#Lackadaisy Mozzie

[cats0naut]

Lackadaisy Chibis

[anjaliprimaveral]

Could you do a version of this meme but it’s Rocky, Freckle, and Ivy?

here it is and the other one from twitter JSJSJSJ

I was laughing a lot while I was doing this HELp

[vikdec4i]

zib and sy this. zib and sy that. but… HAVE YALL CONSIDERED BEN AND MOZZIE???

[mooredaisies]

Rocky with the brass boys 🥹💙

[ripplespring]

Meowy Christmas You all! Rocky, Zib, and the rest of the band are here to serenade you personally! Don't mind Mordecai, he's a plus one ^^

[rudnitskaia]

Hi! I read your stories about Rocky and Maura on AO3 and they’re very good! Do you plan to write fics about Maura working with Rocky at Lackadaisy? Please write more! 🙏

Hi, anon ✨😭✨ I'm truly sorry for the late reply and hope you're doing well and will see my reply even after so much time passed 🥺💖

I'm very, VERY happy you like RoMaunce dynamics! 💖🥹💖 As for your question: the truth is that Maura working at Lackadaisy is a possible scenario, and a very interesting one, but it's not the only one. In any case, Rocky's and Maura's story isn't sweet and easy, but, if Mau starts to work at Lackadaisy, it triggers too many angsty outcomes not only for these two, but for many people around them.

Anyway, I wrote a ficlet about one of these personal outcomes for Rocky and Mau (though it came out to be more of a Zib & Mitzi's story). Hope you'll enjoy it. <3

A Better Life

Rocky didn't want to look, but he couldn't stop. His body felt numb, refusing to budge, and his glassy gaze was fixed on just one spot in the main hall of the Lackadaisy.

On Mau.

There she was, letting out another mischievous laugh and shifting the cue to her other hand. Even from such distance, from the backstage, he could clearly see the eyes of the bar patrons roaming over her figure as she bent over to make a hit. Their stares made him sick to the stomach.

The grip on the violin bow grew even tighter. Mozzie was finishing up to play some unassuming piano tune that meant to fill the silence before the beginning of the main concert. Soon the whole band must get on stage, but music was the last thing Rocky could think about at this moment.

“Come on, honey, spin around,” Mitzi encouraged Maura, clearly pleased with how the white, gold-embroidered dress fit her. “Isn't that nice? And it would finally stop gathering dust in the closet.”

Apparently, Miss M, who gave Maura one of her own evening dresses, really had high hopes for the girl. Rocky had already been over the moon when Miss M finally agreed to his entreaties to talk to Mau about working at Lackadaisy, and even more so when she decided to give Mau's talent a chance by bringing back gambling as an illegal activity in her establishment. And Mitzi's expectations paid off in spades. The resumption of liquor deliveries from the Arbogast Funeral Home, coupled with a new twist in the form of an “invincible female pool player”, has lured quite a few customers to Lackadaisy. For the first time since the days of Atlas May, the bar was running at some kind of profit rather than a loss. In every sense, it was a victory.

But right now, Rocky would have given anything to go back in time and knock the very idea of bringing Maura to Lackadaisy out of his own mind.

“It's a play, Rocky. Just a role. Otherwise these drunken high rollers wouldn't have the excitement, the desire to bet more and more, to keep competing with me. They like to think they can win not the game, but me, you know? Like a trophy. That's my job, to pretend it's really possible when it's not. Everything will be fine,” Mau assured him, furtively hugging him in the back room. He understood. After all, they needed money, needed desperately. Besides, how could he be upset about something so trivial? It would be ridiculous. After all, she still fell asleep beside him every morning. But the more time passed, the more unbearable he found the sight at the pool table, which he was forced to watch from the stage every damn night.

When Rocky felt a touch on his shoulder, he shuddered and hastily released the fabric of the curtain.

“Spit it out, kid,” Zib took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “Or you're gonna get hot steam coming out of your ears.”

Rocky hesitated. Then cracked a strained smile.

“I was just admiring the place, that's all… it's been a long time since we've had this much noise, hasn't it? Miss Pepper finally has someone to dance with when Freckle runs out of breath. Last time they—”

Zib hummed and leaned against the opposite wall. His grin alone made it clear that he wasn't buying this ridiculous attempt to change the subject. Pulling back the curtain a little, he stared out into the main hall for a while, listening more to the cheerful chatter of the crowd than to Rocky's continuing monologue.

“Don't tell her you're jealous. It'll make things worse.”

Zib's words caught Rocky by surprise, and it took him a lot of effort not to show his astonishment. He didn't know what had given him away, since he'd never been explicit about his relationship with Mau. Out of everyone, Freckle was the only one who knew for sure, and it seemed, according to her overly mischievous tone, that Miss Pepper had suspected something, too. And yet Zib had hit right on target — even without looking at Rocky, he knew he had. But though the poisonous feelings that had been overwhelming Rocky for a month now had eaten him almost to the core in the enforced silence, and though the opportunity to finally discuss it with someone seemed too tempting — he couldn't allow himself to open up. He just couldn't.

“Begorra, why would you even think that? To whom and who could I…”

“Zib,” Mitzi interrupted them, suddenly entering the backstage area. “One of the visitors wants to hear this,” she held out a double folded sheet of paper. “Tell the others. He paid well.”

When she left, Zib reluctantly unfolded the paper and then slipped it carelessly into his pocket. Despite the need to walk on the stage soon, he took his time, favoring an unfinished cigarette. With his fingertips he pulled the curtain aside again, revealing a thin golden strip of carefree revelry from their faded, half-empty backstage.

“You know, it's natural,” he took a puff, “To want the best for the ones you love,” the smoldering cigarette outlined the room. “But just consider it. Any of these men could give her everything that the likes of us, mired on the margins, could never give her. The freedom not to think about what to eat, where to sleep, and how to survive while the pockets are empty, not to choose between, let’s say, a new coat for the winter and a month's rent for some hellhole. And if someone can give the person you love freedom beyond your reach, it would be dirty to demand them to drop that chance for a better life, don't you think?”

Shaking the ashes to the floor, Zib again pulled out the now crumpled note that Mitzi had handed him and fell silent for a short while. He didn't open it this time, just studied the blank side of the note for a few seconds with a thoughtful, detached look. A look in which, for just a moment, flickered a glimpse of longing. His husky voice sounded almost otherworldly when he spoke:

“You're lucky if she chooses you anyway. Cherish it while you can.”

Completely stunned, Rocky remained silent. A thousand questions flashed through his mind, but he didn’t dare to voice any of them. Zib didn't just empathize with him, no — he knew. Knew like no other. The man, meanwhile, put out the cigarette butt and headed toward the back room where the band members usually had their rest.

“Get on stage. It's time to start.”

[littleangelofchaos]

A simple yet effective headcanon, the band are all bisexuals.

The exceptions are Rocky, who is pansexual, and Ben, who is their straight token.

They would play in a pride parade.

[phloww]

Q: Does Phlow drink?

A: Illicit beverages tend to give him hallucinations. There was that time Zib gave him a drink before a poker game and Phlow did not expect what happen next. 😲

Art drawn by 0ketlyn-s

[ritzy-reminiscence]

─♣️─ Lackadaisy : Shut-Eye²

⸝⸝ tl;dr : continuing on the shnor mimimimi headcanons from this post ! features the savoys, mordecai heller, mitzi may, and the lackadaisy band as a bonus !

🍺 Nicodeme Savoy + Serafine Savoy

I feel like, after trudging around in the bayous and the swamps and sleeping wherever their exhausted bodies drop on for most of their childhood, the Savoys are extremely picky about their sleeping accomodations.

Think of satin sheets, smooth as cream and fine as silk; embroidered pillows bursting with cotton and feathers; blankets upon comforters upon quilts; mattresses so fluffy and soft you sink into it upon contact. The Savoys demand the best when it comes to their beds, and considering their reputation around Marigold, I doubt anyone is brave (or stupid) enough to contradict their wishes.

And it would be alright if they actually slept in it but like .. they just don't .. well, most of the time, anyways.

Their evenings are spent not in their castle-worthy beds but rather in the Marigold room, chatting and smoking and drinking until the chickens start to crow. And even when Marigold ushers its last guests out the door, a couple dozen liquor bottles and boxes of party food somehow finds it way up the Savoys' suite, where the distinct beats of drums and gossip thrums in the room long after the sun rises.

Honestly, I'm surprised they can manage to go on rumrunning duty after getting shitfaced drunk the night (and day) before 💀

And when they do get to sleep, Serafine in particular really likes the windows thrown open to catch the nighttime breeze. It reminds her of the gales that go through the bayou when she and Nicodeme were lost in there, and as much as she hated every other aspect of the bayou, the gales specifically gave her a bit of comfort during those times.

Nicodeme's a blanket hogger. That's it. That's the post.

ALSOO ,, their room in the mornings is just . Eugh .

Littered with cigarette butts, burned-through matches, half-drunk bottles of gin and whiskey and whatever they could smuggle out of the speakeasy; pillows everywhere, the mattress hanging by a thread on the bedframe, and the sheets all nestled around Nicodeme while he sleeps on his back with his hands clasped together like a princess and while Serafine is 0.5 inches away from falling off the bed.

I just want to address a personal apology to whoever cleans their room up when they're gone because I know damn well the Savoys aren't doing it 💀💀

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🪓 Mordecai Heller

On nights when he's on "Asa's Shadow" duty, I'd say that Mordecai wouldn't really collapse on his bed from exhaustion the second after Marigold closes down and he's free from all the musical notes and murmurs and shrieks of laughter that he's been enduring all night.

If anything, I think he'd really take the time to unwind and calm down. He'd sit at his kitchen table and drink some tea, maybe cook up a couple of slices of French toast to fill his stomach as he never really eats anything that's served at Marigold -- he thinks too many people have touched it and it makes him feel all .. icky.

He'd also spend just a pinch of time cleaning the house; nothing too big, just rearranging some books in the shelves, sweeping the floors and wiping dust off the windowsills and tables.

Oh, and he'd read books before sleeping as well. Thick ones. Hardcover ones. He wouldn't read new books or books that he's put off reading because of his workload, but rather one that he's familiar with. Something he's read so many times that, at this point, he could recite it cover to cover without needing to look. In his mind, it helps him relax and destress because of the comforting familiarity of the paragraphs, the unsurprising and mundane words that his eyes had glossed over so many times before, the feel of the worn pages that his fingers had held and brushed too many times to count.

(Do I want to be a book? Yes. Yes, I do.)

As being a tuxedo cat means getting hot easily -- and that's a massive yikes for Mordecai -- I think that he sets the blanket aside and sleeps without one during the summer. Or if the night is chilly enough to warrant the presence of a blanket, he'd use a thin one, or he'd just wear pajamas and a long-sleeved top.

And I'd say Mordecai sleeps on his stomach, with his arms all wrapped around a pillow. Something about the way the soft, slow breeze of the fan hits the fur his back lulls him into a slumber like no other. Plus, it keeps him from feeling too hot and sweaty.

Tl;dr : Cold pillows, cold sheets, cold room for Mordecai. Anything other than that and he'd much rather sleep outside than have a single bead of sweat show up on his body during the night 💀

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🍷 Mitzi May

Oh honey .. Mitzi does not sleep well, that's all I can tell ya'.

In the timeline of the comic, I'd say that Mitzi rarely gets any sleep, and that she manages to get through the day with a conconction of the strongest coffee she could find mixed with whatever leftover beer she could spare.

Atleast, during the daytime, she has Rocky's shenanigans to keep her mind occupied. But once the sun sets and Mitzi climbs the narrow stairs to the third floor of the cafe's building .. it all just starts to unfold and her facade gives way to weary sighs and smudged mascara.

(Alright, that's enough angst )

On nights where it's not so bad, Mitzi would spend most of her time in Atlas's old office, talking to his painting and keeping him updated on what's happening. By this point his painting has become a diary for her, and although she knew it was stupid, she couldn't help but confide everything to it, as if it were a best friend. Even though his painting never moved, never talked, never offered any words of comfort, Mitzi always finds herself calmer afterwards.

Then she'd go into their - her - bedroom, and she'd start cleaning herself up. She'd do it slow, like it was her first time handling all the creams and washes on her vanity table. For Mitzi, this was when she really feels at peace. When it's just her, her cold creams, and the hum of the building's old heating system running in the walls. There was something in the soft, sure way she kept herself clean that made everything just a bit more bearable.

Mitzi likes to sleep on her side, with a huge pillow right besides for her to hold. Regardless of the weather, she'd keep herself under the covers. She falls asleep pretty easily, but on the nights where her troubles become too much to bear, she just stares at the lights of the buildings across the street, watching each window turn from gold to black, and play a little game with herself in which she tries to fall asleep before the light in the last window turns off.

Unorthodox, but it works everytime.

And in the morning, Mitzi finds herself with a little bit more willpower to carry on than the night before.

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🎷 Lackadaisy Speakeasy House Band (Bonus !)

I've read somewhere that Zib lives in the same building as the rest of the band so ..

Let's just say their landlord hates them. It's bad enough that the sounds of their instruments creaking and groaning along the tight squeezes of the hallway was enough to drive anyone up a wall, but do they really have to rehearse in their rooms, too?

And don't get me started when they having a little (BIG) jamming session. Like, yeah, they sound good at first but eventually it all just devolves into a cacophony of god-awful squeals from someone's saxophone.

Zib himself sleeps on his bed (a thin mattress on a rickety old bedframe .. someone get him a proper bed please .) most of the time, but every now and then the band likes to crash at his room for shits and giggles.

Cue Zib tangled up with Sy on the floor, with Ben sleeping on the bed like he owns the place, and J.J. and Mozzie snoozing in the makeshift bed they made pushing two old couches together.

Hey, atleast they pay their rents on time .. right ?

[nattherat96]

I just remembered something about Mozzie from Lackadaisy, the pianist.

Why do they call him Mozzie?

Mozzie... piano... Mozart.

I can't be the only one who caught this reference.

Imagine that it was just Zib, Sy and J.J. trying to start their own band long before Mitzi came into the picture, 2 saxophones and a trombone wasn't enough to form a band.

Then one day, Ben who was just another bystander back then flat out roasts them for sounding as plain as Mozzie.

"Who's Mozzie?"

"The wannabe pianist who plays Mozart all day."

My headcannon is that Ben had convinced Mozzie (with a wager) that if he can play anything that it wasn't Mozart or Classical music, he'd pick up the double-bass again and join the band.

[whatavery]

The Night We Met (Gift)

A birthday gift for my lovely boyfriend @circusb0nes featuring his OC Charles Spider and Mozzie Alonzo, everyone's favorite pianist cat. A short little story I'd planned out for how they met, the seeds for their future relationship were sown.

The cover image is a small part of a bigger image, which can be found in full here!

Part I: Shine

Despite it being late March, the wind still had a certain nippiness to it as it swept over the sidewalk. Charles Spider was seated by his soap box, a smile on his face as he’d turn his head towards passersby. The bright blue eyes that saw everything and nothing met strangers’ eyes and those that weren't too intimidated by the sight came up to him to have their shoes shined. He worked quickly and diligently to make sure each and every shoe was as shiny and clean as could be – just like if it had come from his shoe shop.

He hadn't had anyone stop by in a little while, even now as it was about the time of day that people got off work. Sitting there in his warm coat, a smile on his face, Spider looked like he was perfectly content with life, despite being on the cold street by his lonesome.

He could barely sense the moving form of an approaching stranger, but just barely. He could hear their footsteps just fine, however “Ah, good day, sir! How do you do? A fine day, ain’t it?”

Spider didn’t get a response, but the gray cat’s smile didn’t falter. He knew some people just weren't at all talkative, but he didn’t let that deter him from doing his best. Spider had done shoe-shining long enough to be able to completely polish and clean each shoe in under a minute. He worked hard and fast, intent on getting ever last bit of dirt off the stranger’s shoe. With his impaired vision, Spider had to be thorough to make sure the work was done correctly. Even without being able to see, he could sense the resistance that grit and dirt offered, could sense when the shoes were clean by the way his cloth would so smoothly slide across them.

“There you go, sir. You have a good day,” Spider said with a bright smile on his face. The stranger still said nothing, but as Spider held out his hand he felt a bank note being placed against his palm, much to his surprise – along with something else. He got to feel the stranger’s rough fingers momentarily brush his, though as he could hear them leaving, Spider inspected what else had been placed into his hand.

It was a small, metallic object and at first Spider thought it to be a coin, but further inspection disproved this. As he pocketed his money, Spider inspected the object. It had a single stem-like protrusion and three rounded ones that were considerably larger – a club shape. Shrugging, Spider pocketed it along with the bank note. A curious little gift, he thought to himself, but it was a nice surprise regardless.

Spider didn’t stick around for too much longer, just another hour till the rush of the workday coming to an end stopped. He collected his things and put them into his box, before proceeding to walk home. Even with impaired vision, Spider knew his way to and fro, easily making it home all on his own. His shoe shop was a family owned one he had looked after since his mother’s passing. His father didn’t actively look after it anymore, but Spider took pride in keeping the shop open, even despite the difficulties.

Stepping up to the shop, he reached into his inner coat pocket for the key, but instead found the bank note and the little club symbol. Only then did he realize that a small piece of paper had been put inside the folded bank note. He held it in his hand, feeling over it. Nothing he could read… He would have to ask someone to read the little card to him. Letting himself in, Spider closed down the shop properly, before locking it down.

The small shop was tidy and neat, owing to Spider always wanting to keep it as pristine as he could, as though he were expecting royalty to show up.

The main counter was located on the left to the front door, which was where Spider spent most of his time on these days. It was was long and L-shaped, the walls on either side of the room were covered in shelves, holding shoe boxes of various sizes. The shelves stretched from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Though Spider had each shelf marked with braille that signified the model and size, he had the layout memorized enough to generally remember where everything was. He likewise had the entirety of the shop’s layout mapped out in his head, able to navigate it quite well. The floor was wooden, shiny and neat and in the very center of the rectangular room was a bench where patrons could sit and try on shoes.

Spider retreated to the apartment above the shop, a quaint, decently sized space that Spider had perfectly mapped out in his head, having lived there all his life. It had belonged to his parents, but these days it was all his. Despite his impaired vision, he could navigate it no problem, usually even without feeling his way around. While Spider wouldn't say he owned a lot of things, his apartment was far from barren. It had furniture, though overall decoration was sparse. He had a few paintings and pictures on the walls, a few plants here and there. Even if he couldn’t truly enjoy their beauty, he at least wanted to have something visually stimulating for whenever he had guests visiting, rare as it was.

Finding his way to the the living room table, Spider found the small square radio he'd purchased a short while ago and turned it on. He knew he'd manage to catch the last couple minutes of the evening broadcasts, if any were on. A soothing piano tune played as Spider made it to the kitchen. Despite what people might assume, he could cook just fine – at least enough to get by. Evenings were always a quiet time for Spider and he did enjoy it. The radio kept him company, though it was mostly just music.

But Spider was perfectly happy with how his life was going. Did a small part of Spider wish he still had his eyesight? Yes, of course. But he’d never once in his life used it as an excuse for anything, nor was it some kind of wish in his heart that kept him up at night. Spider had always made the best of every situation and that was something he knew he’d continue to do for as long as he could.

The next day started and went like most others; Spider woke up, got himself to look as presentable as he could, before he took to going down to the shop. Today was an inside day for Spider, meaning he’d be staying inside the shop.

Soon after Spider had gotten everything settled and taken up his perch behind the counter, the door swung open. The bell caught Spider’s attention, turning towards the door, smiling as he blindly stared in its general direction. “Ah, good morning!”

“And a good morning to you, Spider.” The voice was one he recognized immediately, belonging to his neighbor who occasionally stopped by to help. Today wasn't one of those days, which were usually arranged in advance, but Spider wasn't going to complain about a friendly visit.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Mason?” Spider asked politely, turning his head in his general direction, listening for his footsteps as he approached. “Do you need a new pair?”

“Oh, no, just wanted to hear if you could shine up some shoes of mine – I need ‘em to look nice for a party this weekend,” the older cat said. Spider hadn’t a clue what he looked like, but he’d been told he was quite a tall, stout older cat – he also could tell as much based on his footsteps at least.

“I can do that no problem,” Spider said eagerly, his tail giving a swish. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about payment, of course, old friend. But maybe you could do me a favor in return.”

“A favor?” the older cat asked in surprise as he moved closer to the counter, placing a pair of shoes on it with a soft thud. Spider could immediately tell what kind of shoes they were, just based on the sound they made; formal, sleek shoes, perfect for a formal gathering. “Of course, what kind of favor?”

Spider reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the card he’d been handed the day before and held it out. “This – someone handed it to me, but… I can’t read it.”

Part II: Below

As it turned out, the Little Daisy Café wasn't too far from where Spider lived in downtown St. Louis, but the walk there was still something different. He had to ask for directions a few times, but he made it there in the end, taking note of where he walked and when he turned this way and that. The streets were mostly quiet at the moment, though Spider did pass a few people who were on their way home from work.

He'd enjoyed a rather quiet day at work, just mostly left by himself after Mr. Mason left. He’d read off the name Little Daisy Café and its address to Spider, at which point, Spider had been determined to visit. He wasn't sure what was so significant about the café that he would be handed a business card for it, but he supposed he may as well visit. Maybe he could enjoy early dinner there, depending on how long they were open!

The note also had ‘closing time’ written on it, whatever significance that held.

Spider found the front door and gently pushed it open, stepping from the hard, rough, cold stones that paved the streets and onto similarly hard, but far more inviting tiled flooring. The café was nice and warm with a welcoming atmosphere, though it appeared very quiet. Spider remained in the doorway, ears perked up as he blindly glanced around.

Carefully, he stepped forward, though he was uncertain what to do and where to go.

“Oh, do you need help, mister?” A female voice spoke to him and he turned his head towards the direction it had come from. He heard footsteps moving where he was turned towards. “My, what eyes you have…”

“I get that a lot,” Spider told her with a smile, not at all bothered by it. After all, he was used to people commenting on his eyes; they were hard to miss, being as bright blue as they were. Some did find them off-putting, but Spider supposed he couldn’t blame them. He certainly didn’t hold it against them. “Please, if you could just direct me to a table, Ms.”

“Oh, but of course,” she replied as she approached, Spider for the first time noticing the Southern drawl in her voice as she spoke. Not an entirely unfamiliar dialect to him, though if he were asked to, he wouldn’t have been able to place where exactly she may have been from. “You’re showin’ up a little late. I take it you’ll be here till closing time?”

“Closing time?” Spider remembered that phrase being written on the little business card as he was seated in a booth, sinking down onto the soft, cushiony seat. He looked towards the lady who’d guided him there. “Is… closing time special?”

He heard her give a light chuckle. “Well that depends, honey, did my husband invite you?”

Spider hadn't a clue what was going on, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a the card he’d been given. “Someone gave me this – might’ve been your husband, he didn’t say anything, ma’am.”

He felt her take it from him, hearing her give a soft “Hmmm…” as she looked the card over. “Well, good thing nobody gets here this early. Did my husband give you a…?”

“Oh, right…” Spider didn’t even register that she referred to the time as early as he reached back into his pocket, pulling out the little metallic club pin. It was cold to the touch with a smooth body. “This one, right?”

“Ah yes one of those, dear.” Spider could hear the smile in her voice as she handed the card back to him. “Come along, I’ll show you the way down.”

Down? Spider hadn’t a clue what that meant exactly, but he supposed he would find out. Spider pocketed the card and put his hands on the smooth, cold table and moved out of the booth and reached a hand out, gently taking a hold of her slender arm. “Thank you. What do I call you, ma’am?”

“Oh, my name is Mitzi May, darlin’. How about you?” she asked politely as she guided him along. It was a new space and environment for Spider, one he hadn't gotten a chance to map out in his head, but he carefully followed Mrs. May as she guided him along. When he was guided behind the counter, his hand gently touched the counter itself, at least giving him an idea of where he was. “Right this way… in the pantry.”

“The-… The pantry?” Spider was officially confused, but once he heard their footsteps echoing off the walls nearby, he knew they were in said pantry. It was subtle, but he could tell the difference. “Uhm, now what, Mrs. May?”

“Just hang tight, honey, this’ll only take a second… Now where’s that knife?” Initially startled by her words, Spider took a small step backwards. Mrs. May seemed to have noticed the look on his face as she quickly added, “Oh, not like that – I just need it to unlock the door.”

The door? The pantry had a door inside it? Or had she locked them in? Spider was still cautious and certainly very confused. He heard her moving around nearby, before he heard a surprisingly firm, mechanical click. He felt movement in the air, a slight wind blown towards him before a strange smell met his nostrils. He sniffed, trying to identify it.

“Oh, you get used to it, honey. Now, here, I’ll guide you down. Just watch- ehm… Just be careful,” she told him, taking a hold of his hand and guiding him forward. “The steps lead down here. You can hold onto the wall while I close the door, if you need to. What was your name again?”

“Oh, right. I’m Charles Spider, but you can just call me Spider, ma’am.” Spider moved down onto the top steps tentatively, before taking a hold of the cold cave wall with his free hand. He could feel the somewhat rugged, hard stone against his hand. He let Mrs. May close the door, before she resumed guiding him along. He hadn't a clue where they were going or why. “What kind of place is this exactly? I didn’t know cafés had basements like this…”

“Well, ours is a special one – and you must be special too, if Atlas decided to personally invite you down, Spider,” Mrs. May replied politely. “No need to be alarmed, I think you’ll like it. We’ll be opening in a few hours.”

Spider thought that was a curiously short window to stay closed, but he supposed perhaps this was an underground shaft to another building. He had heard something about St. Louis being built on top of tunnels and caves… at least he thought he might have heard something similar…

The staircase seemed to stretch on for quite a while, Spider having lost count of how many steps they’d taken down already. The space around him wasn’t too wide, though thankfully he could at least walk upright without fear of bumping his head. His hand traveled over the rocky surface of the wall, though thankfully he didn’t encounter points that were too sharp. It did allow him to get a feel for his environment, even in this more limited capacity.

When they stepped onto flat ground again, Spider tried to recall how long they’d been walking. It couldn’t have been that long, at least it certainly didn’t feel that way. He turned his head from side to side as if looking around. “Where are we, Mrs. May?”

“Oh, we’re not quite there yet. Wait here,” she responded before letting go of his hand. She moved forward away from Spider, who waited curiously, hearing a small click before the slightest creak of a wooden door being swung open. Warmth poured out and it was certainly far more inviting than the atmosphere out in the tunnel. “Right this way.”

She took a hold of Spider’s arm and guided him inside, his feet soon stepping onto carpeted flooring of all things. Very curious… He was endlessly intrigued by whatever place this was. As Mrs. May guided him, Spider just followed quietly. He could tell they were in a much bigger room; echoes didn’t bounce off the walls as quickly as they had out in the tunnel.

“Wait, is this-… Is this a speakeasy?” he asked in a hushed voice, looking fearful.

“Oh, but honey, I thought that was obvious.” Mrs. May’s tone was a playfully surprised one, before she gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, what you must have thought of what I said up in the pantry… I think I’d best go fetch my husband. Wait here.”

with Mrs. May’s help, Spider sank down onto a round stool, hands touching a cold, smooth wooden counter. He heard Mrs. May leaving, meaning he was left all by his lonesome in a strange, new location. He'd known speakeasies were underground operations, but he’d never quite thought it to be quite this literal. Was he a criminal now? Would he get charged for even setting foot in one? Was Mrs. May a criminal? She had to be, right? She worked here… didn’t she?

Feeling anxious, Spider got to his feet and set about exploring the space. He stuck to the walls first, letting his hand wander along it. He started by the bar, tracing along the counter and the stools, sticking to the outside, before making it to a small lounge area where he bumped into chairs and tables gently. Using his hands, he left the wall to feel them up, to attempt to map them out in his head and get an impression of what they might look like.

It turned out to be a far bigger space than Spider had initially assumed as he followed the wall all the way around. The only true obstacle he found was the presence of what he recognized as a stage. He ran his hand over the wooden plans as he walked along the rounded shape of it. He supposed even illicit drinking establishments needed entertainment…

Spider circled all the way around, past other tables and chairs and something else he didn’t recognize, before making it back to the door he’d come from. At least he assumed that it was the one he’d entered through. He could tell it was a large, wide, wooden door, very finely made. Spider had barely walked forward to the center of the room when he heard the door sliding open.

“Don’t worry, it’s just us – I fetched my husband, Spider.” It was the familiar voice of Mrs. May speaking, immediately putting Spider at ease as he blindly stared in the general direction that her voice had come from. “So, dear, what are we thinking? Do we have room for one more, darling?”

Part III: Resonance

Working in a speakeasy was… Well, Spider couldn’t exactly say it was something he’d been envisioning himself ever doing, but with Mr. and Mrs. May so graciously offering him a job, who was he to refuse? Granted, Spider also had a feeling that he’d heard enough to be considered a liability if he said no, and they let him leave. Perhaps staying on was the best option, even if the idea of working for an illegal place was a bit scary to him.

But Mr. May had apparently seen it as suitable to hire him, because he had an honest face and he was a hard worker. Spider wasn't sure he'd go so far as to describe himself in such a way, but it felt nice knowing he'd left such a positive impression on Mr. May. Atlas May wasn't a man who spoke much, but Spider felt a strangely reassuring presence in his company, which was only amplified when his wife was around as well.

Sure, being hired to clean and shine up the tables and the like wasn't the most prestigious job in the world, nor was it a full-time arrangement, but Spider was perfectly content with it. He’d show up around the time the Little Daisy closed up shop, come down and help keep things orderly. The bar counter, the tables and the grand piano up on stage all needed cleaning.

It had taken Spider a few days, but he was finally memorizing not only the way to the café, but also the layout of it and the speakeasy below. The speakeasy had taken the longest to get used to, owing to how big and expansive it was. Spider had accidentally collided with the tall stone pillars it had a few times when trying to map it out.

But now on a Friday noon, Spider was starting to navigate the space with much less effort. He had even learned to find his way backstage and up onto the stage by himself. It had taken some time to get used to the stage layout too, but thankfully he hadn’t fallen off it.

Spider hummed pleasantly to himself as he cleaned up the grand piano, starting with polishing the legs, the keys and the body itself, feeling his wet cloth smoothly gliding over the smooth, cold surface, taking care of any and all dust that may have accumulated there in the course of the week. Later on, he knew he’d even be shining shoes for patrons as well, potentially.

While Spider cleaned, his ear gave a twitch as he heard quiet footsteps from behind him, making the well-built stage creak ever so slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be done soon. It’ll only be a moment.”

The stranger said nothing to this, but Spider noticed that they’d stopped moving. He curiously turned his head towards them, fixing them with his blind, bright-eyed stare. He heard a small kind of shuffle, which he recognized to be a recoil from being startled by his eyes. He just offered a small smile.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Spider said politely, averting his gaze to look away. He didn’t mind, of course; if anything, Spider only felt bad for startling the stranger.

“What? Oh, no, no, don’t worry, I-… You’re new here, aren’t you?” the stranger asked. He had a calm sort of voice, though his tone was hesitant, as if he were still trying to get a read on Spider.

“Yes, I haven't even been here a week. I’m just shining up the piano for the pianist – I hear the band will playing tonight,” Spider replied happily as he started working on cleaning the lid of the piano, turning his head back towards the stranger as they slowly approached. Though he didn’t look towards the piano, he still kept wiping down the big instrument. “My name’s Charles, but just call me Spider.”

“Spider? That’s an interesting nickname… I’m Mozzie – Mozzie Alonzo, but just call me Mozzie… Hmmm…” Spider’s ear perked up a bit at the rather disappointed way Mozzie had trailed off. He just stared in his general direction.

“What? Oh, were you trying to shake my hand?” Spider quickly put the cloth back into the bucket he’d brought up on stage and walked towards where Mozzie's voice had come from. He held out his own hand, but accidentally poked him in the torso. “Whoops, sorry… Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Oh, you’re- I’m sorry, Spider, I didn’t realize…” Spider felt Mozzie's hand taking a hold of his as a gentle breeze tickled his face. The blind cat chuckled. “Oh, sorry, did you feel that?”

“I did, yes,” Spider told him with a nod. It wasn't the first time someone had waved their hand in front of Spider’s face to test if he truly were blind.

“Oh… uhm… Sorry, that was really rude of me. So, what do you do around here? Are you our piano shiner?” Mozzie asked him, his tone friendly, though perhaps overly polite. Spider didn’t mind, he knew it came from a good place – he could tell the other cat was feeling bad about what he did, so he appreciated his attempts at friendliness.

Spider nodded as he moved back to resume cleaning, knowing exactly where he’d left off. The lid of the piano was on its way to being as sparkly clean as the rest of it. “Well, I also clean the tables and such. And shine people’s shoes.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize Mr. May had hired someone new. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spider. I hope you’ll be here later – the boys and I are going on stage tonight.” Mozzie's tone sounded a bit more natural, but still very pleasant. “I play the piano, so that's why I came up to see- Well, to check on it.”

“Oh, could you play me something, please?” Spider asked eagerly once he was done cleaning. He put the cloth back into the bucket and looked expectantly in Mozzie's direction.

“Of course, any requests?” Spider wasn't entirely sure Mozzie would've been so eager to play for him if it hadn't been for the less than ideal first introduction. But he wasn't complaining, he was glad the pianist was willing to play for him, regardless.

“Surprise me,” Spider replied, smiling brightly as he followed Mozzie with his blind stare, listening for his movements as he moved towards the piano to sit on the stool. Mozzie took a moment before he started playing a pleasant, upbeat, jazzy tune. As he played, Spider stood by, nodding his head in time to the music, his unseeing eyes staring in Mozzie's general direction.

Spider didn’t know what the song was called, but he liked it, his tail even swaying ever so slightly in time to the music. Though he couldn’t see Mozzie's fingers moving, Spider could picture it in his head. He remembered seeing pianists playing back when he was younger – when he still had his vision. He could picture how Mozzie's fingers might be moving, back and forth, pressing keys in perfect resonance to create harmonies, chords and melody.

“That was beautiful,” Spider almost gasped when the song came to an end. He heard Mozzie chuckling lightly before he got up.

“Thank you, I’ve been playing the piano since I was a little kid,” he told Spider once he was standing again. “Well, how about we get off the stage? The boys should be getting here soon. You will be here when we play, right?”

Oh, Spider was indeed there when they played. Though he didn’t have many shoes to shine that night, he was still perfectly pleased being there. Lackadaisy apparently held quite a few guests and the place felt crowded. Moving to and fro, Spider had to stick to the edges of the room, using his hand on the wall as a guide. Luckily a few friendly patrons did help him out now and again.

Spider had been seated for the past hour near the stage, unknowingly able to look right at Mozzie as he played the piano.

He hadn't yet met the rest of the band, but he could hear their instruments in perfect time and sync; sax, trumpet, bass, trombone. Spider could feel vibrations from both the music and the movements of people on the dance floor, yet the high piano keys somehow managed to cut right through the rest of the sounds in the speakeasy.

Not long after the band got their last applause and walked off stage, Spider heard a familiar voice near him. “Hi there, Spider. Did you like our playing?”

“I did!” he said excitedly, once more looking in Mozzie's general direction as the people on the dance floor dispersed, likely to go off and get something to drink. “You guys are really good. Have you been playing together for long?”

“Yeah, for a number of years by now,” Mozzie answered. He paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Would you like to get something to drink? I can go get you something, if you’d like.”

“Oh that’s alright, just help me get up to the bar, please – we can sit together, if you’d like.” Spider rose to his feet and reached forward at which point he felt Mozzie’s arm being offered to him. Spider took a hold of the soft, smooth fabric of his dress shirt and let the pianist guide the way. They weaved in and out past people and tables. It wasn't a long walk to the bar, Spider sitting down on the soft stool with Mozzie joining him on his right side.

“What would you like?” Spider thought about Mozzie's question. He wasn't very well-versed in the world of illicit drinks. He heard Mozzie chuckle a bit. “Ah, first time? Maybe we should settle for something light then. How’s that sound, Spider?”

“Yeah that works for me,” he replied, giving a nod, before turning towards the bar as Mozzie ordered. While he couldn’t see, he still focused on the bartender as they set about making drinks. Even in the crowded speakeasy, Spider could hear them working, making drinks for him and Mozzie; he heard pouring, rattling, shaking and stirring. He hadn't the faintest clue how drinks like this were made, but he was all the more curious about trying them.

“Ah, here.” Spider felt Mozzie take a hold of his hand and gently guide it towards his glass, and he soon felt the cold, smooth glass against his finger tips. He raised it to his face and gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet, fruity with a hint of something he didn’t know, though Spider guessed that was the alcohol. “Well, cheers, Spider.”

Spider smiled at Mozzie and took a testing sip of his drink. It had a sweet flavor to match its scent and it was quite pleasant. Spider took a second sip, a bigger one, and felt a slight burn in the back of his throat, though it subsided quickly. “Oh that’s really good… I like it!”

“So, how’d you even end up down here?” Mozzie asked politely after a moment of silence. “I assume you didn’t just stumble down here on accident, eh?”

“Oh no, Mr. May came to me when I was out shining shoes. He gave me a pin and a card,” Spider explained rather proudly, before taking another sip of his drink. It tasted so sweet, he wanted to just down the whole thing in one go…

“Easy there. Best pace yourself a little – we don’t want you to get hit too hard.” Mozzie chuckled lightly, patting Spider’s shoulder. “Well, that does sound about right – he’s got a talent for collecting strays. So you’re a shoe shiner?”

“Hmmm? Oh, not really – it’s something I just do sometimes when I want to work outside.” Spider had noticed the skeptical tone in Mozzie's question, but he didn’t mind. “I own a shoe shop in town. I just sometimes do shining as a side business.”

“Really? You run it all by yourself?” Mozzie sounded quite surprised. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Not that I wouldn’t think you could, but…”

Spider waved his hand dismissively, chuckling. “Oh, don’t you worry, I understand. It’s hard to imagine, but I make do. I just have to be a bit more careful than most other shop keepers. It belonged to my family, but now it’s just me working there. I know my way around and I enjoy it. People are always so nice when they visit.”

“I see… Well, that’s good,” Mozzie said with a smile before he took a brief pause to take a sip from his own drink. “Well, it’s good to have more friendly faces here. Lackadaisy does tend to feel a bit like family. I’m sure you’ll fit in, I certainly think you’re rather pleasant, Spider.”

Beaming at Mozzie, Spider gave a light chuckle, before he finished the rest of his drink. “I hope so too. I like my job, but it’s certainly more lively down here, even if I can’t see it.”

“Oh, right… I’m sorry about that…”

“No, it’s fine, honestly. I get by and I can still hear what’s going on,” Spider explained, sounding perfectly happy as he turned back towards Mozzie, blind eyes fixated on him. “Oh, Mozzie?”

“Hmmm? Yes, Spider?”

“Can I see your face?” The silence that followed told Spider that Mozzie hadn't the faintest clue what he meant.

“See- I mean, I suppose you can…” the pianist replied hesitantly, sounding very confused. He hesitated for a moment before he asked, “How does that work exactly…?”

“Just lean closer, please.” The words had barely left Spider’s lips before he reached his hands up to cup Mozzie’s cheeks with his hands. He felt the other cat’s soft, smooth, almost silky fur against his palms and his fingers. He gently ran his hands and fingers along Mozzie’s face, tracing the shape of it, feeling his fur brushing against his pads. He brushed his forehead, ran his fingers over his brow, his nose, cheeks and his chin. Spider could feel Mozzie's face being quite warm as he gently caressed his eyelids, before brushing his whiskers and let go.

“Ah, thank you, Mozzie. I think you’re very handsome,” Spider said, garnering him more another stunned silence from the other cat.

“I- oh… Thank you…” Mozzie said, sounding incredibly flustered. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you could see me like that…”

“It’s not the same, of course, but it’s the best I can do,” Spider explained, chuckling. His smile faltered a bit when he remembered how warm Mozzie's cheeks had felt. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, not at all – I just wasn’t prepared,” Mozzie replied in that same flustered tone. “But I’m glad you can see me somewhat at least. Say, the boys and I are probably going to stay backstage for the night, would you like to join us? We usually play cards and such-”

“I can’t really play cards, Mozzie…” Mozzie seemed to realize that he’d said something stupid as he immediately set about stuttering an apology to Spider. Spider just chuckled and shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I appreciate the invitation. But in any case, I’m afraid I can’t stay too much longer – I need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Ah… that’s a shame,” Mozzie said, sounding disappointed. “Is it far? Please, at least allow me to walk you home. Wouldn't feel right to just let you wander the street all alone.”

“You’d really do that?” Spider asked in surprise, his ears perking up as he smiled in Mozzie's direction again. “I’d appreciate that a lot – I’m still learning the way to and from this place.”

“Oh, before we go…” Spider heard Mozzie fumbling with something before placing something onto the counter between them. “There that’s for our drinks, let’s get going, Spider. You can… hold onto my arm, if you’d like.”

Mozzie barely even had to offer his arm before Spider took a hold of it and walked out with the pianist to retrieve their jackets. It wasn’t too cold outside these days, luckily, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Spider held onto Mozzie's arm again once they both wore their jackets, Mozzie's thick and warm, much like Spider’s own.

Holding onto Mozzie, Spider left the noisy speakeasy and entered the surprisingly quiet tunnels beyond the door. It did a surprisingly good job at blocking out the noise. “Ah that’s better… Is it usually that loud in there?”

“Oh, it usually is,” Mozzie explained as he guided Spider up along the steps. “Careful. One step at a time. You get used to it, though. You just happened to sit right by the stage. That’s where the crowds congregate.”

“That makes sense,” Spider chuckled, smiling. The ascend up the stairs was always brief, but it felt particularly brief tonight. The two of them entered the dark, vacant café together and Spider followed Mozzie's lead till they stepped out onto the empty street together. The air was mostly still tonight, though a single stray breeze did greet the two, gracing their faces, much like Spider had Mozzie's minutes ago.

“So, shall we, Mr. Spider?” Mozzie asked in a playfully polite tone, letting Spider grab hold of his arm yet again.

“So we shall, Mr. Alonzo,” Spider replied, chuckling as he held the other cat’s arm a little more firmly than before. The two of them set off, walking down the street side by side in the relative darkness that only broken up by the streetlights that illuminated small patches of the sidewalk. Though Spider couldn’t see them, he remembered streetlights to be quite a beautiful sight, the way they kept the streets illuminated.

Neither of them said much as they walked together, Spider mostly just telling Mozzie what streets to take and when to turn. It was a quiet, peaceful walk. The only sound breaking up the silence of the night was their footsteps on the sidewalk and their breathing. It truly did feel like it was just the two of them in the darkened street, even when other people occasionally passed them. But before long, the walk came to an end as they arrived at their destination.

“This is it?” Mozzie asked politely as he stopped by the storefront. “It’s a nice-looking little place. I’m surprised I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh, you haven't? Are you sure?” Spider asked in surprise as he unlocked the door, having to feel for the keyhole.

Mozzie chuckled lightly from behind him. “Trust me, Spider, I would never forget a face like yours.”

“Oh… In a good kind of way...?”

“In a very good kind of way,” Mozzie replied, making Spider grin back at him, bright blue eyes practically sparkling in the dim light of the street. Mozzie chuckled again. “Well, you have a good night, Spider. I hope to see you around soon. Will you be there tomorrow?”

“I will, yes. I’ll make sure to be easy to find,” he promised Mozzie, smiling. Spider opened the door to his shop, but lingered in the doorway a moment. He’d heard Mozzie make a strange little noise just then. “What was that?”

“What? Oh, nothing, it’s nothing,” the pianist hastily replied. He cleared his throat. “Just... have a good night – and sleep well – it was a true pleasure meeting you – I’ll introduce you to my buds soon.”

“Oh, alright. Well, you too, Mozzie. You have a good night – and have fun down there,” Spider said, winking at him, before finally sliding the door closed and locking it. Making his way upstairs in the dark shop, Spider never realized that down below, Mozzie lingered by the storefront for a moment.

He’d watched Spider leaving, waving around the interior of the dark shop with precision and ease that rivaled any man with eyesight. He stood by himself for a moment, just considering the bright-eyed stranger. He smiled and finally turned away from the shop and headed back the way he’d come, hands on his pocket. His arm felt strangely cold, but his cheeks felt so, so warm.

[westofwyn]

the band watching fireworks 💫

i post a lot more art on my twitter (@jokomyth) so check me out there if u like my stuff! <3

[anjaliprimaveral]

Cowboy AU??

idk guys just random doodles

[fablepaint]

For the Sy fans out there, all five of them :3

also, raptors! because why not?

Done during today's Streamily signing

[kindaferret]

A slightly updated version of the meme I posted yesterday (forgot to post this one here)

[lackadaisycats]

Hello, Ms Butler! Don’t know if you’ll see this, but can Mordecai sing? Or hell, can any of the Lackadaisy characters sing! If so, can they sing well? I’d love to know! :)

Mordecai doesn't sing, no. But Mitzi used to sing for the band. Zib provides most of the vocals for the band in the present, but Mozzie, Sy, and Ben are proficient too. Rocky can carry a tune, and Horatio has a set of pipes, though he's too shy to sing in front of anyone. I suspect Bobby sings along to the embalming process.