#charlie morris

[raggedy-albert]

OK NEW THEORY

santa fe (prologue) is literally a prologue.

jack and crutchie’s relationship seems slightly different, like they don’t really know each other that well. they’re both just getting used to the idea of having someone there for them. why would jack just be telling crutchie his fondest hopes and dreams if they’ve been best friends and brothers for years?

it’s because this was a few years earlier.

also, the lighting in the background changes. at first, there’s a dark sky like it’s very early morning. then, jack starts talking about his dreams and the sun starts to rise. after the song ends is when it changes to the present. the sky goes back to dark, and race wakes up the other newsies instead of jack.

[military-newsboys]

Davey: Without you man, we're just a group of rudderless delinquents trying to survive.

Crutchie: You make us a family.

Jack: Well, I'm the cool rebel brother.

Albert: You're the mom.

Race: Mother.

Specs: Mom.

[we-are-inevitable]

if you're still taking David asks; what clothes does David wear/like? What's his fashion sense? Does he care about it or does he put on whatever? Tell me your thoughts! :)

this has a couple different answers. i have a lot of different thoughts.

first: canon

a lot of his clothes belonged to his father. he would take them and have Sarah or his mother adjust them so they would fit, but they always are a little too high on the ankle and a little too baggy in the waist. he wears an old leather belt from his grandfather. on his first day of selling, he wore his nicest clothes because his parents told him he needed to make a good first impression, but typically he just dresses like the other newsies. they may think he looks nice and put together, but in school he’s made fun of for the way that his clothing looks. his family is by no means rich- he’s one of the poor boys at school- but he’s luckier than the other newsies because the alterations made to his clothes look cohesive and difficult to notice instead of random patches of fabric. he dresses for practicality not for fashion— he couldn’t afford to anyway. that being said when he spends more time with the other boys, he doesn’t mind looking a little scrappy. he thinks it’s kind of fun to fit in and look messier. it gives him a freedom he didn’t have previously.

when he’s older, he likes a nice suit. he likes matching pieces. he likes having a nice watch, reliable, not expensive. he likes a relaxed fit. once he’s out of his rowdy teenage boy phase, he takes meticulous care of his clothing, because he’s so used to not affording it. maybe one day, he’ll have a son, and he might want to pass on his clothing like his father did before. he doesn’t have much, but he has nice things. 

second: modern, pre-“davey”

so i’m splitting modern into two because I think there’s a stark difference between David and Davey!!

david wears just about the same thing any other boy would. he has his jeans, his sneakers, his graphic T-shirts/sweatshirts— spiderman, bands he likes, things that could be found on clearance in Target— and he doesn’t really put much thought into it. It’s not something that he really thinks of is important. sure, he likes looking nice, and he does have a few nice button ups and sweaters for more professional things at school or dances or family events, but he doesn’t see fashion as something he’s allowed to play around with. he has more important things to focus on.

the one big thing about him is that he will always be a converse guy. he likes his Chuck Taylors, always black and white. none with any more design to them. he just likes a basic converse!

but then he meets the others.

which brings us to:

third: modern, post-“davey”

like I said, fashion has never been something that really caught his attention but when he meets the others, he notices their personal styles right off the bat.

he sees that Jack likes a more vintage fit. more 90s, more color- old graphic tees that he finds on the shelves in thrift stores for five dollars. he mixes streetwear style with whatever western he can find, all on a budget. he sees that Race is much more streetwear-focused with baggy jeans and beat up vans, big hoodies and plain tees. skater style. Katherine likes earthy tones that go well with her hair. she likes a little shirt and a big pant. she likes heels, she likes 70s inspired, she likes mixing metals and chunky necklaces and bandanas in her hair. Charlie likes old jerseys and chinos and comfy white sneakers, corduroy, bright colors.

so why can’t Davey like something specific?

it’s not like his style really changes, he just refined it. he finds that he likes silver jewelry so he wears rings and pierces his ears, and he quite likes wearing oversized flannels that he found at one of the thrift stores that Jack frequents. he likes cozy old sweaters, and black denim, and jackets with patches on them. he likes cutting things up and cropping things to make them his own. maybe he takes a sharpie to his shoes. maybe he asks jack to paint on a denim jacket that he found. he hunts for vintage band t-shirts instead of just buying cheap things from TJ Maxx. he likes neutral colors. he likes his beat up pair of Doc Martens. he likes dyeing things green. he likes chunky headphones and wires and old belts with designs.

he learns from the group that being intentional with the way he presents himself is a form of growth. he didn’t know that he could have beforehand! maybe it was his mom buying most of his clothing before, or maybe it was choosing things from older cousins or things that were in the back of his dad‘s closet— and he still loves those pieces, he’ll always keep them, but he’s able to add more of himself when he finds out what he likes, and when he figures out a way to take inspiration from his friends!!

he’s also a chronic clothing thief so he’ll wear one of Jack’s carhartt jackets or one of Katherine‘s big hoodies. he can’t help himself. its an epidemic

[just-pot-over-here]

How old were Race and Crutchie when they first met? Were they kids? What did they think of each other then?

MY NEWSIES HEADCANONS ONCE MORE!!!!! 

thank god you sent me this ask anon i need to talk about them THANK YOU

(please send me more asks anyone and everyone i am going to single handedly bring back ask culture)

I think that crutchie and race definitely met when crutchie first came into the lodging. In my little headspace, race has been there longer than most people, longer even than jack by a month or so. He was ten when he first arrived in the lodging, and two years later a couple of days into January, jack walks in with a kid who's so short that race thinks he couldn’t be older than seven. Jack stuffs the new kid into the room that race and albert previously had to themselves, and race isn’t suuuper happy about sharing their room with a little kid, but he can suck it up. However, when he introduces himself, the kid just glares at his hand from under his frock of dirty hair and spits a “I ain’t a kid.” race is taken aback, but recovers quickly and goes “well, if you’re youngern’ ten, yer’ a kid here. The kid glares harder, spits out an “I’m twelve.” (race’s age!!!), and shoves past race towards the washroom. he also DEFINITELY intentionally stomps on race's foot. (i live for a prickly crutchie sorry guys it's everything to me)

They don’t get along well at all for at least the first year they know each other, race being too coddling and crutchie being too prickly and reeeallly good at getting race riled up. Albert hates sharing a room with them, and moves in with finch as soon as possible to get away from them trying to tear each other’s hair out. They def smooth things out as they get older, but man that first year or so was ROUGH. 

I live for them as childhood enemies to friends to best friends and partners they are everything to me

(send another ask if the people crave the details of their making up and becoming friends because i am just ACHING for an excuse to write it. fuck yeah)

[jack-kellys]

would u change anything about the jack and crutchie dynamic? how would u portray C? i would love to see a production where hes a little less sunshine and a little more realist (which i think uksies did well) buttttt i know thats your man so gimme some thoughts

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

how ~i~ would direct crutchie. ooough. major. hi again jac

give me some newsies issues and ill. i'll-

so i would cast him a year older than jack, or like. he turns 18 a few months before jack or smth. he just seems to understand things already that jack's whole arc brings him to at the end of the show. "I don't need folks. I got friends." takes jack two hours and a fifteen minute intermission to figure that one out. brotha.

i think making crutchie the only guy in the play who really knows what and how things are going to happen is really... just. makes him interesting. his sense of self-awareness, his personal knowledge of who he is and what he stands for- the wild thing abt him is he already. knows. crutchie stands for his friends. it's why initially he isn't for striking ("let's hit the streets while we still can") bc he knows any other action is going to get his friends hurt... but it's also why he's good with it pretty soon after- well, if they are gonna do this, he's not letting his family do it alone/without him... even if he knows what's probably going to happen to him afterward. give me a crutchie with foresight who doesn't ignore it, per se, but whose moral backbone refuses to make him a coward. (its why he and davey r like🤞🏼 to me.)

i would also let him fight. in the fight choreo. he's winning to morris delancey i do not CARE. i'm having the reason he gets caught be him shoving the jacobs out and away. because crutchie already knewwww. from the moment of "you mean like a strike?" what was goin down.

(i would also make the "romeo! finch!" not be a reaching out, but a "get the fuck out of here" wild gesture. as long as crutchie takes center, no one else is getting hauled through downtown in a police wagon.)

i also think that whenever race makes his little comments to davey crutchie is the one gesturing for him to back off, bc i think it's fun when racer and crutchie butt heads and i rly adore crutchie seeing davey and knowing his potential like. immediately. i think i'd have them be talking a lot in staging it- uksies does this already if ur looking for it, but it's so key to me.

tl;dr, crutchie is the most experienced person at the lodge, and i think it should show. and also like. u can debate me on that? that jack's more experienced or is portrayed to be since he's the leader, but... tell me why jack learns friends are equivilent to family when crutchie knew that shit at 00:00:00 in the musical. lmk. crutchie has almost prophetic knowledge in his brain ok he knows newsies the musical as well as us. i think that's fascinating.

also this is unrelated but the way matthew duckett uses the crutch as a true extension of himself is unlike any crutchie we might ever have again. go watch the boot again and just watch him. he points with it, gestures with it, sits in interesting ways, like. his comfortability with his body is smth crutchie needs to have bc he knows himself, more than the rest know themselves. im so serious.

[str4wb3rry-fire]

guys am i the only one who deeply ships jack kelly and crutchie morris and thinks them being brothers is weird?

you can think theyre brotherly but i soo disagree and i need to find my queer community please

[emmedoesntdomath]

*race and crutchie getting arrested*

officer, glaring at them both: anything you would like to confess?

race, glaring right back: nope

officer, nodding, writing on his pad: guilty

race, sputtering: but- what???

officer, ignoring him, turning to crutchie: and you?

crutchie, doing his best impression of a baby duckling: nope

officer, eyes narrowing:

crutchie, blinking innocently:

officer, nodding again, writing on his notes: must have gotten lost

race, who knows that ALL successful parts of the plan were crutchie’s and not his: oh come on-

[sparkedblaze]

*RUNS THROUGH A WALL BECAUSE I SECRETLY LOVE PERCY JACKSON*

okay, who would crutchie’s godly parents be??

CRUTCHIE’S GODLY PARENT

OOOOOOOO

Okay so he’s super bright and sunshiney but he’s also realistic and kinda super smart and really fucking stubborn

OOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOH

HEAR ME OUT

Nemesis.

He made a deal like Ethan Nakamura.

He’s losing his leg, but it’s to help turn the tide of (whatever is strike adjacent)

And it does.

He pays a little more, gets locked up.

But it’s worth it in the end because they win and Snyder is arrested.

Keeper of balance and stopper of unneeded vengeance pranks amongst the newsies.

Thx ily

[asexualmusicalnerd]

Small extract of a post refuge one shot I'm working on. Will Post it all when finished.

...

Now fully awake, Crutchie knew sleep would elude him for the rest of the long summer night, that he would once again have to make up some excuse for lagging behind the other fellas when the morning bell was struck.

It was a deception he had been working on ever since he had been released from the Refuge.

Sure, Jack and the others had all asked, tried to check in with him about whatever occurred to him during his time in Snider's grasp yet his continued denyals of any lasting effect had eventually forced them to consider that perhaps that was indeed the truth.

All except Jack.

Jack bore his own scars from his many stays at that God awful place, and Crutchie knew his brother suspected he wasn't being told the whole truth. Jack would give him these odd looks as if he were about to say something but always stopped short.

In his own way, that meant so much more than continuous asking in Crutchie's opinion, it showed his brother valued his independence and respected that he was capable and wasn't something to be pitied.

But on nights like tonight he wished he was really as capable as Jack.

Sure, he'd witnessed the famous Jack Kelly after his first refuge stay while the other boys only found out a few days later, had seen for himself his brother's beaten form, tended to the whip slashes upon his back and held him as he sobbed through the pain and fear, yet Jack had been locked up for months not mere days.

In comparison Crutchie was pathetic.

"Crutchie?"

Cursing, the younger boy shifted, attempting to mask his features as Jack stirred.

"Crutchie, you awake?" Jack's arm slapped the empty spot on the ground beside him, obviously sensing the absence of his brother.

"Yeah?" He didn't mean to make it sound like a question. Damn, that was bound to raise suspicion.

[whoops-im-obsessed]

Expanding on my previous point - crutchie who is arguing back to davey that he has to sell because he's been in the refuge, he can't afford board for the night and nobody's been working, they can't afford to spot him. davey just shakes his head and brings him to esther who takes one look at him and crutchie immediately learns where Davey gets his stubborn from

[antoni-anxiety]

THE WAY YOU DRAW CRUTCHIE IS SO CUTE!! He looks so friendly

i do try to eminate his "smile that spreads like butta", so thank you :>

theys just takin a stroll :]

[raggedy-albert]

i feel like people know how traumatized the newsies are, but they don’t really understand how much it would affect them.

especially with all things fanon omg

crutchie had to deal with the loss of his parents, as well as the loss of the functionality of his leg. he’s the bright and sunny “cheer others up and put on a smile” type of person, and that can be so hard.

jack’s parents were out of the picture, and he had to work to survive. he goes to the newsies and then is thrown into being leader, and the strike. he gets beaten and has to watch his best friend and brother be taken away, not knowing he would survive it.

race’s parents died. his dad was abusive and he loved his mom so much it was so painful to lose her. he was living on the street. he had to be a newsie to get any type of money. he had to work his way up from the very bottom. he’s the “joke about my problems” type, and, like crutchie, would be bottling everything up and he just would not let it out.

albert had so much going on. his mom died, his brother died, his dad and his two older brothers are abusive, he was sent to the refuge, his childhood best friends caused him to lose his hearing from beating him so hard, he was on the streets before being a newsie, he had to switch from brooklyn to manhattan because someone who was emotionally abusing him betrayed him (my hc), he had awful anger issues and gets in fights nearly every day.

sure, the newsies are characters. but they’re kids. they’re so young and they’ve gone through such awful things that they just had to deal with. and this was just the “core four”.

[pealeii]

Alright Newsies community

[we-are-inevitable]

Infodump about the frat au. Literally everything I’ve never come across you before. Pretty please and than you <3

i feel like i’ve shared so so much about this world but here are some fun things that aren’t important to the actual story but that i love!!:

technically davey is the middle sibling. he was born 12 minutes after sarah and she never lets him forget it! (oddly enough, the number 12 shows up a lot in his life. he thinks it’s a fun little reminder. he considers it his lucky number because it always makes him think of sarah, and sarah always makes him feel better.)

jack speaks fluent spanish because he’s half mexican, and davey speaks fluent spanish because it’s one of the 5 languages he knows outside of english! (he’s only fluent in 2 of the 5, but he’s passable in the other 3 and can have conversations with minimal struggle)

charlie is a HUGE sports nut. he’s really into hockey and plays sled hockey recreationally! he’s really competitive and brutal about it. in the fic, he has multiple sclerosis and primarily uses forearm crutches, but he has a black and green wheelchair kitted out in stickers, patches, and pins that he uses at least three times a weak.

charlie, albert, and jack all watch hockey games together and try to go to at least two games a season once they get closer.

davey loves live music but it can be a lot for him sometimes— he tends to stay in the back and uses noise canceling earbuds, but loves people watching and loves the atmosphere. gay bars don’t bother him as much because the noise level- albeit loud- is less so, but he always carries his ear buds on him. he keeps them on a carabiner clipped to his belt or crossbody like the fag he is.

(jack doesn’t think he’s allowed to say “fag.” davey assures him he is. jack has issues and he’s working through them.)

davey works at a public library close to campus, and spends most of his time with youth and teen programming. (he loves his job.) jack works in the fraternity and sorority affairs office as a student leader; he talks to current high schoolers about joining greek life. (he hates his job.)

davey likes horror movies and jack doesn’t like horror movies but he likes being able to hold davey’s hand through it.

jack drives an jeep cherokee from the early 2000s. medda helped him get it when he decided to go to college outside of the city, bc public transportation isn’t as easily accessible. jack got his license at 18 and thinks it’s stupid that he has to drive places now but he really likes his shitty little car. her name is Rory like the gilmore girls character but he swears there’s no relation

on campus, jack usually skateboards, and davey rides his bike everywhere. davey’s car is a little 2014 corolla named Miss Priss and she’s decked out in bumper stickers and trinkets inside.

race and albert have been together since high school. they SHOULD never have time for each other but they somehow never leave each other’s side. it’s kind of disgusting actually.

race starts learning how to do drag about a month before he meets jack!

katherine and spot work as waitresses at the same restaurant. they should not get along. they are best friends.

[just-pot-over-here]

THIS IS INSPIRED BY THIS POST, WHICH @pigeonwit REPOSTED WITH THE CRUTCHTRACK TAG LAST YEAR. THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AT LEAST 9 MONTHS. AUGH.

———

“‘Ey, freeloader, git up.”

Crutchie groans and turns his head away from the fingers digging into his temple, mumbling out some vague curse words as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

“C’mon, Crutch, wakey wakey. I’m starvin’ an yer’ payin’ fer breakfast.” The offending fingers move down to prod into his side, and Crutchie jerks and throws out an arm when they catch him in the soft spot beneath his ribs. Judging by the impact against the back of his hand and the yelp to his left, he’s hit his mark.

He slowly blinks his eyes open, squinting out the windshield. The glass is fogged up and flecked with snow, thanks to Race’s busted defroster, but Crutchie can make out the lurid yellow of the Denny’s sign, bright against the starry sky. Now that he thinks about it, the moon should not be out during breakfast.

“Wh’t time s’it?” He interrupts Race’s sputtering, turning to level him with a stare that makes his mouth shut with an audible click. The sheepish look on his face speaks volumes, and Crutchie barely controls the urge to throttle the asshole to his left as his eyes slide over to glare at the neon green 3:42 blinking up at him from the dashboard clock.

“S’never too early fer breakfast.” Race pipes up from the driver’s seat. Crutchie turns to scowl at him, fully contemplating the drawbacks of beating Race over the head with his crutch. He knows assault is generally frowned upon, but he thinks maybe the police would give him a pass for this one.

Except, Race’s hair is falling in a mussed up flop over his forehead, his eyes are wide, and his bottom lip is stuck out ever so slightly. He is performing a truly masterful puppy-eyed frown. Crutchie feels the threatening spark of rage in his stomach wink out, replaced by that familiar, fluttery Race feeling.

Goddamnit.

—

The old door hinges screech as they push their way through into the lobby, and Crutchie stomps snow off of his trainers while Race asks for a “table fer’ two” like they’re at a five star restaurant. He grins at Crutchie brightly as he flops into the booth across from him, hands splayed across the grimy table like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever touched. The fluttering in his chest makes itself known once again.

Crutchie never said he was a strong man.

Race asks the waitress for waters as she passes their table. Crutchie’s pretty sure she either didn’t hear or didn’t care, because she barely glances at them as she pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen. He snorts.

“Pretty sure she was havin’ a nice nap before we came in.”

“Yeah, well, we aint gonna keep her long.”

“We better not. I was havin’ a nice nap before we came in.”

“Aww, cheer up, ya grump. They have pancakes.”

That quiets Crutchie, and he only offers a few more token grumbles as he watches the waitress come back with two waters. She carries an aura of cigarette smoke and flowery perfume with her, and it seems to perk Race up like smelling salts. She sets the waters down on the table in front of them and takes out her notepad, clicking her pen expectantly without saying a word. Race isn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Hey ma’am, g’mornin to ya! S’nice ta’ see a friendly face all th’ way out here.” He smiles charmingly. The waitress is unimpressed, and she seems to get more and more exasperated as Race rattles off their orders. Her masterful deflection of Race’s energy vindicates him a little. The smile Race blasts him with as she leaves is blinding, and it scrubs away any remaining annoyance Crutchie feels. God forbid he stop complaining, though. It’s one of his great joys in life.

“Y’didn’t let me order for m’self. How’d ya know what I want?” He takes a long sip of his water, crinkling his nose at the faint metallic taste that lingers in his mouth afterwards. Race, on the other hand, swirls his around in the chipped plastic cup like it’s a fine wine. He scoffs at Crutchie from across the table, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at him.

“C’mon, Crutch. I know you, stop pretendin’ like I don’t.” He‘s struck dumb by the smile Race sends him over the rim of the cup, warm and familiar. The fluttering comes back, butterfly wings beating against the inside of his ribs and making him nauseous at the way Race’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Jesus.

He ducks his head as his face heats, grunting noncommittally and taking a few more gulps of water. The waitress comes back and leaves them two coffees as he’s collecting himself, and by the time he looks up Race is holding his cup about an inch away from his face, basking in the steam.

God, Crutchie just can’t stop himself from staring.

He can’t help it. Race is practically glowing. His hair shines in the fluorescent light of the cheap ceiling fixtures, unbrushed and wild after a night of driving. His jaw is lined with three days’ worth of rough stubble, and there are the beginnings of some serious bags beneath his eyes. He’s wearing a gray Jets sweater that definitely belonged to Albert at one point. It’s faded and stretched to all hell, the decal cracked, the string long gone, the hood half ripped off the collar. In short, he’s absolutely unkempt.

Crutchie loves him.

It hits him suddenly, and if he were standing it would’ve brought him to the ground. He loves Race. Loves him so much it makes his hands tremble and his chest ache. Loves him so much it lives like a physical thing behind his ribs, clawing and beating its way up his throat as he watches Race pour milk in his coffee. He can’t control it, can’t tame it, he can only open his mouth as it nestles itself behind his tongue, ready to jump out and-

Race opens his eyes and meets his gaze, and his momentary rush of confidence is washed away in an instant. Crutchie closes his jaw with an audible click and swallows thickly, fumbling for something, anything to say.

“You’ve got somethin’ on yer’ face.”

Race’s brow furrows, and he rubs a hand over his cheek. “What? Where?”

Crutchie reaches out one hand towards Race’s face, oh so slowly, fingertips outstretched. He takes a deep breath and…

“Ow, dammit, Crutch!”

Race recoils, rubbing his forehead where Crutchie had flicked it. “Now what the hell was that for?” He glares as Crutchie leans back in his seat, pressing his shaky hand flat to the table and shrugging.

“Damn, guess it was just yer’ face. My bad.” Something in him is soothed as Race laughs at him incredulously. He watches him start tearing his napkin into pieces to make spitballs, and the thing in his abdomen quietly curls into a purring ball behind his sternum.

It’s okay, he thinks as Race lines up his ammunition on the edge of the table, running his mouth about how Crutchie’s started “a war he won’t win”. It’s okay to not say it now. It’s okay. We have time.

As Race starts a spitball war with him at 4:30AM in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, Crutchie knows one thing better than he knows anything.

There’s no place in the world he’d rather be.

[spotconlonsbabe]

how it goes for them

(kath, jack + crutchie)