i just saw “illinoise: a new kind of musical” in chicago which features ben cook in it and i would absolutely recommend it if youre at all interested. ben cook was absolutely incredible as was everyone else. genuinely a life changing show.
Give me Newsiee Theatre-AU
Give me Stressed-Out Stage Manager Albert and Best Friend-Character Racetrack, who won't stop talking backstage and driving Albert mad.
Give me Set Designer Jack and Love Interest David, who always practices his ballad in the theatre while Jack works on a background, though Jack's really only focusing on him.
Give me Costume Designer Buttons and Chorus Member Elmer, who's constantly accidentally tearing his costume while doing tricks and having to go into Buttons to get it fixed.
Give me Techie Specs and Crutchie, who only signed up to watch their friends perform every night for free, but end up actually enjoying each other's company each show.
Give me Bully Character Spot, who has to slap the lead, Katherine, but has started to apologise afterwards every time they do the scene because they feel bad afterwards.
hate when i realize i left my book at home. it's this very specific flavor of panic and disappointment that i dont feel about anything else
I just realized something. In the show I’m doing currently, or rather, just finished as of today (😭), I have a fair amount of lines, but not many, so I’ve been doing some little improv-y bits here and there to add on to my character/the show. And it hit me: Max Casella did the same thing with Racetrack Higgins.
I’m gonna paraphrase this, but once I read a quote from Max Casella talking about his role as Racetrack saying: “Racetrack doesn’t have many lines in the script, so I’v been adding little bits of my own.”
I am slowly but surely on my way to becoming the Max Casella/Racetrack Higgins I want to see in the world.
love when characters have to have a domestication arc before you can even consider giving them a redemption arc
how tf am I writing . I open a new note, black out for 1 hour and BOOM I have 500 words. HUH? WHUH?
All the screenshots I have so far of my very legally obtained recording of uksies. Yes half of them are of race so what
Also @saveugoodmadam it's your fave
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There had only ever been two deaths in the Manhattan Lodge House.
13 years ago, a 12 year old boy named Rocky. A kid who'd been in the refuge for 8 years of his life and seemed to have contracted every virus he could've caught.
He went out quietly, passing away in his sleep and never waking up. An older girl, Nifty, was the one who found him and quickly informed Kloppman, who had him buried later that week in the patch of grass outside.
The second time was after the fight.
Everybody was sleeping soundly, aside from Race and Albert. Jack was nowhere to be found, so until further notice, they were now the ones in command throughout the house. They couldn't bring themselves to fall asleep in case something were to happen, so they were trying to keep themselves awake as long as possible.
They were simply lying there, Race tracing random patterns onto Albert's thighs with his thumb, while Albert smoked his cigar, trying to relax after such a rough day.
At around 01.36, Tommy Boy rushed over to their bunk, tears spilling down his face and panic in his eyes.
"Jesus Tommy, what's happening?" Albert asked, quickly showing himself to a sitting position. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"I think I did-" He stuttered out. "Splasher ain't waking up. We shook him, said his name, slapped him a few times but he still ain't wakin' up-"
Race swung himself off the bunk, Albert following suit and running to Splashers bunk, praying to whoever was up there that the situation wasn't as bad as they were thinking.
At the bunk, Buttons could be seen holding Splashers limp body in his arms, sobbing to himself.
"Buttons...is he-" Race began, before being cut off by Buttons slowly nodding his head.
"He's gone." Buttons whispered, wiping his cheeks as dry as he could get them. "My baby brother is gone."
A few more people were starting to wake up at the noise they were all making. JoJo had caught onto what had happened, and while his shake had come back, he was ushering some of the younger kids out of the room, making the situation easier for the ones in charge.
"C'mon Ike, outta bed." He whispered, Mike asleep on his back and Mush at his side. "Yeah, we's gonna go on a little midnight walk, aye?"
"Jo, yous are shakin'." Specs uttered, putting a hand on the other boys arm. "That ain't happened in a while, you sure you's are good?"
"I'm fine." JoJo replied, walking the kids out of the room. "Call for me when we can come back in."
Specs nodded, walking over to the group at the bed.
Albert had run downstairs to go and grab Kloppman, let him know about the situation on their hands, leaving Racer, Buttons, Tommy Boy, Specs, and poor Splish-Splash.
Tommy Boy was holding onto Buttons, who was now sobbing into his shoulder. Racer had Splashers body covered with a bedsheet, a few specs of blood from his injuries seeping through.
"Christ." Race sighed, unable to break his watch on the body. "Kids only what, eight? Still had everythin' ahead of him."
Soon enough, word had spread to everybody in the room about the death, Kloppman running in with Albert beside him, confirming the fact for everyone.
That night, Splasher stayed lying on that bed with the sheet remaining atop of him.
The next morning, Finch and Henry were sent outside to dig another spot in the ground where they'd lay Splasher just a few hours later.
Much like with Rocky, it was only some of the older Newsies who went out to witness the burial.
Tommy Boy and Buttons were crying again. They'd just lost their little brother, the kid they'd practically raised throughout their childhoods. Now he was gone, just like that, all because of that stupid rally. Kind words had been said, but that doesn't bring back the most important person in their lives.
Race and Albert were dead silent, practically unable to speak from shock and fear. How had Jack done this for so long without cracking? It was their first day, and a kid had just died. They'd been told that it wasn't their fault by Kloppman numerous times, but it just couldn't sit right with them that a child died under their supervision.
JoJo was leading a small prayer service. He hadn't stopped shaking, making a short note to himself to tell the nuns how long this one seemed to be going on for. He'd been in charge of keeping the little kids occupied and distracted, but he knew deep down that there was only so long he could hide the death of one of the loudest kids in the house. He was just praying the day wouldn't be sooner but much later.
For multiple years after, they would look out the window and see the graves of Splasher and Rocky, remembering two kids who ended up dying to fend for themselves and their families.
It wasn't about pennies from that moment onwards. It was about remembering the newsies lost selling to help their family and striking to help future generations.
do care + did ask + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you
dude lowkey starting to think you’re into newsies. and you ship david and jack. yknow… just lowkey though. (don’t worry, i’m an empath, i naturally know these things)
WHATTTTTTTTTTT how did you KNOW
he/him media enjoyer • roman/rome • australian, 17 • javey&ralbert centric • always down for a chat !!
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