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Send ❌ and I will put all of our muses into this prompt generator and make a starter based on the result.

(Charlie, to Ambrose: It looks good on you)

“Does it?” Ambrose asked her, looking at her for just a moment more before focusing on his reflection in the mirror. He honestly wasn’t sure about this. Muted colors, dark colors, had always been his style. Maybe it was partially so he didn’t draw any unwanted attention on himself... that really would make sense with his father... so, Crutchie having picked something lighter and brighter for him to wear felt strange. He wasn’t sure if he could pull off these colors. “I think I’m a little too pale for it, honestly... but I also think you’re telling me the truth,” he sighed, turning back to her.

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Send ❌ and I will put all of our muses into this prompt generator and make a starter based on the result.

(Oscar and Charlie dance together.)

Oscar had turned on a record so gentle music filled the apartment. Not too loud that the neighbors would hear through paper thin walls, but loud enough to provide something nice for him and Crutchie. Gently, he pulled her forward, an arm around her waist. “Ya can lean against me if ya need. ‘r stand on my feet. I don’ care. I jus’ want ya ta enjoy this too,” he said softly, starting to sway with her to the music. It was no formal dance, but it didn’t need to be... not for just the two of them.

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Send ❌ and I will put all of our muses into this prompt generator and make a starter based on the result.

((Jules, to Charlie: I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me))

“I’m leaving,” Jules said in a huff, pacing the room in the lodging house he was currently hiding out in. It wasn’t good for him to stay here, at least in his own mind. He was scared. Anxious out of his mind. Crutchie was the only person he could go to in this moment, knowing she’d gone through similar of him. “...don’t try to stop me.”

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the abused kid feel that deep inside you somehow must be evil

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❛  hey, it’s been a while since you’ve given us money!  ❜ pretending to be one of the Delanceys, making fun of them to one of the other newsies? ((~~a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah))

@a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah

“Please continue. I wanna know if tha’ what I act’lly sound like ta ya,” Oscar deadpanned, standing right over Crutchie’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her, even though she couldn’t see it. There were plenty of things he wanted to say in response to this… but for now, he was going to keep his mouth shut to see what she’d do.

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“I love your bedhead.” ((~~a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah))

@a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah

“‘s hardly controlled on a normal day, lord knows what it looks like aftah last night,” Morris replied, as if he thought that Crutchie was just saying this to flatter him. “I do gotta day, though… ya look mighty fine this mornin’ too. …not that there’s a time when ya don’ look fine, though.”

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Y'know there is just something so

GOD.

DAMN.

GOOD.

About the whumper tilting the whumpees head up to look at them.

May it be with a knife, a book, a single finger, or their whole hand, wrapped around the whumpees jaw.

Maybe even doing it by pulling their hair back. Perhaps with a boot as the whumpee lay on the ground.

To exemplify their control. To observe their handywork. To take in the emotions of their captive. To punctuate a statement. Or purely for intimidation.

The defiant glare from the whumpee. Perhaps fear. A groan of pain. The lack of reaction because they are too exhausted or unconscious entirely.

It never fails.

Its just. so. good.

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Aesthetic: Subconscious Flinching

A step back whenever someone gets too close.  A twitch when they lean in.  A duck of the head when voices raise.

Fingers trembling when they shout.  A tremor that goes unnoticed until it doesn’t.  Shaking hands clenching into shaking fists.

A back to the wall, always, forever, because corners are safe, because corners mean no surprises.  

An arm’s length of personal space because if they’re close enough to touch, they’re close enough for – for other things.

Fidgeting that gets worse when nervous, when tense, when scared.

Ducking when voices rise too fast, too quickly.  Lurching at a friendly slap on the back.  Jumping at a hand waving in their periphery.

The too fast, too shallow breaths, the wide eyes, the racing heart, as it becomes too much, as it all becomes too much.

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“Can they kick us out? Take away our vote?” Crutchie Morris, Newsies edits 2/4

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💋 (unpleasant-aroma)

He was back. He was back! She ran as fast as she could down the street. “Oscar! Oscar! Oscar!” When she was finally close enough, she dropped her crutch and jumped at him wrapping her arms around his neck and her good leg around his waist. And suddenly, she was crying, but from pure joy and relief. “You’re home. You’re safe… You’re alive!” She said quietly as she smiled at him. @unpleasant-aroma (this sucks. i’m so sorry!)

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historical au and bar au

@a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah

Okay, so the Delanceys ran away from Weis when they were young. Too young that any of the newsies would remember them

They worked in factories when they were younger, but now work in a bar

Oscar plays violin and will also be the one to kick out the too drunk and too rowdy patrons. He’s more good natured than in the usual canon era verse, but people still don’t want to mess with him. At all. He won’t hesitate to punch someone in face to get them to leave

Morris is essentially a bartender, kinda leaning towards the connotation of a bar maid, including patrons trying to sleep with him. He’s usually considered the nicer brother, which doesn’t quite help that previous bit since drunk dudes often confuse “nice” for “flirting with you”

Some newsies sell around the bar and the boys are always nice to them. Especially since sometimes the patrons aren’t

Both the boys kinda have a crush on Crutchie. They both have brought her inside patched her up after some goons rough her up. Morris always gives her a drink (non-alcoholic of course, since drinking kills a newsie’s business according to Jack Kelly) and Oscar will punch the guy who hurt her if they’re still around

Neither of them ever tell that they like her. They just don’t see the point in it. She’s got her own life after all. And wouldn’t she think Oscar too rough and Morris too sleazy (or so it would seem) for her tastes?

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Pirate Starters - Sea Shanties Edition

Send me an emoji and I’ll write a pirate starter based on a shanty

😵 - Drunken Sailor   

🤠 🎠 - Roll The Old Chariot Along

💔 💁🏽‍♂️ - Leave Her Johnny

🍹 - Rolling Down To Old Maui

💃- Spanish Ladies

😎❤- Randy Dandy Oh

😠👊- Bully In The Alley

⛵🏴- Good Ship Venus

🤣7️⃣🎶- Seven Deadly Sins

☀👧- Good Morning Ladies All

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A TAGGY THING!!! (i love taggy things!!!!)

██▒   GENERAL

NAME:  Charlotte Anne Morris (she hates her name)

ALIAS/NICKNAME(S):  Crutchie, Crutch, Charlie

GENDER:  Cis female (I have some undeveloped headcanons…)

AGE:  15 (verse dependent)

DATE OF BIRTH:   May 21, 1884 (Newsie birthday is December 22, 1889… She was 5)

Occupation:  Newsie

██▒   APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR:  Brown

HAIR COLOR:  Brown/red

HEIGHT:  5′2″

SCARS:  Scars on her back from the Refuge, twisted leg from polio,

BURNS:  Some from the Refuge

OVERWEIGHT:  No

UNDERWEIGHT: I think she is always close to being underweight, so it depends how selling is going… But ESPECIALLY under weight after the Refuge

██▒   FAVORITE

COLOR:  Yellow

HAIR COLOR:  Any

EYE COLOR:  Any

SONG:  she can’t pick! XD

MOVIE:  she can’t pick XD

TV SHOW: Doctor Who

FOOD: Ice cream, fresh doughnuts

DRINK: Coke

BOOK: Peter Pan, The Wizard of Oz

PASSED UNIVERSITY:  No (depends on verse)

HAD SEX:  No (depends on verse)

HAD SEX IN PUBLIC:  No.

GOTTEN PREGNANT:  No (depends on verse)

KISSED A BOY:  Yes

KISSED A GIRL:  No

GOTTEN TATTOOS: No 

GOTTEN PIERCINGS: No (earrings in modern)

HAD A BROKEN HEART:  Yes (verse dependent)

BEEN IN LOVE:  Verse dependent

STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS: Yes (I have headcanons!) ((Especially after the Refuge))

██▒   ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: Yes

A KISSER: Yes.  He will take any and all affection, platonic or romantic.

SCARED EASILY:  It depends

JEALOUS EASILY: Depends

TRUSTWORTHY:  Absolutely. 

DOMINANT:  …

SUBMISSIVE: …

IN LOVE:  Yes

SINGLE: Verse dependent 

██▒   RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES:  Not deliberately

THOUGHT OF SUICIDE / ATTEMPTED SUICIDE:  No

WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE:  Yes, but not literally

DROVE A CAR:  Nope, she rides with Jack and the others

HAVE/HAD A JOB: He’s been working since she was 5

██▒   FAMILY

SIBLINGS: A half-sibling born after her mother abandoned her

PARENTS: David Arthur Morris and Charlotte Estella Morris. Charles dies in an accident at work when Crutchie was little. Stella snapped and started drinking. Not long after, Crutchie got polio and lost the use of her leg and Stella took her and abandoned her on a street corner.

CHILDREN: Verse dependent (usually Anna and Lucy)

PETS: A fluffy angry looking ginger cat named Gingy, but really… y’all… she will adopt anything and EVERYTHING

RULES:  repost, dont reblog!

Tagged by: @dimenovelhero

Tagging: @carryindabanner, @undeserveddisappearance, @unpleasant-aroma, @uplandia (Julia or Katherine?), @jackkellydreams, @withcameraandpen

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My muse has been having the same nightmare for weeks now and it’s taking it’s toll. Send me “You look exhausted.” for my muse’s response. ((~~a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah))

“I’m fine.”

Oscar isn’t, and he knows it. His father was out of prison, and their useless bastard of an uncle had told him where Lucille worked— maybe even where she was living. He could have killed his uncle when he found out, and he still didn’t trust himself to stay in the same room as him for long. He’d been making sure Lucille got home safe every night, but just knowing his father could make trouble for them opened up wounds he thought he had forced closed years ago. Now their family was scattered, and with the space came familiar vulnerability.

Wiping his face, he glared sharply at Crutchie, snarling slightly at the comment. “Go bother your fucking brother, okay?”

Normal seventeen year old boys didn’t have nightmares about their father, or stay up all night waiting for someone to tell him that his sister had been murdered at work. They also didn’t drink over a third of a bottle of whiskey on their own, or think about killing their father in the dead of night, either. Maybe god hated him too damn much to give him even a sliver of normalcy.

“I’m fine.”