Its Giving Jack Kelly

I spent a little too long on this...

Random Outsiders headcanons

-Soda is the best cook in the gang

-Dallas is left handed

-Darry hates the taste of coffee but he drinks it for the caffeine

-Steve can’t swim to save his life

-Mr. Curtis bought Johnny his jean jacket

-Pony has a decent singing voice but he will stop immediately if anyone catches him

-Darry was going to go for college for business management

-Soda is terrified of snakes

-Dallas is allergic to bees but doesn’t want anyone to know

-Johnny’s favorite food is a cheeseburger

-Two-Bit’s middle name is Robert but has never told anyone in the gang and he hates it because it reminds him of Bob Sheldon

-Pony has bad eyesight and squints at everything

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.

Spot loves yet hates where he is. In life, at least. He loves the fact that he is the king of Brooklyn and can tell anyone what to do. He loves the constant attention on him and how he is praised for being the toughest newsies in all of New York. But he hates it all at the same time, too. He hates how one small mistake can ruin his standing of where he is. He hates being judged by many people, which he can barely remember the names of. He hates that he is barely seen as a person anymore and more or less a symbol. He wants to make friends and talk to people, but he can't. He wonders what it got him to this standpoint whether it but by lucky chance or unfortunate mistake.

Spot loves and hates New York. He loves how alive it feels and the way it speaks. He loves the feeling of home it gives. But he hates it all the more. He hates how much it is. How it can feel so overwhelming you might as well slip of an edge and everyone would forget you in a bat of an eye.

Spot loves and hates his "friends." If you can call them that at least. He loves the feeling of it. The way if you're sad, happy, or angry, you can always tell them to them and talk with them. He loves being vulnerable after putting up the charade of being as tough as stone. But he hates it for that reason, too. He hates that after years and years of putting up these walls around his heart, determined to not let anyone in, they somehow do. Some made it past the first or second walls, which was already too far, but one had managed to get all the way through to the center of his heart. He hated them and loved them the same.

You can say Spot loves many things. But the one thing he hats the most is himself.

Kenny Ortega is an openly gay director that worked for Disney. When asked about if there was a queer aesthetic that ran through his movies, he responded,

"Yeah, for sure. I do, because that’s who I am. I put a lot of who I am into my work. I mean, really all the way back from the earliest work that I’ve done, even as a choreographer in film and television. And I think, yeah, that it’s just there, and whether it’s screaming at you, or whether it’s just sort of quietly there, it’s there."

So when someone ships the same gendered people in his movies, it really isn't that crazy as you might think. AND JUST LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS AND TELL ME THEY DONT HAVE SOME QUEER UNDERTONES-

And lets all not forget that Kenny did confirm Ryan from HSM officially gay but ifthatsjustme-

*the gang is hanging out at the Curtis house. Pony and johnny are sitting on the couch with their own pens*

" .. -- / -... --- .-. . -.. "

" -.-- . .- .... "

" .. / .-- .- -. -. .- / -.. --- / ... --- -- . - .... .. -. --. "

" -.-- . .- .... "

" -.. --- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. --- / ... --- -- . - .... .. -. --. ..--.. "

" -.-- . .- .... "

" -.-- --- ..- .-. / .-. . ... .--. --- -. ... . / -.-. .- -. .----. - / -... . / -.-- . .- .... --..-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- - .... .. -. --. / .. / ... .- -.-- / ... --- -- . - .... .. -. --. .-.-.- "

" -... ..- - / -.-- --- ..- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -- . "

" .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- -.-- . .- .... "

Ponyboy: *Clicks a pen*

Johnny: *clicks his own pen in response*

Steve: They’re talking about me in Morse code!

Ponyboy: Steve, please. Why would we take hours to learn a completely outdated, complicated way of communication just to talk shit about you?

Johnny: *Clicks his pen in agreement*

Sodapop: Yeah, they definitely learned Morse code to talk smack.

I just keep adding to this and it’s slowly going from a meme to something I might have to talk to my therapist about

Have you done the outsiders or the big bang theory? (LOVE YOUR PAGE BTW 🫶🫶)

stay gold, pony boy

Jack (First chair trumpet) : Hey! don't talk to him like that!

Spot: (walks over and slaps the shit out of Jack)

Newsies as a conversation first chair flute and second chair flute had with the band director the other day.

Spot (Band director): *points to first chair flute* What would happen if I run you over with my minivan because you won't stop PLAYING IT LEGATO

Race (Second chair flute) : No, Don't she's the only one who can do anything around here.

Davey (First chair flute) : Finally, the appreciation I deserve.

Spot: You deserve nothing.