abandoned tower, changing his life forever.

He meets the boy who would become the love of his life there, sending them both out on an adventure where Morris realizes that he wants to be able to turn his life around

After being arrested, escaping, dying and coming back to life, Morris is ready to turn over a new leaf, after being pardoned for seeing to the safe return of the lost prince

Morris is unaware of his parents origins for a long time, believing them to be explorers who he’d hoped were one day going to come back for him growing up

Even when they don’t, he still has hope.

It is eventually revealed that Morris and his brother were both sons of a king and queen who had to evacuate their kingdom and separate themselves from them when a threat awaits to plague and destroy their entire kingdom

The kingdom became known as The Dark Kingdom and was eventually reduced to ruin, the king and queen barely managing to escape

The queen died a few years later, but the king continued on, searching for his lost sons

Morris eventually reconnects with both his little brother and his father who he is stunned to see after so many years.

After returning Henry to his family and castle, he is relieved to know that the boy he’d fallen for still wants him around, even as he’s moving up in the world

Realizing that his heart no longer belonged to him, Morris gets ready to propose, fearing rejection all the way

When he does get rejected, he doesn’t know how to react.

Morris and Mush never really get along too well, constantly at odds with each other, though they both truly do want what’s best for Henry in the end

After not being able to see or talk to Henry for days, at Mush’s insistence, Morris climbs up the side of the tower to see him, shocked to find that his powers are somewhat back and he has no idea how

Despite finding out this secret, Morris is still left behind when Mush takes Henry to find some more help

Hurt by this, Morris follows along anyways, meeting a young boy by the name of JoJo who claims to be his biggest fan

Morris grows to like JoJo for a while, though is constantly suspicious of him, knowing that, despite his sunny disposition, a kid like him, who never had much, would do nearly anything when he got desperate

Overall, Morris does his best to constantly prove to Henry how much he loves him and how far he was willing to go to make him happy.

Mush (Cassandra)

Mush is a royal visor for Prince Henry

Adopted at a young age by the captain of the royal guard, Mush is very skilled fighter and spy, having been in training nearly his whole life

After the lost prince returns to the castle, Mush, who wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as a royal guard, is assigned as his royal visor.

Mostly, Mush is placed in the position to provide a certain protection for Henry as the king fears someone will still be out to harm his son

Despite his insistence that he’d be more useful continuing to train to become a royal guard, Mush ends up taking a liking to Henry and actually ends up being able to call the other boy his best friend

After sneaking Henry out of the castle one night to try and cheer the boy up, he ends up accidentally getting the boy’s powers back

Now feeling responsible for this, Mush tries to hide Henry away and figure out what happened for himself

Mush ends up crossing paths with a young Alchemist named JoJo who offers to help as the word no is not in his vocabulary

While knowing that JoJo has a small crush on him, Mush views JoJo as nothing more than a kid and, while he does protect the boy, constantly pushes him away

Mush eventually ends up becoming a sort of protector to Henry and anyone Henry unofficially adopts into his family

Mush believes that Henry can do better than some former thief from nowhere, but puts up with Morris as much as necessary because he doesn’t want to upset Henry

He grew up a bit of a loner, not having friends and not really caring to have any

Growing up surrounded by a lot of older guys who constantly made fun of him and teased him, Mush grew to become very competitive

Mush slowly opens himself up to have friends after he meets Henry and ends up liking JoJo and a few others, though he is still very cautious and wary around everybody, especially when it comes to his feelings and his past

Eventually learning that his own father abandoned him after kidnapping Henry and showing the other boy more love and affection than the man had ever shown him, Mush becomes enraged, blaming Henry for all of the misfortune life had thrown at him

After more reminders are set in place to show him how he was constantly placed in tough spots, having to turn down opportunities for Henry, and constantly being stuck in his shadow, Mush finally has enough and, while out on a quest, picks up the all powerful moonstone, making himself the moon to Henry’s sun

This event leads Mush to be Henry’s worst enemy, vowing to destroy the kingdom and everyone who’d ever wronged him

Eventually, he kidnaps JoJo, who he forces to help him, he nearly kills Morris, who he claims he always hated, despite their insistence to get along for Henry, and he nearly lets monsters destroy all of Manhattan

JoJo De La Guerra (Varian)

A teenage Alchemist who does not believe in magic.

JoJo is very smart and is always willing to lend a helping hand, desperate to be needed and wanted and useful

He is the only son of the unofficial leader of Old Manhattan, a small town with old fashioned utilities and traditions

Despite his love for science and his genius mind, he often finds that his inventions get him into trouble as he has difficulty thinking things through

When the prince comes asking for his help, JoJo is more than willing to lend a helping hand, adoring the prince and developing a small crush on Mush

After meeting Morris, it is revealed that JoJo believed him to be the real life Flynn Rider

JoJo grew up poor, having nearly starved on more than one occasion and only having his father to provide for him and the rest of the town on a regular basis

The tales of Flynnagin Rider were a sort of escape for him and he grew to convince himself that these stories were real.

Morris tries to tell him that he was just a petty thief but JoJo doesn’t listen, still looking up to him a lot

However, after trusting Morris with a dangerous secret that Morris ends up spilling in order to save lives, he sobers and sees Morris as a normal person, though he still does look up to him

JoJo’s town is soon threatened by the mysterious black rocks that seem to be after Henry

After pleading at the castle for help and getting nowhere, JoJo feels betrayed and goes to try and destroy the black rocks on his own

An experiment gone horribly wrong entraps his father in Amber and, while at first blaming himself, JoJo makes a promise to himself that he’ll make the kingdom of Manhattan pay for taking away the only thing he had

This leads JoJo on an adventure that changes his entire demeanor, making him go dark

He goes back to the kingdom, stating that he’s forgiven the prince and enlists Henry’s help in finding something that will free his father

Henry goes, believing that JoJo has genuinely forgiven him for not helping him before but it’s quick that JoJo turns on him the second he has what he needs.

After he gets the flower that had been the original source of Henry’s power, he finds he needs Henry himself to free his father and kidnaps the prince and Morris, threatening to encase Morris in the chemical if Henry refuses to help him

After this fails, JoJo is arrested and treated as a criminal

Heartbroken and terrified, JoJo tries to beg for genuine forgiveness, trying to convey how scared he is before he is recruited by a group of bandits and ends up the brains behind a gang trying to tear down Manhattan from the inside out

After learning that Henry had never stopped trying to help him or his father, JoJo eventually turns on the gang and rejoins the quest to find out how to stop the impending threat on Manhattan

I know this ones short, but again, I have only seen bits and pieces of the show.

Let me know if there are any scenes you’d like to see from this one!

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[starship-squidlet]

New Music: Act 4, Scene 4

Chapter summary: Things escalate at school for the band.

Word count: 2,639

Disclaimer: Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @i-am-a-wizard @xbanner-carriedx @celestial-rose-sky (let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the tag list!)

Links: Spotify playlist, YouTube playlist, ‘Anything Goes’ on YouTube

A/N: Not going to lie, I love this chapter! Anything Goes is a favorite song of mine, and is also the last song I ever performed (fun fact about Jack: she used to be able to sing in public lol) and I was super excited to be able to use it for New Music! I hope you all love it as much as I do, as we head into the final arc of this story.

Previous chapter: Act 4, Scene 3

Next chapter: Act 4, Scene 5

Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes. Their show the night before had gone late, and getting up for school in the morning had proven… difficult. But he had hauled himself out of bed, and was now trudging along with Race as Cora, Elaine, and Albert chattered cheerfully a few feet ahead of them.

“How are they so awake?” Race groaned, nearly tripping over his own feet as he shuffled along the pavement.

“Witchcraft,” Jack mumbled.

“Keep up, Racer,” Albert grinned, glancing back at them over his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t want to be late to Pulitzer’s assembly,” Elaine snorted.

Both Jack and Racetrack groaned. “I forgot about that,” Race grumbled.

“Did they even say what it was about?” said Jack.

“No, just that we were supposed to check in with our homeroom teachers outside the gym and that homeroom and first period were cancelled,” said Elaine.

At the school’s property line, as they had become accustomed to, they split off into two separate groups. Normally, they would have met up with some of the others near the property line and split up with them, based on who was going to which class, but today they stuck in the groups they’d walked in—Elaine and Cora with Albert, and Jack with Race. They saw some of the others as they went: Spot and JoJo with JoJo’s sister Cami; Elmer with his older brother and younger sister, walking with Davey and Sarah Jacobs; Henry and Boots with Specs; Mike and Ike and their older and younger brothers. Alan, Bill, Darcey, and Katherine joined Jack and Race as they headed for the gym, then Alan ran ahead to scare Elaine, who chased him down the sidewalk to the school door and vanished into the crowd. Cora joined Davey with his little group of Elmer and siblings, along with Cami de la Guerra. Finch and Mush came from the parking lot, with Tommy and Crutchie a few feet behind them.

Inside the gym, Jack looked around for his friends. They were hard to find, spotted in their little groups of two and three. Finch and Mush joined Elaine and Alan near the front of the bleachers; Jack and Race followed Katherine, Bill, and Darcey into the same row, using Alan, Bill, and Darcey as a sort of buffer between their two groups. Cora, Davey, and Elmer sat with Sarah, Walter, Annia, and Cami a bit to their right and a few rows further up. Spot and JoJo took seats in the front row, and Blink joined them a few moments later. Henry, Boots, and Specs were on the far side of the room; Mike, Ike and their brothers were two rows down and against the wall to their left. Crutchie and Tommy sat in the front row with Smalls, near the door where it would be easier for Crutchie to get out at the end of the assembly without being trampled by the inevitable crowd. On the other side of the gym—there were bleachers on both sides, and they’d all been set up to accommodate the entire student body for the assembly, although it was still a tight squeeze—Jack could see Oscar and Morris Delancey, sitting almost exactly across from him and Race, making faces and sneering at them.

“Do you think they realize how stupid they look?” Katherine leaned over to whisper to Jack.

He snorted. “Who knows what’s goin’ through those thick skulls of theirs.”

As the last students found their seats, Seitz and Bunsen closed the doors to the gym. Something pricked at the back of Jack’s neck; if the Delanceys hadn’t been visible across from him, he would’ve guessed that it was the niggling feeling of them staring holes into the back of his head, but, since he could see that their attention had turned to Crutchie and Tommy instead of him and Race, he didn’t think that they were the source. Jack did a quick look around. Everyone seemed okay. What is this? he wondered. Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?

Katherine nudged his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Just tired.”

The gym fell silent as Pulitzer strode across the waxed floor. There was a single microphone set up on a small platform in the middle of the huge room. He walked up to it, stepped up to the microphone, and tapped it, almost like he was trying to quiet the already silent student body. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into the mic, the phrase echoing around the room, bouncing off the tin ceiling and wooden floor. Every eye in the room turned to the principal.

Pulitzer looked pleased with himself. He cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen; students of the World. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called this assembly today.”

“Don’t really care,” Race muttered.

“It has come to my attention that there has been a petition circulating around the school,” said Pulitzer.

Every member of the band, their friends, and Alan, Bill, Darcey, and Katherine froze. Jack felt his heart leap up into his throat, Katherine squeezed his hand. He could hear Race’s breathing get faster next to him.

“I want to make it clear to every person in this room that actions of that sort are not going to be tolerated in this school,” Pulitzer’s voice rang out, sounding vaguely tinny to Jack. “Under no circumstances will Jack Kelly and the Newsies be performing on school grounds, or at any school function. Nor, in fact, will any similar bands that boast such vulgar-sounding ‘music’ be welcome in these spaces.”

Jack heard Elaine hiss “Alan” from further down the bench, and then, before Pulitzer could continue, a new voice was ringing out through the gym.

“Why?” Alan called. His voice was loud and clear, ringing out to echo just like Pulitzer’s had.

Pulitzer zeroed in on Alan. Jack and Race shrank away, trying to make themselves as small as possible. On Alan’s other side, Elaine looked like she wanted to melt into the floor as she, Mush, and Finch also tried to make themselves disappear. “And you are?” Pulitzer said drily.

“Alan O’Dell.”

Jack was pretty sure he saw Pulitzer’s face twist in disdain at the name.

“My sister’s a member of the Newsies,” Alan explained. “I’ve been to a ton of their shows. Their music is really good. I guess I just don’t understand why they’ve been banned the way they are. It seems unfair, and based entirely on your own, personal, opinions and bias. The Newsies are an extremely popular band, and that’s not just a coincidence. They’re good, and the petition clearly indicates that your student body enjoys their shows and would like to be able to have music they enjoy at their end-of-year dance.”

“Mr. O’Dell, am I to take it that you were responsible for the petition that has led to this assembly?” Pulitzer stuck his thumbs in his vest pocket and rocked back on his heels. He now looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Actually, no,” said Alan, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I wish that I had”—

“We started it.”

Every eye in the room shot from Alan O’Dell to Walter Kasprzak and Sarah Jacobs, on their feet and mirroring Alan’s posture. Turning back to look at Pulitzer’s reaction, Jack noticed that Theo and Conrad Duncan—Mike and Ike’s older and younger brothers—were also on their feet. Beside Katherine, Bill and Darcey slowly stood up, and Cami and Annia stood next to Sarah. Jack noticed the teachers around the edge of the room scribbling notes and the sinking feeling in his stomach got worse.

Students around them were whispering furiously at this turn of events. Jack glanced back and saw Davey and Elmer beaming proudly up at their respective siblings. Cora looked a little more like a cornered cat, but still seemed happily surprised by everything going on around her.

“My name is Walter Kasprzak,” Walter said. “My little brother Elmer is one of the Newsies. I’m really proud of him and his friends and everythin’ they’ve done. Their music is amazin’, and I thought they at least deserved the chance to play prom, rather than just bein’ rejected out of hand.”

“And I agreed with him,” said Sarah. “My brother Davey’s in the band too. If other school bands are considered for the dance, there’s no reason that the Newsies shouldn’t be just because the music they play is newer. Like Walt said, the music they play is enjoyable. People our age like it. We want to listen to it. It’s great to dance to. So, we talked it over, and we wanted to do what we could to at least get them considered for the prom.”

“That’s why we came up with the petition,” Theo said. “To give our brothers—‘cause I’ve got two in the band to be proud of—a chance to show their stuff and get the recognition they deserve. If you look over the petition, you’ll find that it’s divided by class, and you’ll notice that there are just as many signatures from the ninth and tenth grade classes as there are from the eleventh and twelfth grade classes. That means that it’s pretty clear: even students who have no vested interest in prom since they won’t be attendin’ it are interested in havin’ the Newsies play it. They think that the band deserves the chance, because they like them and their music.”

“Just because a thing is popular does not mean that it is good or appropriate,” said Pulitzer, almost laughing behind the words. “The music that the Newsies play is wild and unrestrained. If we give into that sort of attitude”—

Before he could finish, Katherine had shot up to her feet and stepped up onto the bench where she’d been sitting. She flung her arms out, threw her head back, and belted: “Times have changed! And we’ve often rewound the clock since the Puritans got a shock”—

“When they landed on Plymouth rock!” Crutchie jumped up and interrupted her to finish the line. They grinned at each other across the gym, then turned to face Pulitzer.

“If today any shock you should try to stem,” Mike popped up like a rabbit, Ike right behind him.

“‘Stead of landing on Plymouth rock,” sang Ike, then the twins slung their arms over each other’s shoulders and belted in unison:

“Plymouth rock should land on them!”

“In olden days, a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking,” sang Elaine, climbing up onto her seat so that she stood even with Alan.

—“But now, God knows! Anything goes!” Cora hopped up to finish the line. Elaine turned around and they grinned at each other, before turning to glare at Pulitzer.

“Good authors too, who once knew better words,” Davey gave in and stood between Cora and his sister.

“Now only use four-letter words writing prose!” Race popped up, not to be undone by his younger sister. “Anything goes!”

“The world has gone mad today

And good's bad today,

And black's white today,

And day's night today,

When most guys today

That women prize today

Are just silly gigolos!”

Finch was next: “And though I’m not a great romancer, I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose”—

“Anything goes!” sang Mush, standing up next to him.

“When Grandmama whose age is eighty,” Romeo was the next one up, climbing up onto his seat to belt, ever-so-slightly off key, “In nightclubs is getting matey with gigolos!”

“Anything goes!” Elmer shouted.

“When mothers pack and leave poor father because they’ve decided they’d rather be tennis pros,” sang Specs.

“Anything goes!” they all cried before launching into the next chorus:

“If driving fast cars you like,

If low bars you like,

If old hymns you like,

If bare limbs you like,

If Mae West you like

Or me undressed you like,

Why, nobody will oppose!”

“When every night the set that’s smart is intruding on nudist parties in studios!” Blink was next, to his friends’ surprise, given that they’d never heard him sing before.

“Anything goes!” Tommy shrugged and stood up next to Crutchie, who nudged him with his elbow and grinned.

“The world has gone mad today

And good's bad today,

And black's white today,

And day's night today,

When most guys today

That women prize today

Are just silly gigolos!”

Boots and Henry took the next chorus together, the others joining in as it went. Then, JoJo stood for the next line: “And though I’m not a great romancer”—

“I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose!” Spot was on his feet next to JoJo almost instantly, another almost unheard voice from among the band members.

“Anything goes!” Smalls popped up next to Tommy, grinning wickedly.

“If saying your prayers you like,

If green pears you like

If old chairs you like,

If back stairs you like,

If love affairs you like

With young bears you like,

Why nobody will oppose!”

Jack sighed and shook his head. He didn’t like where this was going, but he wasn’t about to abandon his friends again. He stood up to sing the last chorus with his friends. They were no longer the only ones singing; not only had the others who had stood with them—like Sarah, Theo, Bill, and Darcey— started singing as well, but many of the students seated around them had joined in. Even the Delancey twins seemed caught up in the moment, although they weren’t singing. Jack was pretty sure if he ever saw Morris and Oscar Delancey sing he would spontaneously combust.

“And though I’m not a great romancer,

I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose!

Anything goes!”

As the last line died away, almost as if they had rehearsed it, every member of the Newsies filled their lungs with air and shouted as loud as they could, one last time: “Anything goes!”

The gym slowly fell silent again. A few students tried to start a round of applause, but that quickly died out. Pulitzer simply waited for silence to fall and attention to return to him. Once it had, he spoke: “All members of the Newsies, as well as any of you who stood in response to the petition, please take your seats and stay in them. We do know who all of you are, so if you attempt to leave, you will still be punished. All other students are dismissed.”

Jack sat down, a lump in his throat and his hands trembling. That’s what I was afraid of. They sat as still as possible as the rest of the student body filed out. A few whispered encouragement as they passed, but most seemed too afraid of Pulitzer’s retribution to do or say much.

Once the gym had emptied of the other students and teachers, Seitz and Bunsen once again closed the doors, and Pulitzer stepped down from the platform. He accepted a piece of paper from Seitz, who gave an almost apologetic glance to the teenagers before moving aside.

“Sarah Jacobs, Walter Kasprzak, Annia Kasprzak, Theodore Duncan, Conrad Duncan, Camilla Carlotta de la Guerra, William Hearst Jr., Darcey Reid, Alan O’Dell, Katherine Pulitzer,” he read from the sheet of paper. “You are all suspended through the rest of the week. The rest of you,” he looked up, and an evil smile crept over his face, “are expelled. You may collect your belongings from your lockers, and then must leave school property. Once you have left, you may not return to school property for any reason. Officers will escort you in pairs to your lockers. Once they have escorted you out of the school building, you must leave the property. Those of you who are only suspended must leave immediately.”

[alwaysmarilynmonroe]

When most people hear the name, “Veronica Lake” usually one of three things comes to mind – that incredible peek-a-boo hair, the Film Noir’s with Alan Ladd or possibly Kim Basigner playing a Miss Lake lookalike in L.A. Confidential (1997) – fun fact, she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for that role. Although, with Veronica’s heyday being well over half a century old, that’s sadly usually as far as it goes.

However, with the Classic Hollywood Era being hugely timeless and forever coming back into fashion, the genre is becoming less of a niché subject and more Stars are on the public radar. If you’re a long time Vintage Lover like myself, you’ll be aware that unfortunately, a lot of our favourites don’t have many books written about them, or if they do, they’ve been out of print for a number of years and can be hard to find, or very expensive. Therefore, when I came across the news that Dean Street Press were publishing a reprint of Veronica’s Autobiography, which was first released in 1969, I was absolutely ecstatic! As most who know me are probably aware of my love for Blonde Bombshells, it may not be as well known that Veronica is my other favourite, after Marilyn.

There have only been two books published on Veronica, which I must add, astounds me – and one of them is this one which was co-written by ghost writer Donald Bain, who sadly passed away in October of 2017. The other is by Jeff Lenburg and I am fortunate enough to have both. However, Lenburg’s book is fairly controversial as he takes a lot of his information from Veronica’s mother, who claims a lot of detrimental things about her daughter – yet was estranged from her for many, many years. I think it’s actually being reprinted this summer and I will read it again, but would definitely advise new fans to stick to Veronica’s own words.

The republished version of Veronica’s Autobiography features a new cover with a stunning publicity photo of her in Ramrod (1947) which was directed by her then Husband, Andr�� de Toth. The book is a shiny paperback, with a non crease format, so even when you’ve finished reading, it will be in great condition and can take pride of place on your bookshelf! At 215 pages and 27 chapters, it’s not a huge length, but definitely a substantial read and full of personal anecdotes from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Broadcaster and writer, Eddie Muller adds a new Introduction and his following words really stuck with me, their relevancy still to this day does not go unnoticed,

“I’ll point out instead that while the public has granted Sterling Hayden, a legendary boozer and hash-head, a legacy as a heroic, larger-than-life iconoclast, it has branded Lake’s life after Hollywood a steady downward spiral of abasement, worthy of only pity. Blame a cultural double standard that applauds reckless rebellion in men but shames it in women.”

As the chapters do not have titles, I’ve decided to write down a snippet of information which sums up the pivotal points and various timelines in each section.

______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1:

– Starts in 1938 and traces Veronica’s move to Hollywood with her mother, step-father and cousin on the 4th of July. Veronica enrolls in the Bliss Hayden School of Acting and has her first role in a movie as an extra in RKO’s Sorority House (1939).

Chapter 2:

– Veronica’s signature peek-a-boo hairstyle is unintentionally created on the set of Forty Little Mothers (1940) by Director, Busby Berkeley who stated, “I still say let it fall. It distinguishes her from the rest”.

Chapter 3:

– Director, Freddie Wilcox sets up Veronica’s first Screen Test, whilst at home her step-father suffers a collapsed lung.

Chapter 4:

– Veronica joins the iconic William Morris Agency and recounts her knowledge of the infamous Hollywood Casting Couch and how she turned away from the many advances.

Chapter 5:

– Veronica meets her first husband, John Detlie and has her named changed by Producer, Arthur Hornblow Jr., who, after a second Screen Test, decides to cast her as Sally Vaughn in her breakout movie, I Wanted Wings (1941).

Chapter 6:

– Focuses on the location filming of I Wanted Wings (1941) from August 26th 1940 in San Antonio, Texas.

Chapter 7:

– Continues filming in Hollywood for I Wanted Wings (1941) and elopes to marry her first husband, John Detlie.

Chapter 8:

– Veronica discusses the first 8 years of her childhood and her move to Florida in her teen years and the two schools she attended in Montreal and Miami.

Chapter 9:

– Recounts various appearances in Miami Beauty Pageants as a teenager.

Chapter 10:

– Returns to 1941 with the release of I Wanted Wings (1941) and focuses on the worldwide phenomenon of the famous hair. Also finishes with Director Preston Sturges hiring Veronica for the role of The Girl in Sullivan’s Travels (1941).

Chapter 11:

Veronica shares the news of her first pregnancy with her mother and how her third trimester would coincide with the physical demands of filming Sullivan’s Travels (1941).

Chapter 12:

– Covers the filming of Sullivan’s Travels (1941) from May 12th 1941 and the revelation of Veronica’s pregnancy. It’s simply incredible when watching the film all these years later to come to the realization that she was between six to eight months pregnant!

Chapter 13: – The filming of This Gun For Hire (1942) and The Glass Key (1942).

Chapter 14:

– The filming of I Married A Witch (1942), So Proudly We Hail! (1943) and The Hour Before The Dawn (1944). Veronica also discusses the deterioration of her marriage and the tragic loss of her second baby, Anthony, who died a week after being born two months prematurely.

Chapter 15:

– Veronica divorces John and retells various anecdotes of the Hollywood Lifestyle in it’s heyday in the 1940s.

Chapter 16:

– Veronica discusses the filming of Star Spangled Rhythm (1942) and also her dating history during this period. She shares some fascinating stories of various celebrity anecdotes which include such Stars as, Errol Flynn, Katharine Hepburn, Howard Hughes and Gary Cooper.

Chapter 17:

– The filming of Bring On The Girls (1945), Duffy’s Tavern (1946) and Hold That Blonde! (1945). Veronica recalls marrying her second husband, Andre de Toth and shares a moving story from her visit to The White House in January 1945.

Chapter 18:

– The filming of Miss Susie Slagles (1946), Out Of This World (1945), Ramrod (1946), The Blue Dahlia (1946), Saigon (1947) and The Sainted Sisters (1948). Veronica and Andre expand their family as she has her third baby, a boy named Michael. She also talks about her and Andre obtaining their Pilot Licenses and how the death of her step-dad deeply affected her.

Chapter 19:

– Features a highly entertaining story of Veronica flying her plane, whilst carrying her forth child, in her fifth month of pregnancy. With her on board is her secretary Marge, who up until then had never flown before.

Chapter 20:

– Veronica gives birth to her forth baby, a girl named Diana and talks about the turmoil of her relationship with her mother, who decided to sue her for, “lack of filial love and responsibility” and over $17,000.

Chapter 21:

– The filming of Slattery’s Hurricane (1949) and Stronghold (1951). Veronica discusses her frustration with Andre’s prolific spending, which results in them filing for bankruptcy and ultimately, the deterioration of their marriage.

Chapter 22:

– Veronica moves to New York in 1951 and continues her acting career through various television appearances and the stage. She enters her third marriage to husband, Joe McCarthy, which she admits was volatile from the start and they divorce after just four years, in September 1959.

Chapter 23:

– Covers the years 1959 through to 1961. Veronica discusses her time taking a job as a cocktail waitress – which contrary to popular belief, she actually quite enjoyed. She also talks about the traumatic accident which resulted in a severely broken ankle, which caused her inability to act for two years.

Chapter 24:

– Delves into her relationship with Andy Elickson, a Merchant Seaman, who she met during her time working in the Martha Washington Hotel and focuses on the period between 1961 and 1966. She also writes about a high note in her stage career; appearing in Best Foot Forward in 1963.

Chapter 25:

– Veronica discusses her move to Miami from New York in 1966.

Chapter 26:

– The filming of Footsteps In The Snow (1966) and Flesh Feast (1970) which was then known as Time Is Terror and was originally shot in 1967.

Chapter 27:

– Ends in October 1967 with Veronica discussing her reading performance of The World of Carl Sandburg, which she describes as one of the, “finest moments” of her life.

______________________________________________________________________________

Veronica’s words are full of honesty, she does not sugar-coat her flaws and her anecdotes convey a great sense of humbleness towards her career and lots of self criticism to her talent, the latter which saddens me. I’ve noticed many of the great Stars rarely seem to have any belief in themselves. If only they could see how loved and appreciated they truly are. However, her loyalty and generosity towards her close friends and even acquaintances does not go unnoticed. It’s refreshing to see her be able to share her own story, without various opinions and conspiracies that have grown over the years being included.

Overall, there’s only two downsides that springs to mind. Firstly, as the book was originally published in 1969 and finishes at the end of 1967, we’re missing the six final years of her fascinating life and tragically nothing can be done to change this. Of course no one is at fault, it’s just a shame that those last years will remain mostly a mystery to us. It would have been wonderful to read about her time in England. Lastly, in the original edition, a number of pages featured very rare photos of Veronica throughout her years, including her own comments. Sadly, only a small version of the cover photo reappears at the end of the newly republished book. I’m assuming this is down to cost and or copyright, but it would be nice to see these rare treasures reappear in the latest edition for fans that are not fortunate enough to also own an original copy.

Ultimately, Veronica always maintains her true self and comes across as not a Screen Icon, but just like one of us – albeit with some extraordinary Hollywood stories. She’s simply, and I mean this in the most complimentary way – a human being. It’s been almost a decade since I discovered Veronica, eight years in fact and I for one have not only became even more endeared to Miss Lake, but, I have also developed a warm space in my heart for my fellow 5’2″ little lady, Miss Connie/Ronni Keane.

Lastly, a huge thank you to Dean Street Press for believing in the popularity of Veronica and so wonderfully reprinting hers and Donald Bain’s special words for us all to enjoy.

For anyone who wants to see more of Veronica, I’ve amassed a fairly large archive of photos over the years which can be viewed on my blog devoted entirely to her; missveronicalakes.

Follow me at;

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For inquiries or collaborations contact me at;

meganmonroes@icloud.com

Veronica: The Autobiography of Veronica Lake; Book Review. When most people hear the name, "Veronica Lake" usually one of three things comes to mind - …

[sarcastic-ace-artist]

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A/N: Hey, so I wrote a fic. Not my best I think, but it’s about Lucy and the Delancey brothers. Enjoy!

____________  

Betsy handed Morris a bag filled with snacks, some stuffed animals, and about 5 dollars. He took it, knowing it made her anxious to even think about doing this.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you? Lucy’s a real spitfire,” she started, “‘Course, I’d know all about that. I’ve had a front-row seat to her growing up for the past near decade.” She laughed nervously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Hey,” Oscar reached out with his free hand to grab her shoulder gently. He carried Lucy with his other. “We’ll be fine Bets. Won’t we Lucy?”

Lucy grinned at her older sister. “Go to work Betsy. They’ve got this.”

“We’ll be okay Betsy. You can count on us,” Morris said confidently. It was their first time being able to babysit Lucy for Betsy. She had finally trusted them enough to watch over her sister.

“Yeah, okay.” Betsy took a deep breath. “I ought to get to work now. Bills don’t pay themselves, heh.”

Morris gave her a smile. “I’ll walk ya ta the street Bets.”

“Thanks Mo.”

He offered her his forearm and she grabbed it out of habit. She held it a little tighter than usual this time.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’ll be fine. Lucy won’t be put into any kind of danger while me an’ Oscar are around her.”

Betsy sighed, “Yeah, but she likes to run off an’ explore. Nearly gave me a heart attack the first time it happened.” She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t let her run off, you hear me?”

Morris gave her a salute. “Yes ma'am.”

She gave him a light shove. “I’m trusting you two to do this Morris. Do it right.”

And with that, she stepped into the street and began walking towards the department store. Morris watched her go. It felt nice to have someone see them as people who were trying their best instead of seeing them mainly as bullies. Unlike the newsies.

Speaking of the newsies, it was almost distribution time.

“Hey Oscar!” Morris called into their house, leaving the door open behind him. They would leave with Lucy soon. No need to keep it closed. They were lucky their uncle was on a business trip for the World. If he were here they would’ve never been able to watch Lucy for the day. “You ready?”

“Comin’!” Oscar stepped into the entrance carrying Lucy and her bag. “Oh, hold on. I gotta do something first.” He set Lucy down and handed the bag off to Morris. “Hold this.”

He raced back into the house.

Morris looked down at Lucy, who was grinning up at him.

“You’re givin’ me cake later, right?” Lucy asked.

Morris chuckled. “Nah. Your sister would kill us.”

Lucy pouted. “That ain’t fair. Betsy ain’t here. She can’t boss you around.”

He knelt down to her level. “If she finds out, she’ll never let us watch over ya ‘gain.”

“Oh, alright,” Lucy conceded. “But only 'cause you guys are my favorite brothers.”

“We’s yer only brothers Lulu,” Morris said as he ruffled her hair. “An’ it aint official yet. We’re not actually brothers and sisters yet.”

There was a crash from upstairs, and the sound of Oscar swearing loudly. 

Morris briefly remembered that they had to tone down swearing in front of Lucy, as per Betsy’s rules before he pushed that thought away in favor of checking on his brother.

He took a few steps into the house. “Oscar? You alright?”

There was silence for a few seconds before Oscar came down the stairs.

“Yeah I’m fine. Nothin’ to worry 'booouuut—hey where’s Lucy?”

Morris whirled around to check up on her.

She wasn’t there. The door was open.

Oh god.

She was gone. He’d left the door open like a fucking idiot and she’d run off like Betsy told them she would.

He turned back around to face Oscar, both of them wearing similar expressions of horror on their faces.

“Shit.”

~~~

That was the only word that could summarize what was happening right now.

Lucy hummed as she skipped down the streets of lower Manhattan. Betsy never let her explore, being paranoid that she’d disappear into the city.

Her sister was worried over nothing. Lucy knew the streets like the back of her hand, despite having only started exploring a couple months ago.

She ignored the stares and whispers that followed her. She was used to it. It happened all the time before she and Betsy met Morris and Oscar.

Lucy arrived at an opening in a fence. She smoothed down her dress before getting down and crawling through.

~~~

Morris and Oscar ran through the streets in a panic. How did they lose Lucy barely a minute after she was put under their supervision?

People stared and yelled at them as they pushed through the crowds.

“Lucy!” Morris called out frantically. “Lucy where are you?”

“Shit, Lucy come back!” Oscar yelled. “We gotta take ya ta distribution!”

They stopped at the corner to catch their breaths.

“Fuck, okay,” Oscar panted, “Betsy said she likes to run off an’ explore, right? Were there any places she told ya about?”

Morris tugged at his hair. “Nah. All she said was that she’d have a heart attack if Lucy went missing. Now c'mon.”

They resumed running.

~~~

The newsies milled around the gate, waiting for the Delancey brothers to get there so they could unlock the gate and give them their papers.

Jack chewed his lip, lost in thought until Race tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Jack, ain’t those the Delanceys? They’se behavin’ pretty strange.”

Jack turned to look, and sure enough the Delanceys were racing down the street.

“Do they look worried? What’s Morris carryin’?”

Jack raised a hand to wave at them. “Hey Morris, Oscar—”

They rushed past the newsies in a blur, disregarding whatever Jack was about to say.

The newsies were silent for a moment as they watched their rivals run off into the crowds.

“…Whaddya think happened to 'em Jack?”

“Probably somethin’ bad.”

“How’re we s'pposed ta get inside?” Romeo piped up. “The gate’s still closed and Weasel ain’t here.”

“I dunno,” Jack muttered. He turned to face the others. “Anybody know how ta pick locks?”

~~~

Lucy pushed through some foliage and tumbled forward onto the sidewalk.

A couple walking past jumped in surprise at her. They hurried away quickly once they got a good look at her.

Lucy smiled. It was nice to walk through the streets, but it had been awhile and she was getting hungry. She looked to her right.

Jacobi’s. Family restaurant.

She dusted herself off and walked inside. Maybe they had some cake that she could have.

~~~

Morris ran past Jacobi’s and glanced inside before for a moment before skidding to a stop. Oscar, who was running behind him, ran full force into him.

They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Oscar what the hell?!”

Oscar pulled himself free. “Ya just stopped!”

Morris stood up and rushed to the window of the restaurant. “That li'l brat!”

“What?” Oscar stepped next to him and looked inside.

Lucy was sitting at a table, enjoying a slice of cake. She looked at them through the window and waved.

“Lucy!”

~~~

Morris and Oscar scrambled inside and collapsed onto the chairs next to her in relief.

“Lucy,” Oscar started, “Ya can’t jus’ run off an’ not tell us. We got real scared.”

She wilted. “Sorry, but I never get a chance to explore the city anymore. Betsy’s had a lot of work lately and she never has any free time to come with me.”

Morris sighed. “Lulu, we’ll explore with ya. But we gotta do our jobs first. Okay?”

“M'kay.” She put the fork down. “I can tell Betsy about this right?”

“No!” Oscar and Morris yelled in a panic. “Ya can’t tell Betsy.”

“Buy me more cake afterwards.”

They looked at each other.

“Fine,” Oscar relented. “We’ll get ya some more cake after work.”

“Wait.” Morris straightened up. “We'se late for work.”

“Oh shit. We have to go. Now.”

Morris bolted for the door while Oscar grabbed Lucy and ran after him.

~~~

The newsies loitered in the yard. Albert had picked the lock so they wouldn’t have to wait outside.

The Delanceys weren’t there yet, so they couldn’t buy their papers. Davey and Les had arrived though.

Davey started a conversation with Jack while Les was crouched down, poking at the ground with a stick.

There was a clamor from outside as Morris and Oscar raced into the yard fifteen minutes late to work. Oscar was carrying a young girl about Les’ age. Jack recognized her from an encounter they had with a pair of girls a few weeks back.

The newsies watched in surprise.

Les looked up and smiled. “Hi Lucy!”

‘Lucy’ waved back enthusiastically “Hiya Les!” Oscar set her down on the counter gently before running around to his spot and unwrapping a bundle of papers to hand out

Morris ruffled her hair before taking Weasel���s place behind the counter, instead of going up to his spot on the balcony. “Line up!”

Jack and Davey bought their papers first before approaching Lucy. 

“Hey Lucy. Where’s your sister?” Davey asked. “She’s usually with you.”

“Work,” Lucy said. “These two are s’pposed to watch me. They ain’t doin’ a good job so far.”

“Hey.” Oscar flicked her forehead lightly. “You’se the one who ran off.”

“Lucy!” Les ran up to her. “Wanna play with me?”

Lucy looked to Oscar as if asking for permission. He nodded and helped her off the counter.

Les grabbed Lucy’s hand and tugged her toward the circle he had made. “C’mon let’s play marbles!”

The two kids knelt down and busied themselves as Morris took the money and Oscar handed out the papers.

“So, you babysittin’ the kids now?” Jack teased them.

“Shut it, Kelly,” Morris warned. But he looked towards Lucy and allowed a small smile to settle on his face.

[heartsunholy-a]

☪ five times our muses almost hold hands, and the one time they do. (MORRIS/BETTY ENJOY)

Five Times Drabbles // Selectively Accepting // @tomorrcwsnews​

Aka: Morris yanks Betty around by her wrist a lot and they end up protecting each other a lot more than either of them will ever admit

i.

She can barely see where she’s going - which, admittedly, makes everything worse since she’s only lived in Manhattan for a week or two. But she knows the way to the butcher’s, at least. Problem is, she’s carrying too many packages. Chic said he would take them when he finished his shift but the butcher was close enough to her school that Betty figured she’d lighten her brother’s load - as much as a 12-year-old girl could. But the stack of groceries in her arms makes it difficult to navigate the busy Manhattan sidewalks.

It’s all a blur. The noise of a trolley car rings in her ears as an unseen hand reaches for Betty’s wrist and yanks her backwards, away from the curb. Her groceries fly everywhere but she’s safe. Still a little dazed, she moves to gather her belongings, sparring a look up at her savior. A boy, roughly her age. He makes no move to help gather her things and perhaps Betty’s confusion looks like something more ungrateful to him.

“I saved ya from being tomorrow’s headline. ‘Girl Crushed By Trolley.’ Yer welcome, by the way.”

Betty huffs in annoyance and brushes the dirt from her skirts as she stands with the stack of groceries back in her arms. Just as precariously stacked as before. She’s mostly annoyed he didn’t give her a chance to thank him in her own time - she would’ve. He was right, she very nearly could’ve been hurt. Instead, not appreciating his attitude, the Brooklyn-born blonde peeks around her belongings to shoot the boy a sugary sweet smile. “My hero,” she coos, insincerity dripping from her words. He scoffs and turns on his heel, clearly no longer interested in her thanks. 

She misses Brooklyn.

ii.

Hiram Lodge is kind to them but Betty wonders if it’s only because of her friendship with Veronica. She had been friends with the heiress practically since moving to Manhattan and she sometimes forgets how powerful and wealthy the Lodges truly are. With Hal Cooper laid up with a leg injury he got at his construction job, Betty’s connection to the Lodges has been invaluable. She and Chic need jobs of their own and Hiram will ensure they find decent work.

He’s offering Chic a distribution job, showing him around the World’s distribution center, introducing him to Mr. Wiesel. Betty’s left to her own devices. Hiram’s already promised to introduce her to THE William Randolph Hearst, to be a secretary or maybe a columnist herself! So the blonde thumbs through a stack of papers, bound and ready to distribute. Well…if she tied them back up, what was the harm in taking just one to read for now?

She unties a bundle and moves to grab the paper on top when a warm, rough hand slams atop her own and Betty glances up. There’s…something familiar about this boy.

“And whaddya think you’re doin’, Blonde?”

…Oh god.

“Baking a cake, what does it look like I’m doing?” She’s not winning herself or Chic any favors with her sarcastic retort, but Betty swears she can hear her brother, Hiram, and Mr. Wiesel laughing in the background, so she doubts anyone else has heard her.

“It looks like you’re tryina steal from us,” he presses, hand still warm atop Betty’s but his gaze icy cold. 

“Steal a paper, are you kidding? Do I look like I can’t afford a dime for a paper?” She’s no heiress like Veronica but her family is doing okay. Or at least had been but with Betty and her brother joining their sister in the workforce, they’d be fine again soon enough.

“Then cough it up. Put ya money where ya mouth is.”

“Ah! Betty dear, I see you’ve already met one of Chic’s potential work mates!” There’s something sly in Hiram Lodge’s smile and Betty’s cheeks burn at the implication. “Chic, my boy! This young man is Morris Delancy. He and his brother Oscar run most of the day to day operations here. And Wiesel, good man, this is Miss Betty Cooper, Chic’s youngest sister and my Veronica’s best friend.”

Betty uses the distraction to slip her hand out from Morris’s hold - with her paper clutched victoriously in her grasp. She turns back to Morris, that same sweet smile in place from years before. “Thank you for the paper, Morris. It was really very sweet of you to offer.” Her smile grows smug as Hiram escorts the Coopers to the New York Journal’s offices, away from the seething Morris.

iii.

Chic doesn’t take the job at the distribution center, instead opting for a security officer position at City Hall. But Betty finds herself back at the distribution center before she knows it. She’s chasing a story, with dreams of writing something other than a vaudeville review. The trolley workers are striking and she’s trying to get a quote from the Delancys, about rumors that they were paid to harass the strikers. As per usual, there are raised voices and arguing - Betty’s never seen eye to eye with the Delancey brothers - but Morris cuts himself off when his attention is stolen by a more pressing matter.

Rough fingers curl around Betty’s wrist, tugging her into the nearest alley. His other hand clamps against her mouth when she starts to protest. Only then does the blonde hear the noises from further down the block. She tries to plead with her eyes, assuring him that she’ll stay silent. Morris seems to get the message as he lifts his hand from her mouth. Betty peers around the corner, taking in the shadows. She’s only heard whispers and rumors like he’s some sort of boogeyman but she knows what’s going on. Snyder the Spider taking in an unsuspecting victim to the Refuge.

It’s sometime later when the sounds die down and Snyder doesn’t appear to be nearing their location. Morris’s grip on her wrist is loose, calloused fingertips barely brushing against her skin. He doesn’t protest when she pulls her hand out of his hold entirely. 

“Um…Thanks. For that,” she murmurs, gaze flickering back to the street just in case Snyder was about to show up again.

Morris nods and it’s the most civilly they’ve spoken since they’ve met. “Yeah, well. Shoulda been home anyway, Blondie. Next time, I might not be here t’ save ya.” 

Maybe it’s because she’s seen someone far scarier tonight, but there’s less malice in his voice than usual.

iv.

The newsies are striking and it’s Betty’s chance to get a real story published!

When the newsies successfully stop scabs from delivering the papers in their places, Morris and Oscar try and muscle them all out. Betty has no problems going toe to toe with them. She doesn’t mind being the thorn in their side if it gets her the story - especially not when they treat other kids like crap. They don’t really hit the girls back, just sort of cart them off to the side, but Betty contents herself to being a distraction, for some of the other boys to get somewhere safe.

Then the bulls arrive. And relief lasts for only a second before a nightstick swings back and strikes Romeo’s face. And then chaos returns, a hundredfold. 

The next time Morris scoops Betty up, he doesn’t try to carry her to the circulation gate. He moves to an alley, a side street. A way out. And when he sets her down and Betty tries to rush past him, he stands his ground. 

“For a smart girl, you’re really fuckin’ dumb. It’s suicide, goin’ back there!” His voice is loud but not louder than the heartbeat thumping in Betty’s ears.

“They need me! Not everyone’s a selfish prick like you!” She struggles, hands pressed against his chest, knees lifting but he stands strong, even when she can tell her blows are substantial.

One of Morris’s hands lifts - not to push Betty back, but to hold her in place. His hand around her wrist causes her to freeze. She’s confused and angry and the battle rages on behind them and she just wants to help, hates hearing the way the newsies are crying out, she needs to help!

“Cooper.” 

It’s the first time Betty can ever remember Morris calling her by name. And there’s something urgent, almost pleading in his voice. “It’s gonna get ugly. You don’t wanna go back there. Use that big ol’ brain o’ yours and do the smart thing.”

Oscar approaches, corralling Katherine and Veronica - but he appears less like he’s shoving them and more like he’s guiding them. Veronica, with one hand twined in Katherine’s, reaches for Betty’s. 

They’ll regroup. They’ll find the newsies who’ve already escaped. Snyder and Pulitzer may have won a battle but they haven’t won the war. Katherine and Betty have their articles to finish, after all.

Morris lets go of her wrist, his face unreadable, and he watches for a moment as the girls - hands clutching each other’s desperately - flee into the night. Betty swears his eyes haunt her dreams for the following nights as much as the fight does.

v.

“Honestly Delancy, what would you ever do without me?”

“Stop havin’ so many damn headaches a day, pro’ly.”

She chuckles but doesn’t stop her work, wrapping cloth around bruised and bleeding knuckles. She hasn’t asked what Morris was doing before she found him, resting in an alley on her route home from the Journal’s offices. She’s learned the hard way she doesn’t always want to know the nitty gritty details of Morris’s life. Not like he’ll tell her anyway. They may have formed some sort of tentative truce now that the strike’s over but she knows the Delancey brothers don’t trust a nosy reporter as far as they can throw her. (And Betty wagers they could probably throw her a fair distance.)

But she can’t leave him like this, struggling to bind his injuries with his non-dominant hand. So she takes his wounded hand and rests it in her lap, her fingers working to tie her handkerchief as a makeshift bandage. The banter is short-lived for once and a silence falls over the pair as the blonde continues her work. Once completed, Betty pats his palm gingerly with her fingertips, as if to punctuate the end of her work. “There. That should hold for the night, at least.”

He curls his fingers experimentally but doesn’t remove his hand from her lap. Betty pretends not to notice.

“…Why?” Morris finally speaks up, gaze aimed at his bound hand and ignoring the blonde beside him. His question’s so quiet Betty barely hears it. 

She too is silent for a long moment, only shrugging in reply at first. “I don’t hate you, you know. You and Oscar seem to think I do but…I don’t.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he grumbles and Betty finds herself chuckling softly.

“I mean, you’re an absolute prick, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not gonna just let you bleed out on the street. No one deserves that.” He falls silent and Betty risks a glance in his direction. Something she can’t quite name worms its way into her chest and she hates it but she doesn’t ignore it. Instead, she pats his palm once more before standing up. “…G’night, Morris.”

She almost swears she hears a “G’night, Cooper” as she returns on her path home.

vi. 

She really hates having to do this. But the headlines had all been talking about the borough-wide streetlight repairs being done and she knows it’ll be dark on her walk home tonight. Chic’s home with the flu, meaning he can’t pick her up from the Journal’s offices. She doesn’t want to bother her father - he’s still easing back into work after his leg had healed and walking across town and back wouldn’t be good for him.

She leaves the offices while it’s still light and tries to rush to the World’s distribution center. She figures there still oughta be some of the newsies around getting their pay. Maybe she can ask one of them to escort her home. But when she arrives, all she sees is Morris, stacking empty crates. None of her friends, not even Oscar or Wiesel, though Betty figures they’re inside.

Shit. She glances at the horizon, watches the sky turn dark. She could probably make it to the Tribune to see if Darcy was still there, but…

“Hey! Beat it, Blondie. Ya ain’t got nothin’ better t’ do than hang out around here? All ya newsie pals ‘re gone.”

…Great. So much for getting away without dealing with Morris.

Betty sighs, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Don’t worry about it, okay? I was just trying to see if Jack or Davey or someone was still around and could walk me home. You know, since the lights are down and all?” Her gaze refocuses on the sky, trying to calculate how dark it would be by the time she walked somewhere else to find an escort home. “But forget it, I’ll go back to the Journal and-”

When Betty turns back around, words died in her throat at the sight of Morris’s outstretched hand and expectant stare. “…Are you serious?” she questions, skepticism all but dripping from her tone.

“D’ya see anyone else around here? C’mon Cooper, the sooner I get ya home, the sooner I can go t’ bed. You ain’t the only one who had a long da-”

It’s Morris’s turn to go speechless when Betty takes his hand, fingers lacing between his. Her smile is a little too smug to be aimed at someone doing her a favor. But Morris deserves it. He doesn’t really retaliate, only scoffing. He tugs on her hand, urging her to walk. And she does, falling in step beside the boy. 

It’s dark enough to mask any heat that dusts Betty’s cheeks, allowing her to focus on the warmth of Morris’s hand in hers.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

May I request angst for any pairing to combat the fluff

this anon knows my brand thank you vvv much

this is my first time writing canon era i think i did an okay job

___________________

why didn’t you tell me sooner? i could have helped you 

ship: ralbert ofc

genre: angst / hurt comfort the end turned accidentally fluffy oh well

word count: 1350

warnings: stabbing, knives, passing out

editing: heck no

__________________

Race ducked into an alley, his feet pounding on the sidewalk, paper bag banging against his hip. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten into this situation. One minute he was trying to sell a paper to an older gentleman who had just bought some fruit from a fruit cart and the next Oscar and Morris Delancey were chasing him down the street, the knives in their hands glinting in the sunlight.

As he rounded the corner, Race ran into an old milk crate and stumbled, barely regaining his footing before the Delanceys were right on top of him.

One of them - Race couldn’t tell who - lunged forward and sliced open the back of his shirt. The cool metal of the knife ripped into his skin as one of the brothers created a long gash on the right side of his back. Race screamed out in pain and stumbled, giving them the opportunity to kick him to the ground.

Race rolled on the pavement before landing flat on his stomach, the wind entirely knocked out of him, ears ringing and a sharp pain coming from where the knife had been. He thought that the brothers had left when he heard Morris’s voice from somewhere above him.

“That was for cheating your way out of paying this morning,” he spat, stomping his boot on Races cut and slicing another one into the back of his shoulder blade.

Oh. So that was what they were after him about? Race cheated his way out of paying for papers all the time by telling crappy jokes and ridiculous pick up lines, it was about time they noticed.

“Next time you better pay, punk,” Oscar hissed. “Cmon Mo, let's get out of here. We’ve got better things to do than beat up homeless orphans.”

Race fought the urge to fire back a line about how all they ever seemed to do was beat up homeless orphans, so he couldn’t imagine that they actually had anything better to do, but he was already feeling a little bit light headed and didn’t want to risk getting another cut and passing out where no one would find him. As it was, he already felt like he might die. The pavement felt nice and cool against his cheek and he closed his eyes letting himself drift and-

Nope. No dying. Not today. He had papers to finish selling and there was a poker game tonight that he had promised to kick Jack’s ass in. Plus he was meeting up with Albert in a few hours so they could sell their last couple of papers together.

Hm, Albert. He was going to kill Race for getting stabbed, twice no less. Race began to haul himself up off the ground, wincing in pain. Wait, he thought, an idea coming to him. Albert can’t kill me if he doesn’t find out. Painfully, Race made his way back to the lodging house, a plan unfolding in his brain.

•••

Albert stood on the corner across from the flower shop, trying desperately to sell his last 15 papers. The sun was beginning to set and he wanted to see Race before the poker game tonight.

Speaking of Race, where was his obnoxious boyfriend? He was supposed to meet him here at least an hour ago so they could finish selling together. Albert began contemplating whether or not he should go out to look for him, it wasn’t like Race to be this late, maybe some-

“Hey Albie.”

Albert was pulled out of his thoughts by the familiar sound of his boyfriends voice. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey there Racer,” he said, snatching his cigar out of his mouth. “I was just gonna come lookin for ya.”

“Why?” Race leaned over and grabbed his cigar back, adjusted his paper bag and pulled one out, holding it high in his left hand. “Extra, extra! Fishing boat sunk off the coast!” He called out.

“Cause I was worried about ya,” Albert said, reaching in his own bag to pull out a paper. “It ain’t like you to be so late, thought ya got soaked or somethin.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, but there was a waver in his voice that made Albert question the accuracy of that statement. Before he could question it, through, a middle age woman came over and bought one of Races papers. As she was paying, Albert noticed that Race had on a blue flannel shirt instead of his usual green one. That was odd, Albert swore Race had been wearing the green one this morning.

“Did you change your shirt, Racer?” He asked before yelling out “Carriage accident takes the lives of three! You heard the story right here!”

Race winced, hesitating slightly too long and leaning against the lamppost he was standing near. “Ah, yeah, actually. Had to go back to the lodge cause I tripped and fell into some mud and got it all over my shirt. And I hafta look nice to flirt with the customers.” He pulled another paper out of his bag.

“Was that why you were late?” Albert asked, accepting a penny from a passer by for one of his papers. “Thank ya mister”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“S’okay Race.” At least it was just that. Thank god Race wasn’t hurt or anything serious. He turned away from his boyfriend to face an oncoming wave of people. “Extra, Extra!” But before he could blurt out a fake headline there was a loud thud from behind him. Albert whirled around to see Race laying on the ground next to the lamppost, his eyes closed and his chest rising with heavy, uneven, labored breaths.

He dropped his unsold paper on the ground. “Race? Racer? Tony?” He called out frantically, dropping to his knees beside him. Race didn’t respond.

Albert took off his hat and slapped Race lightly on the face. “Tony? Tony please, please wake up.” Albert didn’t know much about being a doctor, but he did know that people passing out was bad.

Luckily for him though, Races eyes began to flutter and he groaned. “Albie?”

“I’m right here Tones.” Albert pushed Races hair off of his forehead.

“Wha appened?” Race slurred, reaching down to touch Albert’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Albert admitted. “One second you were talking to me and the next you were on the ground.”

Race tried to move his head and winced. “I think i hit m’ ‘ead on th’ lamppos’” his speech was still slurred and Albert was beginning to worry that something else was going on.

He slid his hand behind Races head gently, causing his boyfriend to whimper in pain. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured soothingly. He didn’t feel any cuts and his fingers didn’t come away bloody so there was probably just a bruise. He removed his hand and laid it on Races right shoulder, causing him to let out a pained moan.

Albert’s eyes narrowed. Race hadn’t said anything about hitting his shoulder, what was going on here? Curiously, he moved his hand along Races shoulder, front and back, and was alarmed when his hand met hastily put on badges and came away tinged with blood. “Tony?” He whispered. “What happened?”

Race looked defeated. He knew there wasn’t any way he could hide it any longer. “Da D’lancies ‘elled a’ me fir not payin fir papes,” he mumbled. “Got me back too.”

Albert’s blood began to boil. How dare those two come after Race and hurt him. And how dare race hide it from him? “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked. “I could have helped you.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad…” Race said sheepishly.

“Oh, Tony,” Albert sighed. Sometimes Race could be so dumb. “I could never be mad at you. Now let’s go back to the house and get you cleaned up, okay?”

Race nodded and let Albert cradle him in his arms, and walk carefully back to the lodging house as though not to disturb his wounds. Race could be an idiot sometimes, but Albert still loved him.

______________________

race is a stupid idiot. Incase you missed what he did there he went to the lodging house, put on some bandages and changed his shirt like Albert wouldn’t notice lol.

spies ch. 2 out tonight stay tuned (also I think the tag list is half broken, if you’re not getting a notification lmk I’ll try to fix it and by try I mean scream at tumblr)

send me an ask/ message if you wanna be on the tag list

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan

@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@ughwaitwhat

@aw-jus-let-em-try

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

Time For Heroes, part 2

Well, here it is. This one killed me to write, y’all, I am emotionally drained. Please enjoy.

(notes: one of the scenes is pretty much the Bottom Line Reprise scene, but there’s a twist at the end)

Jack dabbed paint onto the canvas perhaps a little harder than necessary, unintentionally smearing it. He swore under his breath and rubbed at the spot with his paintbrush, but that only made it worse. Shit. He would just have to wait until it dried and try again. Maybe if he-

“There he is, just like I said!” Les was about as quiet as a hammer hitting a metal wall; his voice echoed through the empty theatre and Jack groaned.

He turned toward the rafters, where Les, Katherine, and Crutchie stood. “What’s a fella gotta do to get away from you people?”

“Jack, you can’t just hide in here forever,” Crutchie called, and then Jack heard the telltale thumps of a crutch hitting the wooden stairs. A few moments later, Crutchie was standing beside him, his hand hovering hesitantly over Jack’s shoulder, as if afraid to touch him. “We need you.”

Jack sighed. “What good would I be, Crutch? I ran and you almost got arrested. Hell, the only reason you didn’t was ‘cause of Davey. And now he’s in the Refuge.”

“That’s not your fault,” Crutchie said. Now he let his hand rest on Jack’s shoulder and was glad when he didn’t pull away. “He knew what he was doin’. Davey’s more of a fighter than we give ‘im credit for. He’s gonna be okay.”

“But what if he isn’t?” Jack sat heavily on the crate that held his paints and put his head in his hands. “You didn’t see ‘im, Crutchie. I don’t know what the Spider did to ‘im, but...he couldn’t even come to the window.”

Jack heard a sniff, but when he looked up he saw that it wasn’t Crutchie. Katherine and Les had come down from the rafters at some point, and now Les was quietly crying into Katherine’s skirt. She patted his head comfortingly and glared at Jack.

“Is Davey gonna be okay?” Les whispered.

“Your brother’s a fighter,” Crutchie said with a sideways glance at Jack. “He’s strong. And yeah, they might’a busted ‘im up a little, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be okay.”

“Did you see ‘im, Jack?” Les asked, finally letting go of Katherine and turning towards the older newsie. “Was he hurt bad?”

“I…” Jack stood up and put his hands on Les’ shoulders. “I couldn’t get close enough to ‘im. But there’s another kid in there--looks kinda like you, actually--that goes by the name Sticks...he said Davey’s hurt, but he’s on the mend. Crutchie’s right.” Jack knelt down beside Les and wiped the tears from the kid’s face. “Davey’s a fighter.”

“Yeah.” Les’ face was still red from crying, but he smiled. “Did’ja know that one time, these older kids were pickin’ on me after school? And Davey told ‘em off! They gave ‘im a black eye, but then they didn’t bother me anymore.”

“See? He’s strong,” Katherine said. “And look, Jack, this is why we came.” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a newspaper. “This is the last piece of strike news we managed to print before Pulitzer shut it all down, but it could be enough!”

“Yeah.” Crutchie was grinning. “And we heard back from Brooklyn. Spot says he’s in. So now all we gotta do is tell all the newsies in New York. Get ‘em excited. Get ‘em ready to strike. Maybe a speech or somethin’.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m no good at speech makin’, you know that. Davey’s the talker. How’re we gonna do it without ‘im?”

“I can write you a speech,” Katherine said. “We gather all the newsies...maybe here! Would Medda let us use the theatre?”

“I can ask.” Jack could feel a small smile on his face. “This could really work. We could win.”

Les tugged on Jack’s sleeve. “If we win, does that mean Davey’ll get out of the Refuge?”

“If we win,” Jack said, ruffling Les’ hair, “we’ll make sure that every last kid gets outta that rotten place, including your brother. Now,” he turned to Crutchie and Katherine. “You guys go spread the word. Take Les wit’ ya. I’ll talk to Medda. We hold the rally here. Tomorrow night. And if we’re lucky, we’ll have a real special guest speaker.” He grinned. “I just gotta go convince old man Pulitzer to show.”

---

When Jack walked into Pulitzer’s office that evening like he owned the place, he honestly didn’t know what to expect, especially considering he hadn’t even made it that far the first time. But now, a lady with red hair and glasses actually let him through the doors and led him up the stairs. He followed her through an ornate door and suddenly he was in the fanciest room he had ever seen. But Jack didn’t have time to marvel at the gold-plated grandfather clock that ticked in a corner, or the enormous windows that overlooked the city, because standing behind the desk was just the man he had come to see. Jack took a deep breath and stepped forward, plastering a grin on his face.

“Afternoon, boys!” Jack threw a mock salute in the direction of the other men in the room. They looked uncomfortable.

“And which Jack Kelly is this?” Pulitzer asked with a sneer. “The charismatic union organizer...or the petty thief and escaped convict?”

“Which gives us more in common?” Jack laughed to cover up his nervousness.

“Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy.”

“Crawlin’?” Jack said. “That’s a laugh. I just stopped by with an invite. Seems a few hundred of your employees are rallyin’ to discuss recent disagreements. I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case straight to the fellas. So, what’d’ya say, Joe? Want I should save ya a spot on the bill?”

“You are as shameless and disrespectful a creature as I was told,” Pulitzer said. He glared at Jack. “Do you know what I was doing when I was your age, boy? I was fighting in a war.”

“Yeah? And how’d that turn out for ya?”

“It taught me a lesson that shaped my life. You don’t win a war on the battlefield. It’s the headline that crowns the victor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front page photos of our rally.”

“Rally ‘till the cows come home!” Pulitzer was smiling now. “Not a paper in town will publish a word. And if it’s not in the papers, it never happened.”

Jack was getting angrier, but he tried to stay calm. “You may run this city, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied. Even some reporters.”

“Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news? Talented girl. And beautiful as well, don’t you think?”

Jack scoffed. What was Pulitzer getting at? “Yeah, I’ll tell ‘er you said so.”

“No need. She can hear for herself. Can’t you, darling?” Pulitzer gestured to a chair that sat next to his desk, and Jack could practically feel his blood boiling when Katherine stood up, tears in her eyes. “I trust you know my daughter, Katherine.”

Jack barely heard what Pulitzer said next; he was still too shocked. Sure, now that he thought about it, Katherine being Pulitzer’s daughter made a little sense. But if she was related to this money-grubbing scum, why would she care so much about the newsies’ plight? Was she doing it for her father? What did she have to gain?

“Jack, I-” Katherine started to protest, but Jack just cut her off with a glare.

Pulitzer chuckled. “Don’t trouble the boy with your problems, dearest. Mister Kelly has a plateful of his own.” He gestured to a darker corner of the office. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mister Snyder?”

And when the man who had tormented him for years, who had never given up hunting him, no matter how many times he managed to escape, stepped out of the shadows and into view, Jack thought he would pass out from fear. As it was, he turned and tried to run from the office, only to be stopped by the Delancey brothers, who held his arms iron-like grips. And Jack could do was try (and fail) to control his breathing as Snyder stepped closer, an evil grin on his face.

“Hello, Jack,” he said. Jack couldn’t speak past the lump forming in his throat.

“Does anyone else feel a noose tightening?” Pulitzer asked. He paused. “But allow me to offer an alternate scenario: you attend the rally and speak against this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you, in a first-class train compartment, from New York to New Mexico and beyond.” He turned to Katherine, who just shook her head. “You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you?”

“There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink.” And as he forced the words out, Jack glanced around the office, and he noticed that not only was Katherine close to crying, but the redheaded lady who had met him at the front door was frowning deeply. She looked like she wanted to say something, but stared at the floor instead.

“And if they know me, they know I don’t care,” Pulitzer said in a disinterested tone. “Mark my words, boy. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in the Refuge. Besides,” he looked at Snyder, “isn’t there already one in there? Davey, isn’t it? Smart child, from what I’ve heard. But I’ve also heard that he isn’t doing too well at the moment.” He turned back to Jack. “Do you really want your arrogance and disobedience to be the reason your friend doesn’t make it out of there alive?”

Jack opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Pulitzer just cut him off. He wasn’t interested in what Jack had to say because he knew he had already won. “Gentlemen,” Pulitzer gestured to the Delanceys, “escort our guest to the cellar so he might reflect in solitude.”

The two brothers nodded, and despite Jack struggling for all it was worth, he couldn’t break free. They muscled him down a set of stairs into a dark, dusty cellar. There were boxes and other things scattered around the dirty space, but the most incredible was the massive, old printing press that sat in the middle. Morris threw Jack against it and laughed when he gasped in pain.

“We been given discretion to handle you as we see fit,” the Delancey snarled. “So behave.”

“Oh, but just in case,” Oscar said. He pulled some metal from his pocket and slipped it onto his hand. “I’ve been polishin’ my favorite brass knuckles.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re real scary, Oscar,” Jack said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He knew he probably shouldn’t be antagonizing them, but he couldn’t help it. “You and Morris practice your lines together? Make sure they’re coordinated?”

Morris shoved him against the printing press again, and Jack just managed to stifle his gasp when the sharp edges dug into his side. “Shut it, Kelly.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ that maybe you should get some new material.”

And then Jack found out that as tough as he was, he couldn’t hold his own forever against two angry brothers with brass knuckles on their hands and murder on their minds. Fuck, this was going to hurt.

---

Jack guessed Pulitzer probably hadn’t counted on the fact that the small window in the cellar was just big enough for a teenage boy to squeeze through if he didn’t eat daily and his job involved walking miles around the city every day. Once the Delanceys had finally left him alone, Jack had managed to stay awake long enough to take note of the window. Then he had passed out.

When he came to, his head was pounding and his ribs ached, but he slowly stood. There was no time to waste. With more than a few grunts of pain and quiet curses, Jack got the window open and slid through it, ignoring the pressure it put on his chest. Then he was moving as fast as he could toward the lodging house.

“Specs!” He called, barreling through the front door. The other newsie hurried down the stairs from the bunkroom and stopped in his tracks when he saw Jack.

“Where did’ja go?” Specs asked. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. Specs, I need your help. I need everyone’s help. We gotta call off the rally.”

“What?” Specs’ confusion was clear. “But Jack-”

“No.” Jack cut him off. “It’s Pulitzer. He threatened everyone. Me, Davey, all of us. He’s plannin’ on gettin’ everyone arrested at the rally. We gotta call it off.”

“Shit.” Specs nodded. “Okay. I’ll send everyone out. We’ll make sure no one shows up. But, Jack...what should we tell ‘em?”

“...the truth. That way...they’ll know we’re not backin’ down. But we can’t risk anyone else gettin’ taken away.”

“Alright. What about Davey?” Specs asked. “You said Pulitzer threatened him, too? What’s gonna happen?”

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna get ‘im out.” Jack sighed. “I gotta get ‘im out.”

“Let me tell everybody what’s goin’ on, and I’ll come with you,” Specs said. “We’ll get ‘im out together.”

Jack just nodded.

A little under an hour later, Jack and Specs (with Race and Blink close behind) were heading for the Refuge. As the four of them approached the grounds, Jack could feel his heart sink.

“Fuck,” Blink whispered, echoing what they were probably all thinking. “There are so many bulls.”

It looked like Snyder had upgraded his security. Cops roamed all around the Refuge. It would be impossible to get to the window without being seen. Specs put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“We can’t help ‘im, Jackie,” he said. “Not without them takin’ us all.”

“But-”

“Jack, please.” That was Race. “We can’t get ‘im now, but if we follow through? We’ll get ‘im out soon.”

“Besides,” Blink said. “Would the Spider wanna give up his leverage so quickly?”

“Yeah…” Jack tried to mentally reassure himself. “Alright, we’ll head back to the lodgin’ house. He’ll...Davey’ll be fine.”

God, he hoped they were right.

---

When they got back to the lodging house, the last person Jack expected to be standing in the main room was Katherine.

“Hiya, Kath,” Race said, giving her a small wave. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“I need to, um...I need to talk to Jack,” she said.

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” Jack said. He ignored the confused looks his friends were giving him.

“Jack, please.” Her voice was quiet, pleading. “Everything that’s happened...I promise I can explain.”

“Hey, uh…” Specs corralled Race and Blink toward the stairs. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

Then the three were gone, and Jack and Katherine were alone.

“You got five minutes,” Jack said. “Startin’ with why you didn’t tell us Pulitzer was your father.”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“What? You didn’t think it was important to tell us that you’re related to the guy who’s tryin’ to put us all outta work?”

“I don’t let who my family is define me!” Katherine’s voice wavered. “It wasn’t important because I’ve made this career without my father’s help. I don’t work for him because I don’t want that shadow hanging over me my entire life.”

“Why did you decide to cover a story that defied your father? How was that gonna help you?”

“Haven’t you been listening, Jack?” Katherine asked. She sniffed, but now her voice was stronger, firmer. “I want to help all of you, I really do. I want all the people like us--the kids who have to work hard to have a voice--to be heard by people who would never listen otherwise. I want things to change. I want things to get better.”

“I…” Jack was at a loss for words, and frankly, he felt stupid. In his anger, he had never considered any of this. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Katherine said. “I’m sorry any of this happened.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“We can still win. We just...need to figure out how.”

“Well, we can’t have a rally,” Jack said. “The bulls’ll arrest all the second we go public.”

“What if there was another way to spread the word?” Katherine looked thoughtful. “I have that speech I wrote for you for the rally. If we could find some way to print it, then maybe…”

“We could send it out to everyone!” Jack finished. “I know a printin’ press we could use that your father would never expect. And then we might win this thing and get Davey out.”

“The only problem is...winning the strike won’t get anyone out of the Refuge, will it?” Katherine asked. “We need a way to prove that that place is awful. Evil. That no one should ever be sent there again.”

Jack thought of the rooftop, of the countless nights he had spent drawing by moonlight when the nightmares kept him awake. “I think I have just the thing.”

---

If it wasn’t for Sticks, Jamie, and Dodger, Davey was sure he would have lost all his sanity in the Refuge the moment he arrived. Snyder hadn’t come for him again since that first night, something Davey was grateful for, but it also filled him with such apprehension that he could barely stand it. Was Snyder planning something? Had something happened to the other newsies? How was the strike going? There was no way to know, and that was what worried Davey so much.

He couldn’t do much on a broken ankle, but he didn’t let that stop him, no matter how much Jamie protested.

“If you don’t keep off of it, it might not be the same again,” he said every time Davey tried to stand up. “Did that knock to the head make you stupid?”

Davey just waved him off. He hated to admit it, but every time he lay down in the bunk, he felt useless. If he couldn’t walk, how was he supposed to help the others once he got out of this hellhole?

Now Jamie just grumbled every time Davey asked Sticks to help him up, and Dodger rolled his eyes every time Jamie grumbled. The two of them had some sort of unspoken language made up of looks, eyerolls, and completely random hand gestures, and Jamie most often employed it when he thought Davey was doing something stupid and Dodger had to calm him down.

Sticks, however, was more than happy to help Davey, because then he could ask for more stories while they were slowly pacing back and forth across the room together. Davey didn’t have a lot of stories about the newsies, considering he had only known them a few days, but Sticks didn’t seem to mind.

“Tell me more about Les,” he said one evening. They were sitting on the bed with Jamie and Dodger. Davey’s foot was propped up on the one pillow, at Jamie’s insistence. “He sounds real fun. I hope I get to meet him someday.”

“Yeah.” Davey leaned forward and ruffled Sticks’ hair. “I hope so, too. There was this one time…”

As Davey told the story, one involving Les’ less-than-successful attempt to hide a frog he had found at the docks from their parents a few months back, he noticed that Jamie and Dodger leaned forward to listen, which made him smile. He was glad that, even in the Refuge, they could find something to smile about.

“So then my mom found the box under our bed-” Davey cut off when the door suddenly opened. He heard Sticks’ quiet whimper at the sight of the Spider standing in the doorway, scanning the room with an evil glint in his eye. He finally settled on their bunk and smiled.

“Guards,” he said, and two goons appeared from where they had apparently been standing out in the hallway. “It’s time for some...rehabilitation. Get that one, there.” He pointed to Sticks, and Davey felt his blood run cold.

Sticks pushed himself into Davey’s side, but it did nothing. One of the guards grabbed him by his skinny arm and pulled him away from the bunk. Davey couldn’t help it; he stood up shakily, holding onto the bed for support.

“Davey, no,” Jamie whispered, but Davey wasn’t listening. He could only focus on Sticks, the kid who looked so much like his little brother. The kid who had tears streaming down his face and panic in his eyes as he struggled against the grip of a man who did his heinous job unfeelingly.

“Stop,” Davey said. “Don’t take him.”

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it?” Snyder asked. He approached Sticks and grabbed him by the hair. Sticks cried out, and all Davey knew was that he had to protect him.

He didn’t get farther than a few steps before the other guard shoved him to the floor. Stepped on his broken ankle. Davey screamed.

“Davey!” Sticks cried. He struggled harder, but the man holding him was so much stronger.

There were black spots in Davey’s vision, but he still tried to get to Sticks. He had to protect him. He had to-

The guard pulled a knife from nowhere and stabbed Davey in the gut.

Davey could hear cursing. It sounded kind of like Jamie, but his voice was far away. Davey’s vision was fading fast, but so was the pain from his side. Actually, all his pain was almost gone, already only a dull ache. That was strange. Someone knelt next to him. They were crying. A small hand grabbed his own. Oh, it was Sticks. Davey was glad he was there. Shit he was tired.

The last thing Davey heard before he closed his eyes was Snyder’s laughter.

“You have your friend Jack Kelly to thank for this, little rat,” Snyder said. But Davey was too exhausted to even wonder what that meant.

He closed his eyes.

---

They had really done it. Jack could barely believe it, and he knew that everyone else was still in shock. They had won the strike, and now the working kids of New York City finally had a voice. Jack looked across the square to where Katherine stood with Medda and Teddy Roosevelt himself, and he couldn’t recall ever feeling so full of hope. The fliers had been a success. “The Children’s Crusade”, Katherine had called the speech. Jack had paired with it one of his sketches of the Refuge, and they had spent all night using the printing press in Pulitzer’s cellar. The newsies had distributed the fliers the next morning.

And now, here they all were. Victorious.

Roosevelt proclaimed his decision to close down the Refuge, and Jack could barely contain his joy. He swept Katherine into a hug, and then he felt another impact to his side. He looked down, and Les was grinning up at him.

“This means we’re gonna see Davey again,” Les said with a happy squeak.

“Yeah, kid,” Jack said. “We are.”

The doors of the Refuge were just opening when they all arrived, and the crowd of newsies and other onlookers watched as a pair of policemen escorted Snyder down the steps and into a waiting cart. Everyone cheered.

Then, kids started streaming out of the place. Jack saw so many he remembered from his last stay. Some greeted him, some just nodded. A few younger ones ran right up and hugged him. This was a good day. A day of freedom and happiness, the first in a long while.

Soon, the stream of kids petered out. Jack could hear worried murmurs from his friends. He knew they were all wondering the same thing. Where was Davey?

Three kids, two older than the third, appeared in the entrance of the Refuge and walked slowly down the stairs. Jack recognized the youngest from his last visit. The kid who met him at the window with an enthusiastic grin and a message. The kid who looked just a little like Les.

“Sticks?” Jack made his way to the base of the steps, where the trio had stopped. Sticks looked up at him, and Jack noticed that his eyes were puffy. Actually, all three of them looked like they had been crying, though the two older kids hid it well. “What’s wrong? Where’s Davey?”

Sticks said nothing, only started sobbing and threw himself at Jack. The two older kids glanced at each other.

“Davey…” One of them said with a slight British accent. “Davey isn’t coming out.”

“What do you mean?” Jack heard Les ask. The kid had approached the group at some point with Katherine in tow. “Where’s my brother?”

The British kid just shook his head and looked at Jack for help, and suddenly the realization hit Jack like a train. He had been wrong. He couldn’t get Davey out.

“Jack,” Les said. “I want Davey. Where’s Davey?”

He couldn’t save Davey.

“Where’s my brother?”

Davey wasn’t getting out of the Refuge.

Tag list under the cut:

@disney-princess-sized

@crazymecjc

@whovininja567

@rhodochrositelesbian

@thewebernutter

@p00rguysheadisspinning

@soldmysoultofandomshelp

@scollace

@losers-yurio

@purplelittlepup

@marcellerambles

[letterboxd]

Debra Granik Q&A.

“I’m trying to make small films. I’m not trying to create stars. I’m trying to create roles where women don’t have to take off their clothes to be interesting.”

Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie (as Tom) with Debra Granik on the set of Leave No Trace.

Following her 2010 sleeper hit Winter’s Bone, Debra Granik’s newest film Leave No Trace follows a father and daughter who have been living undetected on public land until their presence is noticed and the authorities step in.

Based on Peter Rock’s novel My Abandonment (itself inspired by a real-life event), Ben Foster plays Will, a former soldier living off the grid with post-traumatic stress disorder, while Kiwi newcomer Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie is his teenage daughter, Tom, through whose perspective the story unfolds.

Letterboxd sat down with Granik in New York City to talk about filming in the forests of the Pacific Northwest, the challenge of filming an invisible condition (PTSD) and how she weathered the pressure of finding another Jennifer Lawrence. We also asked her to tell us about the films that she returns to again and again because they feed something in her—that list is here.

How are you feeling about the response to Leave No Trace so far? The audience we watched it with at BAM Cinemafest was captivated.

Oh, thank you. The bedrock is relief, because you can’t predict how a film can be received or understood or enjoyed. Nothing can ever predict that. What I really love is that some of the themes are being discussed. I really like that. I love that when it’s engendered by other people’s films, so of course it makes me excited to be part of storytelling tradition that would facilitate that. And I also really like that, because it’s regional, it exposes some of the glory of a particular part of the continent, and that people can appreciate it and look into it.

Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie (Tom) and Ben Foster (Will).

The film is deeply immersive in its nature setting. There are ways of filming that are certainly good-looking, and then there are ways of filming nature where you feel you’re actually in that forest, and that’s what you and your DP Michael McDonough have done. Some of our Letterboxd members (Melissa, MasterLundy) wanted to know why you’re so drawn to filming in a rustic setting, in nature rather than in cities, and how you approach that in terms of your filming.

I think maybe it even surprises me! I think one logistical reason is that it is actually easier to film outside of a city, you know? I mean just in terms of garnering your resources and keeping a small footprint… though I’m excited by the photography of the metropolis and will endeavor at some point to do something like that. In fact, in my first film, it was just interesting seeing them come into the city. It was a big deal, you know, sort of the bridge and tunnel experience was very photogenic in some ways.

I love the idea that when you film outside of a big city you can actually almost take your time more, in some ways. And I think the immersion is very related to some of the comfort that the actors can feel with Michael; that he’s willing to wear knee-pads and crouch down and be part of that inner circle of connection. Near a tent, near the fire-pit, or when they’re ministering to each other. And when that happens you feel a sense that you’ve been allowed to come close and that you’re with them.

And then of course to show the splendour and scope of the forest, stepping back and using the cinema tools that allow that: a wider lens, and the tripod, and stabilizing, and allowing the frame to be as big as possible.

So I think that outdoor spaces allow for that, whereas the indoor space is the box and the confinement and the geometry. It is much more established and familiar.

It’s cool to hear what Michael was doing physically. Quite often a camera is a long way away with a certain lens but in this case it felt, watching, that there were three characters—Will, Tom, and the camera.

At times, for sure, because the scenes were quiet. Coming in close, being very quiet about it. When we do those things we’re not using lights in the forest, we’re using all natural light, so maybe that’s also a really big help. You know, we’re reflecting things gently, we’re shielding certain hot spots but it’s done with flags and silks and bounce cards, not with big lights.

You’re not bringing in huge 6000Ks to the forest?

No, no!

Director of Photography Michael McDonough with Debra Granik.

You filmed the unfilmable in a way, which is PTSD. These types of mental health conditions, which we can’t see, rely so much on character rather than action. Why was the notion of filming this condition so interesting and important to you and what have you learned about it along the way?

I was very influenced by a book called The Evil Hours by David J. Morris, that is a chronicle by a marine—who is also a journalist—who put such specific words to what it was like to try to understand what was happening inside him and inside other men. And he also was informed very much by a woman, because another very significant sector or arena of PTSD is through sexual violence.

So, he looked back in history to how other philosophers and people in the medical and ‘helping’ professions had tried to understand it, and he looked really specifically at WWI and the poets of the UK who were able to put words to it. And then a couple of really humane doctors who were then the receivers of their words and it really opened the doctors’ minds because the poets could put such precision to it.

And so he looks at this almost miraculous time of gentle understanding and almost posits ‘can we have that now? Could we understand these ways? Could we replicate some of the things that were done in the British VA [Veterans’ Affairs] system after WWI?’, you know?

But the only way to get at this—I resonate with your point so much—is to try to extrude what is it that makes this particular person [Will] not want to come back in. What is he trying to stabilize and how is he doing it? He’s trying to find an environment in which there are very few triggers for him, where his hyper-vigilance is maintained at a kind of even keel, and where he’s very selectively choosing the things that he can still have faith in, that he can still admire and love on, which would be the elements of the forest, and his very loyal companion, his daughter. And to strip away that which clogs his system or causes such jitters that he doesn’t feel well.

So the practitioners, of course, that is one of their responsibilities. By administering certain kinds of tests and surveys, the VA tries relentlessly and tirelessly to say ‘hey, these are some things you might be feeling. You’re not alone’. They do a beautiful job in trying to put words to that which becomes one of the greatest mysteries, right? Why do we feel what we feel? How potent the brain is with its neurochemistry, and then what a formidable kind of organ the conscience is! The conscience can’t be quieted easily. It asks for answers. It asks for contemplation, you know?

So then, the story gets really interesting because, intersecting with Will’s PTSD, you have his daughter, a teenage girl, also coming of age, also coming into her consciousness. Can we talk for a while about finding Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie? She lives far away from you, in Wellington, New Zealand, and is mostly unknown outside her home country. You saw her audition tape via casting agents Kelly Barden and Paul Schnee. What was it you saw in that tape that led you down the path of choosing her?

In the tape it was, I think, the fact that she had immersed [herself] in the script and in reading the book. It was palpable in the way that she was choosing to be in the scene, and what she was expressing in the scene. But it’s very hard to tell off of one tape. That’s a very uncomfortable situation, so it required conversations to flush out the rest and the conversations were lyrical. She’s a very open-hearted person who’s generous of spirit in terms of how she wants to conduct a conversation.

So this is going so well and I’m actually really enjoying this conversation so much, her sincerity, and I said ‘wow’, after talking to her, to the people back home here. I said ‘I’d like to talk to her again because this is leaving a big imprint’.

And as I saw some of the auditions locally, I realised that some of the television and theater training had maybe taken away some of the gentle spontaneity that Thom’s been able to retain.

Because of Winter’s Bone and what it did for Jennifer Lawrence (earning her a Best Actress Oscar nomination), did you feel any responsibility along the lines of ‘Debra Granik’s making another film, there’s another role for a young breakout star, who’s it going to be?’. Or did you try to ignore the fact that there might be a lot of attention on it?

Yeah. The attention feels more intimidating than productive. So, you know, I don’t welcome that so much because I think to do things requires a lot of quiet. I think many actors that get blown up really big feel that every move, everything they say, they change their hair, oh my lord, it becomes so relentless and it becomes very hard to function within that, I believe. So I try to put some of that aside really and say ‘that’s not what I’m looking for’.

In terms of responsibility, I don’t wanna take that on. I don’t want to have that foisted on me. I need to just be ornery and say ‘back off!’ you know? ‘No!’ I’m trying to make small films. I’m not trying to create stars. I’m trying to create good roles for young women that go beyond passing The Bechdel Test, you know? I’m trying to create roles where women don’t have to take off their clothes to be interesting.

Thomasin and Ben did a lot of rehearsing together, and they had some intensive skills training with outdoor survival consultant Dr. Nicole Apelian. Without any spoilers, there’s a scene in which the weather turns cold and things become dire. It’s visceral and tense, they have to work fast to build shelter or someone could die. Can you give us a sense of what those filming days were like?

Yeah. Well. Even making that shelter is intense because it’s a very multi-tiered process. The skills trainer was on the set that day, and the trainer she’d also enlisted to help (named Alan). Ben was very committed to it. They’d already constructed one in rehearsal. He wanted it to be—and Nicole did too—a really viable shelter that would be the kind of shelter that could save a life, through just this basic, I wanna say geothermal engineering of heat retention. Trapping heat, that’s the goal. Trap it in the clothing and then the shelter.

It was intense because halfway through the day you know there’s a really big risk of losing time. And then we also had a really bad dilemma where sun came really strongly that day. The morning had been really misty and good for it, and we didn’t have the kind of silks where you can just block it out, and when the sun comes out robustly it just doesn’t matter, there’s not really much [you can do]. So we had to basically take the gamble that it was going to be the day-for-night. For the DP it was less of a gamble because he knows how to do it - it allows the illusion of night-time light.

But the day was hard. It had all of these physical things to navigate and so by the end when the shelter was built and they were finally in it, we had to do it as a rolling series, you know. We didn’t have time to do takes! They had to try a couple of versions.

I felt like a failure. I felt that how was it that I couldn’t figure out how to pace this day so that by the time they actually need to have their exchange we’ve got eleven minutes.

But you got it.

We got fragments of it that then can gel to give the ambience and the circumstances of how that night became dire for them.

Could you share with us any films that showed you a storytelling pathway for Leave No Trace?

I really relied on three documentaries as inspiration for this film and they were all done by British crews. One of them’s available on YouTube and it’s a very beautiful film called Soldiers in Hiding, and it’s about Vietnam-era soldiers who had hidden on Federal parklands not far from where we filmed, on the Olympic Peninsula.

The second documentary is called Hidden Heroes. That one I believe is hard to find.

And then I also really valued so much the work of a filmmaker called Michael Grigsby. He did a beautiful film about the lives of soldiers, We Went to War [a sequel to his 1970 documentary I Was a Soldier]. So those films were very influential.

Finally, tell us about some of the films that you return to again and again because they feed something in you.

Werner Herzog’s Stroszek. Lukas Moodysson’s Fucking Åmål/Show Me Love. I love the way parents are portrayed in that film. I love the depiction of high school, of not knowing who you’re going to love and how that might happen. I love the conflicts in there and the incremental changes. It’s just a very rich kind of social realism for me. Céline Sciamma’s Girlhood. Aki Kaurismäki’s The Other Side of Hope.

For social realism in the US, something that I’ve been looking at a lot were the films that were in the 40s that dealt with realistic looks at financial crisis, the films of William Wellman. And then I would say also Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, a British kitchen-sink film. That’s produced by Tony Richardson [director: Karel Reisz]. And one more, in honor of Ermanno Olmi: Il Posto.

Leave No Trace is out in US cinemas 29 June 2018. Our thanks to producer Linda Reisman, Miranda Harcourt, and the team at Falco Ink for interview arrangements.

[deepdarkwaters]

Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Got back from the Kingsman double bill a bit ago and am trying to put my brain into words even though I'm very tired and a bit numb and I smuggled five hours' worth of gin into the cinema in an Evian bottle so I'm as drunk as Harry at breakfast time.

OBVIOUSLY THERE ARE SPOILERS BELOW

Watching them back to back like this was interesting because it highlighted so clearly how much better the first one is than this fumbly ridiculous sequel. Not saying it's not good or not worth watching or whatever because it absolutely is worth watching for several reasons I will babble after another teacup of gin, but holy god is this really the best they could come up with? REALLY? A 100% true fact that I believe with my entire heart: YOU reading this, you are a better writer than people being paid obscene money to write films. I could easily name thirty fic writers off the top of my head right now who have an infinitely better grasp on pacing and plot and characterisation and dialogue than the people responsible for this stuff. I've not read any press or fan reviews but I imagine there's going to be a hell of a lot of backlash over so much in this from every angle because it's just so incredibly lazy and sometimes ugly and absolutely cannot stand up to its own hype.

Really good things:

* SPECTACULAR, EH!

* Eggsy/Harry and Eggsy/Merlin shippers, goddamn we have a lot of new stuff to work with. Chemistry through the roof, especially Eggsy/Harry (including possibly the best clingy desperate hug I have ever seen on film in my entire life WE HAVE WAITED SO LONG AND IT'S HERE AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL). That was the heart and backbone of the first film, I'm so relieved that it's not only survived but evolved into something fiercer and often messier. So so good to watch. Pretty sure I've got Harry/Merlin written down the inside of my heart like the words in a stick of rock, and though it's not romantic you get much more of a sense of their friendship here and it's all just a bit shattering and gorgeous.

* Pretty much everything to do with Harry's memory loss and Eggsy and Merlin trying to shock him into remembering was great, Y E S  P L E A S E. And Harry's matter of fact comments about his loneliness, fuckkk. Angst writers, go forth with all this new information and break my heart some more! Fluff writers, fix him!

* Lots of beautiful intricate fight choreography which is literally all I need in my action films, so even if I did think the rest was complete balls (which I don't entirely) then I'd still be happy. Nothing comes near the vivid glorious gutpunch of the church scene as a standalone set piece, BUT there's so much Harry & Eggsy teamwork and please just inject this directly into my veins, it's amazing. Prepare for several years of me writing many more elaborate fight scenes than I already do.

* Part B to the above: Whiskey is a lot of fun and his fighting style is full on hardcore pornography to me.

* Merlin in a flawless Kingsman suit, RIP me.

* One of my Bespoke WIPs is about Merlin and Eggsy getting into the habit of going to the pub together sometimes and rolling home completely drunk with a kebab in each hand then trying to get in the house really quietly because Harry's asleep but they end up waking him because they think it'll be really nice to cook him breakfast in bed and Harry comes stomping downstairs in his dressing gown like "it's four o'fucking clock, put those frying pans away and drink some water!" while Merlin and Eggsy side eye each other and try not to giggle. So maudlin singing drunk Merlin was very nice to see :P

* Eggsy and Roxy bromance. There’s such lovely chemistry between them as well, it feels so natural and real, and it’s so good (and miserably rare) to see platonic friendships that aren’t shoehorned into some shitty boring love triangle.

* Eggsy and Tilde were seriously adorable. It ended up not at all satisfying as a romance plot arc because it was like CUTE - fight - marriage, it needed so much more screen time. Like all the important stuff was there, but it was just so abrupt. Include a satisfying romance or don't include one at all, fuck your lazy bullet points. But it started so well and I hope there's a ton of fic that treats them better than the script did. I appreciate the anti-Bond-ness of it all, that Eggsy's genuinely in love and wants to settle and is figuring out how that and his job can possibly fit together, especially with the complications of marrying into royalty. Interested to see where they take that if there's another film. Until then, soo much scope for fic.

* I'm shipping Harry/Elton like burning.

* Poppy was terrifying in a vaguely Umbridge-ish way. That sort of characterisation is always freaky, Julianne was great. So glossy and cheerful but absolutely dead in the eyes. And I'm ambivalent on Charlie, but I ABSOLUTELY want lots of brutal older woman villain/pathetic younger male minion smut. Please provide asap.

* T H E   M Y T H I C A L  B R E A K F A S T   S C E N E   I S   R E A L

Really bad things: well where the merry fuck do I start haha.

* I will never ever understand why they thought it was a good idea to wipe out all the locations and almost all the existing characters at the very beginning. It's lazy shitty writing. If you feel like you need to shake up your fictional world you don't just knock it all down and start over. It's cheap and very shallow angst.

* I only have two middle fingers but I need about seventeen million to even begin to profess my disgust at them killing Roxy. I knew it was going to happen, it was the only spoiler I asked someone for ahead of time and it was not at all a surprise to find out for sure. Still utterly infuriating. The way people responded so positively to her in the first one is a real indication of how ridiculously low the bar is for female characters in action films ("good at something" and "not the hero's love interest" are literally the only two requirements), and JG/MV didn't even think enough of her to follow through on the absolute base level achievement they made before. Fuck everyarse involved in this decision.

* Absolutely revolting honeypot mission scene. Not really the fact that it exists, just the entire way it was handled and shot - so predictably male-gazey and laddishly "waheyyy!" that it kind of turned my stomach. Horrible and completely unnecessary.

* A million new characters and not enough time spent on any of them to care. Tequila was barely more than a cameo. Champ and Ginger hardly had anything to do. All the Statesmen (except Whiskey) were completely two dimensional and it's such a jarring contrast to the obvious care taken over Eggsy, Merlin, and Harry. It's not even because we already know them, I don't think? It's weird to try and explain. The Statesman characters just feel so rushed and shallow, there's no substance to any of them. Kill off Roxy and replace her with paper cut-outs, ok that makes loads of sense!!! Whiskey’s a level up from the others because he gets loads more screen time and some beautiful fight scenes, but his ~emotional plot twist fell completely flat. I don’t know what it was, the pacing or a boring cliche backstory or what. It was just dull as fuck. WE HAVE HEARD THIS EXACT STORY FIVE MILLION TIMES.

A bad thing that's somehow not really a bad thing even though I'm fucking numb and want a hug:

* I've been raving for ages to people about Roxy being killed off and trying to figure out a way to satisfactorily explain how I feel about a character dying for a reason and a character dying because a writer is a lazy bastard who wants some quick angst. Merlin's death was an A+ wonderful death along the lines of my dear fictional boyfrends Quincey Morris and Lee Scoresby and a million others. Maybe it comes from all the swashbuckly historical adventure stories I grew up loving, but I'm a desperate sucker for a good noble death. Characters brave and self-aware enough to look at the bigger picture of an impossible situation and realise that their death means a better outcome for the people they love? This is ABSOLUTE CATNIP to me. Characters who go down fighting to the very end. If a character I love with my entire soul has to die, this is how I want it to happen. Give them some agency and a proper goodbye.

I mean I fully expect him to be magically resurrected with fancy prosthetic legs if there's another film because we saw those wedding set photos of him in the nice neon green cgi stockings, so really I should be saying "death". I totally reject this one. (I reject Roxy and JB's deaths as well, but the big difference is I really can't see the filmmakers bringing them back. Eyeroll.) Maybe that's what's making it easier to deal with? A not-real noble courageous self-sacrificing death. That's about as good as it gets. All three of them get Oscars for this whole sequence.

Anyway the tl;dr of it is:

This film is a very beautiful, very patchy mess. The good stuff is absolutely gloriously perfectly incredibly wonderful. Most of said good stuff is the interaction between Eggsy, Merlin, and Harry, which is written and performed with real care and heart. Nearly everything else is relatively lacklustre filler, misogyny, and shitty nonsensical decisions. These people cannot write women.

I liked it? I will definitely see it 900 more times, mainly for wet terrified Harry and gorgeous fight scenes. But ffs, how can it possibly be this difficult to pinpoint the reasons why people loved your extremely successful creation and consider including them in future plans?

I'm feeling fairly zen about everything. I kind of trained myself ages ago to think of sequels as just another bit of fanfic, so it's going to make absolutely no difference to the cheerful fluff porn and fight scenes I like to write. What I'm annoyed about isn't so much to do with ~new canon~ limiting what we're allowed to create for ourselves now, because that's just silly. It's more about being pissed off at the shoddy state of action films, particularly women in action films, when it seems like it should be SO EASY to take these astronomical budgets and create something groundbreaking. I'm so tired of this unimaginative lazy narrow-minded bullshit.

[vladtoly]

Watching Highways

A/N: I’ve been struggling a lot with myself recently and Newsies has made life somehow more tolerable. I actually have the disorder mentioned in the story, so it is slightly personalized. I took everything listed in the beginning from personal experience. 

Also, i’m sorry for the messy naration, it slightly switches from 2nd person to 3rd at a point. I didn’t over read it either so there will be spelling errors. 

Enjoy, guys! 

Words: 2,039

TW: Bullying , cussing 

Tagged: @sincerlyyme

It had always been a problem for you. People would point it out, as if you didn’t know it was there. Make fun of it as if it weren’t part of you. The harassment started at a young age and though it has died, it never fully disappeared.

You were born with nystagmus, which definition wise, is the involuntary rapid movement of the eyes. You had never known how the world looked through stable eyes, you never had the chance. So when people pointed it out when you were just a child, you had no idea what they were talking about. People didn’t see like you? That wasn’t normal?

You ignored their words until it evolved to jabs and strikes. Children could be so cruel and you experienced firsthand just how far they’d go.

When you had entered middle school, your eyes were no longer a problem. Not for everyone else at least. They had the pleasure of forgetting the harmful words they said to you, pushing it into the past with their young ways. You however had picked up the self-conscious habit to never look anyone in the eyes, afraid you’d be shamed for what you couldn’t control.

This habit never quite died, you’d avoid eye contact without even thinking. It was a nasty habit to most, but for you it felt like self-defense. It felt safe.

Entering high school, you became more comfortable with yourself. No one had pointed it out in ages, at least not negatively. Upon the first week of school, you met two boys, Davey and Jack. They noticed your shaky eyes right off the bat, but didn’t even bother to point it out. If it was part of you, they’d just accept it and move on. With this mind set in place, you all quickly became friends. Eventually, you even joined them at the school newspaper, as a writer but also a Newsie, to help pass out the papers to various classes.

Now you sat mid fall semester of your senior year in the news room with fellow Newsies. The papers were just delivered to classes, so now you all had the rest of the period to sit around and talk. You sat between Davey and Race, who had his blonde hair pushed back and held an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

He was quite a sight to see, especially to you considering you’d harbored a crush on him since the beginning of junior year. You knew it was going nowhere though, considering you could barely talk to him.

Davey nudged your shoulder lightly. Turning to him, you saw him smirk and glance at Race, as if pushing you to talk to him. Your face turned red, but you did turn to talk to Race regardless. Maybe it would be easier today.

Race was listening to the conversation between Jack and Crutchie, but put his attention on you when he realized you were looking at him.

He tried to make eye contact with you, which you allowed in order to try and break out of your shell. Smiling softly, you began to feel confident, proud you got past that barrier all on your own. “Hey Race, did you read over the last pap-“

“The fuck is up with your eyes?”

You flinched at the harsh phrase, taken aback. This made things worse for you, seeing as when you were anxious or scared, your eyes would move at a faster pace, making things blurry. Yet years of harassment seemed to flash before your eyes.

“Oh shit, they’s movin’ faster now, ain’t that weird.”

Immediately, you averted your eyes to the floor as you heard conversations around you faltering.

“Race,” you heard Jack warn.

“What?” he replied. “I’s just tryin’ to see-“

He was cut off as your stood up and left the room. The computer lab was silent, all eyes on Race.

He looked around at everyone’s accusatory stares. “What just happened, I do somethin’?”

Davey spoke up instantly, furious. “She has a disorder, you moron, her eyes are always moving. You have no idea how insecure she is about that.”

Race’s heart fell to his stomach. He never meant to hurt you. He knew how he sounded when he said those words, but he was caught off guard. He shouldn’t have said anything at all.

Davey stood up, grabbing his and your backpack. “I’m going to go find Y/N.”

However, Jack stood and took the bag from his hands. Instead, he held it out to Race. “He should do it. It’ll give ‘im the chance to ‘pologize.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Race took the backpack and left on his search for you.

---------  

It took him ten or so minutes, but he found you. You sat out in the quad, facing the highway by the school. Watching the cars go by calmed you.

Behind you, you heard the grass rustle. You swiveled around, expecting to see Davey or Jack. You were not prepared to see a certain blonde haired boy, clearly uncomfortable, holding your bag. You raised an eyebrow, but turned back to the highway, hoping he’d leave.

He, instead, sat beside you, throwing your backpack to the space by your feet.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Silence ensued until Race cleared his throat. “Ya know, I didn’t know youse had anything. I’m real sorry about saying anything, ‘t was never my intention to hurt ya.”

You softened slightly at the statement, but continued to look at the highway. “You didn’t know. It’s fine.”

His hand suddenly took yours and your head snapped to look at him. “It’s not fine though. I wanna understand so I’s can be more considerate to ya.”

A smile adorned your features and you looked back to the highway, your hand not leaving his. “It’s just a birth defect, Race. There’s not much I can do about it. As long as I never acknowledge it, it seems to kind of go away.”

“Can ya get rid o’ it?”

Off put once more, I went to snatch my hand back, but his grip tightened in a panic. “I didn’ ask to be rude, I swears. I like youse the way you are, I do. Just wanna know more.”

Though still slightly shocked, your hand relaxed back into his. “There’s a surgery I can go through with, but there’s always a chance I could go blind. I’d rather have limited vision than none at all.”

He nodded slowly, understanding. His gaze went to the highway with yours, watching the cars speed on.

Without thinking, you leaned into his arm and stared on ahead. He didn’t budge.

“Race?” You felt him hum in response. “You wanna know why I like watching the highway so much?”

He nodded again.

“It’s because for one solid moment, if someone else were to look at it, their eyes wouldn’t be able to focus on anything either.” Sighing, you head leaned on his shoulder. “It’s comforting to me.”

Race didn’t respond, but you knew he was trying to understand. And trying was all you needed.

---------

Weeks had passed since the incident and Race seemed to be doing all he could to make for his small screw up. He’d bring you coffee in the morning, get you lunch, help with your stories for the paper- he was going above and beyond.

You waved bye to him, promising to see him at lunch, when Davey caught up with you.

“So how’re you and Race?” he asked.

Laughing, you lifted your bag onto your shoulder. “We’re fine I guess. Someone’s gotta tell him all is forgiven though; I can’t believe he still feels guilty over something that happened a month ago.”

Davey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You think all this is about that? No, no, Y/N, he likes you.”

You shook you head, taking his arm and dragging him to the side of the hallway. “No he doesn’t.”

“I don’t know how you can’t see it. He’s practically falling you around like a puppy.”

Your face flushed and you looked around the hall, everyone hurrying past each other. Smiling at Davey, you squeezed his shoulder. “I need to get to class. I’ll see you in Newspaper.”

You barely paid attention in your classes, too focused on what Davey said.

When arriving at lunch, you scanned the room for the other Newsies’.

“Who’re you looking for, freak?”

Oscar DeLancey. Hesitantly, you turned to see him standing with Morris. A cruel smirk was on his face, growing when he noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I can see why you can’t see the others. I bet you can hardly see anything with eyes like that.”

The boys were now next to you, Morris taking his turn to speak. “Good thing too. Otherwise, she’d have to see that ugly mug of hers.”

You were going to tell them to leave you alone, maybe even just run away. Before you could do either, Morris was pushed backwards, running into his brother.

Race stood in front of you now, a protective stance before you. “Wanna say that again, Morris?”

Morris strut himself forward, mere inches away from Race. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Race tackled him to the ground, landing a punch straight to his right cheek. Oscar went to grab him, but thankfully, Jack and a few of the other boys ran to pull Race back. It didn’t matter at that point- Race got what he wanted.

He calmed down and walked back to you, taking your arm to lead you out of the cafeteria. He gave a final look behind him, a warning to anyone else who wanted to mess with you. Then he continued to lead you out.

You both ended up in the Newspaper room, it being empty other than the Apple desktops scattered in rows. Race let go of you once the door shut behind you, going to sit on one of the tables. He avoided looking at you, instead staring at his hands.

You sat silently next to him. “Why’d you do that?”

He let out a short, harsh laugh. “He ain’t allowed to say that stuff ‘bout you. No one is.”

“I can take care of myself, Race, you know that. You can stop doing things for me too, all is forgiven, you know.”

He suddenly sat up and looked over at you. “I ain’t doing this to make up for nothin’, Y/N. I’m doing it ‘cause-“ He stopped then.

The room sat silent, but Davey’s words from earlier rang loudly in your eyes. Somehow, you knew what was coming next, and you weren’t complaining.

Softly, you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Go on.”

He looked over your now happy expression. Realization crossed his face and he sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Which o’ the boys told ya?”

“Davey. I didn’t believe him actually.”

Race turned his body to face yours. The old him was back as he smirked down at you. “Well, I think I can prove youse wrong.”

“I’d love it if you did.”

A perfect moment was made as his lips softly brushed yours. For such a loud character, he seemed hesitant, almost afraid to touch you. Taking matters into your own hands, you put your hands on either side of his face and turned your head to deepen the kiss. This gave him the permission he needed. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling your body flush to his. Your hands moved from his cheeks to his hair, running them through the soft tresses. The smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne filled your senses, something you knew you could easily get addicted to.

Before Race could attempt to take it further, you pulled away. He groaned at the loss of contact, leaning his forehead on yours.

“You know I can protect myself, right?”

“  ‘ts more fun if I do it.”

You laughed. “Whatever you say, Race.”

His right hand went to your face, softly brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I think youse is perfect, all o’ ya. No one gets ta say differn’.”

Words couldn’t express your happiness. Instead, you ran your hand through Race’s hair once more and reconnected your lips.

[its-glum-and-dumb]

Who’d Have Thought?

Prompt: Crutchie's crutch breaks and somebody has to help him get home and then fix it so he can walk the next day

 “Hey Mrs. Jameson! How’s your day going so far? … You know, there’s a great article in here I think your husband would love!” He smiles brightly at the woman, casually holding his last pape out.

“Thanks sweetie! Here, let me give you a dime.” The woman digs through her change purse before handing the coin to Crutchie, who hands her the paper.

“Thanks!” He pockets the dime and moves to stand up, grabbing his crutch to help support his weight as he stood. Waving at the woman, smiling happily as he starts on the walk back to the lodging house, his bag tapping against his leg with every step.

———————————————————————————————————

After he had gotten within 3 miles of the house, he can feel something wrong with his crutch but he doesn’t want to stop. He knows if he stops now, he’ll have issues getting himself the rest of the way so he just keeps going. He starts trying to take a shortcut through an alley in an attempt to get home earlier when he feels his crutch snap and he falls flat on the ground.

“Jeez..” He groans softly to himself as he starts to attempt to get himself to a sitting position at least, scooting himself back so he’s leaning against the wall. “Stupid leg..” Sighing softly, he reaches his hands out to try and massage his leg that had started cramping up after he fell, not noticing when someone comes into the alley. Ever since the strike, his leg had been acting up more and more. Pretty sure Snyder did something to make it worse when he was in the refuge. Not like he’d let on that it was hurting in front of the others. He doesn’t need their pity.

“Crutch?”

When the voice calls out, his whole body goes numb. Of all the people that could have found him. Gathering the strength, he manages to look over to confirm that he wasn’t hearing things. Sure enough, Morris Delancey was standing not a few feet away.

“If you’s gonna beat on me Morris, at least go tells the others after so’s they can patch me up.” Despite doing his best to keep his voice steady, he can tell it’s shaking a little in fear of what’s to come.

Morris takes a deep breath and hesitantly steps a little closer to the boy. “I’m not going to beat on you Crutchie. You’re already hurtin’..”

“Then what’s ya business? You’s don’t exactly make a habit of speakin to us unless its right before you and Oscar beat on us.” Crutchie says, going back to massaging his leg while keeping his guard up in case Morris was just playing him and decides to pounce.

Morris reaches down to help him up, frowning when the boy leans back in fear, instantly pulling his hand back. “I was around and I saw you. You looked like you needed help..” It wasn’t technically a lie. But he didn’t want to say the real reason, so it would have to work.

Frowning at that, he looks up at Morris. “I don’t need help. I never have. And I certainly don’t need pity.”

“Then how about some company? Back to the lodging house? It’s too cold for you to stay here all night..”

After taking a moment to think of all the ways he’d surely regret this, Crutchie nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Morris smiles happily and reaches a hand out to help him up. “Here. You’ll need someone to lean on in place of the crutch..” Pulling the boy up gently to a standing position, he reaches down to pick up the two halves of his crutch. Putting Crutchie’s arm around his shoulders and his arm around the smaller boy’s waist, he smiles softly at him before starting to slowly head towards the lodging house.

An awkward silence very quickly filled the air before Crutchie finally broke the silence after a few minutes. “Hey Morris?” He didn’t understand the Delancey’s motives and he figured he at least deserved to know if he was getting himself into deep trouble.

 “Hm?”

 “Why are you helping me?”

After a minute of deciding what to tell him, Morris speaks up. “Your crutch didn’t just break. Oscar took it while you weren’t paying attention and loosened some of the screws before putting it back. He told me about an hour before I found you. He came home, all pleased with himself. After smacking him upside the head, I left our apartment to try and find you. I knew what loosened screws on a crutch meant and I didn’t like the idea of you experiencing it and ending up stranded in New York..”

“Oh. That’s.. That’s actually nice of you. Thanks..”

“You’re welcome.”

Crutchie smiles softly at that, looking up at the taller boy. “Can I ask you another question?” Instantly regretting asking, he looked back down at the ground as the pair continued towards the lodging house.

“Sure thing kid.” Morris smiles at the boy, doing his best to reassure him even though he knows there probably isn’t anything he could do to make him or the other newsies trust him.

“Why do you and your brother harass us?” Crutchie kept his head down in case he angered the taller boy. He didn’t regret that he asked, he just didn’t want to look in the eyes of the person that would surely beat on him. He had a right to know. Oscar and Morris have made life harder for the newsies for years and he never understood why. Granted, most of them, like Race, Albert, and Jack, took it with a grain of salt and even handed it right back. But others like himself, it was getting to.

Morris hesitated a bit when he heard the question asked of him. He wanted to make things right with the newsies, but this was rather personal. “Oh. I um.” He took a minute to figure out how to word his explanation before beginning. “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, it started off with how we were raised I guess. Our parents died when Oscar and I were little, he was 5 and I was 4. So Wiesel, he raised us. Then, when we were of age, he let us start working at the circulation center. Oscar and I saw how our uncle treated you guys and we figured since he had raised us, that this was normal. Then, one day, after a few years, I really started to notice how you guys treated each other. Like a family. You cared about each other, helped and respected each other, while still teasing each other. And I realized that Oscar and I had it all wrong. So that night, when I got back to our house, I started talking to Oscar about it and he slapped me and called me crazy. He said if I kept talking like that, he’d tell Wiesel. But he did anyway and the next day was the day I came into the circulation center all beat up and bruised. So I kept up with how I’d been acting in fear of another beating. I really didn’t want to but I was worried my uncle would kill me if I stopped. I mean, Oscar and Wiesel, they’re all I’ve got. I knew that if I started being nice to you guys, they’d disown me. So I kept going.”

Crutchie remembered that day. Jack and Race were teasing Morris, saying things like ‘Oh, did you finally piss off the wrong person?’ and ‘looks like he met his match!’ ‘not like it’s hard to find!’. Sure, Crutchie had laughed at the comments, but he’d always wondered if there was something else afoot. Now that he knows? He wishes he hadn’t laughed. It couldn’t have been easy, knowing the story behind the injuries and having to deal with the comments. He vowed to try to stick up at least for Morris from now on. He wanted to say something but when he opened his mouth, there came a voice that wasn’t his own.

———————————————————————————————————

“Hey, Jack? Have you seen Crutchie? He’s not in his bunk.”

Jack looked up from his drawing and raised an eyebrow at Specs. “He’s not on my penthouse? He goes up there a lot to get some fresh air.”

Romeo speaks up at that. “I, uh, was just up there. He’s not there either.”

Jack stands up and moves to the door. His friend should have been back hours ago and he didn’t like the feeling bubbling in his stomach, so he was going out to look. He didn’t make it far past the steps when he looked over to see the boy with someone. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to focus since it was already dark. Once he was able to make out a face, he scowled. “Hey!” He started towards the pair, clearly angry. “Get away from him!” As soon as he reached them, he gently got Crutchie away before yanking the crutch out of Morris’ hand, taking into account how it was in pieces. “You. Did you do this? Where do you’s get off pickin’ on him, eh? No others to harass?” He starts shoving the Delancey back and raises his arm to punch him when a voice interrupts him, distracting him from noticing that Morris wasn’t fighting back this time.

“Jack! Hey, c’mon. Stop..” Crutchie frowns and hops over, gently putting a hand on the raised arm. “Let’s just go inside and we can get my crutch fixed..” He gives an apologetic look to Morris, hoping he understood that he wasn’t just sorry about Jack, but about Oscar and Wiesel too.

Morris just nods in understanding and moves to walk away at that, leaving the other two to go inside.

Jack gets them inside and ignores people’s questions as he just takes Crutchie into his room. “Have a seat on my bunk. I’s gonna see what I can fix ya crutch with.” After setting the crutch down, he starts examining it, figuring out that it just takes some tightening of the screws. “Alright, shouldn’t be too hard to fix this.”

“Jack..”

“Maybe someone knows where to get a screwdriver.”

“Jack.”

“I’s gonna go ask around.” He starts moving towards the door at that.

“Jack!”

“No, Crutch! No. Just. Why were you with Morris Delancey?? He’s a Delancey for christ’s sake!”

“He helped me! Oscar told him that he messed with my crutch and Morris went to try and find me. He helped me back here.”

Jack just scoffs at that, clearly not believing it. “Sure. And every time Race goes to Brooklyn, he /doesn’t/ fool around with Spot.”

“I mean it, Jack. Morris, he ain’t so bad.. We’s got to talkin on the way home and I realized he ain’t so bad.” He looks up and just watch the guy begin to repair his crutch. Once he realized Jack wasn’t listening to him, he just laid down and figured it was useless to try. He looked up at the ceiling and just thought as he fell asleep. Thought about Jack and how he was right to be acting how he did. Thought about how the others would take it. About how he wished he could help Morris and make him see that if he lost Oscar and Wiesel, he still had someone. He drifted off to sleep with Morris Delancey on his mind. Who’d have thought?

[ostrich-on-a-rampage-blog]

Crutchie, Cursed: Chapter 1

So, here’s the first chapter of an Ella Enchanted AU that I accidentally fell in love with. A couple people seemed interested, so here’s the start of it. Basically, what happened is I started rewatching that movie last night and kept thinking how Newsies characters could fit in here. And then I texted my roommate and she just said, “Go for it, Ostrich.” I went for it. 

Also, as a side note, I have read the book, but back when I was in elementary school or junior high, so I have no memory of it. In other words, this will mostly be based around the movie. Which, also means that there will be some movie quotes in here because some of that dialogue is just too perfect to neglect. Plus, I have changed a couple of the scenes, settings, etc. It will all make sense, trust me. Do tell me how you like it, though! Reblogs and comments will encourage me to finish the next chapter sooner!

It wasn’t as if Crutchie hated his life. No, that wouldn’t be fair to say. There were lots of aspects of his life that he absolutely loved. His godmother, Medda, for one. His best friend, Katherine, of course. The fact that he was passing all his community college classes and had even managed to be recognized in his speech and debate class—although that was probably due to all of Katherine’s help—were definite pluses. Really, everything made his life just fine, all added together.

“Hey, crip! Get down here!”

Except, no, his life was not all that great, despite the smiles he faked. Years ago, Crutchie’s father died and his mother, a rather forgetful, hapless woman, never seemed to truly understand the impact of his death on her son. Sure, she had held him close and promised that everything would be okay. Crutchie wondered if she ever meant the promise, or if it had just been something nice to say to her hurting son. Only a couple months ago, she had remarried to a small, shriveled man by the name of Wiesel. She had explained that he had the money that their family needed, and, as much as Crutchie appreciated the full cupboards and the warm, plentiful meals, he almost wished they could go back to the time when he had gone to bed hungry, but had been happy. When it was just the two of them. Or, rather, when it was the three of them, and Crutchie had never foreseen the dark storms and heavy grief ahead of him.

“Move slower, ya stupid crip, I dare you!”

Wiesel had brought his two sons along with him: Oscar and Morris. While Morris tended to be quiet and brood in the corner of the room, a small black book in hand—Crutchie suspected it to be a collection of Poe’s poems, after he heard Morris mutter something about a sepulchre by the sea—and a quick frown for Crutchie whenever he entered the room, Oscar was more vocal with his dislike towards his new stepbrother. Both stepbrothers looked remarkably similar. They had dark brown hair and sported twin sneers, especially whenever Crutchie was present.

“I’m coming,” Crutchie said, trying to force his suddenly leaden limbs to move faster.

That was the other problem. Upon his birth, a benevolent—though, Crutchie wasn’t sure he quite agreed with that terminology—fairy granted him the gift of obedience. Which meant that Crutchie was stuck obeying every small command uttered around him. It had led to all sorts of unfortunate experiences, including, but not limited to, the time he punched a bully, the time he ate a worm, and the time he couldn’t tell anyone about the mean kids that teased and bullied Katherine for her big books and owlish glasses.

“Took you long enough,” Oscar remarked once Crutchie entered the living room. “Today we’re going to the rally for the Prince. I do not want to see your ugly mug there. Got it?”

Crutchie nodded, muttering under his breath, “Won’t be that hard with your eyesight.”

“What did you say?” Oscar challenged.

“Nothing. Have fun supporting a politician that has managed to destroy over a century’s peace. And all because he thought free labor would have no consequences, even though if he had ever taken the time to study a history book, he would see—“

“Shut up,” Oscar snapped.

Crutchie’s rant immediately stopped, all words dying in the back of his throat. His silence didn’t keep him from glaring at Oscar and Morris, as they headed out of the door, chattering eagerly about the Prince’s new hair style and how it compared to how he had worn it the previous spring.

Prince Jack was the talk among every citizen of marriageable age. The rumor was that the Prince would need to marry someone before he could actually be officially coronated and named King of New York, great land that it was. Men and women, alike, fawned over his deep, chocolate eyes and his wavy, brunette hair. Oscar had even been elected president of the Jack Fan Club that had been organized in Manhattan. Crutchie still scoffed whenever he entered his step-brother’s shared room and noticed the many posters of the Prince on the walls. Really, it was all a publicity stunt to distract the idiot townspeople from the atrocities being committed around them. And, much to Crutchie’s dismay, it was working.

A knock on the door interrupted Crutchie’s thoughts and he grinned when he saw his best friend waving through the window. “Hey, Kath,” he said, letting her bounce through the door.

“Okay, I painted all these great posters for the rally,” Katherine said, unrolling a poster that called for the end of ogrecide and equality among all. “I tried to see if Specs could come, but Romeo got sick, so it’s just going to be the two of us. Is that okay?” she asked, her eyes crinkling with worry behind the clear frames.

“Of course, Kath. And these look great.”

Katherine smiled. “Thanks, Crutch. Now we better get there before the mob of our great Prince’s fans manages to bring the rally to an end.”

King Snyder—for only a few short days more, until Prince Jack would be crowned the rightful King—stepped out into the bright sunshine. He blinked at the sudden sunlight, waving cheerfully to the crowd of people who had shown up to the rally for their King and Prince. He started speaking, but Crutchie wasn’t paying attention. He noticed that Oscar and Morris were at the front of the group of Jack’s fans, homemade hearts pinned to their chests. Oscar’s head started to turn and Crutchie reacted instinctively. Crutchie immediately ducked behind a pillar, his body acting on its own. He couldn’t be seen by Oscar, he couldn’t be seen by—

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Crutchie said, playing it off with a laugh. “Just, uh, like the shade, is all.”

“Well, we’ve got to be out in the open, where the King and the Prince can actually see the posters, or else all this work will have been for nothing.”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Crutchie said, peering around the pillar. Oscar wasn’t looking his way. He stepped out around the pillar, lofting the poster into the air. “Let’s do this, Kath. Show ‘em what’s what.”

As soon as Prince Jack stepped out onto the stage, the crowd burst into cheers and screams and catcalls. The Prince smiled weakly, waving to his adoring fans. He opened his mouth to say something, but Katherine began shouting, “Say no to ogrecide! Say no to ogrecide!” Her voice carried loud and clear over the rally’s crowd, catching the attention of the King, the Prince, and everyone in the square.

Normally, Crutchie would be proud of his friend taking a stand for her beliefs, but not when Oscar’s scowl deepened at the sight of his step-brother. Oscar shoved a couple of the rally-goers aside, stomping angrily towards Crutchie. A slightly-confused Morris followed along, glancing back at Jack longingly. “What are you doing here?” Oscar demanded, ripping the poster from Crutchie’s shaking hands. “I told you not to show your face here. Go home,” he commanded.

Crutchie winced, before muttering softly, “I gotta go, Kath. I’ll see you around.”

“Crutch, wait!” Katherine tried, but Crutchie was already limping out of the square, ignoring the stares from all of the citizens.

“That was a waste,” Crutchie muttered, wiping angrily at his nose. All Crutchie had ever dreamed of, since he was young, was making a difference in the world. But, how could he ever do that, if he continually was forced into following others commands. It wasn’t fair. No one else had been cursed at birth. Only Crutchie seemed lucky enough to have been blessed with some fairy that apparently had decided his life wouldn’t be crappy enough between his twisted leg and his father’s sudden death, and had “gifted” him with obedience.

Crutchie barely had time to notice the sound of screams echoing throughout the forest, before someone grabbed him, dragging him to the ground. He immediately elbowed his assailant in the stomach, but that only managed to trigger a small grunt of pain. A soft hand was clamped over his mouth, while his attacker hissed, “Shh.”

A crowd of men and women, all wearing those tacky “I Heart Jack” pins, ran past them, screaming excitedly. Once they had passed them, Crutchie’s assailant let him go, muttering a small apology. Crutchie turned, surprised to discover that assailant was, in fact, Prince Jack. “That’s a fine way to treat your citizens, shoving them to the ground,” Crutchie muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt from his pants.

“I’m Jack,” Jack introduced himself, handing the other man his crutch.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh,” Jack said, running his hand through his brown locks. Crutchie started away, but Jack caught up. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“They call me Crutchie.”

“Do you like the name Crutchie?”

“It’s a far cry better than ‘crip,’ or whatever semi-clever insults the kids on the playground could think of,” Crutchie remarked.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, but Crutchie shrugged his concern off, continuing on his way home. “You know,” Jack continued, “you’re the first person who hasn’t swooned at the sight of me.”

Crutchie snorted. “Then maybe I’ve done you some good.”

“No, I meant—“ Jack fell silent, as a strange sound emanated from the forest on the side of the road. “I’ll go investigate,” he explained, pulling his sword out of its sheath. “Stay here.”

At the command, Crutchie’s feet seemed to freeze in the center of the dirt road. “Jack!” he tried to call, but the Prince either ignored him, or didn’t hear. “Great,” he muttered, tugging uselessly on his legs and trying to will them to move, even though he knew none of his efforts would be successful. Eventually, Crutchie simply gave up, scanning the forest and waiting for his prince to come—Crutchie rolled his eyes at that particular thought—and free him from his temporary stasis.

A quiet rumbling surprised Crutchie. He hadn’t expected any sort of storm, especially with the sky so clear of clouds. As the rumbling grew louder, he glanced behind him, immediately discovering the source of the noise. Some madly drunk man had whipped the horses driving his carriage into a frenzy, and the carriage barreled towards Crutchie, with no sign of slowing. “Jack!” Crutchie shouted again, annoyed at the note of desperation that colored the name. He wasn’t desperate, he wasn’t—only, he was, because his feet still would not move and the carriage was getting closer and—

“Move!”

Crutchie immediately obeyed, leaping out of the way of the carriage and the cackling drunkard. For a moment, Crutchie merely laid on the ground, breathing deeply and thanking everything that he was still alive. His fingers shook, but he quickly fisted his hands to hide the trembling. Ignoring the slight tremor in his voice, Crutchie shouted, “What the hell was that?”

Jack blinked in surprise. “What was what? You weren’t moving; you were just standing there!”

“Clearly, I moved out of the way in time,” Crutchie said, levering himself up with the aid of his crutch. “No thanks to you. How was your little romp into the woods?”

“It wasn’t an ogre.”

“You find a scawy wabbit?” Crutchie teased, focusing on annoying the Prince instead of the way his knees still shook after that near-death experience. He could’ve died, he could’ve died.

“Oh, shut up.”

Crutchie’s mouth snapped shut, but the Prince didn’t seem to notice, as Oscar and Morris ran up to the pair. “Jack!” Oscar called out, taken aback by the appearance of the Prince with his step-brother. “H-how are you? You’re looking,” Oscar paused, examining the Prince’s body, “swell.”

Crutchie snorted, catching Oscar’s attention. “And, Crutchie, take Morris home.”

“Oh, come on,” Morris complained, pouting. But, he listened to his older brother and motioned for Crutchie to come home with him.

“Watch out for rabbits,” Crutchie told Jack, a farewell, of sorts.

“And you stay away from carriages,” Jack told him, a soft smile at his lips.

Crutchie nodded his good-bye, before joining Morris on the road home. “I don’t see why you get to meet Jack,” Morris complained. “Sometimes, Crutchie, I think you’re the luckiest guy alive.” And while Crutchie had never been inclined to agree to a statement such as that, he found himself wondering if this was a start of a new, luckier chapter in his life.

[popdroid]

POPDROID REWIND: FAVORITE SINGLES (Best of 2017 So Far...)

click song titles for videoclip...

001 TOPS: Petals 002 Polo & Pan: Coeur croisé 003 The War on Drugs: Thinking of a Place 004 Jain: Makeba 005 Cigarettes Afer Sex: Apocalypse 006 Paradis: Toi et moi 007 Juniore: Panique 008 Lana Del Rey: Love 009 Juliette Armanet: L'amour en solitaire 010 Haim: Want You Back

011 Blanche: City Lights 012 Calypso Valois: Le jour 013 Pumarosa: Dragonfly 014 Fishbach: Un autre que moi 015 Lorde: Green Light 016 Alexia Gredy: Paradis 017 The Lemon Twigs: I Wanna Prove to You 018 Tennis: Modern Woman 019 Blondino: Jamais sans la nuit 020 Noga Erez: Off the Radar

021 Clara Luciani: Comme toi 022 Eugénie: Puis danse 023 Témé Tan: Ça va pas la tête? 024 Fazerdaze: Take It Slow 025 Aldous Harding: Imagining My Man 026 Michael Kiwanuka: Cold Little Heart 027 Peter Peter: Bien réel 028 Ibibio Sound Machine: Give Me a Reason 029 Chromatics: Shadow 030 Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains: Tendre est l'âme

031 Amy Shark: Weekends 032 STUFF.: Galapagos 033 Fleet Foxes: Fool's Errand 034 Arcade Fire: Everyting Now 035 La Féline: Senga 036 Father John Misty: Pure Comedy 037 Laura Marling: Next Time 038 London Grammar: Oh Woman, Oh Man 039 Marika Hackman: My Lover Cindy 040 Hazel English: More Like You

041 Desperate Journalist: Hollow 042 Grimes feat. Janelle Monáe: Venus Fly 043 Calypso Valois: Vis à vie 044 Bedouine: One of These Days 045 Aimee Mann: Goose Snow Cone 046 Bazart: Lux 047 Témé Tan: Sè Zwa Zo 048 NAO: In the Morning 049 Soulwax: Missing Wires 050 Lindsey Buckingham / Christine McVie: In My World

051 Julien Doré: Sublime & Silence 052 Jane Weaver: Did You See Butterflies? 053 Steven Wilson feat. Sophie Hunger: Song of I 054 Kevin Morby: City Music 055 Childish Gambino: Redbone 056 Marie Flore: Passade digitale 057 Amber Coffman: No Coffee 058 Juniore: Difficile 059 Julie Byrne: Natural Blue 060 Steven Wilson feat. Ninet Tayeb: Pariah

061 Paradisia: Dancing in the Dark 062 Marble Sounds: Ten Seconds to Count Down 063 The Weeknd: Secrets 064 Fleet Foxes: If You Need, Keep Time on Me 065 Gorillaz: Andromeda 066 City of the Sun: Sugar 067 Moonchild: Cure 068 Queens of the Stone Age: The Way You Used to Do 069 Dope Lemon: Home Soon 070 Holybrune: Nuit noire

071 Pond: Paint Me Silver 072 Phoenix: Goodbye Soleil 073 Wilsen: Centipede 074 Fishbach: Y crois-tu 075 Juliette Armanet: Alexandre 076 Austra: I Love You More Than You Love Yourself 077 Declan McKenna: Brazil 078 Millionaire: I'm Not Who You Think You Are 079 Pumarosa: Lion's Den 080 WWWater: WWWater

081 Grand Blanc: Bosphore 082 The Jungle Giants: Feel the Way I Do 083 Lo Moon: Loveless 084 The War on Drugs: Holding On 085 Rolling Blackouts Coast Fever: French Press 086 School Is Cool: Trophy Wall 087 Peter Peter: Loving Game 088 Spoon: Hot Thoughts 089 Thievery Corporation feat. Racquel Jones: Letter to the Editor 090 Elastic Bond: Honey Bun

091 Black Mirrors: Funky Queen 092 Becca Stevens feat. Laura Mvula: Well Loved 093 Dan Auerbach: Shine on Me 094 Vince Staples: Big Fish 095 Feu! Chatterton: Porte Z 096 Feist: Pleasure 097 Real Estate: Darling 098 Fleet Foxes: Third of May / Odaigahara 099 Timber Timbre: Grifting 100 Amatorski: Welcome

101 Sylvan Esso: Radio 102 Le Manou: L'homme 103 Dans Dans: Rumour 104 Tsar B: Golddigger 105 My Baby: Love Dance 106 London Grammar: Big Picture 107 VUURWERK feat. Khazali: Face It 108 Novella: Change of State 109 HMLTD: To the Door 110 Mathilde Fernandez: Mon Dieu

111 Rive: Nuit 112 Urban Cone: Old School 113 The Mysterons: Sold My Medicine 114 Thurston Moore: Aphrodite 115 Bleached: Flipside 116 Gretta Ray: Drive 117 Bonobo feat. Nick Murphy: No Reason 118 Amber Arcades: Can't Say That We Tried 119 Beach House: Chariot 120 Paramore: Hard Times

121 Intergalactic Lovers: Between the Lines 122 The Japanese House: Saw You in a Dream 123 Andrew Combs: Blood Hunters 124 Anna of the North: Oslo 125 The Weeknd feat. Daft Punk: I Feel It Coming 126 Grandaddy: Evermore 127 Cosmo Pyke: Chronic Sunshine 128 Slowdive: Sugar for the Pill 129 The Aces: Physical 130 Now, Now: SGL

131 Soldout: Forever 132 BRNS: Pious Platitudes 133 Arca: Desafío 134 Kendrick Lemar: DNA. 135 Dua Lipa feat. Miguel: Lost in Your Light 136 The xx: On Hold 137 Radiohead: Promise 138 Anteros: Cherry Drop 139 Honeyblood: Walking at Midnight 140 Ella Vos: White Noise

141 Mr Little Jeans: Stitches 142 Marlene: Next to Me 143 Rae Morris: Reborn 144 Mogwai: Coolverine 145 Marika Hackman: Boyfriend 146 Goldfrapp: Anymore 147 Susanne Sundfør: Undercover 148 Briana Marela: Quit 149 Inheaven: Treats 150 Ibeyi: Walk Away

151 Lana Del Rey feat. The Weekend: Lust for Life 152 Mellow Diamond: Ashes to Breathe 153 Laure Briard: Les pins des Landes 154 Lorde: Perfect Places 155 Benjamin Clementine: Phantom of Aleppoville 156 Ruelle: The Other Side 157 Maya Payne: Self Defined 158 Lorde: Sober 159 The Regrettes: Seashore 160 Pale Waves: There's a Honey

161 Sir Sly: High 162 Girls in Hawaii: This Light 163 DíSA: Reflections 164 Oscar and the Wolf: Breathing 165 L'impératrice: Sultans des îles 166 Camila Cabello: Crying in the Club 167 Courtney Barnett: How to Boil an Egg 168 Sharon Van Etten: Not Myself 169 Lana Del Rey: Coachella - Woodstock in My Mind 170 Cloves: California Numb

171 Sale Gosse: Boys 172 Trentemøller feat. Jennylee: Hands Down 173 Ionnalee: Not Human 174 Angus & Julia Stone: Snow 175 Trouble: Snake Eyes 176 liv: Heaven 177 Blondino: Bleu 178 The Courtneys: Silver Velvet 179 Maggie Rogers: On + Off 180 Paramore: Told You So

181 Dan Auerbach: King of a One Horse Town 182 Tennis: In the Morning I'll Be Better 183 Arcade Fire: Creature Comfort 184 First Aid Kit: You Are the Problem Here 185 Iron & Wine: Call It Dreaming 186 LCD Soundsystem: American Dream 187 Father John Misty: Ballad of the Dying Man 188 Allison Pierce: Evidence 189 Rive: Vogue 190 Liv Dawson: Searching

191 Cat Pierce: Weapon of War 192 Liam Gallagher: Wall of Glass 193 Wild Beasts: Alpha Female 194 David Bowie: No Plan 195 Big Thief: Shark Smile 196 Toro y Moi: You and I 197 Sparks: What the Hell Is It This Time 198 OMD: Isotype 199 Halo Maud: Du pouvoir 200 Corine: Pluie fine (Polo & Pan Remix)

201 Foxygen: On Lankershim 202 Metronomy feat. Robyn: Hang Me Out to Dry 203 Blood Orange: Better Than Me 204 Melanie De Biasio: Gold Junkies 205 Sigrid: Don't Kill My Vibe 206 Aldous Harding: Blend 207 Lucy Rose feat. The Staves: Floral Dresses 208 Fyfe feat. Kimbra: Belong 209 Hazel English: Love Is Dead 210 Bedouine: Solitary Daughter

211 Pixx: Waterslides 212 Kevin Morby: Come to Me Now 213 Vendredi sur Mer: La femme à la peau bleue 214 The Preatures: Girlhood 215 Declan McKenna: Humongous 216 Depeche Mode: Where's the Revolution 217 Luminize: Twilight 218 Grizzly Bear: Mourning Sound 219 Valerie June: Shakedown 220 Kate Tempest: Europe Is Lost

221 Beach Fossils: This Year 222 Few Bits: It Will Set You Free 223 Soul'art: Django 224 TaxiWars: Fever 225 Julien Doré: Coco Câline 226 Fishbach: À ta merci 227 SOHN: Hard Liquor 228 Yelle: Ici & maintenant 229 John Mayer: Still Feel Like Your Man 230 LCD Soundsytem: Call the Police

231 Cigarettes After Sex: Each Time You Fall in Love 232 Brutus: Drive 233 Thundercat feat. Michael McDonald & Kenny Loggins: Show You the Way 234 Day Wave: Promises 235 A/T/O/S: Blackout 236 Baloji: Spoiler 237 Julie Byrne: Sleepwalker 238 Oddisee feat. Toine: NNGE 239 La Féline: Séparés (Si nous étions jamais) 240 Loyle Carner: The Isle of Arran

241 Regina Spektor: Black and White 242 Agnes Obel: It's Happening Again 243 Tei Shi: How Far 244 Yelle: Interpassion 245 Skott: Glitter & Gloss 246 Woods: Hit That Drum 247 Superpoze: Azur 248 Real Estate: Stained Glass 249 Lenachka: Private Eyes 250 Grizzly Bear: Four Cypresses

251 Temples: Strange or Be Forgotten 252 Grizzly Bear: Three Rings 253 Methyl Ethel: Ubu 254 Shaefri: Monster 255 Nite Jewel: 2 Good 2 Be True 256 Clare Louise: La vase 257 Fufanu: Liability 258 The Big Moon: Sucker 259 Saint Etienne: Magpie Eyes 260 The Sherlocks: Chasing Shadows

261 Earl: Baddabing Baddaboom 262 Warhola: Jewels 263 Sink Ya Teeth: If You See Me 264 Joe Goddard: Home 265 Cathedrals: Don't Act Like a Stranger 266 Is Bliss: Into a Dream 267 From Indian Lakes: Sunlight 268 NxWorries: Scared Money 269 The Kooks: Be Who You Are 270 Snail Mail: Thinning

271 Ride: Charm Assault 272 Maud Geffray: Polaar 273 Matt Watts: Joanne 274 Phoenix: J-Boy 275 Vérité: When You're Gone 276 AlunaGeorge: Not Above Love 277 Haim: Right Now 278 Arcade Fire: I Give You Power 279 Wolf Alice: Yuk Foo 280 Bleu Toucan: Matin à Toucanopolis

281 Dua Lipa: Thinking 'Bout You 282 Los Angeles Police Department: Grown 283 Ionnalee: Samaritan 284 Puma Blue: Want Me 285 Sylvan Esso: Die Young 286 Cléa Vincent: Samba 287 Laure Briard: On dit que je ne suis pas sage 288 Crooked Colours: Flow 289 Thurston Moore: Smoke of Dreams 290 Bernache: Your Name

291 Sweet Spirit: The Power 292 Paradisia: Warpaint 293 Tim Dup: Moïra Gynt 294 Kelly Lee Owens: Throwing Lines 295 The Killers: The Man 296 Little Dragon: High 297 Kina Grannis: When Will I Learn 298 Archive: Splinters 299 Circa Waves: Love's Run Out 300 Las Aves: Antistar

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND March 29, 2019  - DUMBO, UNPLANNED, THE BEACH BUM, HOTEL MUMBAI

This is going to be another weekend where I haven’t really seen any of the wide releases except for a few that opened limited first. Next week will probably be the same as I head to Las Vegas for CinemaCon and will miss most of the bigger press screenings.

Sadly, I would have loved to have seen Tim Burton’s DUMBO (Disney) in time to review it for you, as I am generally a fan of Disney’s classic animated movies (vs. the Jeffrey Katzenberg wave from the ‘90s, most of which I still haven’t seen), as I am a fan of Tim Burton and much of the cast of this one. It includes Michael Keaton and Danny De Vito, both reuniting with Burton after Batman Returns, and Eva Green, who has appeared in a few of Burton’s recent movies… AND she once called me a “pervert.” (The story is funnier if I don’t explain why.) But the story of Dumbo is classic Disney in the sense that it reminds me of all the wonders of watching movies as a kid filled with joy and awe… as opposed to now where I always feel a sense of dread, wondering if a movie will be half as good as it hopes. Anyway, I’ll see this on Thursday night and maybe write something Friday if I’m up to it.

I’m less likely to see UNPLANNED (Pure Flix), a movie that I’m shocked even exists, let alone is being released into 1,000 theaters. This is almost like the polar opposite of the great Mike Leigh’s Vera Drake in that it’s a biopic about Abby Johnson, a Planned Parenthood clinic director who was so shaken by witnessing her first abortion (not her own) that she became an anti-abortion activist. Besides sounding like something out of Jordan Peele’s upcoming The Twilight Zone show, it’s also horrifying to think that the Pro-Life crowd is now trying to recruit the Christian Right to their cause through movies, one that received Pure Flix’s first R-rating, no less.

After premiering at SXSW, Harmony (Spring Breakers) Corine’s new movie THE BEACH BUM (NEON), starring Matthew McConaughey and a typically oddball cast including Snoop Dog, Zak Efron and Jonah Hill, will also open wide this weekend. I’ll probably try to catch this just cause I’m so curious about Corine’s oddball auteur sensibilities. Spring Breakers was actually a bit of an anomaly, and it was one of his few movies I actually liked, compared to something like Mister Lonely, which I found unwatchable despite its similarly-odd cast, which included Werner Herzog.

Then there are two movies expanding nationwide this weekend, both of which I’ve seen and enjoyed, the first of them being Anthony Maras’ directorial debut HOTEL MUMBAI (Bleecker Street), a terrific ensemble piece starring Dev Patel, Armie Hammer and Jason Isaacs – three actors I truly love – about the terrorist attacks on the luxurious Hotel Taj in 2008. I was really impressed with how Maras and his cast and crew tell this harrowing story that’s not quite on par as Peter Greengrass’ United 93 but has a similar impact as you watch it and see how these amazing people came together to prevent even more people from dying. I also should point out that the primarily Indian cast beyond Patel are also excellent, showing there’s a lot of talent coming from India that have yet to break out in a big way Stateside.

Focus will also expand Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre’s drama The Mustang into an unknown number of theaters, and I also recommend this movie if you have an opportunity to see it. It’s a wonderful movie starring Belgian actor Matthias Schoenaerts (Rust and Bone) as a convict who finds a way to fight against his anger issues and violent tendencies by training a wild horse in the prison’s program. Since I haven’t seen the other three movies above, as of this writing, I recommend seeking out Hotel Mumbai or The Mustang if they’re playing wherever you live.

LIMITED RELEASES

I was a bad boy this weekend and didn’t watch any of the screeners I was supposed to watch, so that means I’ve only seen one of the movies opening in select cities this weekend, and that was Kent Jones’ DIANE (IFC Films), which played at Tribeca last year where it won two awards. It stars Mary Kay Place as a Massachusetts woman named Diane, who puts most of her time into helping others in her big family over herself while also dealing with her son Brian’s (Jake Lacy) ongoing addiction that has him going in and out of rehab. Personally, I found it a slog when I saw it at Tribecalast year.

Opening in New York (Village East and Alamo Drafthouse, the latter a part of their Drafthouse Recommends series) and L.A. (three Laemmle theaters)  is Sophie Lorain’s French coming-of-age comedy SLUT IN A GOOD WAY (Comedy Dynamics), a movie that I haven’t gotten around to watching the screener, as of this writing, but what a great title, huh? It stars Marguerite Bouchard, Romane Denis and Rose Adam as three teenage girls exploring their first taste of freedom, all three of them in love with the guy who works at “Toy Depot” – a sex shop -- where they each apply for part-time jobs.

Also opening in select cities is Alison Klayman’s documentary THE BRINK (Magnolia) which follows former Trump chief strategist Steve Bannon through the 2018 mid-term elections as the controversial Breitbart founder tries to reinvent himself by getting involved in the European Parliamentary Elections of 2019 with his “global populist movement.” I’ll be curious to see how this compares to Errol (The Fog of War) Morris’ American Dharma, which premiered during film festivals last September but (as far as I know) still hasn’t been released yet. I’m not even sure it found distribution but Bannon is not a very popular figure among American liberals (for good reason), so I can’t imagine many critics would approve of either film.

This week’s Saban Films’ offering is Sarah Daggar Nickson’s thriller A VIGILANTE, starring Olivia Wilde as an abused woman who sets a course to help victims rid themselves of their domestic abusers while also hunting down her husband, whom she needs to kill in order to truly be free. It will play in select theaters Friday after a month on DirecTV.

Downton Abbey director Michael Engler reunites with Downton writer/creator Julian Fellowes who adapted Laura Moriarty’s bestselling book The Chaperone (PBS Distribution Masterpiece Films). The amazing Haley Lu Richardson (Split) plays Louise Brooks before she became a movie sensation in the ‘20s and is just a student in Wichita, Kansas. When she is sent to New York to study with a dance troupe for the summer, her mother requires a chaperone, a role taken on by the by-the-books Norma Carlisle (Elizabeth McGovern).  This witty period piece opens Friday at New York’s Landmark West 57 and Quad Cinema and then expands to L.A.’s Laemmle Royal, Playhouse 7 and Town Center 5 on April 5.

The Discovery Channel is also giving Ross (Born into Brothels) Kauffman’s new documentary Tigerlanda release in New York on Friday just a day before it premieres on the cable channel Saturday. It’s a film about a group of Russians trying to protect the last Siberian tigers from extinction, and it’s produced by Fisher Stevens of the Oscar-winning The Cove.

Cocaine Cowboys director Billy Corben returns with the doc Screwball (Greenwich), another film set in Miami, this one that looks into Major League Baseball’s doping scandal and how it affected New York Yankee’s Alex Rodriguez. It opens in select cities following its debut at TIFF last year.

The makers of The ABCs of Evil, Tim League and Ant Simpson, return with The Field Guide to Evil, a horror anthology featuring short films by eight (actually nine) foreign horror filmmakers telling folktales about myth and lore, including Peter Strickland (Berberian Sound Studio), Can Evrenol (Baskin), Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz (Goodnight Mommy) and Agnieszka Smoczynska (The Lure). I missed this movie at Fantasia last year (‘cause I didn’t go) but it will be opening in most Alamo theaters (about 40 nationwide) on Friday.

This week’s Bollywood release, opening in about 100 theaters nationwide, is Thiagarajan Kumararaja’s thriller Super Deluxe (Prime Media), the second film from the director who won the Indira Gandhi Award for Best Debut Film at the 59thNational Film Awards in India. It’s a film about how fate messes with the life of a group of people, as fate is wont to do.

Renowned indie distributor Jeff Lipsky’s seventh feature as a director, The Last (Plainview Pictures), will open in New York at the Angelika and CMX New York on Friday, then will expand to other cities including L.A. on April 26. It involves a large Jewish family of four generations learning that their 92-year-old matriarch, a Holocaust survivor (Rebecca Schull) has a secret that shocks the entire family.

Opening in L.A. at the Laemmle Music Hall is the Holocaust drama Sobibor (Samuel Goldwyn Films) from reputed Russian actor/director Konstantin Khabenskiy (he appeared in Timur Bekmambetov’s Wanted and Nightwatch), playing Soviet prisoner Alexander Perchersky, who led a rebellion at the Nazi’s Polish death camp Sobibor in 1943 in order to escape, freeing hundreds of Jews.

As a counterpoint to Unplanned, there’s Josh Huber’s romantic comedy Making Babies (Huber Brothers) about a couple played by Eliza Couple and Steve Howey who spent five years trying to have kids, so they start exploring other medical and spiritual ways to conceive a child. The movie also stars Ed Begley Jr. and the late Glenne Headly and will open in select cities.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Besides playing at the Egyptian in L.A. (see above), John Lee Hancock’s THE HIGHWAYMEN will be available on the Netflix streaming service after playing in select theaters for a couple weeks. I finally caught it last week, and really enjoyed it. It stars Kevin Costner and Woody Harrelson as former Texas rangers Frank Hamer and Maney Gault, recruited by the Governor of Texas (Kathy Bates) to hunt down and kill Bonnie and Clyde, whose crime and killing spree has gotten out of hand. Hamer and Gault travel across stateliness trying to find them, following the different clues left behind. This is definitely my kind of movie, not just due to the subject matter, but also seeing such great actors as Costner (possibly the last of the bonafide movie stars?) and Harrelson taking on such great roles to show a different side of the story than the one mostly known from the Warren Beatty movie. I really enjoyed both actors’ performances and the general tone of the film, although I do feel that it was a little too long and drawn-out and not in a good way ala David Fincher’s Zodiac. But it does pay off, and it’s a shame that more people won’t be able to see this on the big screen because the film looks great due to the cinematography by John Schwartzman. I’ll also give a shout-out to my pal Johnny McPhail who plays the farmer who witnesses one of Bonnie and Clyde’s brutal murders. Rating: 7.5/10

Also, Friday sees the return of Santa Clarita Diet for its third season, again with Drew Barrymore and Timothy Olyphant. 

LOCAL FESTIVALS OF NOTE

The big festival starting in New York this week is the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s annual New Directors/New Films, which always has interesting stuff although it’s definitely getting more indie and esoteric in recent years. It kicks off tonight with Chinonye Chukwu’s prison-set drama Clemency, starring Alfre Woodard and Aldis Hodge, which recently won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance. The festival’s Centerpiece Is Alejandro Landes’s Monos, another Sundance prize-winner, starring the wondrous Julianne Nicholson as an engineer who travels to the South American jungle and is taken captive by teenage guerillas. The Closing Night film on April 6 is Pippa Bianco’s Share– ALSO a Sundance prize-winner! – which deals with sexual assault and the role of the internet, something which seems very relevant and pertinent. There’s a lot of interesting foreign films and a good amount from women filmmakers in this year’s line-up, which you can read more about here.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

This weekend, the Metrograph begins its Total Kaurismäki Show, as in Finish filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki, who has been making festival-winning films for almost 40 years and has YET to have a film nominated for an Oscar. This Friday, the series begins with some of the director’s lesser-seen ‘80s movies Hamlet Goes Business  (1987),Calamari Union  (1985) and Crime and Punishment (1983), as well as Shadows in Paradise  (1986), Ariel  (1988) and then the 1990 film The Match Factory on Saturday. This week’s Late Nites at Metrograph  offering is Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner: The Final Cut  (1982/2007) and Playtime: Family Matinees (which has become my idea of comfort food in terms of cinema) is showing Abbot and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde  (1953). Sadly, I’ll be out of town on Tuesday when the Metrograph is presenting Claire Denis’ The Intruder (2004) with a QnA by Ms. Denis who will also introduce No Fear, No Die (1990) right afterwards. (If you also can’t make this night then never fear as BAM is beginning a full-on Denis retrospective, which you can read more about below.)

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Tarantino’s reopened rep theater continues to kill it with a single screening of Mike Nichols’ 1966 film Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, on Weds. afternoon. This week’s double features are John Boorman’sPoint Blank  (1967) and The Outfit (1973) on Weds. and Thurs., Fellini’sLa Strada (1954) – one of my personal faves – and Il Bidone  (1955) on Friday and Saturday, then the ‘30s musicals Dames and Footlight Paradeon Sunday and Monday. The weekend’s one-offs are midnight screenings of Kill Bill Volume 1on Friday and the comedy anthology Amazon Women on the Moon (1987) on Saturday. The weekend’s KIDDEE MATINEE is The Black Stallion (1979) and there will be a special 20thanniversary screening of the Wachowski’s The Matrixon Monday. Tuesday night’s GRINDHOUSE double feature is two directed by Roger Corman -- The Trip (1967) and The Wild Angels (1966).

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Bob & Wray: A Love Story continues with a double feature of Virtue  (1932) and Viva Villa (1934) on Weds., a reshowing of Frank Capra’s Lost Horizon (1937) on Thursday as well as a Fay Wray double feature of Once to Every woman (1934) and They Met in a Taxi  (1936). Friday sees a reshowing of the double feature of The Mystery of the Wax Museum and The Vampire Bat, both from 1933, and a double feature of Lee Tracy movies, Doctor X (1932) and Carnival  (1935). On Saturday, there’s a special screening of the early Fay Wray film The Wild Horse Stampede with piano accompaniment, plus a double feature of John Ford’s The Whole Town’s Talking  (1935) and Frank Capra’s  You Can’t Take It With You  (1938), both written by Robert Riskin. This weekend’s Film Forum Jr. is the Disney animated classic Bambi (1942).

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Besides a Weds. double feature of John Lee Hancock’s new movie The Highwaymen with his 2002 baseball film The Rookie starring Dennis Quaid, the Egyptian begins Noir City: Hollywood – The 21stAnnual Los Angeles Festival of Noir, running all weekend. It begins Friday with the double feature of Trapped (1949) and The File of Thelma Jordon  (1950), continues Saturday with Appointment with Danger (1951) and Shdow on the Wall (1950), Sunday is Sudden Fear and The Narrow Margin, followed on Monday by City That Never Sleeps and 99 River Street from 1953 and on Tuesday with Playgirl and Hell’s Devil Acre, both from 1954. (This series will continue next week as well.)

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

On Saturday night, BAM will start a new series called “Beyond the Canon” (pairing a classic with a more recent film which it inspired) with a double feature of Anna Rose Holmer’s The Fits (2015) and Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975). At the same time, BAM is kicking off Strange Desire: The Films of Claire Denis, which will run until April 9 and will show some of the French filmmaker’s best films, including Beau Travail (1999), White Material  (2009), 35 Shots of Rum and more recent films like her upcoming English language debut High Life, starring Robert Pattinson.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

On Thursday, MOMI is having a special presentation of Alexandre Rockwell’s 1992 film In the Soup, starring Steve Buscemi, Stanley Tucci, Seymour Cassel, Jennifer Beals, Carol Kane and Jim Jarmusch as part of the 9thAnnual Queens World Film Festival with Rockwell in discussion with former director (and QWFF Spirit of Queens honoree) David Schwartz. To prepare for Mike Leigh’s fantastic new film Peterloo, MOMI is also presenting Past Presence: Mike Leigh’s Period Films, showing the master’s earlier films Topsy Turvy (1999), Mr. Turner (2014) and Vera Drake (2004). It will include a preview screening of Peterloonext Wednesday with Mike Leigh in person!

IFC CENTER (NYC)

I guess Weekend Classics: Early Godard is continuing this week after all with a 35mm print of Weekend (1967) while the winter season of Late Night Favorites ends with Alejandro Jodorowsky’s The Holy Mountain (1973) as well as David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001).

MOMA (NYC):

Modern Matinees: B is for Bacall continues with Douglas Sirk’s 1956 film Written on the Wind on Weds, Vincente Minelli’s Designing Woman  (1957) Thursday and Young Man with a Horn (1950) on Friday.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This week’s Friday midnight offering is Mandy director Panos Costamos’ 2010 debut Beyond the Black Rainbow.

Next week, it’s a doozy of an April opener with Warner Bros’ Shazam! taking on Paramount’s Pet Sematary and the STX drama The Best of Enemies trying to pick up any remaining scraps of business. I’ve only seen one of them.

[swimmingnewsie]

Ten Minutes Ago - Prologue

Hi guys! It’s been a really long time since I’ve post fic and even longer since I’ve posted Newsies fic. But with help of my amazing collaborator @ig0tfriends, we have written a multichapter fic. Swimmingcrutch is back and better than ever. 

Summary:  When the death of King Joseph comes, the child of Princess Katherine and Prince Jack is in need to find a partner to continue the family line. What better way to do that than with a ball? A Newsies Cinderella AU featuring Jack and Katherine as amazing monarchs, genderfluid Smalls, Races as a fairy godmother, and an adorable Crutchie.

Also posted to AO3 for convenience

Enjoy!

It was always nice to come home. For Smalls, being home meant all dangers were abated and he could breathe. He didn’t have to worry about sleeping in cold grassy fields as they awaited battle to come or how to command an army when he hardly had the will to fight himself. As he and his troops approached the castle gates, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Smalls!” He could hear his mother calling him from the second he entered the grounds.

“Mama!” Smalls ran and gave a tight hug to his mother, Princess Katherine.

Katherine squeezed tight, feeling the relief of having her child home and safe. “How are you, my little one?”

Smalls laughed at his mother. She was always good about these kinds of things. “Your little boy is doing well,” he beamed. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you more than you could imagine. Though your father may argue he missed you more.” Katherine placed a kiss on her son’s forehead. “Come, let us go inside and see him.”

The doormen immediately opened the wide, wrought-iron gates to the castle without so much as a word between any of them. Still, they could hardly suppress smiles at the homecoming of their beloved prince. It was a rare thing to have all denizens of a kingdom be enamored of their royal family, but Princess Katherine, Prince Jack and their child made it easy to be liked by all, even if King Joseph was a little insufferable at times. Since the passing of Queen Kate and Princess Lucille, things had been shaky, but Princess Katherine led amicably alongside her father, leading to peace between all those who inhabited their kingdom.

With the great blare of a trumpet, the pair of prince and mother strode inside the castle walls. Servants hustled to and fro, each one taking the time to smile at the princess and son. One maiden with yellow flowers in her arms rushed up to Katherine, made a quick curtsy, and addressed the princess as fast as she could.

“The prince is in his studio, your royal highness. He asked not to be disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary!”

“While my husband may be enthralled in his art, I do believe he will wish to see his son home from battle.” Katherine smiled. Neither she nor Jack had known when Smalls was to be home. The war had ended about three weeks ago, so they had been expecting him any day. “Would you tell him we will be in the throne room?“

The maiden curtsied once more, nodding, and quickly gave a shy smile to the prince. It was hardly a secret on the castle grounds that he was favored by most of the young servants, all thinking Smalls terribly pretty and handsome. But the maiden scurried away without another word, and it was then that a rackety clattering click-click noise squealed into the hallway. Steering a most formidable wheelchair down the hall – formidable because the crotchety old man it belonged to used it to drive over everyone’s toes – was an aging, graying old man dressed in a crown and doublet that were fashionable about fifteen years earlier.

“Katherine!” called the wizened old man, giving a baleful eye and a wag of a crooked finger to all who passed him by. There was a reason most addressed him as Pulitzer. King Joseph was a name for a kind old grandfather, whilst his surname from birth far more suited the man he became. “Katherine! Where’s Hannah? She was supposed to return an hour ago with my completed treatise on gnomes!”

“She was in the garden last I saw, Father,” Katherine replied. “Perhaps doing more research for you?” She looked at her son, giving him a light rub on the shoulder. “Are you not going to greet your grandson?”

“I’ll greet my granddaughter,” he spat. “Hello, my sweet Samantha. I’m glad you’re back from that foolish errand, running an army. The army your father should have been running,” Pulitzer snarled. “But you’re done with all that now aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Smalls grit his teeth, but merely gave his grandfather a graceful bow. “Yes, Grandfather.”

Pulitzer gave a grunt of disgust before lapsing into a bout of coughs. Swatting away the servants like flies, he resisted all offers of assistance. With one last glance at his ‘granddaughter’, the old man turned his wheelchair around and sped past his daughter just in time to meet Hannah, a young woman who normally acted as Pulitzer’s assistant, who was teetering underneath a large stack of paperwork.

“I will see you at dinner time!” he called back, though he barely glanced back at all. “Have Samantha wear her blue dress – the one I bought her! HANNAH! I hope you collected all the information on the feeding habits of gnomes that I requested!”

As Pulitzer exited, another door opened, this time admitting a much more jovial man with bright brown eyes and paint-splattered hands.

“Smalls! How are you doing, kid?”

Smalls couldn’t help but grin. Maybe his grandfather didn’t understand, but the ones that mattered did.

Another day, another hour of mucking pig slop. At least that was the way it seemed to Crutchie, who stood in the middle of the once tame pasture, surrounded by numerous barnyard animals. He stood up once more, resting the shovel against the trough as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The once-comforting fabric pinned to the top of his crutch was soaked through with sweat from too many days of hard labor to count.

If anyone had chosen to walk by at that very moment, they would have assumed he, dressed in ragged clothes, was a simple farmhand or stable boy. No one would have ever known that Crutchie, formerly the young Lord Robert of the very estate he was now mucking pig slop on, was the son of a (formerly) wealthy merchant.

But all that was in the past. Now, he was only Crutchie, the crippled servant of the household. No one, even if they did walk past, would suspect anything different.

“Did you finish cleaning the manure?” his step-brother Morris called out. He walked out into the field, coming up close. Cruelly, he pushed Crutchie’s crutch into the pile of manure on the ground. Crutchie, barely having time to form a look of panic on his face, quickly found himself tossed into the pile of manure as well.

“Missed a spot,” Morris laughed, walking off.

Crutchie sighed, feeling the gross sensation against his skin. He had never understood why his step-brothers were so mean to him. He had never treated them with anything but kindness since they were children and yet they were still so cruel.

As if it wasn’t mean enough, Oscar came up close behind Morris dumping a pile of fresh manure into the pile. “Oops, it slipped,” he said menacingly. “But you can take care of it, can’t you, Crutchie?”

“Course I can, Oscar,” Crutchie managed to glare at his step brother but neatly bit his tongue to stop any biting reply he had in mind from slipping out. Ignoring both of the mocking grins plastered on his retreating step brother’s faces, Crutchie stubbornly stood his crutch up and stood up himself. He shuddered, praying he wouldn’t be sick at the sight and smell of the manure his back, arms and legs were now covered in.

Slowly, he picked up his shovel and finished piling up the manure. Before he could become sick from the smell, he managed to get himself into the creek. It may have been wet, but it was better than the sticky manure on his skin and clothing.

“‘Ey, Bobby boy, what happened to you?” a neighbor of his crossed over to the creek, cigar hanging from his mouth. “Fall into some cow crap again?”

“More like pushed in,” Crutchie mumbled. “But I’m fine, thanks for asking, Race.”

“Hey – hey kid, you’d tell me if anyone was givin’ you trouble, right?” Race gave the younger boy a tap on his shoulder. To his chagrin, Crutchie flinched away, his eyes filling with fear for half a second before they filled with shame instead.

“Course I would,” Crutchie answered with a fake smile, but did not return the gentle punch, “Thanks, Race. I mean it.”

“Alright, kid. Well I’ll let you get back to your swim. Gotta go make a deal for some new cigars.” He gave one last smile and was on his way.

“Crutchie, I swear to God you better get up here and clean this mess!”

His step-father. Snyder.

Well, there went his cleansing swim. There was work that needed to be done whether he was covered in manure or not. Crutchie pulled himself out of the water and onto the grassy bank, barely drying off his now soaked clothing. Once upon a time he would have believed it was no big deal to come home soaked to the bone – but this was no home anymore, and his step father seemed to hate him with a passion. Taking one last glance across the creek, Crutchie slipped his crutch under his arm and set off for the manor house.

Smalls waited in anxiety for his grandfather to arrive at dinner. He was in fact not wearing the blue dress his grandfather had bought. He knew it would cause a scene, but Smalls could not handle wearing that today. He felt far too much like a boy to put it on.

Sure he had attempted- no one liked to anger his grandfather if they could help it- but when he tried to wear the dress, he felt as though he was going to cry. His mother came in and helped him dress in his best shirt and tie, constantly reassuring him that it was okay to be their little boy today- even if Grandfather didn’t approve.

Half an hour had passed since dinner was meant to begin and Grandfather still wasn’t at the table.

“Hannah, have you seen Father?” Katherine asked, looking across the table.

“No, your highness. It isn’t like him to be this late. He’s probably looking over those reports on gnomes,” she sighed. “I will go check in on him.” Quickly after, Hannah left the dining room in search of Pulitzer.

“Personally, it may be a miracle your father’s late,” Jack winked at Katherine. “He’s getting to be a real pain in the –”

“Jack!” Katherine admonished him, and Jack grimaced.

“Smalls, he was hounding me everyday since you left,” the prince confided, “Kept nagging me about why I wasn’t doing ‘official royal duties’ when I was painting –which, by the way, is in fact an official royal duty now –”

A loud, piercing shriek interrupted Jack’s tirade, immediately freezing the blood of everyone assembled in the hall.

“King Pulitzer is dead!”

Along with shoveling manure, feeding the animals, and tending to other chores outside, one of Crutchie’s main responsibilities was to bring the meals to his ever-so-kind household. Breakfast was his first priority in the morning, and he busied himself with balancing the dishes on his arms as he walked out to greet his step-father and brothers without a word.

“I can’t believe King Pulitzer finally kicked the bucket!” Morris said looking up from the paper. News was only delivered every two weeks, giving him plenty to catch up on. “And that his kid is already pushing to get Princess Samantha a new husband.”

“‘Ey, Morris it says right here that everyone is invited to this ball thing. Maybe I could be king,” Oscar said, all hoity-toity.

Morris shoved his brother. “Like a baboon like you could be king. The princess needs a real gentleman, like me.” Morris shoved Oscar again, this time bumping him into Crutchie. “Hey! Watch where you’re going! You coulda spilled breakfast all over me!”

Crutchie, who had momentarily lost his balance, caught a disapproving glare from his step-father and quickly gave Morris another egg for breakfast. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered, limping around the table as fast as he could to distribute the rest of the meal. “Can I get ya anything else?” He asked, avoiding his stepfather’s eyes.

“Coffee’s stale. Make a new pot,” Snyder scowled, taking the newspaper from his sons. “And that’s enough roughhousing with your brother, Morris. Both of you will be going to the ball for a chance at Princess Samantha’s hand.”

Crutchie hobbled out to the kitchen to make fresh coffee, but was still able to hear his step-family’s booming voices..

“Hey- hey, Pa, I heard that that princess, sometimes she ain’t no princess. That she thinks she’s a boy sometimes. We can’t marry no prince! That’s just wrong!”

In the kitchen, Crutchie flinched, nearly knocking over the pot of coffee he was making. At the mention of marrying a prince, he had straightened his back and stood up taller than he normally did. He wouldn’t mind marrying a prince or princess but he knew neither of those would ever happen anyway. Not while he was under the unjust thumb of his step family.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream.

Dream of dancing with Samantha. Twirling her, or him if that’s how he felt, feeling their body close to his. Kissing them, loving them. Having someone care about him, not just as a servant, but as a person.

A whistling kettle drew him from his thoughts. The time for dreaming was done.  There were no princes or princesses here, just work to be done. Coffee needed brewing, and chores needed completing.

Maybe one day though, just maybe, that dream would be true.