.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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.”
the abused kid feel that deep inside you somehow must be evil
to an abused child, being evil is ‘saying no’, ‘saying you don’t want to’, or ‘not doing exactly as you’re told every second of the day’, or even just ‘having a forbidden thought that can be interpreted as evil’.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
Anonymous asked:
❛ 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))
“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.
Truth be told, Oscar hadn’t thought much of any implications that this encounter had regarding the newsie’s mental state, as maybe some of her cohorts did. He had figured long ago that she would grow tired of the pretense and turning the other cheek, and give him exactly what was coming to him in either words or actions. “I ain’t no one’s pet. I ain’t nevah gonna be a pet ta anyone.” Despite how he was trying to sound tough while saying it, he knew very plainly that it wasn’t true. She was hitting the nail on the head on every insult she spewed at him today, and it made him wonder how painfully obvious all of this had been. How many people saw just how horribly weak and cowardly he was? Before now, how many knew how he bowed to and blindly obeyed those who had authority over him? “I ain’t sayin’ ‘m some monstah, ‘cause I know that I’s bad, but I know damn well there’s worse,” he hissed out, his hands clenched into fists on the counter. “But I ain’t a fucking pet.”
Then, she was gone, and Oscar had no idea how to react. He didn’t want to stay here among the newsies, but he knew well he couldn’t run away. God, that sickening feeling in his chest was worsening, and he had absolutely no idea how to overcome it. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to, or if this freezing ache in his chest and churning in his stomach were what he deserved, among so many more violent things.
Anonymous asked:
“I love your bedhead.” ((~~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.”
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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.
“Can they kick us out? Take away our vote?” Crutchie Morris, Newsies edits 2/4
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
Anonymous asked:
💋 (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!)
“Sorry, if it seems like I’s tryin’ ta rush things… I don’t mean it like that. We’s jus’ waited so long fo’ this… ta fin’lly be togethah in ev’ry way we possibly can be,” he explained, feeling slightly embarrassed, but nodding along with her next statement. He certainly hoped that things could go back to how it was before… “Of course, darlin’. Sounds great.”
a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah
“Oh, no no! Sweetheart, no… Nothin’ like that… I promise… I jus’… I dunno…” She blushed, but didn’t stop smiling. “I didn’ mean anythin’ like that. Ya jus’ fine, love.” She unwound her arms from around him and slipped one of her hands into his. “Then let’s go!” She started to walk, but paused, giving Oscar a sheepish smile. “Wouldja maybe mind gettin’ my crutch for me?”
“I know ya didn’t mean nothin’ by it… It still kinda feels like ‘m gonna disappear at any minute, so I guess part of me’s jus’ paranoid,” he admitted with a sigh, his own face becoming a little red as his fiancee’s did. His arms fell from around her, one of his hands trailing down her arm before it slipped into hers. Realizing that she didn’t have her crutch, he smiled gently, grabbing it and giving it to her. “There ya go, love. Now we can go.”
a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah
She gave him a small, sad, understanding smile. “Same here… But… Ya know what I mean…” When his hand trailed down her arm, her eyes closed and her breath hitched. Such a simple, commonplace action, but it was so precious to her… So precious after four long years. She gave his hand a squeeze, gladly taking the crutch from him with a smile. “I know I keep sayin’ it, but I love ya…” She smiled up at him, then started walking towarda home.
“I know. It’s okay, I get whatcha sayin’…” he told Crutchie gently, mirroring her small, sad smile when she offered it. Hearing her breath hitch when his fingers trailed down her arm, he almost thought that something was wrong… but then he understood that she was just as touchstarved as he was at this point, and any contact whatsoever would’ve caused such a reaction. “An’ I’s sure we’ll say it a million more times before tha day’s done: I love ya too.”
a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. They walked in silence for a bit, in bliss at just being at one another’s presence after so long. Eventually, Crutchie turned to Oscar. “I got an apartment while you was away…”
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he couldn’t help but smile back at her. The silence wasn’t bothersome… Oscar was just glad to be back with her in any capacity, no speaking necessary. But then with her comment, he laughed a little. “I was wondering where we were going. I knew it wasn’t the way we normally went.”
a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah
When he laughed, she joined him, thrilled to hear the sound after four years without it. “Sorry I didn’ say nothin’ earlier… But it’s a nice place. Kinda small, but it’ll do… An’ there ain’t many stairs, an’ it’s got ‘lectricity an’ water, all tha works, ya know…” She smiled up at him. “I figured maybe it could be home, ya know? Someday…”
“Nah, don’t be. I mean we was a little busy reunitin’ ta talk ‘bout stuff like that,” he smiled, putting his free hand in his pocket. “Small… That’s okay. Put a spin on it, say it’s cozy. Any place that can propah’ly be called a home is at least a little like that,” he suggested. He’d lived in plenty of close quarters before, the crowded apartment he’d shared with his sister and his uncle, the conditions in bunks and trenches were always packed… Compared to both of those, the apartment she described would be amazing.
“Ya right… But there’s a surprise for ya… ‘less ya fav'rite color’s changed… But if it has, I can change it!” She looked up at him excitedly. She couldn’t wait to show him! “An’ it’s been home fo’ me lately… Miss Medda’s been helpin’ me keep it for now… But now ya here! An’ we can live in it togethah!!!” She would have been jumping up down, or skipping. That’s certainly what she felt like doing.
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
historical au and bar au
- 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?
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
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
smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah-a reblogged
Anonymous asked:
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.”
“Mm-hmm… Right…” Charlie frowned, watching the boy with a frown as he stacked newspapers up by the distribution desk. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t move. “Ain’t botherin’ nobody…” She seemed to clam up a bit, giving a sigh and starting to bite her lip. “He told me ta scram, too… So I thought I’d come check on you’s, an’ ya sure look like hell… Ain'tcha been sleepin’?”