#but its just because jack Kelly is a fuckin mess
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javid summercamp au (modern)
“Attention campers!” Jack boomed. He easily commanded the amphitheater stage and his young, excited audience. “Welcome to Camp Kelly!” He gestured to his crowd and they at once erupted into deafening cheers. From the back of the audience, Katherine’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head.
“I am Jack, and I’m the king of this camp. You can call me Your Majesty,” Jack gloated, grinning widely.
“Get off the stage!” Race shouted, standing up and throwing a handful of trail mix from the back of the arena.
“That is the Royal Jester. You can ignore everything he says,” Jack taunted, and was then interrupted by Medda’s vehement shouts of protest.
“JACK KELLY!” she bellowed, climbing down the center aisle of the seats.
“And now, I would like to hear a thundering round of applause for the Queen of my kingdom, the lovely and wonderful, Medda!”
The children burst into applause even more boisterous than the last as Medda entered the stage. She exchanged a deadly look with Jack, who smirked and dashed to the back of the audience, collecting high fives and fist bumps all the way.
“I apologize for my employee,” Medda said to the audience, emphasizing the word “employee”.
“I am Medda. You can call me Medda.” The kids giggled. The kids always loved Medda. She was bubbly and generous, and welcomed the children to her camp with open and loving arms.
While Medda was launching into her “welcome” spiel, Jack was taking a seat with the other counselors.
“You’re a real dumbass, Jack,” Sarah chided, as he sat down at the end of their row.
“Love ya too, Sarah,” he replied, letting his gaze pass briefly over David, who sat two seats down from Jack. Jack was hopelessly enamored with David, though he would never admit it. He couldn’t get enough of his loose brown curls resting on his forehead, or his electric blue eyes that pulled Jack in headfirst over and over again.
“Besides, the kids just eat that stuff up. They love me,” Jack continued. “David knows”, he added. “They can’t resist my undeniable charm.”
David’s freckled cheeks reddened and he smiled awkwardly. He noticed Jack too, and Jack knew. Just like he knew--or thought he knew--that David could never love him. Jack Kelly, with all his flair and confidence, was certain beyond doubt that David would never really love him. Not David. Not shy, sweet David. Not David who cried after every group of campers left, and who spent his free time braiding the girl campers’ hair and making friendship bracelets with them. That David could never love an arrogant, cocky asshole like Jack. David deserved better.
Medda was wrapping up her welcome speech, so the counselors started to stand up. The kids were split up into groups based on their skills and interests. Kath did photography and film, Sarah did hiking and outdoor activities, Crutchie did theater, Race did water activities, Jack did arts and crafts, and David did botany. The seven counselors spread out and held up signs corresponding to wristbands that the children had received on arrival. As kids gathered around their new camp leaders, the counselors greeted and got to know them.
Once the kids were organized, the counselors marched them off to their respective activities, just like every camp, just like every year. But somehow Jack knew something about this camp would be different.
The counselors sat around a campfire that night, laughing and singing together after another successful first day of camp. Jack played his guitar and Crutchie led the group in bad renditions of classics and pop hits alike. The teenagers were comfortable with one another and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company. It was as if they had grown up together, and they regarded each other as family. The joy was apparent on each one’s face when the fire’s glow would briefly light up their tired grins.
One by one the counselors would announce that they were turning in, and depart to their small dormitories, until there was just Jack, Crutchie, and David left.
Crutchie, sensing the tension in the air, stood up and said, “I’m gonna head in. Good night.”
David seemed to bolt to his feet. “Me too,” he sputtered.
“Stay, David,” Jack suggested, sitting back. “It’s only ten.” He was guessing.
David hesitated, exchanging a desperate glance with Crutchie, then slowly sat back down as Crutchie headed toward the dorms.
Jack knew he shouldn’t tease the boy like this. He knew he should just leave him alone, let him move on, find someone better. But that crooked smile… and those perfect lips…
“How’s your group?” David asked, yanking Jack out of a trance. Jack shifted his eyes up, not having realized he was staring at David’s mouth.
“Huh?” Jack asked, blinking.
“Your kids? What are they like?” David repeated.
“Oh, they’re good. Yeah. I’ve got one boy, Xavier. He loves Harry Potter. Talks about it non-stop. Made me think of you.”
“Oh,” David replied sheepishly. Jack scolded himself for flirting with the innocent boy.
Jack could occasionally catch a glimpse of David’s flushed pink face in the darkness. It brought him back to a night about three years earlier. David was new that year, and he fit in perfectly, despite his shyness. Jack immediately noticed David, but stopped himself from getting too close.
It was a Tuesday night when David came to him. Jack was up late painting, as always. It was a rainy summer, and it had been showering that night. David was in Jack’s doorway. His curls were wet from the rain and lay heavy over his eyes. His cheeks were pink from the cold. Jack’s heart was pounding hard as he helped the boy dry off. They sat close to each other on Jack’s bed while David weeped and admitted to Jack that he liked boys. Fingers intertwined, foreheads pressed together, lips brushing. Jack let David sleep in his bed that night. Jack stayed up all night and sketched images of a small, unharmed boy lying in his bed. He dotted every freckled and drew the curve of his hips under the covers. In the morning Jack was gone from his dorm. He was sitting on the roof, watching the sunrise.
“Jack, I want to tell you something,” David said, breaking a lengthy silence. Jack’s heart raced. “I think you’re a really good person, Jack. Most people aren’t like you. You have a good heart.”
Jack was taken aback by his words. A good person? Jack grew up in foster care, surrounded by dirt-poor scumbags who would do anything for a dollar. Most people thought Jack was no different from them. Jack thought he was no different from them.
“I’m no good for you, David Jacobs,” Jack nearly whispered. “You don’t want this. You don’t want me.”
The fire crackled loudly into their silence. David hurt for Jack. He knew what Jack thought of himself, and longed to convince him otherwise.
David moved toward Jack, who became stiff.
“I need you.” The words tumbled out of David’s mouth. Messy and unintentional; unplanned and unrehearsed. The spontaneity made David nervous, but it thrilled Jack. It revealed a side of David that Jack had never seen. David was messy sometimes too. Just like Jack.
Jack grabbed David’s perfect jaw and pressed hard into his perfect lips. David inhaled sharply, but then gave in and kissed Jack back. Jack ran his fingers through David’s curls, and David carefully felt up and down Jack’s chest. Jack kissed David like he was cold water in the desert--thirstily, hastily, and desperately.
Then, as quickly as it began, Jack pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, then hurried away, leaving David confused, hurt and alone.
Jack was up early again the next morning. He went out to David’s garden and sat near a bushel of snapdragons. Snapdragons were Jack’s favorites, and David always made sure to keep an area for them every year. Jack knew they were for him but pretended that they weren’t.
The air was calm and sweet before the sunrise. Jack’s thoughts were slow and steady for once. He found that David slowed his thoughts down. Something about the boy helped him focus.
A voice from behind startled Jack. It was Sarah, David’s sister.
“You’re up early,” she noted, sitting down next to him on the bench. The two had dated for about a month a few years ago. They had fun together, but Sarah was never really attracted to him, and Jack really had eyes for David. The two were strikingly similar however--messy, passionate, and headstrong. After they broke up, they developed a surprisingly strong and meaningful friendship.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered.
“You and David were out late together last night,” she pointed out. “Anything juicy?”
“I kissed him. I shouldn’t have,” Jack admitted.
“He has such a thing for you Jack. Let him in,” she urged. Jack was quiet.
“I can’t. He’s so… sweet and undamaged. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Sarah sighed. She knew his feelings too well. She knew that by “this” Jack meant his chaos, his sadness, his fears, his fury. Everything that he felt was a liability. Everything that made him who he was.
Sarah clasped his hand tightly.
“Let him decide if he deserves it or not. Give him a chance,” Sarah said, meeting Jack’s intense gaze.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun’s rays start to spill into the sky from behind the mountains.
“What are you thinking?” Sarah asked, still holding Jack’s hand.
“I’m thinking that David won’t love me when he sees the real me. The anxious me, or the sad me. The ugly me.”
“I’m thinking that you should let him try.”
That afternoon, during free time Jack took his kids to the main plaza, where he knew David would be. They were working on quick sketches that day, so Jack told the kids to sketch every other camper before free time ended. They relished the assignment, and spent all their time chasing kids around with a pen and a pad of paper. David made flower crowns with his kids, and taught them about maintaining gardens. Jack would occasionally glance at the boy, who always hopefully smiled back. Jack’s heart skipped a beat every time David laughed, his whole face lighting up.
“Jack,” said a young voice from next to his chair. The voice belonged to Brie, a quiet little girl who liked drawing faces with no bodies and signing her art with a puzzle piece.
“Why do you keep looking at David?” she inquired.
Jack laughed, then met her eyes, large and curious.
“Are you in love with him?” she asked. Jack said nothing. He looked again at David, with a strand of flowers in his hair, blushing from heat and delight.
“Yeah. I am,” Jack finally answered, looking back at the girl.
“Then here,” she announced, handing Jack a piece of paper and walking away. Jack unfolded the paper and saw a drawing of David. His unabashed grin and gleaming eyes floated in the center of the page. Jack smiled to himself and put the drawing in his pocket.
I’m in love with David Jacobs.
That night during dinner David didn’t eat. He stared at his parmesan chicken, a usual favorite, and thought only of Jack’s calloused hand on his jaw, and his fingers through his hair.
“David what’s wrong?” one of his kids asked.
“I’m about to do something really really stupid,” David responded, climbing on top of his chair.
“Everybody listen!” David shouted. He felt his knees weaken as all eyes in the cafeteria were fixed on him. Jack’s stomach dropped. He had never seen David so exposed, so spontaneous, so… much like Jack.
“I have something I need to say, that I should have said a long time ago,” he continued, ignoring his trembling hands. “Jack Kelly, I want you. I need you. And I know you don’t think you’re good enough, but you’re good enough for me.”
Jack stared admiringly at the boy, heart beating in his ears. I’m in love with David Jacobs.
Jack stood and maneuvered toward David’s table. He climbed on top of a spare chair and stood beside David.
“David, you gotta understand-- I’m a mess. My baggage is… a lot. It’s not pretty. You’ve gotta promise me that you’re in for the long haul,” Jack told him. David gripped Jack’s hands and looked hard into the deep blue of his eyes.
“Through thick and thin,” David answered, cracking a grin. Jack couldn’t help but beam back.
“Come here,” Jack whispered and pulled David’s head close to his. Their lips met and the children collectively groaned. The other counselors cheered. Jack pulled back to look at David’s face, flushed and exhilarated. Their lips met again, hot and cold, coming together to form a perfect warmth.
#alright here it is#also sorry for using the word mess and variants like 500 times#but its just because jack Kelly is a fuckin mess#and so am i#javid#newsies#newsies au#newsies fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing
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hello im (F, 24) an idiot and forgot to post tessa’s (F, 22, fictional) intro!
pls bare in mind most of this was written 5+ years ago n i haven’t written tessa since 2015...... but lets get this show (LOCKWOODRP) on the road (DASHBOARD).
tw school shooting, tw bipolar disorder
art hoe. always covered in paint. why?? she bad at painting
the mark rothko jackson pollock kind of bad tho wher people are like.... omg.... revolutionary..... its a badly drawn vagina
fuckin loves astrology, but cant take it that seriously bcos one of her bfs was a gemini so there’s some lenience there. but she WILL blame her hormones and mood swings on the positon of mars
embodies pure sunshine.
one of those really annoying people that can go through the most traumatic shit and still find a positive spin.
cares so much for others but does not really care for herself n it’s meant she just bottles up all this shit n when someone asks her how her day has gone she just falls on the ground like tht bit in midsommar when florence does that loud wheezy noise and sits down
has never really had much money at all. learns to make-do with what she has. loves upcycling!! her bookshelf is made from cardboard which she’s reinforced by pappering it over with pages ripped out of thrifted books. her sofa is an old car boot which she’s repainted, put on wheels and stuffed w cushions so that it’s actually bearable to sit on.
her knitted cardigan? its made out of wife material.
knits all the time. will crochet you a christmas scarf. if ur lucky you might get a knitted jumper with a penis in a santa hat
still sleeps with cuddly toys n then wonders why ppl dont think she’s mature enough for a serious relationship
very passionate about Sister Doing It For THemselves!! raised by a single mom who worked her ass off so that tessa could do fun activities after school, have lelli kelly shoes, and go to college (not necessarily in tht order of importance)
tessa was born out of wedlock as the result of an affair between her mom (a journalism intern in her early 20s) and a new york times editor.
the editor offered to pay tessa’s mom off to have an abortion, but she was like fuck u and told the papers he’d done that and used the money to cover the cost of her internship which they refused to pay her for
and because of the scandal, he ended up going through a pretty messy divorce with his wife, and losing custody of his kids. so as a child tessa was seen as the cause of a divorce and received mutliple letters from the editors wife (to tessa personally!) and his kids saying how she had ruined everything, but her mom moved them to another town so tessa didn’t have to deal with that crap.
her mom worked 3 jobs to put her through school, so in return tessa pushes herself incredibly hard to succeed. needs a break and a hug and to get laid to be honest.
an old soul. likes old films, old music, old people. only recently got an iphone 5s so not really with this century yet
very sweet and soft and kind but also a fucking mess and won’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. she’ll take comfort, but not advice.
feminist buddhist bisexual vegetarian for human rights and animal welfare. standing on a soapbox shouting about the climate in the quad, shoving flyers into your hands. flyers everwhere. she turns up at your grandmas funeral and shoves one into her mouth. she’s stolen the mic from the vicar to talk about pandas.
says “mother of pearl” and “heavens to betsy”.
had an affair with her married piano teacher and he’s now facing a custody battle and his wife is leaving him and tessa has completely internalised that guilt despite her being the victim in the scenario
aesthetics: paint splattered jeans, loose curls spilling from a scrunchie, thrifted blouses in bright yellow, guzzling coffee in the library at three am when a term paper’s due, shoddily illustrated campaign posters to save endangered species, polaroids plastered to your bedroom walls with scribbled dates on the frames, jumping into a stack of autumn leaves, jumping off piers in the summer months and stripping off your wet clothes on the beach, digging your thumbs into peaches to leave a bruise, smoking with the extractor fan on to hide the smell, bath bombs, letting the girls at lush rub samples all over your skin, cacti with knitted bobble hats, decorative pillows and sun and moon blanket throws, basic bitch fairy lights hanging from every single window, painting the name of the boys you’ve loved inside your wardrobe door.
studies fine art and philosophy, and wants to become either a lecturer or the first woman president. vibe wise, very similar to leslie knope, missy from big mouth, and basically the naive everygirl with a high opinion of themselves trope
gets drunk off like one double vodka lemonade because she’s small and she’s a pretty messy wild drunk. it’s when slutty tessa comes out, and the next day she’ll thoroughly regret every choice made and decide she’s never drinking again and cutting out all men and starting daily sudoko
on the cheerleading team and is a flyer, which she sees as a HUGE responsibility and she works really hard to make sure she’s on it for her team. one of those get up at 7am and go to the gym before school types its sickening
she had a really traumatic time at high school because there was a shooting in her school. she was in the next classroom when it happened, and she lost one of her friends in the shooting. she had to take two months off school, was diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants because of it. in her 2nd year of uni she was rediagnosed with bipolar disorder and anxiety, which she’s now on medication for. she can be really good for several months at a time and feel super creative and determined (she actually finds manic periods helpful for her creativity n art, n sadly sometimes doesn’t take her meds in these periods to push herself more which is obvs super bad.....). but when the bad periods come they can also last months n she had to take a semester out of school last year because of her mood, so she should be a senior by now but she’s retaking junior year
she attends weekly stress-management sessions prescribed by her doctor which she finds pointless.
very childish in the sense that she can only see her own point of view and kind of views herself as the “protagonist” and thinks her ideas are super important and life changing and she IS Destined for Greatness! despite being pretty much average af
pinterest board.
STATS
age: 22
height: 5'2"
positive traits: kind-hearted, gregarious, selfless, philosophical, open minded, idealistic, courageous, feisty, charismatic, loyal, adventurous.
negative traits: stubborn, hot-headed, reticent, escapist, self-destructive, easily led, naive, troubled, complicated, stepford smiler, envious, overdramatic, explosive.
distinguishing Marks: heart-shaped birthmark on the right of her chest, splattering of freckles across the cheeks during summer months, full lips, large eyes, porcelain features, long wavy hair, tattoo of a bird and a cage on her ankles and a basic bitch arrow tat on her wrist (srry to anyone with an arrow tat).
skills: jack-of-all-trades, talented pianist, perceptive, knows the correct way to throw a punch, good survival instinct, is able to remain calm in stressful situations, endures, artistic, excels in academic studies, hard-working and self-motivated, expert liar and talented actress.
likes: wolves, vintage thrift store fashion, old leather-bound books, left-wing democratic politics, cigarettes, poetry, John Hughes movies, cold coffee, hot tea, the sound of laughter, staying up til 4am having deep conversations, Tchaikovsky, having deep conversations about life, stationary, DC Comics, horoscopes, winged eyeliner, cats, knee-high socks, house music, abandoned buildings, studio ghibli, the smell of the earth after rain, Wes Anderson films, herbal tea, old people, solitude, esoteric things, the smell of freshly baked bread, Charles Bukowski, the moon.
fears: death, oblivion, global warming, losing those she loves, isolation, clowns, guns, enclosed spaces.
nicknames: Tess, T-Dog, Tessie, Socrates, Princess, Sunshine Girl, Florence Nightingale.
alignment: Neutral Good
MBTI type: INFP
BIOGRAPHY
tw school shooting
Her story begins with Cordelia Costello, a twenty-three year old college drop-out, turned beautician, turned columnist, turned intern at a local publishing company. She was a youthful, beautiful, siren of a women, always surrounded by an aura of enigma and an entourage of men. It was no surprise to the gossips in the office that within six months working at the company, Cordelia had added to her list another title – mistress to Franklin Hozier, the Editor of the New York Times. After two blissful months and three hundred and twenty seven orgasms, Cordelia decided she wanted a baby. Franklin laughed in her face. Feeling isolated and used, Cordelia continued her affair with her boss’ boss for another month, before deciding to take matters into her own hands.
It started with a turkey baster.
Soon the infant cries of a baby girl graced the world, her wrinkled skin puckered and pink as her mother held her in her arms, glancing upon the most beautiful thing in her life. Once Tessa, named after Cordelia’s favourite literary heroine, entered the world, Franklin left her life and things took a turn for the better. Despite living in a rented one-bedroom apartment in Staten Island, on what little money Cordelia had saved, Tessa’s childhood years were filled with nothing but the happiest of memories. Times were tough, but what they lacked in money, the Costello’s made up in love. While Tessa was at school, Cordelia did odd jobs cleaning, child-minding, working in local nurseries, in order to save up enough money to give her daughter the best start in life.
Despite what she had been led to believe by television shows and teen movies, the first few years of High School were some of the best years of her life. Tessa threw herself into a multitude of activities that High School offered her, including the drama club, the orchestra, choir, badminton and the school newspaper. While she certainly wasn’t considered ‘popular’ at school, Tess had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. In fact, High School was a place where she made some of the greatest memories of her life, but come her final year, it was also a place where she was haunted by some of her worst.
On the January 17th of Tessa’s senior year of high school, a shooting took place in Westville High School. For two hours Tessa locked herself in a supply cupboard, her head between her knees as she tried to stay silent despite the screams of horror from the corridor. Eighteen students were caught in the crossfire, two of which were Tessa’s best friends. Bouquets of flowers, laminated photographs, Teddy Bears in cling-film bags attached to balloons littered the streets as families and friends came to pay tribute to the eighteen students withered before they had a chance to bloom.
It took two months of therapy before Tessa could return to school. Some of the survivors could never return due to the horrors that their eyes had laid witness to. Sometimes Tessa felt like a part of her had died with the friends that were stolen from her too soon, but one thought kept her going through: she had survived, she was alive and breathing, and she could not afford to loose a second of the precious time she had been granted on this earth. Despite the nightmares that continued to haunt her each night, Tessa found in the aftermath of the disaster a new sense of motivation. She began applying for scholarships for colleges without her mother’s knowledge, in the hope that her academic success would be enough to carry her through further education. Thankfully, it was, and after three torturous months of waiting Tess was offered an arts scholarship to her dream school, Lockwood University, where she hoped she could finally start to rebuild her life.
THE PRESENT:
Life at university was like a separate world. Students came and went like moths among the whisperings and the tequila and the stars. In this new world, Tessa was exposed for the first time in her life to alcohol, drugs, and the sexual appetites of other students her age – though she politely declined all three. Instead, Tessa threw herself into the vast array of activities in the hope that by distracting herself she could escape the terrible flashbacks that continued to haunt her. Tessa joined the lacrosse team, despite never having played before, and took up cheerleading discovering a new talent; she joined the musical theatre group, and the film club, and even set up her own acapella singing society. But despite how much she tried to throw herself into student life, her past hung around her like a bad smell, and with the added pressure of the Sinking Ships zine, Tess began to feel the weight of her secret tying her down like a pair of shackles around her wrists.
PERSONALITY:
If someone was to describe Tessa in a single word, it would most likely be ‘bubbly’, ‘open-minded’ or ‘sweet’. But they would be wrong – Tessa is not bubbly, or sweet, or stubborn, or hotheaded, or fiesty, or infectious, or any of the things the world see her as, but merely a numb and lonely echo of the gregarious, halcyon girl she once was. Tessa Costello was one of life’s enigmas. No one knew who she was, for to each person she met she wore a different mask – she dripped confidence, or was painfully shy; she was an exhibitionist, or a brooding wallflower; she took things too seriously, or not seriously at all. She was an actress and the world was her stage, each person she met a different member of the audience in the performance of her life.
In truth, Tessa no longer even recognised herself. Insecure, and self-destructive, she tried to hang on to the extroverted, mischievous pieces of herself that everyone had once loved, but day by day it got harder to know what lay in the vacant holes blown through her mind. While she was stubborn and hot-headed, Tessa always saw the best in people, which meant that she was easily led astray. While she had grown up learning to be street smart and astute, she was idealistic and allowed silly fantasies to cloud her mind. By nature, she was passionate, which lead her to misimagine and romanticise those she met. Despite the hell she had witnessed, and the anxiety that feasted upon her, she believed that people were innately good and that to have courage and be kind could cure anyone of their sadness – yet she was unable to cure herself.
TWITTER:
@500daysoftessa: i blame disney films and musicals for my high expectations of men
@500daysoftessa: i am in love with the boy who works at starbucks. today i asked for a double latte and he gave me a tripple, which i think is proof that my love is requited. our children will be smart and talented and beautiful.
@500daysoftessa: little known historical fact: pharaohs were burried with their hands crossed over their chests because it was a popular belief there would be countless water slides in the after life.
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