#thanks snakesarenonexistent

[no-1481]

Sorry this ended up being really long.

Get to know ur mutuals better tag thing from @snakesarenonexistent

Star sign: Gemini

Height: 5'11" ~

First 4 songs when iTunes/Spotify on shuffle

(My Spotify playlist is called guess the musical and has 100hrs of music so isn't particularly reflective of what I like to listen to)

Spotify

Spooky Mormon Hell Dream (BOM)

Dear Baby (Waitress)

Join The Parade (Tuck)

28 Hours (CFA)

iTunes

Left Behind (OBC SA)

Mama Who Bore Me (London SA)

One More At Deluxe (Island Song)

Beautiful Morning (JJ)

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Haha. nope

When was the last time you played guitar?

Based on the amount of dust, probably a year ago.

(I'm very bad!)

Celebrity crush?

Kinda torn between Andy Mientus and Jeremy Jordan

What's a sound that you hate/what's a sound that you love?

Hate

Any sound a mouth makes (most talking, those disgusting eating sounds, just all of it. Singing is acceptable)

Love

There aren't many sounds (other than beautiful singing) that I really like, most things just drive me mad so I wear headphones at all times to drown everything else out. Sorry :(

One just occurred to me, sorry, when there’s just silence (in class) then all of a sudden someone really quickly starts scribbling cause they just got the answer. I kinda love that mad panic before u forget how u got there

Do you believe in ghosts?

Nope

Do you believe in aliens?

The universe is very big, it seems really self centred and egotistical to assume that only our planet has life. So yep. I like to think there's some awesome stuff out there. Also it's less scary than we alone are hurtling through a near infinite black void. : )

What was the last book you read?

The Element In The Room or Fermat's Last Theorem, can't remember which but they were both great and would recommend them both!

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Can't say that I hate the smell of petrol/diesel but definitely don't love it

What's the worse injury you ever had?

Haven't broken any bones or anything like that so it's nothing major but...

Couple years ago I was longboarding (in flip flops) down my street then I sort of wobbled and turned into my neighbours fence. Side note: when you stand on a longboard and put your weight on it it bends down in the middle. The board went under their white picket fence (with my feet still on top) I fell backwards. And so the weight came of the board and pushed my feet into the bottom of their fence. It wasn't nice, there was lots of blood and tears and now I have two parallel scars down the side of my foot from where I pulled my foot out. : ) fun

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Hell yes. As of mid-June.

Nope :)

Do you tend to hold grudges against people that have done you wrong?

Omg yes. I'm so petty. Sometimes they don't even have to have done anything wrong to me. But recently discovered there's only one person I have ever actually Hated. Like hated, hated.

In a relationship?

Nope!! Never been in one actually. (People have a tendency to not like me cause I don’t bother with tact or genuine human emotion)

I guess I’m supposed to tag people now so...

@the-last-five-newsies

And anyone else that wants to :)

Hi, do a thing, I’m curious.

This is completely irrelevant it’s just that hurricane from death note is playing at the moment. Can I say that that is such a great song! Srsly love it!

[tofangirlonly]

Hello, I'm not sure if this counts as a questionable hour, but please sleep! Sleep is good! Do the sleep!

Hello! I did sleep! Good morning!

[santasfes]

Prologue, Picture Show, When I Drive?

Prologue: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Hopefully either studying musical theatre in university or having left university and be trying to pursue a career in musical theatre! And also fingers crossed that I’ll have more of my musical done and have a proper plot idea for it and be trying to work on that too

Picture Show: What is your dream profession, whether realistic or not?

To work in musical theatre as a performer and to be a playwright, lyricist and composer of my own musical. For a very non realistic one it’d be to have superpowers and be a superhero cause I’m a little too obsessed with superheroes xD

When I Drive: Describe your hobbies or something you’re really good at?

My hobbies include writing stories and songs, reading about astrology and personality types, occasionally singing, drawing, watching stuff about true crime and paranormal stuff and obsessively listening to Jeremy 

[jackkellys]

Your brand is being super funny? Like your yelling posts?

aldhakdhsjhd SNAKES this is all i ask to be remembered for

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

Hi! You’re! Lovely! Yay! For! You!

[jeremyjordan-am-i-right]

mutuals as lyrics?

Thank you so much for the ask! 

Ok, so, because I've done so many of these and I’m low-key convinced everyone’s annoyed by them I’m gonna put everything under the cut 

Also “lyrics” was way too broad and that was overwhelming so I made it whole songs, and the theme is musicals! 

@i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was “Agony” - Jeremy Jordan, Laura Osnes, and Corey Cott

@backgroundnewsies “Seize the Day” - Newsies 

@fameworks-quicker “The Wizard and I” - Wicked 

@jackkellys “Santa Fe” - Newsies 

@tofangirlonly “The Schmuel Song” - The Last Five Years 

@snakesarenonexistent “Magic to Do” - Pippin 

@newsiessellpapes-notheadlines “La Vie Boheme” - RENT 

@santasfe “Raise a Little Hell” - Bonnie and Clyde

[in-a-most-auspicious-manner]

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I'm thankful for:

Newsies

Dear Evan Hansen

Musicals, oh the musicals

Musical actors including, but not limited to: Corey Cott, Nick Masson, Mike Faist, Ben Fankhauser, AKB, Ben Cook, Joshua Burrage, Ben Platt, Lin Manuel Miranda, Nico Dejesus, Kara Lindsay, Sky Flaherty, Jeremy Jordan, etc.

YOU!

People I'm thankful for:

@maxvanna

@crazymecjc

@new-york-aint-got-tarantulas

@backgroundnewsies

@neverplannedonnewsies

@rustic-space-fiddle

@snakesarenonexistent

@buttonsdavenport

@newsiesgarbage

@davey-in-a-minivan

@graceful-popcorn

@official-spidey

@brooklyn-noozies

And more but I don't remember :( lol ♡ youuuu all...

I love and appreciate you guys, have an awesome thanksgiving and happy holidays!!!♡

[thecaptainsgingersnap]

Tagged by @gothamsmarvel (Thanks babe!)

Nicknames: Kris

Zodia: Taurus

Height:5′4

Last movie i saw: The Greatest Showman

Last thing i googled: Jeremy Jordan

Favorite musician: Jackie Lee

Other blogs: dont have one

Do i get asks: No, but I wish I did

Lucky numbers: 2

Following: 629

Play an instrument: Little bit of piano

Amount of sleep: 7ish hours

What I’m wearing :Supernatural T-shirt and Peter Pan pajama pants

Dream trip: Santorini 

Favorite food: mac and cheese

Language : english and a little spanish

Random fact: i have 20ish OCs for various fandoms (Ask me abot them!!!)

Describe your aesthetic:Sunsets, fall leaves, chewed on pens, soft country songs, loose braids, cowgirl boots, leather jackets, messy writing, blue, purple, heather gray

Favorite music genre: country

Favorite book genre: fantasy

Tagging: @casaharrington @gothicgirl100 @awkwardstranger98 @anon-hockey @thatonegirljoe @agent-absinthe @ardentmuse @kingofsantafe @southsidewrites @fcgartys @snakesarenonexistent

[santasfes]

we! do Not hate you that would be very difficult if not impossible

I’d argue but I’m too busy dying from your kindness to be able to, you’re just too darn sweet! Ahhh my heart!

[jackkellys]

Sweater, blanket, bubble bath, boots?

sweater: what’s your favorite article of clothing?

comfort wise, definitely hoodies. but when i’m out doing stuff it’s my military jackets 👌🏼

blanket: what do you do to relax?

i listen to music, sing along and just do art

bubble bath: what’s your favorite scent?

the smell of rain on stormy days. i love the rain

boots: are you an outdoorsy person?

i don’t have the resources at the moment to go anywhere interesting really, but i do love the outdoors!! i go on three walks a day with my dog and i live near a trail so we have some fun. i’d love to go on real hikes in the future!!

[no-1481]

Favorite Movie Game

Finally. I’ve spent hours trying to make this work and our internet has repeatedly said no so here goes...

I was tagged by @tofangirlonly and @snakesarenonexistent (thanks for the that btw!) to post gifs of 10 favorite movies without saying the title.

This took forever to think of and most I watched this year cause I’m bad at remembering stuff beyond then :/

Anyhoo here’s a bunch of people annoyingly tagged to also do this :)

@cp-doctor @hopeful-broadwaybaby @the-story-of-the-tucks (it would appear I have now run out of people not already tagged. Anyone else that sees that also feel obliged to do. If I had to use my brain so do u!) oh and @yuccka cause u like movies!

[turtle-steverogers]

I can’t write for shit but I know you are really talented ,so what about an angst about Spot going to war and he doesn’t make it back and Race and their 1 year old son go to visit his grave and talk to him? Idk you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but I thought it was a really cool idea

hi! so this is a pretty on brand prompt (especially for a certain upcoming Thing, but...,,.,) but anyway yeah here’s a fic. hope i did your idea some justice!

warnings: lots of talk of death, but nothing graphic.  my shitty, caffeine muddled writing (truly, not my best work, sorry)

ship: sprace

word count: 1529

editing: nein

Just Out of Reach

“Aye, Sergeant, need some water up there?”

“Yeah, thanks man.”

A water bottle is passed up to Spot, and he takes it, taking one hand off the M2 machine gun that’s deadbolted down in front of him and using his teeth to unscrew the cap.  He hadn’t realized how goddamn thirsty he’d been, but it’s fairly easy and not at all uncommon to lose touch with yourself during the methodical cycle of a mission.  

Really, it’s just reconnaissance.  Mapping out the desolate land that surrounds base- cataloguing the unknowns and the possible threats.  It’s the simple stuff.  The required bits that make the more strategic missions possible.  But they still take long as hell and Spot’s willing to bet that he’s sweat through his fatigues by now as he bakes in the desert sun.  His helmet is scratchy and the army-issued goggles are digging into his skull, squeezing his brain and making his head throb.  The water helps a bit.

His vehicle is at the front of the convoy, and somehow, he found himself perched in the turret, calculating gaze scanning around for anything amiss.  They near an Iraqi village, vacated looking buildings lining either side of the sandy, dirt road.

Spot thinks he sees a few windows shutter closed and when he looks to his left, there’s a little girl (she can’t be more than five.  Christ)  sitting on her stoop, knees pulled up to her chest.  She’s staring at the convoy, eyes wide and fearful and fingers plugged into her ears.  Spot feels a pang of...of something.  Guilt, maybe.  Sympathy.

Really, none of these people asked for this.  They never wanted big, scary men in big, scary vehicles shouting out foreign remarks and invading their space- their homes.  

Spot forces his gaze back to the front, willing himself to focus back on the task at hand.  But he can’t help his mind wandering back to that little girl.  There was something about her.  The innocence, maybe.  The simplistic look of discernable fear in the face of something scary.

He thinks of Teddy.

His son’s own wide, brown eyes and chubby, five year old cheeks.  Really, they’re not so different- that girl and Teddy.  They’re lives are so drastically diverse from one another, but they share that same, innate naivete.  The all prevailing look of curiosity that only kids can convey.

Spot misses Teddy.

Granted, he always misses him and Race.  The feeling isn’t mutually exclusive to any one moment, but sometimes the ache will grow into more of a pain, gripping his chest with longing to kiss his husband and hug his son.  Maybe dig his fingers into Teddy’s sides as he picks him up and swings him, planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.  It’s a foolproof way to make him laugh.  And if Race is there, he’ll laugh too.  There are some things in life he can count on to be constant, and his family is one of them.

He comes back to himself as he nears a stoplight and suddenly, something in the world seems wrong.  He’s just about to secure himself around the gun when there’s a shout from down below and then the humvee is jerkily rolling to a stop and that’s when Spot sees the wire and that can only mean someone’s going to die if they don’t fucking stop right fucking now and--

Nothing.

-

“Papa, can we go see Daddy today?”

Race freezes halfway through screwing the cap off a carton of milk.  He turns to look at his son and finds him staring at him in all his six and a half year old glory.  His hair is a mess of bedhead and sleep and even though Race had gotten him up and dressed in a decent amount of time for a Saturday, he still looks rumpled.  But that’s just how kids are, Race guesses.

It had been a year since Race’s life took a tumble into the realm of his worst nightmare.  A year since Lieutenant Kelly and Sergeant Jacobs had shown up on his doorstep, clad in Army Service Uniforms and wearing twin, somber looks. 

It hadn’t taken long for Race to piece together why they were there.

That day was still hazy, a jumbled mix of numb shock and things like, “we regret to inform you” and “killed in action” and then there was Teddy pulling at his pant leg and asking him with those wide goddamn eyes why “guys dressed like Daddy” were there and Race didn’t know how to tell him that Daddy’s gone, because how the hell do you explain that to a five year old and he wasn’t equipped to deal with something like this and he still isn’t and-

Yeah.  A nightmare.

Race still isn’t sure if Teddy knows exactly what happened.  He seems to understand that Spot is gone and that fundamentally, he isn’t coming back, but he doesn’t think Teddy understands death yet.  The finality of it- the weight behind the concept.  

It was inexplicably haunting to see Teddy not crying at Spot’s funeral.  Race was crying.  Hell, Race was a mess.  It was so bad that Albert had to take over his eulogy and Jojo had to watch Teddy for a few minutes while he lost his shit in the bathroom.

But Teddy hadn’t cried.  He’d just clung to Race with a tight grip and wide, bewildered eyes, not saying a word.  

“Sure, bud,” Race says, shaking himself and pouring the milk into Teddy’s bowl of Lucky Charms, “we can go see Daddy.”

He takes Teddy along to Spot’s grave fairly often, but he never really knows how much of it he processes.  Like at the funeral, he’s always quiet and subdued when they go, never really saying anything.  Just sitting in Race’s lap, head bent into the crook of his neck as he stares at the headstone.  

“Yay!” Teddy bounces a little in his seat, grinning as Race sets his breakfast in front of him, “I want to tell him about my dance recital!”

Something in Race’s chest cracks open, making him feel simultaneously warm and cold and entirely overwhelmed. 

On their way to the cemetery later, they pass a man selling custom bouquets on the street.  Brilliant mixes of orchids and roses, gardenias and anemones, bleeding color into the cold grey of winter, and when Teddy sees them and turns that pleading look on Race, well, who is he to say no?

-

“Hi, Daddy!”

For once, Race stays a little off to the side, watching his son sit cross legged in front of Spot’s grave.  He’s talking, words spilling out at about a mile a minute, but Race tunes them out.  This is their private moment and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that.  

“I kinda wish you coulda seen it, but…” Teddy shrugs, mouth grimacing in a way that’s so strikingly Spot that Race has to close his eyes for a moment, “That’s okay.  I know you woulda come if you coulda.”

And, well, ouch.

“Anyway, I brought my scarf for you, Daddy,” Race opens his eyes to see Teddy carefully wrapping his little Thomas the Tank Engine scarf around the headstone, just over where he’d placed the flowers they picked up earlier, “‘Cause it’s getting cold and Papa always tells me that scarves help make you super warm.”

Race has to bite his lip to keep from crying or doing something stupid to ruin his son’s moment and, like, breakdown in front of him.

“Anyway, I’ll let you talk to Papa now, ‘cause I know he always likes to talk to you a little,” He smacks a kiss onto his palm and presses it to Spot’s engraved name, “Bye bye, Daddy, I love you.”

When he turns to look at Race, he’s smiling.  It’s big and unyielding and Race fucking melts, because this is all he really wants.  Sure, when Teddy gets older, Spot’s absence will ring loud and daunting, but hell, if he can have any ounce of peace with it then, well, Race...Race is fucking ecstatic.  He can handle this. 

“Your turn, Papa!” Teddy says, beckoning Race to sit down and climbing into his lap when he does.

“Thanks, little man,” Race hugs Teddy close, “Did you have a good time talking to Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” Teddy says, squirming a little in Race’s tight hold, “I know he was listening super good, I could feel it.”

Race swallows, “Oh yeah?” Teddy nods, “I’m super glad, Teds.”

And maybe, really, that’s what this is about.  Spot’s death was a curveball thrown with the wrong hand, jarring a perceived reality and shifting everything Race had known a little too far to the left.  And no, it isn’t okay.  Maybe it’ll never be okay, but it doesn’t have to be.  Spot’s still there, lingering somewhere in their hearts and made real by his memory- their memories of him.  He’s still palpable, still reachable, and if Teddy can feel it, maybe Race can too.

Race takes a breath, fortifying and fond, then smiles.  It doesn’t feel so strained and Race feels just that much lighter when he clears his throat.

“Hey, Spottie…”

-

it wasn’t very good don’t clown me please my brain said ‘sorry bud’ today

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable 

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @localfakeitalian @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent 

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing 

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen 

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend 

@auspicioustarantula 

@faithmil 

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty 

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@asphodelnerd

@i-dont-do-sadness

@rockyroad236

@sirgrahamcracker

@godhatesjordan

@thats-our-que-boys

@bastille-smedry

@nerdsies

@toss-me-a-pape

@wolfbutterfly42

@revolutioninthesewers

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@aintnosleevesinbrooklyn

[losers-yurio-the-og]

@snakesarenonexistent thanks for the photos!

[agentmattsimmons]

i was tagged by @snakesarenonexistent and @tofangirlonly (thank you both!!)

nickname: everyone either uses my name or my first name + middle name, so not really!

zodiac: virgo babey!!! (the best sign)

height: i am now 5’7 and a half

last movie i saw: into the spiderverse

last thing i googled: criminal minds (i am sad, okay?)

favorite musician: jeremy jordan

song stuck in my head: What’s Up Danger - Blackway with Black Caviar

blogs: this one

do i get asks: not regularly, sometimes i get them if i reblog an ask post

following: 56 blogs!

amount of sleep: i try to aim for 8 hours, and it’s usually around there depending on the day

lucky number: 7 and 5!

what i’m wearing: a hoodie, fuzzy pants (with pockets!!), and fuzzy socks

dream job: a pediatric nurse

dream trip: all of the disney parks!! especially california and paris

favorite food: pasta with marinara sauce

play any instrument?: i play the violin and i know my way around a piano

languages: english and some in-progress spanish

favorite song: right now it’s both Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown and What’s Up Danger by Blackway

random fact: i never wear normal socks, only fuzzy ones

describe yourself as aesthetic things: drinking tea by a windowsill, reading books in bed, that summer nap where you don’t need blankets because it’s warm and you wake up just before dinner, and watching the sun rise!

anyone who sees this and would like to do it, consider this your tag :)

[jeremyjordan-am-i-right]

Mutuals as random things that make you happy?

Thank you so much! 

I’d like to start off by saying my mutuals make me happy so you could all be yourselves and this would still work! But, as I assume that is not the intended purpose, here are some other things: 

@jackkellys boys with J names from Texas! 

@backgroundnewsies Pancakes!

@tofangirlonly Putting up the Christmas tree on a cozy winter day! 

@i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was Disney Magic™️! 

@santasfe Picturesque lakes in the middle of the woods! 

@kingofsantafe When a song from a musical is so powerful you feel it in your soul!  

@fameworks-quicker walking through a pumpkin patch on a crisp autumn day! 

@newsiessellpapes-notheadlines Sunsets that turn the skies red! 

@one-way-ride socks with fun and crazy designs! Those are always my favorite birthday presents, over anything else! 

@snakesarenonexistent Penguins! 

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Losing My Mind Part Ten: Katherine

all previous chapters are tagged under “losing my mind” pairings: crack (jackcrutchie for all you nonbelievers), ralbert, spromeo, blush, newsbians, davey/happiness friendships: crutchie and albert, specs and albert and crutchie, albert and les, specs and crutchie, mush and henry, race and crutchie, specs and katherine warnings: all previous warnings, racism, violence, blood, self-hatred, burns, abuse, swearing, homophobia, panic attacks, a bunch of other horrible shit, uh albert low-key hates himself, ableism, lots of characters have depression, and quite a few have anxiety editing: nope pov: katherine

I need to brainstorm. I need ideas. I need a plan. I sit on one of the many couches in one of the many sitting rooms of my father’s estate and pull out my notebook.

Ideas

Article

Drawings?

Spread word to all kids

Sarah

Stories

Stories. I just wrote the word down to get it out, but I really have no clue why. Stories. Every newsie has a story, one is sure to be of help. “Yes, is this Mr. Snyder?” I hear my father say from the other room. I sneak closer to the door and press my ear against the wood. A pause. He’s on the telephone, I’m guessing. “Yes, and how is our strike leader?” A pause. “You what?” A pause. “No!” He sounds truly angry. “I want an example made of the boy! I want this union gone!” Fuck. “They need to see him. I assure you you will be compensated for your troubles.” I hear the phone slam down on the receiver and I jump back as the door I was leaning against is opened. “Ah. Katherine. I’m assuming you heard my conversation with Mr. Snyder?” “I did.” I say tightly. “And I think you should know that you’re doing the wrong thing.” “I’m helping my business! And if that means making sure a young criminal gets the punishment he deserves-” “Deserves? He’s being tortured!” “As always, you’re exaggerating. It’s a juvenile jail, not a medieval dungeon from one of your stories.” “Father, you can’t do this!” I say in desperation. “Those street rats need disincline, Katherine.” “Jack’s broken out before, he’ll just do it again.” “Somehow I don’t believe that.” I roll my eyes and grab my bag with my pen and notebook. “I’m going to Darcy’s.” The lie comes easily, and I’m down the stairs, through the door, and on the sidewalk before my father can say another word. I let my anger fuel me through my walk across the city, and I’m still so worked up when I reach the Jacobs’s apartment that I knock on the door a bit too loudly. “Katherine!” Mrs. Jacobs says when she opens the door. “Hello, Mrs. Jacobs.” I say, smiling politely. “Is Sarah here? I wanted to discuss something with her.” “She’s actually-” “I’m here! Hi!” I turn around, and Sarah is behind me, her face dirty and hair falling out of a bun. “Sarah, thank goodness.” Mrs. Jacobs exclaims, embracing her daughter. When Sarah winces slightly, Mrs. Jacobs pulls away fast and holds her by the shoulders, examining her for injuries. “Are you alright?” She asks anxiously. “I’m fine, I just banged my shoulder against the fire escape.” “I told you it was too dangerous!” Mrs. Jacobs scolds. “I saw Les and David.” Sarah mumbles, looking down at the floor. “Go tell your father, then.” Sarah nods and steps into the apartment and past Mrs. Jacobs, disappearing into the second room. “Come sit down, Katherine. Would you like anything to eat or drink?” “Just water is fine, Mrs. Jacobs. Thank you.” I say, sitting down in one of the chairs at the Jacobs’s kitchen table. “Oh, call me Esther.” Esther says kindly, setting a glass of water down in front of me. “You and Sarah are close friends?” The question comes out odd, especially considering that she knows we’re friends. “We are.” She can’t know, can she? “That’s nice. Sarah was always friends with the boys at school, and I was glad to hear she had a female friend to talk about them with.” She chuckles. “Yeah.” I fake a laugh, something I’ve gotten quite good at as a reporter. “I love telling her stories about my friend Bill. His father is Mr. Hearst, at the Sun, and our fathers have been planning on betrothing us, to help the papers.” “Oh! How lovely!” “And Sarah hasn’t mentioned anyone particular from school, but she has been talking to me an awful lot about Race.” Should I feel bad about lying? Maybe. Do I? No. The lie helps everyone concerned with it, and it’s not even necessarily a lie! My father does want to betroth me to Bill, and Sarah does talk about Race a lot. “She does mention that boy often, doesn’t she?” “Kath, we should go.” Sarah says, breezing into the room. “Okay. Thank you, Esther.” Sarah is already halfway out the door by the time I make it there. “What’d you tell her?” Sarah asks as soon as we’re on the sidewalk. “You fancy Race.” “Seriously? Race?” “You’re only a few months apart, and you already talk about him all the time.” “Fair enough. You mentioned Bill as well?” “Yep. Now tell me, how are the boys?” Sarah’s face darkens at the question, and that doesn’t give me much hope. “It’s bad. David is hurt, everyone’s upset, and Jack-” Sarah’s voice breaks for a moment, and we stop walking. “David says he’s behind a door in Snyder’s office. Race says he’s beat up pretty bad.”

“Oh my gosh…We have to do something.” I say after a beat of silence. “Help them somehow. I want to visit them.” I say decisively.

“Are you sure?” Sarah asks. “It’s-”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Ok.”

We continue our walk in silence, and I think more about what Sarah said.

About what my father said.

A door.

An example made of him.

What does it mean?

What can I do?

What-

“We’re here, Kath.” Sarah says.

The neighborhood is shitty, to say the least. Broken down buildings, broken glass, stray cats.

And then the Refuge itself.

It’s a tall brick building, with two wooden front doors preceded by stone front steps. There’s a wall on either side of the building.

“We climb that tree, then go down the wall and up the fire escape.” Sarah says, pointing to a scraggly tree in front of the wall, positioned just towards the right of the building.

“Right.”

I won’t tell Sarah I’m nervous, I can’t.

So what if I’ve never climbed a tree before? So what if I’m worried about the screams I can hear from far away? So what if I’m anxious about the telephone call my father made?

Sarah is already on top of the wall, and I’m only halfway up the tree.

“Ya need help?” Sarah asks as I struggle to free my skirts from a stray tree branch.

“I got it.” I say, although I end up accidentally tearing the fabric when I finally manage to make it out of the tree and onto the wall.

“Where to?” I ask.

“Down the wall and up the fire escape.” Sarah says.

“How do we get down the wall?” I ask nervously, looking down at the pavement far below.

“There’s a rope that we can use to climb down.”

“Ok.”

I definitely don’t scrape up my elbows climbing down the wall and up the fire escape.

I’m definitely not holding back tears when we reach a window and Sarah calls out to Davey through the bars.

“Sarah, Kath!” Davey’s voice is gravelly and hoarse, and there’s blood on his lips. “How are ya?”

He’s not okay, I can tell.

“We’se fine. How ‘bout you, Dave?”

Sarah sounds different, a bit more like a newsie.

“Jus’ got back from cleanin’ about an hour or two ago.” Davey says. “What brings ya back so soon?” “Kath wanted to visit.” Sarah explains.

“I was wondering if I could talk to Specs?” I ask a bit tentatively.

C’mon Katherine, you’re braver than this!

“Of course. I’ll get ‘im.”

So Davey disappears from the window and comes back a few moments later with Specs.

“Heya, Kath.”

Specs looks like he hasn’t slept in days, which I realize he probably hasn’t.

“Listen, Specs, I know this isn’t much of an idea, but I thought you could help me with this? See, I was taking notes,” I keep talking as I pull out my notebook, “And I wrote this down and I thought you might have an opinion.”

Specs stares at the paper for a moment, and then his eyes widen.

“Kath, you’se a genius!” He exclaims.

“I am?”

“Drawings, stories! Go up ta Jack’s penthouse, he’s got all these insane drawings. I dunno what ya can do wit’ ‘em, maybe put ‘em in a pape, but they gotta be useful!”

“Thanks, Specs.” I smile. “I-”

“I can hear ‘im comin’!” A voice shouts from the room beyond the barred window.

“Ya gotta get outta here, the Spider’s back.” Specs says hurriedly.

“But-” I start to protest. “We’ll be fine, jus’ get those drawings!”

Everything else happens in a blur.

Sarah and I are down the fire escape, over the wall, and back on the street. Sarah and I are in front of the Lodging House. Sarah and I are on the roof, up in Jack’s penthouse.

“Kath?” Sarah asks.

“What?”

“You’ve been quiet the whole walk.”

“Sorry, I guess I was just thinking.” And thinking I was.

Thinking about the blood on Davey’s face, the dirt on Specs’s hands, the anger in my father’s voice.

What will Jack’s drawings reveal.

“Kath, ya gotta see these…” Sarah says, holding out a stack of ink-smeared paper to me.

I stare at the papers open-mouthed, not believing what I’m seeing.

sarah is gonna get such a character arc i love her so much

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