Why don't we talk about the fact that when uksies crutchie gets back from the refuge he looks downright feral - bruises and blood, messed up hair, an intense energy about him, anger, the stare at snyder's exit, aided by matthew duckett's naturally very large and expressive eyes. This guy has been through it and you can tell, it's not just 'yay crutchie's back and it's all good again' its 'crutchie's back and look what he's experienced and now has to live with'. It drives home the conditions of the refuge and how much was at stake for these kids, jack's 'what if he don't make it?' Wasn't hyperbole, the strike really was do or die for them. And crutchie got close.
176 notes
·
View notes
You guys do not understand.
In the UK production of Newsies, after Crutchie slaps the handcuffs on Snyder, he stands there and watches him being taken away.
The scene moves on but he does not. He stands there for the longest time, watching Snyder being taken away.
And it breaks my heart. Every. Single. Time.
110 notes
·
View notes
A few quotes from that time I watched livesies with my baby siblings and nieces and nephews during christmastime:
//
*right before Something to Believe In*
“I just realized something. If Jack married Katherine he’d be Pulitzers’ son-in-law” -teen brother
“yeah. I realized that as soon as Pulitzer said she was his daughter.”-baby sister
//
*fight with the bulls where they start beating up cruchie*
*screams* “IM GOING TO CRY”
*begins bawling eyes out* “I HATE THAT PART” -little sister (poor thing)
//
*the first scab joins the newsies during seize the day*
“YAY! SEIZE!” -baby sister
(Literally my favorite thing she’s ever said it was so enthusiastic she was jumping up and down)
//
“I would never sleep up so high”
-young nephew
*absolutely unphased* “It’s cause they’re homeless honey.” -little sister
//
*letter to the refuge begins*
“This part is so sad *tears up*” -little sister
15 notes
·
View notes
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.
24 notes
·
View notes
Don’t Be Surprised- Specs
Summary- Specs goes to deliver some bad news to Crutchie.
Specs shielded his face against the rain as he stumbled along the narrow road, nearly blinded by the drops of water but still able to see a single speck of light from a street lamp, guiding him through the alleyways. His arms and legs hurt- everything hurt- but he merely gritted his teeth and walked on, not stopping until he saw the place of his nightmares in the distance.
The Refuge. Specs was one of few newsies who’d never been caught within its walls; he was one of the lucky ones. He’d always considered it some sort of mythical creature, looking to ensnare anyone who got too close to its gaping jaws, searching for the weakest of a bunch and trapping them. Jack had been there, Race had been there- god, nearly everyone he knew except himself had served a month or two- and they only had one word to describe it.
Hell.
Swallowing the nervousness that piled up in his throat, choking his voice, Specs began to climb the rickety fire escape on the side of the building. The window was locked, of course it was, and as he reached into his pocket to pull out a makeshift lock pick, he heard a sound coming from inside.
Sucking in a quick breath, ducking down, Specs prayed he wasn’t visible to anyone passing by. He stayed there, not daring to move or breathe, until he heard a voice whisper above him.
“Psst! Specs!”
Glancing up, he met the bruised and broken face of Crutchie, whose eyes had lit up as soon as their gazes made contact. Forcing a smile that felt like more of a grimace, Specs stood and gathered the boy in a hug.
“Crutchie,” he said, taking in Crutchie’s battered form. “It’s nice to see you, bud.”
“You too.” Crutchie picked at a loose splinter on the windowsill. “So, any news of the strike?”
Specs’s heart went cold as he remembered why he was there. “Since I was last here, there’s been… changes.” He watched Crutchie’s face fall as he relayed the news of Jack’s scabbing, of the rally that had failed so badly and dashed any hope of winning for the newsies.
“So, Davey’s taken over?” Crutchie asked, his voice low and wobbling. Specs nodded, unable to meet his eye.
“I’m sorry, Crutch,” he muttered. “Jack’s run off with the money now- he’s gone.”
Crutchie just stood for a second, breathing shallow, the look of disbelief almost too much to bear. “Leave,” he commanded, almost too softly to hear.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, leave.” Crutchie’s voice was low, full of tears yet boiling over with anger. “Ain’t no use for you bein’ here if the strike’s finished.”
“I can’t leave you,” Specs argued. “What if… what if he hurts you worse now that there ain’t no one to save you?”
Crutchie laughed, cruel and sharp. “Ha! If he wants to hurt me, let ‘im. What’s one kid in the grand scheme of things? We lost, Specs. We’re done.”
Fighting back the urge to yell at him, to beg him to stay, Specs lifted his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. “Don’t lose hope, Crutchie,” he said, trying to imitate the confidence Jack had always shown. “We’ll get ya out of here.”
“Sure you will.” Crutchie glared down at him. “But don’t be surprised if you can’t.” He slammed down the window, barely missing Specs’ fingers, and the bespectacled newsie barely heard the cry of fear and anger that followed.
Turning on his heels, Specs walked quickly away, his hopes dashed and his mind running wild.
Maybe Crutchie’s right, he thought to himself, staring out at the barely-visible moon, rain soaking him to his skin. Maybe we can’t do this.
Not without Jack, anyway.
11 notes
·
View notes