And He formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed life into his nostrils and man became a living soul. And He beheld all He had created, and He said it was very good. But the Lord beheld the man made in his likeness and He beheld his solitude… and He said, "It is not good that he is alone.“
And God said, “Let there be light,” and then there was light. And He saw that it was good, and He separated the land from the water, and He called the water the Seas. And He said, “Let the sea bring forth life abundantly.” And He blessed it, and He said that it was good. And He formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed life into his nostrils and man became a living soul. And He beheld all He had created, and He said it was very good. But the Lord beheld the man made in his likeness and He beheld his solitude and He said, “It is not good that he is a l o n e.” And the moral of the story, everybody needs a partner.
“Oh, that’s all right,” he cried, with a merry
“I really beg your pardon!” said my companion,
who had ruffled the little man’s temper by bursting
into an explosion of laughter.
Holmes laughed and threw his card across the
table to the constable.
The instant he entered
I saw by his face that he had not been successful.
Amusement and chagrin seemed to be struggling
for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried
the day, and he burst into a hearty laugh.
“Didn’t I tell you so when we started?” cried
Sherlock Holmes with a laugh.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” he cried, laughing.
“You see, Watson, if all else fails me I have still
one of the scientific professions open to me,” said
Sherlock Holmes and I looked blankly at each
other, and then burst simultaneously into an uncontrollable
fit of laughter.
“Here it is,” said he, laughing, and pointing to
an open newspaper.
As I exhibited
the empty box he leaned back in his chair and
Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out
his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for
“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and
laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp
and helpless, in the chair.
“I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he,
Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement
and the rueful face behind it, until the
comical side of the affair so completely overtopped
every other consideration that we both burst out
into a roar of laughter.
“Never mind,” said Holmes, laughing; “it is my
business to know things. Perhaps I have trained
myself to see what others overlook. If not, why
should you come to consult me?”
“There’s a cold-blooded scoundrel!” said
Holmes, laughing, as he threw himself down into
his chair once more.
“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious
fact,” he answered, laughing.
Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched
himself out upon the cushioned seat.
“Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,”
said Holmes, laughing.
Then, glancing quickly round, he
straightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit
“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes,
Sherlock Holmes laughed.
few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and
laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was
peculiar to him
“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes,
Then he broke into a low laugh and put his
lips to my ear.
“Experience,” said Holmes, laughing.
“It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my
head by putting it on a level with his own,” said
Sherlock Holmes, laughing.
Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and
“Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing.
Holmes thought a little and then burst out
Sherlock Holmes laughed.
Holmes, with a laugh, passed his
hand behind the child’s ear, a mask peeled off from
her countenance, an there was a little coal black
negress, with all her white teeth flashing in amusement
at our amazed faces.
“The fates are against you, Watson,” said he,
Sherlock Holmes laughed heartily
“I could see that you were commiserating with
me over my weakness,” said Holmes, laughing.
laughed at my suggestion.
“With all our precautions, you see that we have
cut it rather fine,” said Holmes, laughing.
He was quivering with silent laughter.
“The old shikari’s nerves have not lost their
steadiness nor his eyes their keenness,” said he,
with a laugh, as he inspected the shattered forehead
of his bust.
Something in his tone caught my ear, and I
turned to look at him. An extraordinary change
had come over his face. It was writhing with inward
merriment. His two eyes were shining like stars. It
seemed to me that he was making desperate efforts
to restrain a convulsive attack of laughter.
was immensely tickled by his own adventures, and
laughed heartily as he recounted them.
Holmes laughed good-naturedly.
Holmes raised the hind
leg of one of them and laughed aloud.
He snatched one of them up, opened it, and
burst out into a triumphant chuckle of laughter.
At last, however, on a wild, tempestuous evening,
when the wind screamed and rattled against the
windows, he returned from his last expedition, and
having removed his disguise he sat before the fire
and laughed heartily in his silent inward fashion.
Holmes laughed at the young giant’s naive astonishment.
Holmes burst out laughing.
laughed at my expression of dismay, and laid it
upon the table.
Holmes put his finger on his lips, replaced
his hand in his breast-pocket, and burst out
laughing as we turned down the street.
He laughed at my bewildered expression.
Then he burst
into a hearty laugh.
He burst into
one of his rare fits of laughter as he turned away
from the picture. I have not heard him laugh often,
and it has always boded ill to somebody. (This line is so fucking funny when you’ve been sitting for an hour counting the number of times Holmes has laughed)
“Come, come, sir,” said Holmes, laughing.
tossed it across with a laugh.
Holmes laughed good-humoredly.
He laughed heartily at my perplexity.
Holmes tore it
open and burst out laughing.
“It won’t do, Watson!” said he with a laugh.
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it
as his old friend Watson could remember. (Yeah ok Watson)
the dry chuckle which was his nearest approach
to a laugh, he tossed it over to me.
“I am a bit of an archaeologist myself when it
comes to houses,” said Holmes, laughing.
Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared
to be about to make some remark, when
Lestrade, who had been in the front room while
we were holding this conversation in the hall, reappeared
upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a
pompous and self-satisfied manner.
He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long,
nervous hands together.
Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as
was his habit when in high spirits.
Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together
He chuckled to himself as he spoke,
his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man
to the sombre thinker of the previous night.
Holmes chuckled heartily.
I could see that Holmes was extremely pleased,
for he chuckled and rubbed his hands together.
Holmes chuckled to himself.
Holmes rubbed his hands and chuckled with
Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands.
Holmes struck a match and held
it to the back wheel, and I heard him chuckle as the
light fell upon a patched Dunlop tyre.
He chuckled as he poured out the coffee.
Several letters were waiting for Holmes at Baker
Street. He snatched one of them up, opened it, and
burst out into a triumphant chuckle of laughter.
Once or twice he chuckled.
He held them on his nose, endeavoured
to read through them, went to the window and
stared up the street with them, looked at them
most minutely in the full light of the lamp, and
finally, with a chuckle, seated himself at the table
and wrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper, which
he tossed across to Stanley Hopkins.
chuckled and rubbed his hands when we found
ourselves in the street once more.
Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands.
with a chuckle to one of these, a row of residential
flats, which projected so that they could not fail to
catch the eye.
My companion gave a sudden chuckle of comprehension.
“And you might add of the attempted murder
of one Sherlock Holmes,” remarked my friend with
Holmes knocked out the ashes of his pipe with a
quiet chuckle.I heard his dry chuckle as he
At some point in our ancient and forgotten history, before we disinfected our lives, we Time Lords must have gazed at our home world and marvelled. When we looked out across the continent of Wild Endeavour and first saw the mountains, we didn’t label them, we named them: Perdition, Serenity, Solace and Solitude … They go on and on for ever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow. When the second sun rises in the south, those mountains shine.
There is so much life among those rolling red pastures, and so much colour: the small yellow Sarlains, the velvet-red Madevinia aridosa, the golden-green Schlenk blossom; the flies and flubbles and flutterwings, the cats and mice and rovies, the rabbits and tafelshrews, the pig-rats and plungbolls, the trunkikes and the yaddlefish … Officially, Gallifrey possesses the only eco-system in the universe not to have been ravaged and wrecked by its primary indigenous species – no animal has ever become extinct. Unofficially, of course, the Gallifreyans fought a war that ultimately destroyed the lot. Apart from the flies.
Or, rather, the Time Lords fought a war. Outside the citadels are the dismissed and the discarded of Gallifrey. Who has ever lived out there, in that barbarian garden? Outsiders, outcasts, rejects; a few mad souls who spurned the society of Time Lords. Shobogans. Nobody that matters. Except even that is not true: almost the whole population lives outside the cities. Billions of native Gallifreyans in their farms and homesteads, working through the day to feed themselves – and us – until the night-time comes …Do you remember being just 7 years old? Those endless, restless nights, terrified of sleep because of the nightmares? And, if you’re honest with yourself, what were those dreams about? Toclafane? Shakri? Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday? No – the thing that every 7-year-old on Gallifrey truly dreads is turning 8. Being taken from their family and failing the selection. What will you fail to become, child? Soldier? Chancellery Guard? Time Lord?
Or, worse, will you pass, and spend all your lifetimes inside one of those bubbles? Forget your past life, until it comes naturally to you to recoil from the outside, shut it out, condemn it. Perhaps you’ll only cope with your sterile existence by shutting out all that life. Or by shutting yourself in.
A mix of stories and characters that we both started in junior high and high school, sewn together in a semi-cohesive plot.
As a small child in the early 20th Century, Alex Hudson was snatched away by the Fair Folk, doomed to serve as a handmaiden to her mistress forever more.
As a young adult, a rift appears in the fabric of reality, and Alex gathers her courage and escapes from the undying realms…into the present day.
Now, unmoored from both her humanity and her time period, failing to settle into the life of an ‘average’ college student, Alex has only one goal: to return to the Fey.
Which should be pretty easy…except for the part that they skip over kidnapping Alex, and instead go for her obnoxious but well-meaning next door neighbor instead.
2. The Clockwork Apocalypse with phantomroleplayer
Another crossover of stories, featuring a different (albeit vaguely connected) set of characters.
The Kelly Triplets, Diana, Talia, and Leah, have never had much use for normalcy. The world more-or-less ended decades before they were born, and humanity was still learning to cope with the fallout of a demon apocalypse.
To make matters worse, they’re starting Junior High.
Or: A series of vignettes about three sisters growing up in a post-apocalyptic world, featuring: Jack Kelly, their father professional ex(?)-demon hunter; Nimus, their mother and uncertified doctor specializing in ; Will, their older sister who might be immortal and might actually be God (she doesn’t like to talk about it); Pig, the family pet who might actually be Satan; Jezebel, the family car that sometimes seems like it has a mind of its own; and a whole crew of various demons, devils, cryptids, and monsters all trying to cope with the post-apocalyptic reality.
3. The Clockwork World
More or less the prequel to The Clockwork Apocalypse. Fleshes out Nimus and Will’s backstory.
4. Portfolio Project: Un Lun Dun
I don’t have anything really to show for this, but it’s based on China Mieville’s work. (Not totally original but close enough)
A really, really long Mob Psycho 100 comic that features the Esper Squad playing tennis: Teru and Mob vs Shou and Ritsu. Things go as well as you’d expect, and Mob spends most of the comic screaming internally. The script on this comic made me cackle.
you said top 5/10 anything, so... top 5 nb!alex headcanons?
this is a perfect place to also mention that any of my posts that mention or involve nb!alex danvers will be tagged under nb!alex. i’m in the process of going through all my posted prompts and checking they’re all tagged appropriately. enjoy!
tw: misuse of pronouns
the night they come out to maggie, alex gets off early from the deo and spends the entire afternoon doing two things: wanting a drink, and sitting pressed against the bathroom cabinet because they feel like if they stand they’re going to be ill.
by the time maggie gets home alex barely has time to scramble to their feet and walk out of the bathroom. it doesn’t matter that alex throws on a smile, and tries to pull maggie into a kiss, anything to distract from the way their hands are almost but not quite shaking. it doesn’t matter because maggie knows them, and maggie reads the fear in alex’s eyes and maggie kisses alex, gently, gently before stepping back.
before taking their shaking hands in their own and asking “what going on?”
because alex may not have realized it, but j’onn noticed how they practically fled the deo that afternoon. and alex may not have realized it but there are two missed texts from maggie on their phone. and it’s not like alex to ignore messages, not from maggie.
so alex may not realize it, but maggie knows somethings different, something’s up.
maggie reads it in the way alex froze at her question, the way alex’s body tenses like a rabbits, ready for flight. so maggie, maggie moves slowly, she curls her hands around alex’s wrists but keeps her fingers loose, relaxed, grounding but not trapping “you can tell me anything.” she says, seeking eye contact from alex, but not getting it.
not getting it because alex is scared. they’re scared that anything doesn’t include being not quite a girl and not quite a boy. they’re scared that maggie, so confident in liking women, won’t want to be with them any more. them who isn’t quite either.
alex is scared. and alex doesn’t want to lose maggie, so maybe they can pretend. maybe they can push this down. maybe they can be ‘her’ and maybe they can be ‘alexandra’ and maybe, maybe, maybe if it means getting to keep maggie,
maybe they can be ‘she.’
for maggie, all the while alex is talking themself out of the words that are threatening to spill over, all the while maggie is reading the pure fear on alex’s face. maggie feels the tension and the panic radiating from their body. and it makes maggie ache. it makes her ache because no one, no one and especially not alex, deserves to be this afraid, this scared.
so maggie takes a different route. she takes a breath and she thinks of the laptop that alex left open one sunday afternoon. with tabs about sexuality and gender. and places that do gender neutral haircuts in national city. maggie says slowly, as softly as she can “you know i love you, alex.” she starts “you know i’m in love with who you are. and nothing can change that, not what pronouns you want to use.” and alex’s eyes widen, their breathing stops, but maggie keeps going
“and if you want different pronouns, i’ll use different pronouns.” maggie says, asking slowly “is that something you might want?”
but instead of an answer, alex chokes out “how?”
how do you know?
how are you okay with it?
how do you still love me?
it doesn’t matter the question, maggie has the answers to all of them. but that’s for later.
the now is for pulling alex into her arms and kissing their temple and smoothing their hair, and the now is for alex to cling to maggie like maggie could change her mind in a moment. the now is for alex to say, hiccuping and trembling “there’s a thing, it’s - i’m not a man, but, i don’t always feel like a woman? it’s - i think i’m non-binary. i just,” and that’s almost all alex can get out, “can we not use her?”
and the now is for maggie to say “of course,” and “what do you want instead?”
and it’s they. it’s them.
and alex cries and maggie soothes and pulls them to bed. maggie lets alex cry and lets them grip at her, and maggie promises she’s not going anywhere. not now. not ever.
two: it’s date night, they’re with maggie at the baseball game. not a sport alex is wholly into, but they are into sitting in the bleachers and drinking shitty beer with their arm around maggie’s shoulders eating peanuts and watching maggie watch the game. alex is totally into maggie, and maggie’s into baseball, ergo, alex is, kind of, into baseball.
and the game is great, but kissing maggie against the stadium wall for a moment is better. right up until
“alex danvers have to say this is a surprise.”
and it may be alex who connects the voice to maxwell lord, but it’s maggie who reacts first. it’s maggie who reacts first because it’s alex who stiffens against maggie and suddenly they can’t speak. they can’t speak because maxwell lord likes to flirt and maxwell lord thinks he has game, and he, he reminds them of the femininity that they’re not comfortable with anymore. not entirely.
“do i know you?” maggie asks, talking a half step between alex and maxwell lord, arms folded across her chest.
“no,” lord replies “but maybe you’d like to.”
“somehow i doubt that.” maggie replies, but lord is looking past her, to alex.
“so you’re a lesbian.” he’s saying, and he’s a little drunk, but ever the ass “you like women. and you’re a woman.”
maggie feels alex flinch.
lords’ gaze slides back to maggie “you know we practically dated, your girlfriend and i, did she tell you that?”
“she’s very good with her hands.” lord says, but before he can even finish wherever that statement was going,
maggie punches him.
“mags.” alex squeaks “you-”
maxwell lord is stumbling back, nose pouring with blood and maggie is stepping forward “come near them again,” she’s saying “come near alex again, and it’ll be worse than just a black eye.” she says.
“did you threaten me?” lord asks, spluttering and spitting blood.
“damn right i did.” maggie says, wrapping an arm around alex’s waist and guiding them away.
waiting until they’re home before asking “are you okay?” and they answer by kissing maggie, hands cupping maggie’s jaw.
“i’m perfect.” alex says “you’re - i love you.”
three: maggie and alex have a conversation about names. it’s a few weeks after the initial conversation in the kitchen, in bed. it’s something maggie brings up because she wants to know, and the best way to make sure she doesn’t hurt alex, is by asking them what’s okay.
so they’re sittng, maggie with the sports section, alex with the sunday comics and they both have a mug of coffee on hand, and it’s perfect. it’s calm and maggie almost hates to break it, but she needs to, so she stands, so she kisses the top of alex’s head and scratches lightly at the freshly fade they’re trying out and asks “more coffee?”
alex hums and nods and pushes her mug towards maggie’s hand “please babe.” they say so maggie is at the french press when she asks
“are you okay if i call you babe?”
there’s the careful folding of a newspaper and maggie looks up to see alex considering and then saying “yes?” but it comes out unsure and it comes out a question.
“is there something you’d rather i call you instead?”
alex swallows, playing with the edge of the newspaper “i-” they start “i don’t think so?”
maggie brings the mugs back, setting them down and reaching for alex’s hand “i just don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.” she says “that’s why i ask.”
“i think,” alex says, taking a deep breath “babe is okay. just not, babygirl? i’m-” they start to apologize, but maggie squeezes their hand.
“you don’t have to apologize for what you want to be called, okay?”
“and if any of that changes,” maggie says “you can always tell me.”
alex nods again, squeezing maggie’s hand and reaching for their mug with the other “i know.” they say, after a sip “i know.”
four: kara is the first one to call alex handsome. they’re going to some catco event thing and kara is bringing alex because maggie is out of town and they’re moping. plus james is away on, and she quotes
“dude stuff with clark”
which as far as she’s concnered probably means clark is posing for more pulitzer photos or something. it also means that she’s dateless to the gala so alex gets to come. and it means that alex gets to wear a suit, and they’re in the bathroom trying to figure out how much make up they want to put on when kara walks in, sees them, squeals and says
“alex you look, like ridiculously handsome, get out here i’m taking a photo of us for maggie.”
alex is so caught on handsome that they seems a little distracted in the photo, and for a full five minteus after that. to the point where kara has to come into the bathroom and ask nervously “was handsome not okay? i figured, because gorgeous makes you uncomfortable that beautiful would too, and just, you look really good and I wanted a word to say that that wasn’t just, ‘good’ becasue good is lame.”
“handsome is,” alex starts, smiling “it’s perfect. i wasn’t sure how i would feel about it, but it fits.”
“good.” kara smiles, standing and kissing them lightly on the cheek “but you’re going to be handsome and late if you don’t get a move on.”
“you’ve got very lovely daughters eliza.” a neighbor says at a summer barbecue.
“i’ve got two very lovely children.” eliza agrees.
and alex is by the grill, but she’s close enough to hear and close enoguh to pretend that it’s just the smoke in her eyes that’s making them water. but it’s her mother saying “you know alex, they’re doing great work for the fbi these days. i’m so proud of them.”
melodrama and pure heroine are on a totally different spectrum but still make me feel so infinite like there’s so much to feel to, connect to, to take in, in every song, it’s so overwhelming (in a very good way)
ok, so jack is probably the most belittled and ridiculed character in this fandom, because, let’s face it, he’s an asshole and he deserves it. even roger is presented in a better light on many occasions, because not even roger is as much of an asshole as jack is in everyday life.
so you see ralph being praised, you see piggy and simon being praised, you see the twins being praised, you see maurice and roger being praised, and even many other minor characters, but not jack. never jack. various qualities of these characters are often brought into light, but jack is always the worst of the lesser characters and he always has only faults, but never qualities. don’t get me wrong here, I know jack is a favorite character of many, but these people mostly prefer him for how much of a ‘trash’ and ‘an asshole’ he is. jack is always the jerkwad that everyone shits on.
yes, he deserves it. yes, he’s a shit and he committed atrocities and this character’s faults are basically trampling all over the few qualities that he displays throughout the story.
and I’m not talking now about a possible ‘golden-hearted jack’ or a ‘remorseful jack’ here, because that is not jack. I’m not making this post to discuss over a imaginary, better morality of jack, of a potentially decent jack. no. he’s not decent, he will never decent, he’s a gigantic manipulative douche and he will always be this.
no, I’m talking about his qualities as a social being. because I’ve always seen jack as being the most mature out of the boys and the closest to an adult.
contrary to popular belief, where ralph and piggy are portrayed as being the mature ones, jack is, in my honest opinion, a more experienced and developed individual than both of these characters. letting aside the fact that he gradually goes bonkers over the course of the story and that he has a few childish quirks because he’s still 12, jack actually does things that only an adult does.
first of all, we see jack being the leader in a group of choir boys. jack has been used for most of his life to rule over his peers, he has always been in the top of his classes, he has always won the most important positions in school, he has fought to be the best. jack is very ambitious and cunning and the fact that he’s both prefect and the leader in the choir proves that he didn’t win these positions out of nothing. he has actually managed to convince grown-ups that he is capable of great things. whether he simply manipulated those grown-ups or actually proved himself, it’s still a big step.
this is where the huge difference between him and both ralph and piggy comes in. you see jack in the beginning, acting like an adult and trying to handle things around, because he’s most probably interacted with adults more than he has interacted with people his own age. he is arrogant and selfish, but he has the power to guide the other boys, he is authoritarian and strict, and he manages in getting them into formation. he also has the power to make the other boys listen to him and follow his lead.
ralph and piggy, on the other hand, are very much childish and inexperienced. ralph only has play and fun in mind and it’s quite obvious that he has been mostly overprotected and spoiled by his family. it appears that this is the first time ralph is by himself and he has no idea of what to do and simply follows piggy’s advice. piggy himself just repeats vague theories that he has heard from his family, but he doesn’t know how to put them into practice. neither has any idea of what to do. they have good thoughts and plans, but they have never been responsible of anything, which is why they are inexperienced and cannot properly lead the group of boys. they don’t know how to make the other boys follow their lead and listen to what they have to say, which is why they gradually lose all of their followers in the end.
jack on the other hand, has experience with this. he knows how to lead and it’s quite clearly that he has often been responsible in many difficult situations. jack proves that he has some very important knowledge: he is aware right from the beginning that the island is uninhabited, from the trails that are left into the ground. while ralph believes they were made by humans, jack instantly recognizes them as animal trails.
jack is also the first one who realizes that something is wrong with the island. when he tries to warn ralph about it, ralph turns his back to him and doesn’t want to listen, out of pride and anger with jack, which is pretty childish behavior from ralph’s side. jack can strongly feel the effect the isolation has over the boys, and is actually the first who realizes it, but also the first who loses himself to it, because jack is most probably the closest to maturity, and for this reason, the closest to being corrupted.
you can see there are moments in which jack actually tries to come to an agreement with ralph. they have both established ever since the beginning that jack and his group must hunt to provide them more consistent food in order to survive: meat. but ralph literally dismisses all of that and admonishes jack for not keeping the fire lit, which wasn’t even jack’s job in the first place.
then there are jack’s abilities, which are unusually similar to that of an adult. apart from the fact that he has great oratory skills, he also quickly learns hunting tactics all by himself. he hunts and kills pigs with his own hands, an act that is only pulled off by full grown adults, then teaches the other boys these hunting tactics. he explores the entire island all by himself, in order to know what they’re dealing with, he is the only one who doesn’t believe in a real physical danger, like an animal or a beast, as he himself knows the structure of places like these. while the rest of the boys, even ralph and piggy, are somewhat reluctant about it, and believe in it to an extent, jack proves to be very down-to-earth and pragmatic in this situation, although very harsh at the same time, as he criticizes and berates the younger boys for believing in such ridiculous things.
jack eventually falls into madness. he has an overemphasized ego and a pride that blind his ways.
but just think for a moment of jack having the clarity of mind that ralph and piggy had. of jack having the same ideals, of jack not being such an arrogant and power thirsty prick. if jack had had the same purposes, then those boys would have been off of that island in an instant. jack was very much capable, much more capable than any other boy there, but he put his abilities and skills into the wrong ideals. he worked for the wrong side. if jack had been on ralph and piggy’s side, then those boys would have been organized and rescued in not more than a few days. jack would have assembled them and made them listen, he had a militaristic attitude very favorable for this kind of situation, and everything would have worked out wonderfully.
the reason for this post was to bring jack’s potential into view. because this character is a powerful one, and very much skilled, but too shadowed by the faults of his mind. jack was too conceited, his ego was too big, and so it interfered and clashed with his potential.
a lot of people in the fandom strip jack of this potential and portray him as a mere pathetic nuisance. jack is a nuisance to the reader indeed, but in the book, 80 % of the characters shit their pants in his presence, the other 20 % are uneasy about him. the only slight exceptions are ralph and roger, but ralph majorly respects jack for a good part of the book then gets disappointed with him, before he ends up being afraid of him, and roger fluctuates between being annoyed and greatly admiring him, so jack is literally one hell of a bastard who has major influence and power over basically everyone.
so what I’m trying to say is that this character deserves to be spat on for how much of a shithead he is, but he also deserves recognition for how great of a character he is.