Thehyperfixationsaretakingover - Yall, I Think I Changed My Mind....

BRENT COMER ILYSM

I thought I’d share

I’ve been putting together an AU where Jack Kelly grows up to be Jay Gatsby who if you want here’s some key points

Nick is replaced with Davey

Recognized from war changes to recognized from the strike

They probably still both fought in the war but it will stay slightly insignificant until the end

Jay Gatsby was once Jack Kelly

Became rich for Katherine ✨ because after the strike obvs Jack had to go to war and Katherine thought he had died!! Some years after the war ended Jack became Jay and built his mansion across the bay from Katherine and one of the Delancey brothers because why not (he needs to be a jerk like Tom so it works)

Davey's POV just like it’s Nicks in the book

Probably leave Jordan as Jordan

Medda to replace the one old guy who Gatsby called an old best friend

Instead of an empty funeral, Davey tracks down all the old newsies that survived the war and they all collectively mourn the loss of their cowboy and the loss of all the other newsies lost in the war

reblog to pet the sad cat 　　　　　　 ＿＿ 　　　　　／＞　　フ 　　　　　|  　_　 _ l 　 　　　／` ミ＿xノ 　　 　 /　　　 　 | 　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ 　 　 │　　|　|　| 　／￣|　　 |　|　| 　| (￣ヽ＿_ヽ_)__) 　＼二つ

reblog to slowblink at your mutuals

What if Ponyboy and Sodapop were younger. Soda would be in his sophomore year, and Pony would be in 8th grade (skipped his 7th grade year). Soda would come home and tell Pony all about his day, from girls to sports to studies. Soda would constantly tell him that when Pony gets to high school with him, Soda would show him around and teach him everything there is to know. But as Pony went into high school the following year, Soda had to drop out to help Darry with the bills. So, one of the things that Pony had to look forwards in school, just, disappeared. He tried once to bring it up with Soda, tried to tell him about when they were younger and how Soda would make that promise to him. "Really? Wow man, I can't remember a thing past freshman year." And Soda would get up and leave, probably going with Steve somewhere. Some part of Pony left him that day, but he couldn't place it on what caused it. Either the guilt of Sodas past and present and future, the saddness of his own future, the fear of being left behind, or the dread of knowing that things will never be the same- of never going back to when times were good. But if that didn't leave a mark, the glare that Steve sent Pony (a mix between 'don't try to follow us,' and of Steve knowing that soda just left his brother for him) definitely did.

Rip johnny cade, you would have loved old navy and Calvin Klein.

You could barely see a thing. Newsies boys throwing punches and scabs swepping legs. Right now, it was war. Race was entagled in another big looking scab who definitely had too much of an ego, if anything by the way his smirk grew with every punch he landed. He pushed Race backward, scraping his back on the top of the building. He recovered by kicking him in the balls, obviously. As the scab fell down with a grunt, making no move to hop back up, Race frantically looked around for other newsies to help.

Mush and Blink were killing everyone in sight (mostly Blink), Davey was holding his own with some assistance from Jack, and Finch and Albert were gathering all the young Brooklyn Newsies and driving them away, but it looked like Romeo was in trouble. He was backed into a wall and Race's heart dropped when he caught sight of a flash of metal coming from the scabs hand. Immediately pushing of the ground, Race ran over and stepped in from of Albert, before kicking him the chest, sending him flying a few feet away. A second later, a Brooklyn newsies he didnt recognize came swinging in with a baseball bat, connecting with the scabs head. All three of them connected eyes as the Brooklyn newsies let out a breath of air, and Albert gave a twisted grin. Race himself copying Albert, he lifts his head high looking for another fight.

He partly wished they hadn't come, but there was no chance they wouldn't have. After all, if you get word that all the scabs in and near Brooklyn were going to jump the Brooklyn boys, even with Brooklyn's reputation, they needed all the help they could get. Thankfully they arrived early, and by now, it looked like they were going to win by the second. Now all Race needs to do is-

BANG.

Everything went silent. Everyone stopped moving. Soft breaths of air was the only thing Race heard, besides the ringing in his ears. It can't be. Almost everyone had a weapon, but- that sounded way too similar to a gun.

Race whipped his head around and saw one of the scabs. The boy was facing outwards with his arm stretched out, his knuckles white, holding- a gun. He was smaller, and had less muscle than the other scabs did, but his teeth were clenched in a scowl, and you could see the anger and fear in his eyes, if you couldn't tell by the shaking of his body.

Race slowly followed the trail where the bullet wouldv'e traveled and his eyes landed on a boy standing near the ledge.

A short boy. A boy with a big temper and ego. A boy with calm, dirty blonde hair, who like to grease it in the mornings, and often yelled whenever anyone were to touch it. A boy with a pimp cane that he wore at his side, that was now broken and scattered across the roof. A boy that had a stern look but a soft smile. A boy that was clutching his shoulder with blood spilling through his fingers. A boy that had the temper of a mad man, but would never get mad at Race, no matter how much Race tried to annoy or irritate him. A boy that Race loved. A boy who closed his eyes for the last time and fell off the roof.

here’s a picture of jeremy jordan that you haven’t seen before because i took it TONIGHT. because i saw him LIVE.

JoJo's nightly prayer was usually a comforting sound to Elmer. He may not be religious himself, but the soft murmur of his best friend's voice as he prayed lulled him to sleep most nights.

Not tonight, though. Tonight the sound distressed him.

Jack wasn't on the roof, even he had enough sense to sleep inside when it was cold. So Elmer slipped down from his bunk and crept over to the window, scuttling up the ladder. He wasn't allowed on the roof without one of the older boys, according to Jack, but right now Elmer didn't care what Jack did or didn't allow.

"Um... hullo, God. Or Jesus. Whichever of you are listening." He didn't kneel, or clasp his hands, but he did lift his head to stare up at the big white moon, faintly through the wispy clouds.

"I know JoJo's praying at the moment, and you should listen to him, but I hope one'a you can listen to me." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Romeo's dad came by again today. He scares me- not as much as he scares Romeo, 'course. Mush scared him off 'fore Kloppman even got to the door though. An' Sniper's dad came by yesterday. I dunno why Sniper keeps going home when he hurts him like that. That's what I wanted to ask you; why d'you let people hurt other people?"

A particularly sharp gust of wind bit at his bare arms. JoJo would probably say it was a Sign, that he was asking questions he shouldn't, but Elmer was tired of the questions building up inside him.

"Why- why did you let Mr. Wiesel an' the Delanceys and the police hurt us during the strike? Why did you let Mr. Pulitzer and Hearst raise their prices, when you must know how we live?" His voice was trembling now, increasing in volume unintentionally, "Why'd JoJo get sent on a ship here alone over a war that never even happened- n-not that I'm not happy he's here, but he doesn't know how to find his parents! Half my friends can't be with their family for one reason or 'nother, an' the other half are terrified of them! Why d'you let that happen? Why did you let my mama send me away? I don't know what I did wrong!"

Elmer was shouting now, his cheeks damp and vision blurred with tears. He didn't even realise. Someone was speaking to him, although he couldn't make out what they were saying. He felt warm, safe arms suddenly wrap around him, pulling him close against someone's chest and turning his face away from the moon.

The moon gave no answer to his questions, and neither did anyone else.

Daddy issues makes a musician

Mommy issues makes an artist

Family issues makes writters

I feel u ponyboy, i feel u....