brooklyn visit


“The ‘80s gave me the freedom to just work. I was all about drawing and graphic and black and white and accepted who I was rather than trying to paint like somebody else.” From her studio in Brooklyn, Joyce Pensato discusses the influences behind her paintings and how the 1980s were a turning point for her career. Hear more from the artist whose work is on view in Fast Forward through May 14. 


Hot afternoon sun melting into a warm wet evening, an onslaught of summer storm rushing the visitors under the circus-like drinks tent, moderate crowds sitting on folding benches in a relaxed yet loud chatter, warm colorful chains of light criscrossing over the whole disaffected stadium, rhythmic background music flowing from everywhere… a new edition of the Zurich street food festival is about to end.
Shiny oldtimer trucks opened up to display their entrails of steaming kitchenware, mouth-watering smoke from griling meat on wooden sticks by the fire, blackberries and ice cream chopped vigorously on a misty freezing plate, golden swirls of paprika dusted crunchy potatos in a glass cage, stinky strings of melted cheese coming from greyish buckwheat pasta and in between, a good Brooklyn IPA, not the Scorcher the name pretends to be, yet light and tasty still.


In the Studio | Killer Acid (NY)

Artist Rob Corradetti aka Killer Acid is known for his fun, colorful, weird, and trippy characters that he often puts on prints, pins, patches and large cutouts–from banana bikers to melty psychedelic reptilian and alien faces.  While his work flow begins from dreams or half awake consciousness jotted down in his notebook, Corradetti has a very clear vision to running his art business from home. Organizing and compartmentalizing his art space is a strategy for Rob to keep things flowing: drawing, scanning, coloring, production and shipping. “All three of these rooms are in a row,” Rob adds, “so it’s very much a down home assembly line.” For cutouts and paintings, Rob approaches it differently, utilizing the space in his yard, for a more “left brain process” versus his usual illustration routine. 

Favorite or weirdest studio souvenir? 
I really like the ‘Jesus watches over a tractor trailer’ painting my friend Chris gave me. I also really love the plush version of my cat Friday that my friend Shannon (Oddly Weird Shop) made! “ 

Photographs courtesy of the artist. 

BF visiting Bono on Father's Day:
  • Brandon: Have all the songs been written?
  • Bono: That's a hell of a song title.
  • Brandon: All right, good. Thanks, dad.
  • Ronnie: You just called Bono "dad". You said 'thanks, dad'.
  • Brandon: What? No, I didn't. I said, 'thanks, man'.
  • Bono: Do you see me as a father figure, Brandon?
  • Brandon: No. If anything, I see you as a bother figure 'cause you're always bothering me.
  • Ronnie: Hey! Show your father some respect!

Plot: Sebastian Stan. You’ve heard that name a million times before, and not in interviews. No, you heard that name every single morning for four years straight. During high school attendance. You and Sebby were partners in crime. Two peas in a pod. Best friends. You even lived in the same apartment building in high school, and when you weren’t at his place, he was at yours. He was the starry eyed Romanian kid who was gonna grow up and be an actor, and you were the one who fought off all the jerks who said he couldn’t. But high school ended and you simply lost touch. So when you run into him at a random ice cream parlor in Brooklyn, old feelings resurface and new ones arise. Because he’s not a starry eyed kid anymore.

Warnings: language

Characters: Sebby Stan and Chris Evans


“I’m telling you Chris, that’s her. That’s y/n!” Sebastian assures, trying to look back at you without making it obvious.

“You mean the y/n? The one from high school? The one you talk about way too often and haven’t seen in years?” Chris laughs, not caring to make his staring at you discreet.

The final day of filming for Captain America: Civil War was a month ago and all the cast went their separate ways. But of course, they can’t be apart for too long. So when Chris said he’d be in New York for a movie he’s directing, Seb insisted he stay with him.

And now here they are. At an ice cream parlor on the corner of Jay and Willoughby in downtown Brooklyn, trying to spend as much time in the line as possible do they can debate wether or not Seb should go talk to you.

“Yeah that y/n.” Seb nods, unable to keep from smiling. He tries to hide his blushing expression from Chris, who has already teased him enough about the memories he’s shared from when you and him were young.

“Holy shit.” Chris grins, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh.

“What?” Seb questions in response, refusing to meet Chris’s gaze.

“You! You are what’s funny!” he retorts, “All this time I thought you and her were just old pals or something. But you had a crush on her didn’t you?” Sebastian tries to say something in his defense, but he can’t seem to form the right words. “Was she your girlfriend?” Chris asks, noting how stunning you are as he glances back to survey you again.

“No!” Seb shouts a little too quickly, and a little too loudly, “No, definitely not. I never…she never…we never….” he stumbles, suddenly flustered. “We were just friends. I never thought of her as anything but a friend.”

Chris gives him a suspicious look, biting his bottom lip as he squints at his obviously lying friend. “So that’s it? You were just friends? BFF’s? Besties? Freshmen Sebastian never thought to ask out his gorgeous best friend?” he asks incredulously.

“Nope, we were just friends.” Seb shrugs, trying to seem casual, “And I’m lucky we were that. Who would want to hang out with the dorky Romanian kid?” he adds, his words smaller.

“Well I sure did.” comes a calm voice that makes both Chris and Seb freeze immediately. Seb’s eyes dart to Chris’s, which are wide and slightly terrified.

“Fuck.” he mouths, slowly turning around.

“You two are horrible whisperers.” you laugh, “Sebastian Stan. I haven’t seen you since-”

“Our last summer together.” he finishes, memories of those warm glorious months before you both went to college flashing through his mind. Without thinking he steps forward and throws his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against him in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you.” he mutters, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

“I missed you too Sebby.” you laugh, calling him the nickname you used way back when. You pull away and look him up and down, shaking your head all the while. “You look so different.”

“I’d hope so.” he chuckles, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. And for a moment you both forget everything that’s around you. For a moment, you’re just two confused kids back in high school trying to figure out the world together. For a moment, nothing has changed.

And then Chris clears his throat loudly and the moment is gone.

“Oh, yeah. You’re here.” Seb nods jokingly, “Y/n this is Chris.”

“Chris…I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…” you say as he reaches out to shake your hand.

“Well I’m an act-”

“Plumber? A plumber right? Did you come and fix my sink last weekend?” you ponder much to Sebby’s amusement. For a split second Chris’s confident bravado falls and he looks slightly disappointed.

“No. No I did not.” he sighs, elbowing Seb in the ribs as he continues to laugh uncontrollably.

“I’m kidding, of course I know who you are. You’re Chris fucking Evans for god’s sake.” you assure to his relief, all though he’d never admit it. You’ve loved Marvel since you were a kid, so of course you’ve seen him and Seb in the movies.

“So do you live here in Brooklyn or are you visiting or what?” Seb asks, looking up at you with a glimmering smile. Seeing you again, all these years later right in front of him, it just brings everything back. Everything he felt for you in high school, all those memories of sleeping at each other’s houses when you couldn’t bear to be at your own, and talking on the phone until you fell asleep, and ditching every single school dance because neither of you were ever asked.

Well, that last one wasn’t entirely true. You were always asked by multiple people to all the lame school dances, but you never told him that. No, because Seb was your best friend. And if he wasn’t going then neither were you.

“I live here now. Just moved into an apartment a few blocks away.” you say, shuffling forward as the line to order ice cream moves forward. When you left your place this morning you didn’t plan on coming here. But it’s hot out and ice cream was too tempting to pass up, so you decided to stop. And now you’re insanely glad you did.

“You live with your boyfriend I assume?” Chris chimes in, as a horrified Sebastian kicks him in the ankle.

“Wow that was um…that was very discreet Evans. Very discreet.” you say sarcastically, your cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Sebastian’s cheeks are of course much redder. “But uh, no. No I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Well in that case why don’t you and Seb here-”

“Go sit at a table while you get the ice cream? Sounds great Chris thanks.” Sebastian interrupts, and before Chris can protest you are whisked away to the table farthest from the register, near a glass window where warm sunlight streams through.

“He’s quite the charmer isn’t he?” you smirk, taking a paper napkin out of the holder and folding it in your hands. Seb let’s his head fall in his hands and groans.

“I didn’t tell him to ask that, I swear.” he says embarrassedly, running his fingers through his Bucky length hair. You nod understandingly. You went to middle school, high school, and college. You’ve heard far worse from guys. After a few moments, he works up the nerve to look you in the eyes again, immediately regretting the decision. Because when he looks at you, he’s suddenly lost and breathless. Even after all these years you’ve still got him lovesick as hell.

“I gotta ask you something y/n.” he says abruptly, “Do you remember second semester of freshmen year? When you got in that fight against those two guys?” he asks, not really expecting you to. Maybe the memories he remembers so clearly and fondly you don’t care about as much.

“You mean the fight I won against those two assholes? Of course I remember Sebby!” you laugh, tossing the balled up napkin at his forehead, “Because afterwards you took me out Juniors and bought me an entire cheesecake. Then held back my hair when I threw up an entire cheesecake.”

He shakes his head in laughter as he knocks away the napkin, causing it to bounce off the window and onto the table. “Well, and I know this shouldn’t bother me but, I mean god I’ve wondered about this for years…”

“Spit it out.” you laugh, glancing at the register to see if Chris has ordered the ice cream yet. You didn’t even tell him what flavor you wanted.

“Why? Why in the hell did you fight two guys twice your size? What could have made you so damn mad? Anytime I tried to ask you just…said they deserved.” he says, laughing off the words. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear and rests his chin in his hand.

“Well they did. Deserve it I mean, they deserved it.” you nod, your mind flashing back to that day in a quite vivid memory.

“But why? That’s all I wanna know.” he insists.

“It was a million years ago. I don’t…I mean…it was stupid. It doesn’t matter.” you say sheepishly.

“I know, I know that.” he mutters unconvincingly, “But the fact that you wouldn’t explain made me think the fight was about…me.”

You offer a frail smile and draw in a long breath. Seb looks at you, eyes wide and sweet, and suddenly he’s not him anymore. He’s not this tall, built, model like handsome guy. Suddenly he’s high school Sebastian again, smiling all bright and innocent with cute, soft features. And you don’t want to hurt him. But it’s been years since that day, and you know he won’t stop asking.

“They were just…they were talking about you in, um, in a, er, not nice way.” you say in a small voice, your hands curling into fists at the thought, “They we making fun of you Sebastian, you and your whole acting dream, but they didn’t mean it. I mean, they were just trying to make me mad. They were being immature teenagers that were unaware of the fact that I could throw a badass left hook.” Your breaths are harder and faster than you mean for them to be, but you can’t control it. It’s stupid, because it’s over and it was over the moment you sent those guys to the nurses office, but it still makes you mad.

“Oh” Sebastian mutters, not really sure what he thought the answer to be, “That’s…expected.” he laughs.

“If it makes you feel any better, you proved em all wrong. Every last one.” you smile, reaching your hand over to grab his without really meaning to.

“Except for you of course.” he says, his voice barely a whisper, “You were always ridiculously optimistic about me.” You only shrug in response, but it’s true. For some reason you had an uncanny faith in him, when he said he was going to be an actor you simply nodded your head in agreement and decided you would help him get there.

“I get to ask you a question now.” you state, offering a bright smile as you slip your hand out of his, “Is it true that you never thought to ask me out?” You cover your face with your hands and peek at him through your fingers. And he is laughing.

“My god y/n, of course I did! I thought about it every fucking day. I just said that so Cupid over there wouldn’t try and set us up. But that didn’t really work did it?” Seb smiles, sighing in defeat, “I was in love with you, l mean really in love with you. It was bad.” He looks up at you with those sparkling eyes of his, unsure of how you’ll react.

“Damn it Sebastian! Why didn’t you just ask me out?” you chuckle, “You do realize that we were both single all through high school because we, the two closest friends in the whole world, didn’t tell each other the truth?”

“Wait, what do you mean the truth? Did you…I mean did you actually…” he stutters, feeling like an idiot teenager all over again.

“Have a crush on you? Yes, I did. I’m convinced you will always be clueless when it comes to romance Sebastian Stan.” you say. Then, as if on cue, Chris waltzes over to the table carrying two ice cream sundaes ladled with chocolate sauce.

“I didn’t know what flavors you guys wanted so I just got the ones I wanted and covered them in chocolate.” Chris explains in what seems to be an apologetic tone, but the eager smile he wears says otherwise. He slides the rather large glass bowls across the table, one for him and one for you and Seb to share. Ah, what a hopeless romantic. “So what did I miss? Any embarrassing stories about young Sebastian you care to tell me?”

You ponder the question for a moment. You’ve got plenty, because who didn’t do embarrassing things in high school, but he’s also got a lot on you.

“No. Nope. Never. Not gonna happen.” Sebastian interjects become for you can say a word, “New topic. Um, y/n that’s a great shirt.” he says absentmindedly, just now noticing the shirt.

“It sure is. And I bet it would look even better on Sebastian’s bedroom floor.” Chris says plainly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. All you do is roll your eyes and bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep from laughing at Sebastian’s mortified expression.

“Chris.” Seb grunts, pushing him up from his chair, “Why don’t you go get some napkins or something?”

“But you’ve got napkins right-”

“Please.” Sebastian says through clenched teeth, a worn smile playing on his lips. Chris, able to take a hint, shuffles off.

You spoon a bite of the rapidly melting ice cream into your mouth, unable to tell what the flavor is underneath all the chocolate sauce.

“Okay, new question.” Seb states, eating a spoonful of ice cream from the same dish.

“Shoot” you say lamely, making cheesy finger guns at him. He takes a shaking breath and claps his fingers together, his gaze fixed downward at the table. He opens his mouth to say something but can’t seem to form the words, and instead offers a shy smile.

“Would you maybe…want to…could…” he tries, his voice barely audible, “Do you think you’d want to come back here someday?”

You give him a puzzled look and shrug your shoulders. “Yeah I guess, since I live so close and stuff.” you laugh, still confused by his question.

“No not like that. I mean yes like that, but not like that kind of that.” Seb says in a heated flurry of words, “I mean with me. Would you want to come here again with me, at the same time. Together?”

Is he asking you out? On a date? To an ice cream parlor that you are currently sitting in?

“No thank you Sebby.” you nod, swirling the halfway melted ice cream with a spoon, “The ice cream here is terrible, but the company is pretty nice. So what do you say we go see a movie or something instead? With me, at the same time, together.” you question, mimicking his words lightly.

“Yes.” someone shouts from behind. You turn around sharply to see Chris, who is sitting at the table directly across from you. “He says yes. Well, he didn’t say yes out loud but that’s just because he’s in shock. If he was able to talk right now, he’d say yes.” Chris assures. He stands up quickly and in one swift motion is in the chair next to you, his arm slung around your shoulders.

“He’s a real catch y/n I swear.” Chris chuckles, looking at a speechless Sebastian.

“Yeah,” you grin thinking back to the day you met Sebby. It was the first day of Freshmen year and you were in home room. It was strange. You saw people you knew and were friends with from middle school, but they didn’t seem to see you. There were too many people. So when lunch rolled around it was nothing but chaos, chaos and bad cafeteria food. You decided on eating lunch in an empty classroom instead, except it wasn’t empty. There was Sebastian Stan, the boy who just moved into the apartment above yours.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll go somewhere else.” you’d said quickly, a step back.

“Nah it’s fine. I need someone to read this scene with” he’d shrugged, waving you inside. He thrusted a piece of paper at you and nodded. “Your name in Hannah. You’re lost in the woods, hungry, and you found me, I’m Jackson. Well my real name is Sebastian, but in this scene I’m Jackson. And I have the only food for miles. Got it?”

You took the information in quickly and have him a thumbs up. And that’s it, that’s the story of how you became friends. Because the next day he was in that same room with a brand new scene, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day. You and him both.

“A catch indeed.”

Writing Research - World War Two

World War II (WWII or WW2), also known as the Second World War, was a global war. It is generally considered to have lasted from 1939 to 1945, although some conflicts in Asia that are commonly viewed as becoming part of the world war had begun earlier than 1939. It involved the vast majority of the world’s nations —including all of the great powers —eventually forming two opposing military alliances: the Allies and the Axis.

It was the most widespread war in history, with more than 100 million people, from more than 30 different countries. In a state of “total war”, the major participants threw their entire economic, industrial, and scientific capabilities behind the war effort, erasing the distinction between civilian and military resources. Marked by mass deaths of civilians, including the Holocaust and the first use of nuclear weapons in combat, it resulted in an estimated 50 million to 85 million fatalities. These made World War II the deadliest conflict in human history. [1]


  • Social Security - Top Names of the 1940s
  • British Baby Names - Top 100 Names in England and Wales in 1944
  • Essential Baby - Top 100 Australian Baby Names in 1940
  • Baby Med - Top German Baby Names in 1940s
  • - Japanese Baby Names for 1915 - 2000
  • Popular Japanese Names in 1945 - 1949 (In Japanese - Use Google Translator)

Society & Life

  • Wikipedia - Conscription in the United States: World War II
  • - United States Imposes the Draft
  • The National WWII Museum - The Draft and WWII
  • Swarthmore College - Military Classifications For Draftees
  • The Art of Manliness - World War II Fitness Test
  • World War Two Gyrene - Recruit Training in World War II
  • The New York Times - The Old Army, It Turns Out, Was the Fitter One
  • National Park Service - The War Relocation Camp of World War II
  • - The U.S. Home Front During World War II
  • History Learning Site - Britain’s Home Front in World War Two
  • Wikipedia - Japan’s Home Front During World War II 
  • Wikipedia - Germany’s Home Front During World War II
  • Canadian War Museum - Life on the Homefront
  • Canadian War Museum - Women and the War on the Home Front
  • Reddit: Ask Historians - How was it that Sweden managed to stay neutral during WW2?
  • Reddit: Ask Historians - What was going on in Ireland during World War II?
  • Canadian War Museum - Canada and the Second World War
  • Mount Allison University - Canada’s Role in WWII
  • Wessels Living history Farm - The Home Front in Rural America During World War II
  • Living Family History - Living in the 1940s (Australia)
  • BBC - WW2 People’s War: My Memories of My Childhood in South London
  • BBC - WW2 People’s War: Growing Up in London 1939-45
  • Time Witness - Memories Project: Stories from the 1940’s
  • BBC - The Blitz
  • - Worst air raid on London
  • EyeWitness to History - The London Blitz, 1940
  • LIFE Magazine - World War II: London in Color (Photos)
  • Local Histories - Life in Britain in The Second World War
  • Telegraph - WW2: Former Evacuees Look Back
  • British Council - A 1940s Childhood in Wartime
  • The Wartime Memories Project - Evacuees
  • My Learning - Children’s Experience during WWII
  • Imperial Wartime Museum - Children During the Second World War
  • Reddit: Ask Historians - It’s 1940, a lovely day in England and I want to write to my German cousin. Was that possible? What was international communication between the civilian populace of warring WWII powers like?
  • The New Yorker - The New Yorker in the Forties
  • The Atlantic - World War II: The Battle of Britain
  • The Guardian - Children of the Wartime Evacuation
  • NY Daily News - 1940 New York census records are now searchable by name
  • New York Historical Society - WWII & NYC
  • - World War II In Brooklyn: Places to Visit
  • New York Historical Society - New York during WWII (Photos)
  • Wikipedia - History of New York City, 1946-77
  • Business Insider - Take A Tour Of Manhattan In The 1940s (Photos)
  • Madison Magazine - Ida’s Wyman’s Photography Documents Life in the 1940s and ‘50s
  • Growing up in Inwood, New York City in the 1940’s and 1950’s
  • Reminisce Magazine - Brooklyn Stoop Served as Sisters’ Stage
  • NY Times - Working-Class New York Life and Labor Since World War II
  • Wessels Living History Farm - Rural Life in the 1940s
  • Historic Color Photos of U.S. Life in the 1940s (Photos)
  • Wessels Living History Farm - WWII Causes a Revolution in Farming
  • Partners in Winning the War: American Women in World War II
  • World War II: Women and the War
  • Building Bombs & Planes
  • Women in World War Two
  • Wikipedia - Canadian Women in the Second World War
  • Canadian War Museum - The Canadian Women’s Army Corps, 1941 - 1946
  • - Canadian Women in World War II
  • Veterans Affairs Canada - The Second World War: Canadian War Brides
  • Global News - Looking back at the role women from western Canada played in World War II
  • Canadian Red Cross - History of Women in the Red Cross
  • Women Under Fire in World War Two
  • How did women fulfill their romantic/sexual needs during WWI/II?
  • Women at War
  • Life During World War II
  • Everyday Life During World War II
  • World War 2 - Growing Up in Wartime
  • Wartime Homes
  • World War 2 - Blackout Time
  • What was it like for children?
  • The Huffington Post - Memories Of 1940s Childhood
  • The Life of a Teenage Before and After World War II (PDF)
  • School and War Work
  • I’m a 13-15 year old in 1939 USA. What is youth culture like during this time?
  • A Black Nurse, a German Soldier and an Unlikely WWII Romance
  • What was it like to be in the Forces?
  • World War II - A Soldier’s Daily Life
  • My Army Service in World War II
  • WWII: A Soldier’s View
  • Loose Lips Sink Ships
  • Eye Witness To World War Two
  • World War II First Person Accounts, Letters Home, Diaries, & Journals
  • Pictures of African Americans During World War II (Photos)
  • Daily Life of the Average African American in the 1940’s
  • Veterans Affairs Canada - Second World War: Black Canadians In Uniform
  • The Memory Project - Black Canadian Veterans of the Second World War
  • University of Washington - Japanese Canadians During World War II
  • Vancouver Public Library - Chinese-Canadians in World War II (1939-1945)
  • Canada at War - Video & Footage: World War II
  • Canadian War Museum - Canadian Newspapers and the Second World War
  • Veterans Affairs Canada - Second World War: Diaries, Letters, And Stories
  • Library and Archives Canada - Canada and the First World War: War Diaries
  • Veterans Affairs Canada - Second World War: My Grandmother’s Wartime Diary
  • The Canadian Letters and Images Project - WWII
  • McGill University Library Digital Collections - Canadian War Posters Collection
  • World War II Military (Photos)
  • World War II Records
  • World War 2: A Day in the Life of a German Soldier
  • The Life During World War II
  • Nazi Germany
  • The Role of Women in Nazi Germany
  • Diary of Second World War German Teenager
  • Germany During World War II: A Child’s Experience (PDF)
  • Reminiscences of a German World War II Veteran
  • What kind of physical training would a German soldier in WWII have to do?
  • Jewish Life in Europe Before the Holocaust
  • The National WWII Museum - WWII and Holocaust Bibliography
  • Blacks During the Holocaust
  • Conditions for Polish Jews During WWII
  • Understanding the Treatment of Jews during World War II
  • There’s a lot of close-to-combat photographs from WWII, but I don’t often hear much about the photographers. Were WWII war photographers armed? Were they subject to neutrality/immunity/respect? Were they deployed with soldiers as part of the army?
  • World War II Weapons
  • List of World War II Weapons
  • Canada at War - WWII: Weapons & Arms
  • Small Arms Pt. II - The World War Two Era
  • Technology During World War II
  • WWII Military Ranks
  • WWII Japanese Soldier Diary
  • World War II Japanese Military Training
  • Canadian War Museum - The Second World War: Information, Propaganda, Censorship and the Newspapers
  • When was the last shot of World War 2 fired?
  • Post-War American Life: Culture of the late 1940s & 1950s
  • Library of Congress - Postwar United States, 1945 - 1968
  • American History: Life in the US After World War Two
  • Student Pulse - America in the Post War Period
  • PBS - Women and Work After World War II
  • PBS - New York After WWII
  • BBC - Life in Britain after WW2 (Video)
  • The Atlantic - World War II: After the War
  • Digital History - Overview of the Post-War Era
  • Mount Holyoke College - Background of Post-WWII German History
  • Youtube - Germany After WW2 | A Defeated People | Documentary on Germany in the Immediate Aftermath of WW2 (Video)
  • Der Spiegel Magazine - Out of the Ashes: A New Look at German’s Postwar Reconstruction


  • The Cost of Living in 1940
  • Prices and Wages in 1930 - 1939
  • The People History - Food, Groceries and Toiletries in the 1930s: Prices
  • The People History - Clothes in the 1930s: Prices
  • Library at University of Missouri - 1940-1949 Prices and Wages
  • The People History - Food, Groceries and Toiletries in the 1940s Prices
  • The People History - Clothes in the 1940s Prices
  • Datafiles of Historical Prices and Wages
  • Curbed NY - What Would $50 In 1940 Rent A New Yorker Today?

Entertainment & Food

  • What did people eat in the Second World War?
  • Why was food rationed?
  • Rationing
  • World Ward II - Food and Shopping
  • Food on the Front Home
  • Wartime Recipes
  • What Did Children Eat During World War 2? (PDF)
  • World War Two Recipes
  • History Cookbook - World War 2 Recipes
  • The 1940’s Experiment: 100+ Wartime Recipes
  • Retro-Housewife: In the 1940s Kitchen: 1940s Recipes
  • A 1940s Menu: Food in the 1940s
  • Food Timeline: 1936 to 1940
  • Vintage Food Advertisement of the 1940s
  • World War II: Rest and Relaxation (Photos)
  • Chocolate! The Wars Secret Weapon - America in WWII Magazine
  • Chocolate - Energizing Soldiers 
  • U.S. Coffee Rationing
  • The American Scholar: Rum and Coca-Cola
  • Wartime Canada - Food on the Home Front during the Second World War
  • Alberta Online Encyclopedia - World War II: Homefront in Alberta: Rationing
  • Wartime Canada - Recipe Ideas from BC Electric
  • Pop Culture Goes to War in the 1940s
  • WWII Guide: Wartime Hollywood
  • Rationing and Scrap Drives in Rural America
  • Baseball and World War II
  • Baseball Goes To War: The National Pastime in World War II
  • Entertainment in Britain During WWII 
  • Entertainment Industry During World War II
  • World War II on the Radio
  • Wartime Entertainment WWII
  • Wartime Entertainment
  • Canadian War Museum - Art and War: Australia, Britain and Canada in the Second World War
  • The Forties and the Music of World War II
  • World War II Songs
  • Music 1940 - 1949
  • List of Billboard Number-One Singles of the 1940s
  • American Music During World War II
  • Role of Music in World War II
  • Entertainment in 1940 - 1949
  • Food Rations in the Japanese Forces
  • Makeshift Cooking, German Army, WW2
  • Radio in Nazi Germany
  • Newspapers in Nazi Germany
  • Films in Nazi Germany
  • Art in Nazi Germany

Hygiene, Health & Medicine

  • Medicine and World War II
  • Social Security - Life Expectancy from 1930s+
  • WWII Disease Table
  • History of WWII Medicine
  • The Use of Atabrine to Fight Malaria During World War II
  • The Use of Plasma During World War II
  • The Use of Morphine as a Pain Killer During World War II
  • Nursing and Medicine During World War II
  • The Army Nurse Corps in World War II
  • Equipment of a WWII Combat Medic
  • Personal Accounts of WWII Medics
  • WWII African American Combat Medics
  • Penicillin: Medicine’s Wartime Wonder Drug
  • Medicine in Germany, 1918 - 1945
  • World War II Exposures 
  • Controlling Disease during World War II, 1939 - 1944
  • Health on the Home Front - Health Care and World War II
  • WAR & Military Mental Health
  • Mentally Ill and Jewish in World War II
  • U.S. Veterans Affairs Lobotomized Soldiers After World War II
  • Lobotomy For World War II Veterans: Psychiatric Care by U.S. Government


  • 1930-45 in Fashion
  • Clothing, 1930-45
  • Rationing Fashion in the United States
  • Fashion in the 1940s
  • 1940s Make-Up Guide
  • 1940’s Beauty Secrets
  • 1940s Fashion: The Decade Captured in 40 Incredible Pictures (Photos)
  • 1940s Rationing - Utility Clothing Fashion and Costume History
  • Women’s Clothing in 1940s
  • Fashion in 1940 - 1949
  • Fashion in the 1940s: Clothing Styles, Trends, Pictures & History
  • Fashion in the 1940s - Prices & Examples
  • What did they wear? Gas masks for all
  • What is Utility Wear?
  • The Front Line of British WWII Fashion
  • World War II and Fashion: The Birth of the New Look (PDF)
  • The impact of World War II on women’s fashion in the United States and Britain (PDF)
  • The History of Fashion WWI to WWII
  • Women’s Shoes in 1940s
  • Authentic WWII Era Hairstyle & How To
  • United States Army Uniforms in World War II
  • World War II German Uniform
  • List of World War II Uniforms and Clothing
  • Nazi Style
  • - Fashion in Post-War Paris


  • WWII US Naval Dictionary
  • Glossary of German Military Terms
  • Military Slang: Terms Used By Soldiers in WWII
  • FUBAR F***ed Up Beyond All Recognition: Soldier Slang of World War II (General Military)
  • Military Slang For WWII
  • List of Ethnic Slurs by Ethnicity
  • The Racial Slur Database - Germans
  • Morse Code
  • Military Time Chart for 24 Hour Time Clock
  • Converting Standard Time to Military Time
  • WW2 Civilian Slang
  • Teen Slang of the 1940s
  • 1940s Slang
  • Forties Slang
  • Words That Were: 1940–1949 (Canada)

Law Enforcement & Crimes

  • New Jersey State Police - History: 1940’s
  • New York State Police - History: 1940’s
  • Anaheim Police Department - History: 1940
  • - British Police Training in the 1940s and 1950s
  • Art Theft and Looting During World War II
  • Rape During the Occupation of Germany
  • War Rape in World War II
  • Allied War Crimes During World War II
  • Nazi Medical Experiments
  • World War II Crimes
  • Nazi War Crimes
  • German War Crimes Against Soviet Civilians
  • Nazi Crimes Against Soviet POWs
  • Execution of Women by the Nazi during World War II
  • World War II and the Holocaust
  • World War Two - German Prisoner of War Camps
  • List of WWII POW (Prisoner of War) Camps in Germany
  • German Prisoners of War in the United States
  • Japanese Prisoners of War in WWII
  • Sexual Slavery - Germany During WWII
  • German Military Brothels in World War II
  • Rape, Murder and Genocide: Nazi War Crimes as Described by German Soldiers
  • 1940s Crimes
  • History of Drug Abuse: The 40’s
  • 25 Vintage Police Record Photographs (Photos)
  • Grisly Crime Scene Photography of 1940s New York

anonymous asked:

100 sprace, pretty please? also maybe spot can say the line? I really like the hc that spot is a softie around race

Oh my gosh I apologize for the agonizingly long wait. I just moved into college two weeks ago and my life has never felt more hectic. I finally got time to write a little more! This is admittedly a little rushed and sloppy, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Thank you for the prompt <3

100. “I adore you.”


Racetrack Higgins considered himself to be pretty clever. If someone were to take him anywhere in New York, he could navigate through any street and find his way back home. If he started a game of cards that he was destined to lose, he could nab a few bucks off of the unsuspecting players while they weren’t paying attention, so he never really lost any money. If the Delancey brothers tried to sneak up on him or some of the other Manhattan newsies, Race was usually the key component to winning the fight, his smart remarks and quick reflexes enough to distract both of the brothers long enough for help to arrive or for Race to get a good punch in.

He was used to living on the streets, practically begging for money, enduring the cold, going to sleep hungry, getting teased by the other boys he lived with, and working long days.

However, he wasn’t used to having Spot Conlon crowded against him in hidden alleyways and under staircases. He wasn’t used to Spot kissing him hard and deep, gentle and kind, or desperate and quick. He wasn’t used to Spot showing any kind of emotion whatsoever.

But hey, that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

“I love you.” Spot murmured against Race’s lips, pressing quick kisses against them after every word. Race smiled against him, letting himself be showered with compliments.

He had traveled over to Brooklyn with the intent to tell Spot about how he wanted to take him back to Manhattan for a poker game, but Spot had barely let him talk, immediately winding his arms around Race’s waist and hauling him off to under the docks, hidden from any wanderers.

Race had admittedly giggled his way through the adventure, blushing every time Spot’s lips haphazardly met his cheeks. When they finally reached their secluded area, Spot finally had the chance to properly cup Race’s face and bring him froward for the first real kiss of the day.

When Race finally pulled away, he pushed Spot off of him playfully. “What’s gotten’ into you, hot stuff?” He joked, pretending to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. “Ya barely lettin’ me get a word in.”

“Missed you.” Was all Spot said in response, tugging Race close to him again and pressing their foreheads together. Race smiled at him. Seeing Spot vulnerable and loving like this was a relatively new concept. It was only two months ago that he and Spot had admitted feeling more than friendship for one another, a concept that was considered highly illegal and, not to mention sinful, by most people.

Race remembered the time clearly. It started out with him arguing with the other boy over the recent strike. Spot wasn’t willing to join, and Jack had sent Race over in an act of desperation. Spot had claimed he didn’t want Race visiting him simply to convince him of Jack’s devious plans, and Race had, in a moment of intense emotion, admitted that he offered himself to go because the other boys thought that Spot had a soft spot (ha) for him.

Spot had, at first, adamantly denied this and sent Race on his way— angrily. He knew his reputation was in danger. Race had left, but he only made it halfway across the bridge before Spot came running after him. Race remembers a blur of words, a quick, awkward kiss, and the other boy running back into the night. It wasn’t until Race visited Brooklyn again three days later that he finally got Spot alone and they had a real talk, which had admittedly ended with breathy moans muffled by calloused hands.

Now, two months later, Race was getting acquainted with a new Spot Conlon. This Spot let his guard down and constantly wanted a hand or, preferably, his whole body on Race. He whispered promises in Race’s ears and listened intently to his stories about his day. Though the previous Spot had been a good friend before, it came without the kissing, loving words, and pleasurable acts. Race had no problem accepting the new version and frankly, he was honored that Spot would let his guard down enough to admit that Race was his favorite person.

“I was trying to say,” Race had to pull away from Spot’s persistent lips again, using his arms to hold the other at bay, “that I want you to come to Manhattan tonight.”

“Mhm?” Spot murmured, raising his eyebrows. “What, you wanna introduce me to your friends? Ain’t that movin’ a little fast?” 

Race rolled his eyes at Spot’s teasing tone. As if Spot had never met any of the Manhattan newsies before. “No, jackass. We’s all goin’ to Medda’s to play poker and I know you enjoy takin’ all of Jack’s money.”

“I do enjoy that.” Spot smiled, reaching out to run his thumb along Race’s bottom lip. He looked into the darker eyes of the boy in front of him and cocked his head slightly. “I love you.”

“You already said that.” Race breathed out, trying to pretend Spot’s words didn’t cause him to feel every emotion under the sun. His stomach felt like a pool of warmth and nerves, spreading a jittery feeling throughout his entire body. He wanted Spot to say more. “What else ya got?” He asked, unable to resist the temptation of hearing Spot admit all of his secret admirations without having to pretend to be tough and no-nonsense.  

“What else do you wanna hear?” Spot played along, pressing his lips against Race’s yet again.

“Hmmm.” Race hummed against him. He pulled away and pretended to mull it over. “Tell me all of the things you think about me.”

Spot grinned at him, stepping away and pretending to stroke an imaginary beard. He waited until Race got impatient before beginning a sweet serenade of compliments. “I love your teeth. How they’s all crooked.” He started out, knowing that would get Race smiling. When the other did indeed show his crooked teeth, Spot continued.

“I love your clothes ‘cause they is way too big for you.”

Race rolled his eyes, subconsciously moving to adjust his suspenders. “They ain’t that big.” He muttered. Spot’s hands snuck forward to fiddle with the front of his baggy white shirt, sending Race a wink before continuing.

“I think your laugh is annoyin’ but I ain’t ever wanna stop hearin’ it.”

The shorter boy blushed. Trying to cover up his shy chuckle with his hand, only to have it pulled away by Spot and pinned to his side.

“Don’t try to cover it up.” He snickered, interlocking his fingers with Race’s now.

“You said it was annoyin’.” Race pretended to pout, though he squeezed Spot’s hand back just as hard. “Now you gotta make up for it. Tell me I’m pretty.”

Spot barked out a laugh, nudging his forehead against Race’s shoulder. “You’re very pretty, Race.”

Race hummed happily, running his free hand along the back of Spot’s neck. “Keep talkin’ like that and you may just get lucky.”

Spot stood up straight at that, looking straight into Race’s eyes with a mischievous grin on his face. “For sure?” He asked, always eager to make Race moan his name. The boy in front of him rolled his eyes again.

“Not if you keep stallin’. Maybe I’ll just leave.”

“No!” Spot responded without missing a beat, “I don’t like it when you’re gone.”

At this, Race looked somber, his eyes shooting up to meet Spot’s and his face slightly shocked. A faint blush was already dusting his cheeks, but now the innocent, admiring look he was giving the other boy was too much for him to stay away. Spot advanced once again, pulling Race forward and kissing him yet another time. Race melted into the touch, moving his hands to Spot’s cheeks and deepening the kiss. Spot allowed this, stepping forward eagerly and sending both of the stumbling backwards. Race pulled back with a soft laugh.

“You know somethin’?” He asked Spot quietly, keeping his hands close to the other’s face to feel the warmth radiating from his cheeks. Spot raised his eyebrows in response. Race took a quick breath and continued. “I never woulda guess that you had a soft side.”

Spot snorted, taking a small step back to give Race a teasing smile. “Don’t go blabbin’ bout it. I ain’t lookin’ to have my reputation ruined.”

“I ain’t gonna tell no one, you idiot.” Race laughed. “I like hearin’ you talk all nice.”

The taller boy grinned, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah? Well I like talkin’ all nice to you.”

Race kissed him, smiling against the other’s mouth, this time accepting the knots and butterflies flopping around in his stomach. Spot returned the gesture eagerly, peppering small kisses on Race’s cheeks and forehead.

“I adore you.” He whispered against Race’s right cheek.

Race felt as if his knees were going to give out. His heart skipped a beat and he gripped onto Spot’s hands eagerly. Spot seemed to know the affect of his words, laughing softly as Race buried his head into his shoulder, blushing furiously and cursing Spot for being “gross”.

As they stood there in the shade of the overbearing Brooklyn buildings, carefully embracing one another and whispering silly, nonsense promises to one another, both boys felt at home.

Race definitely wasn’t used to this new Spot Conlon, but damn, he could get used to him. 


Captain Jack Just Wants To Close His Eyes And Go

A/N: Oops. I made a Javid fic. Oops oops oops. I probably should be doing requests but I NEEDED THIS PAIN.THIS ISN’T READER INSERT AND IT’S MY FIRST NEWSIES FIC? IT’S BASED OFF OF HC’S THAT @nonstop-laurens AND I CREATED

Pairing: Jack Kelly X Davey

Warnings: ANGSTY AS FUCK,,, Death mention, basically all based on death, sadness, crying, screaming, throwing things, fighting, punching, swearing probably, asshole pape sellers, anger, happy-ish ending?,

AU: Newsies, bitches


Word Count: 1,468 (IM SO SO SORRY)


Jack read over the letter that he had recieved from his best friend Crutchie. Crutchie had recently been arrested and sent to the refuge, a horrible place where they don’t feed you and beat you senseless. Crutchie had said that he would be fine and come back with no scratches. Jack felt sloghtly relieved at the letter, sighing as he put it to the side of him.

Jack’s boyfriend, David or Davey, soon walked into the room. David looked at Jack and went to sit beside him. Jack smiled softly at him before handing him the letter.

David skimmed through the sloppy handwriting, eyes widening slightly. “Ya think he’ll be fine, Jacky?” Davey asked, grabbing his hand softly.

Jack smiled slightly. “Um. Yeah, I hope so. I saw him at the refuge a few day ago. They messed him up pretty bad, Dave.” Jack said, biting the inside of his cheek out of nervousness.

David smiled, trying to swallow his uneasiness, for Jacks sake. “I’m sure he’ll be fine too, Jack.” He said, squeezing Jacks hand.

Jack nodded before standing up, taking the note and walking over to where the other boys were. He read the letter to all of them. Some were uneasy about the situation and some cheered.


About a week later, the newsies received another letter. Jack wasn’t in Manhattan at the time. He was in Brooklyn visiting Spot Conlon, talking out plans for the strike. David started reading the letter to himself.

His face turned pale and his palms became sweaty. All the other guys looked at Davey in confusion and worry. David took a shaky deep breath before speaking. “C-Crutchie is dead.” He stuttered, his entire body shaking as tears streamed down his pale face.

Breathes hitched and sobs could be heard from several of the newsies. Some simply froze. Race stepped up and spoke, the boys face slightly wet with newly dropped tears. “What? No. How?” Race rambled slightly, trying not to believe it.

Davey let out a sob before sucking in a breath and speaking. “They beat him and starved him to death. The refuge. They-” David began, cut off by his own whimper. Almost all the newsies were crying at this point. David couldnt even imagine Jacks reaction.

Some newsies were holding onto each other as they sobbed. Crutchie was a brother to them and losing a brother is one of the hardest things you could endure.


When Jack came back no one dared tell him about what happened to Crutchie. Spot knew but had been told not to tell Jack.

Jack walked into a room where David was sitting, smiling. David couldnt help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend, hugging him. They quickly said their hellos before Davey spoke up. “I uh need to tell ya somethin Jacky.” He said, obviously very nervous.

Jack raised his eyebrows and gestured for David to continue. “Uh. Jack. Crutchie is- Crutchie is d-dead.” He stuttered. Jack froze and swore that he felt his heart stop.

Jack let out a nervous laugh, hoping that his boyfriend was simply joking. “No. He can’t. He can’t be- He ain’t dead Dave!” He said, voice cracking, basically shouting the last part when he saw how serious David was, tears slipping out of Davids eyes.

“Hes dead Jack. I’m sorry. He’s dead.” Davey rambled. Jack froze. His entire world stopped and his body felt numb. He didn’t even know he was crying until he sobbed loudly.

“No no no no no no. He-No! H-How? No.” Jack rambled quickly. Davey attempted to calm him by putting a hand on his shoulder but Jack shrugged it off right away.

“They beat and starved him to death, Jacky. I’m sorry.” David said in a consoling voice. Jack fell to his knees as his body shook with sobs. His best friend- No, brother had died. Jack was under the strong influence that it was his fault, only doubling his sobbing. David looked down at Jack softly, feeling extremely sorry for him in that moment.

“I’m gonna give you space Jacky.” Dave said quietly, walking out of the room. Jack was sobbing and sobbing, unable to keep his composure. He wasn’t even sure he ever even had a composure.

“No no no. No!” Jack kept shouting to himself, gripping onto a nearby vase. He grabbed the vase firmly, nearly breaking it with just his hands and throwing it with all his might at the wall as he sobbed into the palms of his hands.

David could hear from the other side of the door, his heart breaking at the wrenching sobs. All the other newsies had their eyes fixed on the door in confusion, the predicament finally clicking after a minute.


The nights without David were the worst. Jack would sob all night, feeling as though he couldn’t talk to anyone. Davey tried to be there for Jack whenever he could but he had a family to support.

Jack didn’t sell papes for several days as he was crying way too much. One day, he finally came back. It wasn’t a very great choice.

Jack was walking with Davey and Les over to where they could buy their papes. Jack was stone faced, refusing to talk to anyone. If someone tried to talk to him he would simply shrug and walk away.

When Wiesel and the Delancey brothers spotted Jack, they immediately took action. Their goal was to tease the hell out of him.

Jack walked into the line, facing Mr. Wiesel for the first time in weeks. “Well if it isn’t Jack Kelly? Where’ve ya been, boy?” Mr. Wiesel smirked. Jack clenched his fists to the point where they turned white but bit his tongue causing a raised eyebrow coming from Wiesel. “What? No, ‘hello Mr. Weasel? Man, the boy’s got it bad.” Mr. Wiesel stated, talking more to the Delancey brothers.

“I know why!” Morris stepped up, smirking wide. Wiesel and Oscar raised an eyebrow at this, gesturing to go on. “We messed up his gimp leg friend pretty bad. He died 3 weeks ago. It was much needed. We ain’t need no gimp leg in Manhattan.” Morris said, continuing to smirk, Oscar joining in. Jack clenched his jaw, anger bubbling in his chest.

“Better yet. We ain’t need no gimp leg in New York!” Oscar joined in.

“I remember the boys screams. ‘Jack Jack! Come save me!’ Pathetic.” Morris mocked, egging on Jack.

“Aw did that get on the famous Jack Kelly’s nerves? Our bad. Y'know who elses nerves we liked to get on? The gimp leg.” Oscar said, smirking. Jack snapped at thsi point.

“Don’t call him that.” Jack said, slightly quiet. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white. The Delancey brothers laughed at this.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, Kelly?” Morris said, still smirking wide as ever. Jack punched him straight in the jaw. Hard. Morris groaned. “You’re gonna pay for that, Jack!” Morris shouted. Oscar turned around only to be met with an angry fist. This continued until the delancey brothers were on the floor with Jack beating them senseless.

Soon enough, Davey pulled him away. Jack hadn’t even noticed he was crying until he felt his face. Tears mixed with blood from the fight.

Jack stormed away, unknowing of what to do. His heart and life was empty without his best friend Crutchie.

David followed Jack into the lodging house where Jack had stormed into. Jack began sobbing loudly, making it easier for David to find him.

Davey walked up to Jack and sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Jacky.” He said gently. Jack jumped slightly at the new voice.

“No it ain’t.” Jack said quietly, his voice cracking.

“Jack. It’s been weeks. Do ya really think this is what Crutchie would want?” Dave asked, trying to be consoling.

“I don’t know what he wants Dave! I don’t fuckin know and that’s the point! I wish I knew! I wish Crutchie was still here!” Jack rambled, raising his voice.

“We all wish Crutchie was still here, Jacky. But he’s not. Ya gotta accept that. He wouldn’t have wanted you to sit around and mope! He’d want you to sell papes! Achieve your dream! Your dream of-Santa Fe.” David ranted, his voice cracking at the end. He didn’t want Jack to leave for Santa Fe. But it was his dream. And Davey didn’t want himself to be the reason that Jack didn’t achieve it.

“You’re right.” Jack said quietly. Dave let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping.

“Damn right I’m right. Thank ya God.” Davey laughed slightly, taking Jack’s hand in his own. “I’ll be here for ya forevea Jacky. For sure.”

“For sure.” Jack said, smiling weakly.

My Hamilton Story

So, I’ve been fairly absent (alright, REALLY absent) from tumblr since Hamilton got so insanely big. Not something I expected. I started this blog after I saw the show (a few weeks before the soundtrack was released) to express my obsession with this thing that still seemed so small (hard to believe).  But, I thought if anyone is still around, you might be interested in hearing my take on seeing the show on Broadway with the entire original cast before it got big, before it got flipping HUGE.

My Hamilton journey/love/obsession? started with a wedding. A good friend was getting married in Boston in September of 2015. So, it seemed obvious that my friend M and I would spend some time in NYC after the wedding. Now being the recently graduated theater majors that we were, we certainly weren’t going to the city and not seeing a show on Broadway. And, being the recently graduated, drowning in debt, theater majors that we were, we were flat broke. 

We floated the idea of several popular shows. Matilda has a great run in the West End and had good reviews. Finding Neverland was an effing Oscar nominated movie-turned-musical! However, this show… Hamilton, was it? (we had to look up reviews) certainly seemed promising. The main problem was, it was sold out. Now, tickets were readily available on StubHub and my friend M was all for it. But I balked. $150 per ticket?!? That’s DOUBLE the actual, ticketed price. Insane!!! But, after some cajoling, I agreed to spend what seemed like an astronomical amount to see the well reviewed, if little talked about, musical Hamilton (the irony is not lost on me).

The day of the show (September 8, 2015) was grotesquely hot. To put it in perspective, I had a friend visiting relatives in Tehran, Iran and it was COOLER there than it was in New York City. Nevertheless, we were determined to make the best of our few days in New York. We got brunch with a friend in Brooklyn, we visited the MET and finally that evening we rolled up to the Richard Rogers Theatre. Honestly, my only thought at that time was how bad I felt for whoever was sitting next to me, because I’d spent the entire day walking around NYC in 102F heat and no way way I going back to Brooklyn to change before the show (sorry nice lady sitting next to me!).

Honestly, I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t know really what the show was about. I mean I’d heard of A. Ham but didn’t really know anything about him beyond long forgotten high school history classes. Now, for our $150 black market tickets, M and I were towards the back of the Richard Rogers, but let me tell you, the beauty of Broadway is that space is pricey so most of the theaters are small. That means there isn’t a bad seat in the house. Despite being about 6-8 rows from the very back of the theater, we still had a great view. 

The lights dimmed, Leslie took the stage to start Alexander Hamilton and we were entranced. I knew nothing about the story. I knew nothing about the show. I remember desperately trying to commit My Shot, The Ten Duel Commandments, and the Cabinet Battles to memory. I remember thinking I will never see staging as brilliant as Satisfied. I remember thinking, “I need to take every single person I know to see this show”. The lyric I left with stuck my head for every minute, hour, and day, until the Original Broadway Recording was released, was: “I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy, and hungry.”

One of my biggest regrets was brought about by the Big Apple and Mother Nature herself. I am a child who grew up in a predominantly cold state and who’s ancestors came from predominantly cold countries. So my cold weather blood did not do well with the excessively warm NYC weather. While I was able to thoroughly enjoy most of the first act, by the time the end of Act 1 rolled around I was terrified I was going to be sick in the audience. In fact, it wasn’t until the cast album came out that I had any clue what happened to Angelica (too busy trying not to be sick). I was very confused how she came to be in London in Act 2. 

On a whole, when it comes to movie audience vs concert audiences vs theater audiences, the latter is almost always, in my experience, much kinder. But when it comes to getting to the bathroom once intermission has hit, all bets are off. So whether you’re about to vom or not, no one is letting you cut in line to the bathrooms. Unfortunately the Richard Rogers Theatre in New York only has one set of bathrooms…and they’re in the basement…which is a long way from the nosebleeds where our seats were. I made my way as quickly as the other patrons would allow, down to the bathroom line, but unfortunately, by that time it stretched through the lobby back into the main level of the theater almost to the stage. 

I got in line and began some deep breathing exercises, willing myself not to vomit in line. Then, I heard a voice I recognized behind me. Lena Dunham. I am/was a fan of Girls and this was my first celeb sighting in NYC and all I could think was “I am going to vomit in front of an HBO star”. Thankfully, despite the fact that the Richard Rogers only has one bathroom, there are a lot of stalls, so I was able to get in, be sick, and be back to my seat before the start of Act 2 (glamorous, I know). 

Act 2 was just as enchanting as Act 1. I was utterly STUNNED that Alexander cheated on Eliza with Maria Reynolds. Then Philip’s death and the aftermath was one of the most heart-wrenching things I’ve ever seen on stage. I’m not sure if it was the combination of coming in completely blind to the story, the talent of Lin, or a combination of both (ok, ok, obviously it was a combination of both) but it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. 

I do still laugh at the fact that M and I immediately discussed the stage management aspects of Eliza actually burning the letter onstage and what anxiety that must have cause the crew. 

After the show, M and I ran out to the stage door for autographs. M was a big In the Heights fan and one of our college professors had worked with Lin before, so we were excited to meet him. I’d lived in London for a year during college and studied theater there. A huge benefit of being a theater nerd in London is that a ton of incredible actors perform almost constantly in town. So you learn quickly the best way of navigating the stage door. My biggest recommendation is buying a show poster. I can’t tell you my regret at having Judi Dench’s autograph INSIDE a playbill. So buy a poster if you want to display the autographs you get. 

I’d made sure M and I bought posters before the show and zipping out to the stage door was no problem. We were two of maybe 10 out there. I couldn’t believe our luck when I saw photos and videos a few months later of hundreds upon hundreds mobbing the Hamilton stage door. We got to meet every single cast member (minus Groffsauce, but considering we saw Lea Michele and Darren Criss go in the stage door, wasn’t a surprise), as well as Alex Lacamoire. 

It was clear the second the show was done what a phenomenon Hamilton would be. Hearing every song, every note, it was obvious how wide-reaching and how appreciated this show and this music would be. 

So thank you Lin. For one of the best experiences of my life. For making people who never really “got” music theater, or theatre in general, learn to love a whole new medium. And I hope I get to see your show sometime when I am not on the verge of vomiting.



Spot x Reader

Summary/Request: Reader is sitting with the younger Newsies at the dock and is playing with them.  Spot is watching them and suddenly realizes he likes the reader. 


     Readers pov:

     Salty air filled my nose as I sat at the docks with some younger Newsies.  Les, who was sitting a little to close to edge,was like a tail so, wherever I went he followed.  This means David being extra protective and worry some.  It was cute.  Spot let us Manhattan newsies visit Brooklyn, as long as we didn’t cause trouble.

      Dusty, one of  the younger Newsies, decided it would be funny to team up with Les to push me into the harbor.  When I made contact with the water, Its colds features made me shriek.  Even from under the water, I heard the boys laughter.  Swimming to the top, I took a breath and glared at the boys standing on the piers. 

     “Y/N, you know we were playing right?”

     I smirked mischievously at them. “So, if I do the same to both of you we’re even?”  I quickly swam for the ladder, while the boys ran off.  “ RUNNING IS POINTLESS!  I’LL CATCH YOU, ITS INEVEATBLE!”

     Spots POV:

     I was sitting on the top of my throne when I noticed y/n playing with the boys at the dock.  When she wasn’t paying attention, Les and Dusty pushed her in causing her to screech. A smile naturally spread across my face when I saw her going to chase the boys.  There was so many things about her that caught my attention, that there was to many to list.

     The way her smile lit up a room, her laugh was the most contagious thing, and the way her (e/c) eye’s would sparkle.  Holy Shit!  I like (y/n).   One thing I need to figure out.   How do I tell her?  I’ll just let my gut take over.  My instincts have never failed me.

     “(Y/N), GET OVER HERE PLEASE!”  She looked up from where she was tickling Les and Dusty and began to run over here.  Her (h/l) wet hair framed her face to show off her facial structure.  

     “Yes, Spot.”

      I went to speak but words wouldn’t come out.  “I-I wanted to ask you, you something.”


      I scratched the back off my neck and tried to form a sentence.  “Well, I was wondering if, if you would like to be my girl.  I mean you dont have to if you dont want to but..”

     A pair of soft lips cut me off.  “I would love to.  Also you are cute when you stutter. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get back at Les and Dusty.”

      I watched, jaw dropped, as she just walked off to mess with the boys. In disbelief I whispered to myself “Oh my god, (y/n) is my girl!”  Well, I better start planning a date.

carnationsandrobots  asked:

Please consider: a Brooklyn Nine Nine/MCU crossover in which Brooklyn Natives Steve and Bucky (and probably also Sam despite not being a Brooklyn-ite) visit the 99 for some sort of PR thing.

wow i was not expecting need of this to grab my heart and squeeze it in quite so dramatic a fashion

santiago and peralta both being old-school from-childhood captain america fans and falling over/fighting/one-upping each other trying to impress him while steve, used to the avengers, fixes his eyes on the middle distance and actively ignores their antics by asking about their arrest rates and the monthly crimes statistics. steve eventually getting too exasperated to continue and instead bonding with terry about art and their shared overactive metabolism issues while peralta and santiago hiss at each other about whose fault it is that captain america doesn’t like them

boyle immediately deciding bucky is his favorite/new best friend and plopping down in a chair next to him and being like, here have some delicious pie! bucky staring at him balefully and kind of trying to edge away when boyle just beams in response to the full Winter Soldier Glare, instead of pissing himself while trying to fuck off as quickly as possible, like any normal would. bucky eventually eating the pie and very quietly being like, “goddamn, this is really good pie”

rosa and sam making eyes at each other from across the room during the press junket thingy, and rosa coming up to sam after and being like, “hey. i like the shape of your ass. take me to dinner,” and sam laughing and being like, “hell no, not if you’re going to ask me like that, a guy needs a little romance,” and rosa being like, “i hate romance,” and sam being like, “then i guess you’re going to have to kiss my ass goodbye,” and the entire exchange ending in a long-term relationship in which both of them are deeply fulfilled