#i wish my tub was ready bc i just want a nice long soak ;_;

[watermelinoe]

we've entered the "now i'm sick" stage of getting my flu and covid shots, very much preferable to the "i'm in so much pain i could cry" stage that required digging into my pain pill stash from my 2020 surgery 😐 i never used to react to shots so badly but i think it's a fibromyalgia thing. the pain signals get over-exaggerated somehow and my whole body flares up

[ozzy-bozzy]

okayyy so heres another vent fic :))) as always w these, they get a bit specific or personal this was written in 1st person bc m goin through it tonight but this helped a bit. Also theres a lot of wasted water in this so read at u own risk

tw. depression themes, quick mention of drowning, supportive loving boyfriend Langa, lots of water was wasted in the writing of this fic bc i needed comfort

I played with my fingers, watching them make ripples in the surface of the water. The bathroom was silent aside from the slight sloshing in the tub, my clothes feeling heavy as they clung to my skin. My phone vibrated on the sink counter from the texts I’m sure Langa was sending me, but I didn’t have the energy to reach up and check to confirm my thoughts. All I could do was sink lower into the tub, my nose just about to touch the surface.

Part of me regretted getting in a full tub with all my clothes on, but another part of me didn’t care. I just couldn’t care at all tonight. My brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton and my thoughts were heavy. I wished I could just detach my head and leave it on the counter for the night so I could be free for a mere couple of hours, but I knew I was just stuck with it. The invitation I had sent Langa was a spur of the moment and I didn’t think he would actually respond or agree. Or at least I assume he agreed, I set my phone down after that and disconnected from reality. That’s about when I got in the tub.

The water was warm and gave some semblance of comfort, but mostly just served as a reminder the world was waiting for me once it got too cold to manage. I kinda wanted to fall asleep in the tub, but I knew that would be a bad idea. Not only would I most likely drown, I would probably get sick, too.

The jiggle of the doorknob brought my attention to the door, Langa peeking through the crack in the doorway. When he saw I wasn’t naked, he stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. He was mildly concerned from the random texts I had sent him, and seemed even more concerned seeing me sitting in the tub, fully dressed,

“Why are you wearing your clothes in the tub, are you okay..?” He kneeled down next to the tub, draping his hand over the edge and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. I just shrugged in response.

“Do you … do you want help out? Or drying off? Maybe getting ready for bed? It’s pretty late..” he trailed off, checking the time on his phone. 1:34 am…

“No, I’m okay”

“Are you?”

“No”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No”

“Okay, maybe I find something to distract you with then?” I nodded and he rolled up his sleeve, his hand finding mine in the water, holding it tightly,

“I was thinking we could maybe hang out this weekend?”

“...I guess, I don't think I have the energy to do much though. Like mentally”

“We don’t have to do anything. We can spend a whole day cuddling if that makes you happy”

“Like shower or change or anything”

“I don’t really care, I still want to spend time with you”

“I don't know why” He sighed, bringing our joined hands up and kissing the back of my hand,

“You know I don’t care how badly you may smell or how little you’ve slept, or how much you may cry, I still want to spend time with you”

“I wouldn’t even want to spend time with me, Langa. And you know that”

“I do know that, and I also think your insecurities and depression are getting to you tonight and making your brain feel empty and so, so very full. I want you to know I’m here for you though.”

I looked down away from him and felt my chest start to get heavy. He squeezed my hand and I could feel a tear start to slip down my cheek,

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry baby…”

“I just wish I could stop thinking. I don’t want to exist anymore but I don’t want to die. I just want to pause everything until I’m ready for life again”

“Well, we can’t… do that, exactly.. But I can help you find some solutions to your problems so you don’t have to put mental energy towards them anymore”

“I’m so tired of being given solutions. It feels like nobody feels the same even though I know you understand, everyone just immediately starts to offer solutions and I never get to feel anything” He sighed, and after a pause, he looks up with a shine in his eyes,

“Let’s feel then”

“What?”

He gestured for me to get us and helped me stand, the sound of the water dripping from my heavy, soaked clothes into the water hurting my ears as Langa started draining the tub before standing up straight and telling me to stay put while he left the bathroom. I stood in the no longer quiet bathroom, starting to lightly shiver as the water pooled at my feet started to drain away. I felt more tears fall from my eyes and some catching on my eyelashes. I can hear Langa rummaging around outside before the door softly creaks open and he slips in, holding an extra towel and my speaker,

“There’s already a towel in here you know”

“I know, I just went and put your bigger ones in the dryer for a bit so we could go get them when we finished and we won’t be super cold”

“Oh… what are we doing..?” He just smiled and turned the speaker on, finding a playlist and placing his phone on the counter next to my own with it open, ready to play. I continued to stand there, my clothes still dripping and still very heavy on my body. He turned the shower on, adjusting the water to be nice and hot before cupping my cheeks, holding the showerhead away from hitting me while the water heated up,

“You look beautiful” He whispered, and I just leaned into his touch.

Once the water was warm enough, Langa shuffled the playlist and brought the speaker closer, setting it on the edge of the tub. He stepped into the tub with me and I watched as his clothes started to get soaked from the direct contact with the water. He just had a soft smile as he continued to look at me. Pulling me against him, I felt the warm water hit my clothed skin and slowly warm me back up, Langa’s embrace helping. Langa readjusted us, pulling me down to sit with him on the floor, pulling me into his lap, and tugging the shower curtain closed. The shower was significantly darker, and as the shower water rained down on us I felt weirdly comfortable curled into his arms. The music from the speaker helped my thoughts clear up and sort my emotions out.

“Is that better?” I paused to think, and yeah, it was better. I didn’t feel so empty inside and I just felt more..sad. Which was much more manageable and strangely comforting.

I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes to keep water from getting in them, nodding softly,

“Good. If you need anything tell me, but in the meantime, just relax and feel what you need to feel, okay?”

We sat in the shower for who knows how long, nearly passing out multiple times. Once we felt the water start to run cold and we were tired of the feeling of wet clothes hanging on us, we turned the shower off and Langa slipped out of the bathroom to grab the towels from the dryer as I stripped myself of the soaked clothing. He helped me dry off, and I helped him. He then helped me get ready for bed and I curled back up to him in bed after he sent his mom a text so she wouldn’t worry in the morning.

I don’t know how tonight would have gone had I not texted Langa, but I know for sure it wouldn’t have ended as nicely as it did, and I wouldn’t be going to bed content with the state of my mind and feeling like I was since Langa was there.

wc. 1377

playlist i listened to while writing this

[reblogcentre-2]

TW 

tw for: sh & trans stuff & blood & auto-surgery 

So you asked about my experience with auto-surgery. I actually wrote a vent fanfiction so I copy-pasted it & added more notes & stuff. The notes I added after are in ((here)) & the rest of it is my vent fanfic. The fanfic is p much accurate to the experience & any inaccuracies are pointed out ((in the)) notes.

I've dreamt about this before, but I never thought I would actually do it. It's completely an impulse decision. Well maybe not completely. I have the sense to find supplies first. Like a pack of razor blades. ...And scissors, toilet paper, rubbing alcohol, ice packs, a needle and thread, and a glass of water to keep me hydrated. I may be making a stupid decision, but I'll at least do it right.

I sit on the floor of my room, and take off my shirt. While holding an ice pack under my… on my chest ((don’t wanna say boobs)), I tie some fabric around my waist so there’s no bloody mess I have to clean. ((didn't work.)) Damn this ice pack is so cold, it almost hurts. Though, that's a good thing. It means my nerves will be numb.

Right.

I look around at my setup in confusion, I've lost my train of thought, ((adhd)) what am I doing what next- Ah, razor.

A thin piece of metal, flexible, yet strong. It doesn't glint in the artificial light. It's a matte metallic grey. I pick up my little prize, and having sanitized ((sadly not sterilized tho)) it in the alcohol and let it dry, letting down the ice pack. I bring it to the underside of my chest- but I can't see it. Disappointment. I put it down.

I need to get my fat ugly breast out of the way. Then it occurs to me- tape! ((I shoplifted this tape)) I use the tape to pull my chest up and back so I can see underneath it, or as much as I can, considering the size of it.

Now, I take up my razor. I remember reading about this one lady who gave herself a cesarean section with three long slices of a kitchen knife. She was a Mexican butcher. ((k so she had to go to the hospital after to get her intestines re-arranged I think. Also, this is what I would ask you to do, If I’m numb I won’t feel it so you can just boom three long swipes with a nice sharp chef’s knife & boom my boob is gone.))

Taking a deep breath, bracing myself for what's to come, I put the razor to my skin and pull. But I don't pull. I lift. I was too afraid, too cowardly to actually try. ((this is why I want someone else to do it)) Thankful to have lost some sensation from binding, I replace the ice pack and breathe again. Ok. I've got this. This is good. This is ok.

I lift the ice pack again, and this time I test my skin slightly. I… can't feel it. At least, not much. So, with the tape pulling back the offending tissue, I use my right hand to swipe across my left chest. It's barely a scratch. I try it again, this time closing my eyes before opening and doing the cut. It's much faster this time, and slightly deeper. How did she do it in three slices with her kitchen knife?

The blood is warm, and it drips down my chest. I unravel some tissue to dab at the blood. Then I make another cut, following inside the first, deepening it.

Yes.

I can't easily reach all the way across the bottom, so I'll have to settle for my scar being slightly on the inside. ((I can legit send a pic of the scar if you’re comfy with that)) I wipe the blood, then replace the ice pack. I need some more freezing. In a moment, I get back to it with the razor.

I can sometimes feel the pain, but I try to ignore it, or freeze it away. I keep slicing, wiping, and icing my chest. ((ok so only the skin felt painful & if you’re good, you can get thru the skin rly fast with the knife)) All the way until I see something unusual.

That's not skin.

That's… something.

Subdermal fat maybe? ((I had seen this already, but this was written as a vent fanfiction)) I keep going with the razor, another slash or two. Then I take hold of my scissors. ((oh the scissors were shit)) I can pinch my loose-from-binding skin to make a slight fold where I can use the scissors. So I do.

I use the scissors to open up the hole wider, ((idk if I actually did a lot of this or only a little bc scissors were painful af)) and I can see the fat in it. It's lumpy and greasy.

I'm disgusting.

It's a yellowish ((in culinary, the paler the fat the healthier the deer/animal. I think it might have just been discoloured from the blood. Btw there was no blood in the fat bc fat doesn’t have caapillaries)) white, made up of little bubbles, or maybe they just look that way because of the mutilation I'm committing. It's covered in red blood, so it looks more of an orange pink.

My gash is about 10cm long, maybe less. Probably less. ((I can measure if u want)) I use the scissors on the fat under the skin, and surprisingly, I can't feel it. I wipe up the blood, ready to strike again, but when I pick up the scissors I've bled again. I wipe again, pick up the scissors again, and prepare to slice again, again; but like last time there is too much blood. ((ugh I remember this, it was so annoying & my rag was already blood soaked))

I try to wipe it up enough to continue with my surgery, but I keep bleeding. and my ice packs are getting warm. ((I had to ask my brother to get me another ice pack but he brought me one that was only partially frozen))

So…

Shower.

I can do this in the shower.

I'm covered in blood, but the water would wash it away, keep it clean, moist, prevent it from clotting, and the cold water could provide numbing. Yes. I'm a genius. Shifting my pins-and-needles legs, I gather all the supplies I can carry, and peek my head around the corner. Nobody is coming.

Perfect.

I dash through the hallway, and my supplies are dumped on the washroom counter.

What do I do now? I… turn on the tap.

The cold water is uncomfortable, but I lean my body down, supporting my weight on either end of the tub, so that the water only runs along my chest. I tense as it cools the flesh. Then I step out of the shower, thankful that only my chest is wet, and try to keep on, but it’s so bloody. ((I remember thinking it literally looked like a murder scene. I was a Sherlock fan t the time))

It would make perfect sense to just bring my tools into the shower with me. I bring in two of my sharpest razors and my scissors, as well as one ice pack. ((I didn’t want the water to warm up the ice)) I run the cold shower over my laceration again, numbing it more, and once I’m done with that, I take my scissors and I put them inside.

Repeat repeat repeat. ((ok I think here is where I try to separate my skin from my breast tissue? I got such bad bruises bc I didn’t manage to take it all out))

Soon, I’m done separating the skin and extending the opening up a little higher. I keep rinsing the blood, the water runs down my entire body at this point, but I’m used to the cold.

I use my scissors to cut in deeper, I can’t feel it in the mammary fat at all. The scissors are opened and closed in rhythm, without being taken out of me between snips, and I reveal something that looks less like skin, and less like the bubbly pale fat. It might be a mammary gland- I’m not sure. It’s a different texture though, and-

Ouch! I can feel that! Damned fuck! I mean heck! ((I think I legit tried to not swear. I hurt a lot to cut that part. If it’s just done in one swipe tho it wouldn’t be as bad))

I water my wound again. I can’t have my body in pain. Just a few more seconds of cold water, and I can get back to it. Or maybe I should use my ice pack too… The ice pack helps freeze whatever that thing is, so I can cut through it with my scissors.

I’ve made a thick cut now, but I’ve seen surgeries before, I’ve watched so many videos of top surgeries, even some full surgery videos. I know what to do.

So I take my razor from the soap-bench in the wall and run it between the skin and my tissue until I get enough space for my scissors. ((oh! no- here’s the part where I separate the skin & get bruising)) My scissors go right between them, opening and closing as I move them around under my skin. I can see my skin stretch around them, like seeing someone’s legs under a blanket.

Now that I have it separated, I could maybe cut out an entire chunk. I rinse my scissors under the shower, and put them down on the floor of the tub, then I look down.

I’m covered in blood.

I open the shower door and look in the mirror across from me. It looks like a murder scene. There, my skin held apart by tape, a gaping slash under my- my breast, blood drips coming down from it, blood spread all over my torso from the water, blood in the hole in my body, ((yes a hole in my body, kinda wish I  took a pic)) blood bright red from being mixed with the water, blood clotting on my belly. I made jokes about some things looking like murder scenes before, like when working with food colouring.

Oh how I was wrong.

This is what a murder scene looks like. I’m so bloody. Part of me wants to take a picture, ((lol I was just thinking this!)) but oh hell (I mean heck) that would be messed up. As though I’m not already messed up!

Well I can’t stare, I have work to do. Work. I close the shower door, and bend down to pick up my ice pack, but I need to be careful, I don’t want to disturb my broken chest.

Numbing my chest again, I continue with this routine, pulling out chunks of my own body and flushing them down my shower drain like the serial killer I read about a little while ago. ((I don’t remember much about the chunks. It might have been less chunks than I’m making it sound. I have memory problems so : / ))

At some point I look in the mirror again, and I’m almost disgusted at what I’ve done.

My family probably needs to use the washroom, I’ve probably been showering for an hour now, they might get suspicious.

The smell is metallic & meaty, almost fishy even.

Thankfully, when I look down at my chest, it seems like I might be slightly smaller than before. ((not rly. It partially looked that way bc of the tape)) It definitely looks smaller than the one on my right. I haven’t been using my ice pack much lately. The blue liquid in the plastic pack has lost most of its cold.

I rinse off my less sharp scissors and razor, and spray all of the leftover bubbles of fat and drops of blood down the drain, trying to get the bloody footprints and handprints ((I forgot I made hand/foot prints!! If I had forgotten them mum could have walked in to pee & seen bloody handprints lol)) from the edges of the tub where I supported myself before getting used to the completely cold shower. I rinse off my torso, too now. Blood is strewn all over it, and some has dripped down to my legs, which has now dried. As soon as I rinse it off, I bleed some more. Ah. Well.

Onto the burgundy red floor towel I step, and I try my best to dry off my bloody chest and abdomen, but of the two rags I have, one of them is wet from taking it into the shower, and the other is already soaked with blood. Neither can help. I do my best nonetheless, and decide I should move on to stitches.

I know how to sew, and I’ve gotten stitches before, I should be able to do them. ((irl I                                  had only gotten stitches once & I already gave myself stitches once))

But I can’t find my needle, ((yeah I just couldn’t find my needle when I moved from my room to the washroom)) and the water hasn’t numbed my skin enough. Inside my body, in the fat, I can’t feel it, but, seemingly, I would still be able to feel it if I were to perform my own stitches.

Alrighty then, I can just tape myself together until I dry. But the tape won’t stick. ((ugh this was so annoying! I literally used all of my skin tape)) Neither will the bandaids. I have no sewing needle. I don’t know what to do, crap! I don’t know how to fix this! The tape won’t stick! Screw this fucking hell! I mean hecking heck!

Eventually, I go to my room. I put on my faux binder. It’s an old bra with a piece of fabric of my measurements sewed on the inside to compress my chest, the bra is just for the straps. Over that loose and torn excuse for a binder, I put on bra after bra, binding my semi-detached chest down so that I might be able to sleep without causing more damage.

I have a.. A thing tomorrow. ((practice for my baking competition)) I can go to the hospital a few blocks away from my school ((20 minute walk)) and get stitches there. Maybe they’ll even say I need to get top surgery an’ the gover’ment will pay for it. Yeah that’d be nice. I can jus’ wai’ ‘ntil tomorrow... and tomorrow I can take more ibe- ibu- ibupropen- ibuprofen... ((I wrote like this for the dramatic effect in the vent fic)) I can't take any more t’day. I’ll just go to sleep now n’ then I’ll wake up for school and when mom... asks me whaveter she asks I'll just tell her I have carpentry, and I'll tell the instructor that I’m not working today. ((irl I went to culinary, then told my teacher “actually I’m going to pick up my supplies to practice with & skidaddle”)) He’ll unsterdand, it’s not like I have school, it's the teacher’s comvemtion, I’m not obligated to stay, I can lust jeave. Mum will be none the wiser. Yah. Sleepy time. Hospital tomorrow. 

((so yeah. I go to sleep & ppl always say they can’t sleep on their sides so I tried that but I couldn’t handle it so I slept on my side while hugging a pillow to make sure nothing fell. I’m shaking too. Tbh I was just thinking “I’ve been in the bathroom for an hour or more, why has nobody knocked asking to brush their teeth?” I wake up the next day & put on a button-up shirt bc ppl say they can’t lift their arms, I practice walking on google maps to the hospital, then mom drives me to school. I had my learner’s license but I didn’t want to drive bc of my injury. I go in, I tell Chef I’m leaving, he’s cool abt it. So now I’m loaded up with a huge backpack, it’s february in canada & I forgot a jacket (bc I was driving in a warm car to a warm school & busy planning other things), I also brought my fiddle bc I waited for 4 hours last time & was bored, & I have a huge toolbox & a tub of fondant. I walk 20 minutes to the hospital, get in, & I need to change from my mask to the hospital mask. I go through talking to ppl & stuff. Eventually I’m called up for triage & I tell the guy what’s up (& take my meds bc I forgot that morning & she thought I was doing drugs) & sheasks me for my healthcard number & stuff. I think she was able to put my preferred name in the notes. I’m unbuttoning my shirt & she says “actually come in here” so I go into the nurses’ station & she peels up my bras a bit (apparently I’ve bled) & she’s like “wtf bro” & I’m like “what?” & she’s really concerned that I wanted like 12 hours to come. It was like 9-10pm that I was doing it & it was probably 10am at the time I saw her idk. So she gets me into a private room immediately I think (idk I might be mixing this up with the hospital trip where I had to wait for ages. Idk whether I had to wait here too.) Oh I forgot, I also plucked my violin while waiting for triage or to get called to a private room, but I wasn’t allowed. So eventually (really soon by hospital standards) I get taken to a private room. They get me to change into a gown (all of my bras off too) & now my breast isn’t secured. So while I’m waiting I play my fiddle & look up chords on my phone. Everyone likes it. The nurses & doctors & porters are like “where’s that music coming from?” & “It’s like we’re at the beach” bc chords on violin sound like chords on ukelele despite the fact that I was singing mostly mother mother. Ppl come in a lot tbh. I think the doctor comes in but he says “my shift is over soon & you will take a long time, bYe!” also I’ve been asked so many times if this was a suicide attempt & I’m like “nah bro if I wanted to be dead I would be, I’m not actually suicidal anymore.” Eventually a porter comes to move me from my nice private room to some curtained one. I’m plucking my violin quieter but some fuckin security guard says it’s loud & might be disturbingother patients so I play a really quiet eidelwisse & then I think I might stop. The guard called me miss too & it sucked. Eventually the doctor on shift comes & asks me about things & why & he’s also got his hands on my boob. (when I saw the first doctor he asked if I needed a female doctor & I was like “nah dude ur a doctor & I’m a trans.) So he’s going to sew me up & at some point he asks “tdo you want me to take the rest off?” I’m super confused until I realize he’s making a joke: “do you want me to finish the job & take the rest of your boob off?” so I laugh & say “I wish” & he says “I’d do a horrible job” & I’m like “BRo I AlreAdy did a hOrrible job!” so that was funny. He also asked me about trans stuff bc he didn’t understand a lot (he was respectful even tho he didn’t understand) & he even suggested I claim back pain to get a reduction. I have back pain (mostly from binding). Anyways he drops the needle with novacaine or whatever the hell& needsto get a new one & nobody can touch it bc it’s sharp. A few times it hurts but it’s fine I just close my eyes. He asks “do you need more anesthetic?” & I’m like “bro I did this with only a fucking ice pack” but w/o the swears. I ask him if I can bind after & he’slike “idk” so that was fun. I have a dip in my scar now. Then a nurse comes in & puts a fuck ton of bandages & gause on me but it’s stupid bc I was lying doen & as soon as I stood up (& worse when I put on a bra) it changed everything. So they give me a bag for all my bras & I walk back to school. Now it’s like 15.00 or 3 o’clock so I get back to school… & my phone is at 1%. I text my mom “hey I’m done at school” on google hangouts but my phone dies before I know whether or not the message sent. Chef is already gone, so I can’t get into the school. I can’t call mom. I walk around for a bit, assuming she’ll pick me up when she thinks it’s time. Nope. I’m outside in the cold. I start knocking on doors asking for a phone but it’s fricking covid season! I walk to a nearby coffeeshop & borrow the phone of a nice couple. Mom got sus of that. I warm up in the nice coffeeshop, mom takes me home, but she knows I skipped practice. I think she even called my chef. So yeah that was stupid. I told her “haha I went to get drugs” but she didn’t believe me & also what kind of a lie is that? She knew I cut myself, I guess I just didn’t want to worry her or have her demand to see or cry & ask me why I felt the need to change my body. I’m pissed off that she caught me (she caught me last time I gto stitches too). I can’t jump anymore *& I’m wearing my size-up binder. The doctor told me to scrub my stitches in nthe shower, the nurse told me to wrap in in plastic wrap. I’m wearing button shirts for ages after this, I’m avoiding lifting my arms, everything sucks. Whenever I think of it, I could smell it. I smelled the blood. Every time I smelled a glass that was washed in a dishwasher, I smelled my injury. Every time I remembered it, I could smell it. I don’t get that anymore but I was literally in mild shock & I think I may have traumatized myself. There’s more to say but I forget it all & idc so good night))

[findmeintheafterglow]

A Guide to Every Single Newsie

There are way too many of those punks. If you’re new to all this come learn whom is who

Let’s start with some pictures, they’re blurry because it’s surprisingly hard to get a decent screenshot. There are lots of them but hopefully just seeing their faces a few times will help you. Recognizing them just comes with time trust me, I used to struggle to find Race and now I see a pic of someone's feet and am like “ah yes Finch my boy”. Also, I’m only covering the newsies live cast because that’s what you can legally watch and what most people are familiar with. Also, I didn’t want to do every cast member to ever be on Broadway or tour.

Please note some of the things I’m about to say may not be canon but are part of what I know is widely considered true within the fandom. As far as sexuality I may mention it with some characters/who they’re commonly shipped with just so y’all aren’t lost when you see fics and things.

Jack: You know Jack so I’m not going that deep into his character. He’s 17, full name Francis Sullivan, newsie nickname is Cowboy. He’s the leader of the newsies of Lower Manhattan. A charismatic asshole who really just wants meaningful relationships and happiness for those he loves. Undeniably bisexual. Played by Jeremy Jordan.

Davey: Full name is David Jacobs, newsie nickname is Walking Mouth though he’s only addressed by his nickname in the 1992 movie. The most educated, attended school until he was around 17 ish. He’s a doofy little nerd and also mom friend ultimate, I repeat bc this is a defining trait Mom Friend Ultimate. I’m not sure if this is canon but pretty much everyone recognizes that he and his family are Jewish. Played by Ben Fankhauser.

Les: Sassy angel child. Full name Lesley Jacobs. Albert calls him shortstop a few times but it’s not quite a newsie name tm. 10 years old(almost). Also pretty Jewish. He’s kind of an impressionable little firecracker, he looks up to all the newsies but especially Jack. He just has a lot of energy and wants to hang with the big kids. Sass master in training. Buckets of charm packed into about 4 feet of human. Played by Ethan Steiner.

Crutchie: Crutchie! You know him! You’ve already fallen madly in love with him! Lost use of one of his legs to polio. Last name is Morris for sure and a lot of people say his real name is Charlie. Jack’s closest friend. He’s often painted as a pure sunshine boy, he is a pure sunshine boy. However, he is also tough, streetsmart and ready to fight. Very kindhearted and eternally optimistic. Played by Andrew Keenan-Bolger(you may see it abbreviated as AKB).

Race: This boy has lots of names so strap in. Racetrack Higgins is his name, people mostly call him Race not Racetrack. He is also sometimes called Racer. I don’t think this is canon but as a fandom, I think we’ve determined that he’s aggressively Italian and his real first name is Antonio, you may also see Anthony or Tony. Best friends with Albert. Crutchie is Jack’s best friend but Race is sort of Jack’s second in command. Sprace, him and Spot Conlon, are pretty much the biggest ship in Newsies. He’s a gambler and has an affinity for betting on horse races. He sells by the Sheepshead Racetrack hence his nickname. Very easy to recognize because he always has a cigar. The definition of a disaster gay. He has good intentions most of the time but is also a chaotic piece of shit. Played by Ben Tyler Cook(BTC).

Albert: Albert DaSilva is his name, having fantastic hair is his game. Race’s best friend. Personality is similar to Race but a little less chaotic, like he still does dumb things all the time but isn’t nearly as loud. Prankmaster and Sassmaster ultimate. Lives on the lower east side with his dad and two older brothers but generally that fact is ignored and he’s lumped in as living in the lodgings.  His cap is on backwards most of the time which can help you recognize him. Played by Sky Flaherty.

Spot: Spot Conlon, the man, the myth, the legend. Leader of Brooklyn. Comically short but will also soak you without hesitation. Side note bc I didn’t know this for a long time: the newsies call beating someone up “soakin’ ‘em” because you beat them up so bad they’re soaked in blood. Back to Spot, he’s tough as nails but also cares about his boys in Brooklyn a lot. Played by Tommy Bracco.

Elmer: A smart yet small boy. Very good at math and science and somewhat interested in politics. He has 8 older siblings. Polish apparently? I learned this very recently?? A very friendly and sunshiney guy. The newsies make fun of him saying that he’s bad at selling papes. He’s a hardworker. This is definitely not canon but you may see his last name as being Kasprzak. This comes from Evan Kasprzak, the actor who played Elmer in the Papermill and Original Broadway Casts. People like writing about Elmer so they just kinda gave him that last name and it works. Played by Anthony Zas.

Jojo: Jorgelino Josephino De La Guerra where to begin. A good Catholic boy. He was raised by nuns in a cathedral in Harlem. A nice boy, a kind boy. Down for some shenanigans but is generally reasonable and doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. Very ambitious and wants to be a big baller(in KONY he wishes for a solid gold watch I mean). Played by Joshua Burrage.

Buttons: Benjamin Buttons Davenport, what a guy. So I don’t know that he’s actually younger but he definitely reads as a little more youthful. He’s optimistic and easily excitable and overall kinda has this genuine hope and happiness that some of the other guys have lost to the street. He lives with his family and has at least a few siblings but I feel like he has hella. Not gonna be last in line for the tub tonight. Played by Chaz Wolcott.

Romeo: Will flirt with anything that moves. He has very distinctive bright red and blue striped socks if that helps you identify him. Is one of the younger newsies but makes up for it with overconfidence. Very lighthearted, we never see him get too serious. A charmer through and through. Still a very kind and caring guy. Played by Nico DeJesus.

Specs: Specs is a good one. He wears glasses obviously so you can identify him pretty easy. Definitely on the older end of the newsies. There’s no basis for this in canon but I feel like he’s been around longer than Jack. Kind of helps lead and run things with Race and Jack because he’s the most responsible motherfucker in that lodging house. Think kinda like Davy where he’s a bit of a mom but more easygoing, less cautious and more one of the boys. Generally a happy guy and so so sweet. Very forward thinking and genuinely likes selling papes. Played by Jordan Samuels.

Finch: Finch! A personal favorite please show him love. Full name is Patrick Cortes. He has a family(or at least a mom) but ran away when he was little. He carries a slingshot with him a good amount of the time so use that to find him. He’s sarcastic, funny, and always rarin’ to go. Tough but not in an “I’ll fight you” way. He will fight you if needed but it’s more like “Life’s a bitch but look how far I’ve made it”. Kinda like a cool older brother vibe but throw in a good handful of antsy. Played by my main man Iain Young.

Sniper: Mkay it’s time for the tough boi trio, these next three are fighters. Last name is Wah. His dad is named Sam Wah and owns a laundromat above Jacobi’s Deli. You may see him as a girl in fics or hcs because for almost all of the tour he was played by a woman. Boy has aim like no other. He is confirmed to be the quickest and strongest of the newsies. Also sly and cunning. Boy’s like a snake or a fox or whatever simile you prefer but regardless be scared. Has a reputation so people don’t mess with him. Would never hurt another Manhattan boy, he’s scary but he defends his brothers. Played by Daniel Switzer.

Tommy Boy: Don’t know a ton about Tommy Boy but here we go. He’s a man of few words, when he talks his answers are brief and to the point. Not in a mean way though that’s just how he is. Appears to be confrontational as he’s consistently seen stepping to a fight(before the world will know when Jack says “keep your shirt on” and when he scabs he gets in people’s faces). A good dependable guy but kinda mysterious, I would not provoke. Played by Michael Dameski.

Mush: Last name is Myers. First name is possibly Nick? In the real strike, there was a boy named Nick Myers so. He lives in Harlem?? But who cares about canon, ignore that. Mush is a ‘hattan boy. Has a lisp. He considers himself to be the muscle of Manhattan and will throw down for his brothers. When the strikebreakers show up, Jack literally has to hold him back because Mush is just trying to get to those hoes so he can protect the rest of the boys just yellin’ “Nah man I’ll get ‘em”. Very caring and very selfless. Boy’s got muscle but is totally a teddy bear with a heart of gold. I’ve always thought of him as your classic rough and tumble but clean-cut caring all-American boy. Played by Nick Masson.

Henry: Last name is possibly butler after the real life newsboy, Henry Butler but the only confirmed name we have is Henry. Became a newsie at 11 when his dad died and his family lost their deli. Has a mom who he still sees sometimes but doesn’t live with. Boy really likes food. It reminds him of the deli with his dad and also he just really. likes. food. Fairly easygoing, practical, and will call guys out on their bullshit(e.g. whom the fuck cares about being famous). Played by Michael Rios.

Smalls: Smalls! I don’t got much at all but here’s what I know. Very commonly thought about as a girl as Smalls was played by girlsies for all(?) of the Broadway run. Pretty firey or at least high energy. Sometimes headcannoned as being leader of the Bronx because in the normal not filmed staging he’s the one to yell “so’s the Bronx”. Played by Julian DeGuzman.

Mike: Twin brother of Ike. These guys are hard to tell apart because they’re played by actual twins but here are some distinctions. Mike wears a brown cap, a plaid shirt, and green socks. Played by Jacob Guzman.

Ike: Twin brother of Mike. Has a dark grey cap, a striped shirt, pin-striped pants, and brown socks. Both twins seem to be pretty fun-loving. They kinda rough house a lot and are often messing around. Played by David Guzman

Hotshot: A Brooklyn newsie, I don’t really know his deal? A typical production doesn’t have Hotshot in it but he was in the filmed version and was apparently there towards the end of the broadway run. Kind of arrogant and tough. Sometimes seen as Spot’s second. Has literally only ever been played by J.P. Ferreri.

Vince/Myron: Ok so for newsies live they just threw in some extra newsboys for the heck of it and this guy is one of those. I don’t even know his name because the actor who plays him also plays a strikebreaker. On the wiki cast list, it just lists him as playing Vince and Myron with no indication as to who’s the newsie and who’s the strike breaker. Just from the nature of the names I can guess that Vince is the newsie? A big tough Brooklyn boy. Played by Stephen Hernandez.

Willie/Bart: Same deal as Vince/Myron. I’d be willing to guess that Willie is the newsie. Another Brooklyn boy. Played by Andrew Wilson.

Kenny: Also thrown in just for newsies live but I actually know his name. A pretty sunny guy, as far as I can remember he’s always smiling. Not in any of the pictures because he’s not in any of those scenes. It’s the same guy who plays darcy so go to carrying the banner or once and for all and find the guy in the yellow suit. That’s Darcy, Kenny looks just like that but in newsie clothes. Played by Jack Sippel.

Am I about to throw Bill and Darcey in just for kicks? yeah I think I am. Ok so this is a last minute decision and I don’t have pictures for these guys but here we go.

Bill: Not a newsie. Son of William Randolph Hearst, owner of the New York Journal. Full name William Randolph Hearst Jr. Katherine and Darcey’s friend. A sophisticated, classy, educated boy. Not tough in a street way but is kind of cold/reserved or maybe just a bit calculating. You can definitely tell he’s a rich boy by the way he holds himself. Looks like Mush bc they’re played by the same actor. Blue suit. Played by Nick Masson.

Darcey: Not a newsie. Son of Whitelaw Reid, owner of the New York Tribune. Still high class but more excitable and interested in the newsies world. Very kind and always concerned of behalf of others. His sweetness does not equal weakness, when Romeo approaches Kath in Carrying the Banner, he’s ready to handle the situation. Yellow suit. Played by Jack Sippel.

so there we go that is every newsie I could think of and then some. I’m gonna attach the pictures I have of an old wikipedia cast list which is what I use for reference since the one that's on wiki now isn’t great

That’s it! If you actually read all this, God bless you. If I got anything blatantly wrong or if you have any questions please talk to me

[waywardsisterwrites-blog]

What Doesn't Kill You

Request: N/A

Warnings: Some mentions and descriptions of torture, not to graphic in my opinion, but be careful if that’s something that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable 

Pairings: Probably Dean x reader later on

Word Count: 3k 

A/N Please Please comment and let me know what you like and or what I can do better, I’d really appreciate it bc this is my first fic :) Thank you!

A/N 2: If you want to be on the tag list let me know and I’ll set that up for ya :) 

He walked slowly, pacing, steel toed leather boots scraping against the cool concrete floor. You'd lost track of how long you'd been there, your wrists ached from the thick rope that bound them together. It was cold, though you could see a window or a door, there was a certain chill that filled the air. You didn't scream anymore, didn't fight, you didn't see the point in it. There was no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel.

"What you're doing is kind of noble, you know," He spoke quietly, hiss gruff voice echoing off the walls. "Nobody Ive tried has made it this far."

You shook violently as another chill hit your bare shoulders. You couldn't think straight anymore, but that was to be expected. You had hardly been able to focus before you had been kidnapped, much less after so much time on lockdown in the basement of some raving lunatic, hell bent on discovering the key to immortality.

You had been out that night, drinking at a bar down the road from the motel where you and the boys had been staying. You were laying low, well, lower, courtesy of the Leviathans murder spree, wearing Sam and Dean like halloween costumes. The three of you had taken to paying in exclusively cash, ordering two separate rooms, wearing dark sunglasses and baseball caps, eluding the police and any well-meaning bystanders that might panic and call the highly advertised tip line that was plastered all over town under two rather unflattering of the Winchester brothers.

You had narrowly escaped the eyes of Dick Roman yourself, as you had been incapacitated from your last hunt, a witch who had cursed you with an obscure flu like illness. It was just you luck, being too sick for the Leviathans to even bother to trying to attack you. You followed Dean's orders, not attracting too much attention while you recuperated. When you were feeling better, you were helping Kevin research and you mixed Borax solution, filling squirt guns and empty water bottles, never leaving yourself unprotected.

You were just so tired and listening to the boys bicker about every little thing was enough to make you want to pull your hair out. So, you went for a drink. Sam and Dean were always the whiskey type, but you were a scotch kind of girl yourself. You told the boys where you were going, to which they responded with vague recognition that you had even spoken at all. You walked two blocks south from the motel to the Lone Star bar and Grill and you sat on the bar stool alone wile you nursed a tumbler of your favorite amber beverage.

You hadn't even seen it coming. You had three drinks and you were ready to head back, your eyelids heavy and your feet even heavier. You were tired you were buzzed and all you could think about was the comfort of a dusty and faded futon where you could get some much needed rest.

You had been so caught up in your thoughts that you failed to notice the man walking five paces behind you, using the shade of the buildings as protection from the harsh light of the streetlamp. It had started raining and you remember wondering if your night could be any worse. You had had a major headache since that morning and you were just. so. tired.

You hadn't been watching your step either, and the toe of your shoe caught the edge of the drainage pipe that jutted into your path from the rooftop of the building nearest you. You yelped and landed sprawled on your stomach, your phone slipping from your hand as you toppled. You heard jogging foot steps behind you and suddenly a hand was waving in front of your face, offering to help you up.

"Watch your step," he'd said, "it can be dangerous to walk alone this time of night you know."

You swatted away at his hand and swayed as you stood up.

"Can I interest you in a ride home? My car is parked on the street just up the road, I don't mind at all. Weather's getting nasty and a lady such as yourself shouldn't have to walk in these conditions" His voice was thick and gravely and he spoke slowly,sending an uneasy feeling to the pit of your stomach.

"No thanks, I think I can..." you paused to wipe the dirt from your face with the back of your hand "handle myself"

He placed his hand firmly on your elbow and you tried to tug it away, but you were weak and disoriented from the alcohol or from the lack of sleep, you couldn't tell which, not that it mattered at that point.

"I really must insist." He said, still holding your elbow with one hand as he reached up to your neck with the other. You felt a sharp pain where the needle you hadn't noticed before had punctured the fragile skin. You barely had the time to process what was happening before the world began to spin, the sounds of the street and the pitter patter of raindrops fading as you blacked out.

Now, you sat in a wooden chair, hands bound behind your back, hair plastered to your forehead as the man continued to pace. He was thinking, you decided, which was good because if he was thinking he wasn't doing which meant you had a little more time before the next round of trials started.

You hadn't eaten since the morning you were abducted, your stomach growling every few minutes. You were so hungry you were nauseous, the musty smell of room wafting in your direction was enough to make bile rise in the back of your throat. You had been allowed some water every now and again, the man would tilt a styrofoam cup to your lips and tell you to take small sips. At first, you'd refused, positive the water was poisoned or cursed, but after a while, you gave in, gulping the water down as though you had never tasted anything so sweet in your entire life.

He was calling them trials, the things he put you through. He was testing you. He'd done it before, that much was obvious. He'd preform a new test, chant some words in Latin and you'd be left wishing he had just killed you when he'd taken you. He'd sort of explained it, although you'd been in too much pain and too delirious at the time to really register the full extent of his plan. He wanted to test the limits of the human body, he was looking for the key to immortality an to do that,he said he had to understand the true meaning of mortality.

The first time he untied you, he took you through a door and down a flight of stairs to a dimly lit room, a table placed squarely in the center. He'd forced out to lay down, strapping you to the table at your wrists and ankles to keep you from "ruining the experiment" Then he started setting the fires. He built them in trash cans all around the room, a dozen or so maybe more, close enough to where you lay that you could feel the embers sink into your skin. At first it had been nice. It had been cold, you weren't wearing much in the way of clothing, your flannel and jeans had been replaced with a large white t-shirt when you had been taken. and your hair had been wet, leaving you cold and damp in a dark room. Then, as the fires began to grow, the heat became unbearable. You couldn't take it anymore it was as if hell itself had been opened at your feet. You could practically feel the water being pulled from your skin, the hair on your arms and legs singed off with the scorching flames.

You blacked out again after a short while, the heat proving too much for your body to take and when you woke again, you were back in the room in which you had started, hands bound behind you back, skin still stinging from the burns and welts that decorated your arms and legs.

The next trial happened a while later, day or so maybe, but you were so out of it that you didn't even notice that any time had ever passed at all. This time he took you to a bathroom, bathtub filled to the brim with crystal blue water, ice obscuring the scratched and stained tile at the bottom. He practically dumped you into the water, the ice feeling like a million daggers piercing your body.

You screamed and screamed until your throat was raw and the tears that had been flowing down your cheeks had subsided, your body succumbing to the icy depths of the tub. You had started to feel warm again by the time he pulled you out, you knew in the back of your mind that that wasn't a good sign.

The next thing you knew you were back again, soaking wet and shaking, muttering Deans name, calling out for Sam, begging for anyone to come and save you.

_______________________________________________________________________

POV:  The Boys

When Y/N had left, Dean had though nothing of it. You needed your space and he not only understood, but he empathized. He lay face down on the bed closest to the door and it took only minutes for sleep to overtake him.

Leviathans are a pain in the ass, he had thought, longing for a ride in the impala, wishing for, hell- even just to stop for gas without having to disguise his appearance from the kid behind the counter. It was all so tiresome.

He noticed something was wrong when he woke up the next morning to find the couch across the room empty. He had thought you'd be back by now, you weren't really the type to meet up with some stranger at a bar, so he had expected you to return before the night ended.

"Sam," Dean grumbled, Sam hummed and turned over in his sleep. "Sam," Dean said again, louder this time.

Sam jolted awake, glancing around the room before his eyes locked on the empty couch which Dean had been eyeing only moments previous.

"Where's Y/N?" he asked swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I was just about to ask you."

"Didn't she come home last night? I didn't hear her."

"I didn't either. I was gonna check with you before I call her." Dean reached over to the nightstand between the two beds and quickly dialed your number.

"Straight to voicemail." He said, worry clearly written across his face. Sam's concern grew as he stood up, slipping into a pair of boots and tightening the laces.

"She said she was going to the bar, right? Did she say which one?"

"Lone Star maybe? I think I saw it on the way in."

"Should we go check it out?"

"Yeah I think so. Its not like Y/N to not keep us updated on her plans."

Sam nodded and the two walked out the door, headed to the bar.

If Dean was being perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't just worried. he was petrified. Before he had met you he had been just going through the motions. His life had seemed pointless in a way, what with all the struggles and challenges he had been facing lately. You were the thing he thought about when he needed a break, when he needed to smile. He wasn't going to rest until you were back by his side.

It took them a week to pin point your exact location. You had dropped your phone outside the bar when you'd fallen, which meant they couldn't trace your GPS. The only lead they had was from a teenage boy who had been out for a smoke the night you'd gone missing.

"So let me get this straight," Dean had said "You saw a man drug a woman, /attack/ her and carry her to his car and you said nothing? You didn't call the police? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

The boy glanced apathetically up at Sam, and shrugging said "Snitches get stitches" Before standing to leave.

Dean stood to follow him, a fire of hatred gleaming in his eyes, but Sam grabbed his wrist before he could follow the boy out.

"You're no good to Y/N if you get yourself arrested, Dean"

Dean grunted his agreement, straightening the collar on his cheap suit. The brothers walked back to the police station,badges at the ready, and requested local records for the owner of the dark blue van the witness had described. The tech analyst, a balding man in his 50's, had said that it was a common description and that it might take a while to uncover the correct owner. It took all Dean's self control to not punch him in the face when he heard that it would take more time than he had expected.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Sam suggested, watching Dean gulp down his fourth quadruple-shot espresso.

"I already told you. I won't stop looking until I find her. I don't care if I never sleep again!" Dean was understandably irritable, he was still so afraid that he would never see you again, although he wouldn't outwardly admit that to Sam.

"Y/N is strong. She won't break down. We'll find her and it will all be okay when its over." Sam's facade of confidence was a little off-putting to Dean, but he allowed it, not having the time or the energy to correct or question him.

It was day four when they got the name and the address of the probable owner of the van. His name was Thomas Black, a man who's wife had left him after the death of their young son. Dean might have felt bad for the man if he didn't hate him. According to town records, his son had had a very aggressive brain tumor and had passed away a little over two years ago. His wife, unable to stand the grief and loss, up and moved away the day after the funeral and nobody had heard from her since.

"We have to go now!" Dean stated as the brothers stepped outside the police station. He couldn't stand to be apart from you a minute longer, especially when he didn't know if you were alright. Sam nodded and the boys piled into the 1987 Oldsmobile that had temporarily replaced the Impala. They both just hoped they wouldn't be too late. _______________________________________________________________________

POV: YOU

You were so cold. That was the only thing you could think anymore. Your face was expressionless and your eyes were bloodshot, gaze locked on your feet. Your hair hung in clumps around your face, stuck together with an odd mix of water and blood. He didn't bother tying your ankles anymore, you couldn't walk anyway and he knew that. Blisters covered most of your legs and arms though you couldn't feel them anymore. You were too cold. You were almost numb.

He was in the room with you again, though somehow you had missed his entrance. He knelt in front of you, palm cradling your cheek as he spoke softly.

"You're doing great. Today is going to be a rough one, but I think you'll make it. Nobody's ever made it. I think you're.. . you're strong enough. You might be the one I'm looking for. I'll know after today and then It'll be over."

He didn't move you this time, he didn't have to. He simply Inserted a needle into your neck, taping the contraption down with a thin strip of cloth tape. blood started dripping down immediately, slipping into the plastic tubing he had connected to a collection bag resting at your feet. It hurt. You were cold. You wanted it to be over. You wanted to die.

He sat with you for a little while, eyeing the plastic bag of blood that was slowly filling with warm red liquid. He told you about his family, his wife and his son. He explained that he hadn't meant to hurt anyone, he just didn't want anyone else to die. He couldn't stand the idea of facing the same fate that had stolen his son away from him.

"I found the spell book on Craigslist. Sixteen dollars plus shipping. I figured it was worth a shot, right? But you need blood. Lots of it. Not virgin, which seems weird to me, in the movies its always virgin blood. This stuff needs to come from someone powerful and strong. I didn't want to hurt anyone who mattered, you know, so I'd watch for a while and take people who were on their own. People who didn't have people. Nobody misses you, nobody looks for you, ya know?"

You couldn't even fully hear him anymore, his ranting sounding more and more like gibberish, although you could pick out certain phrases.

You don't matter. Nobody misses you. Nobody's looking for you.

You began to feel yourself fading again as more and more blood was drained from your body, the cold feeling more intense than ever. You put all the energy you had left into one whisper.

"Dean"