#air force trumpet player and cop

[cherry-gemz]

Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

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You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

*

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

[thewritingdesk]

It Had to be You ~ Part Two

Summary: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walked into hers.  Lin Beifong saw the world in two colors; black and white. That changes though when she meets the siren working with one of the largest gangs in Republic City.

Azami never had a choice. Didn’t have a way out. But she could destroy things from the inside. She could move information around. She could lie and smile with the best of them.

Neither needed anyone. Neither needed love. So what happens when fate ties them together? Can they save each other? Or will a smoking gun end something before it begins

A/N: A 1930s/40s LOK AU. Note that there will be themes that were present during this time including smoking, drinking, underlying homophobia, and potentially smut later on down the line. Writer’s views are not that of the characters.

Word count: 2046

In a city that shines from both street lights and stars, you’d think that all that glittered was gold. That truly, such a marvel of a city had achieved a beautiful balance in the world and everyone lived peacefully. Crime is minimal and the law has won.

But Azami knew better. The mirror’s reflection reminded her of that.

She’d experienced what it had been like to beg for her meal and hope the abandoned building had a dry place for her to sleep. And that the cops wouldn’t kick her out if they found her. Her parents had died young. Trip Threats said her father owed them money. Tossed him in the bay tied to a boulder. Her mother had been shot in the head when she’d tried to run. Azami hid in their pantry and heard it all. 

She’d been fifteen when she took her first stage job. A lie and enough makeup to pass for eighteen had gotten her the gig. When they’d figured out her talents when it came that, the smaller leagues used her to move information around. Supply runs and caches for those that had needed them. Throw off the larger gangs and the police in hopes to feed those that the rest of the world turned their back on. 

Brush strokes through her hair. One-two-three-four. Moving in time to the tinny sound of a trumpet and drum. Eyes that she displayed for the world that filled themselves with fires looked tired. Cheeks were gaunt. 

“Nothing a little makeup can’t fix, doll.”

Takao had said to her after he’d smacked her across the face for sneaking the bus boy some food from the kitchen. Never enough to bruise. Only enough to control. Him and the four cronies that had started to show up more and more to stir things up. Setting the brush down, fingers pinned the front of her dark brown locks into a victory roll, leaving the rest of her hair to curl around her shoulders. 

“Dyke freak like her would want ‘em soft.” 

Feed the chief lies. Hook her with a smile. Leave her always wanting more, but remember, stay out of reach. 

Nightingale, that is what they’d started calling her. Her voice was melodic and rang clear like the songbird. She fluttered around and went unnoticed, like the songbird. She was caged, like a songbird. The stage was her cage, no matter how she loved it. No matter how she had lied to herself and painted it in gold. 

It was on the stage that Takao had discovered her. Had found her her family had been, and what her father had once been. It was the stage that he’d watched her eyes linger not on the men that came through the door. It was the stage that he chained her to the floor. 

“Remember, little bird, the world has no sympathy for a freak with no power.” 

Men like Takao had seized power after the uprisings that forced the council to step down as the head of the city. They had turned a blind eye to things such as who could love who. The president who was easily bought, easily swayed, was not so easily blinded. It was this man who had let the three major gangs begin to take over the city. Allowed for those who had already oppressed, already crippled, to only feel the hand around their throat tighten. It was his fault that she…

“Ten more minutes until curtain, Miss Nightingale.” 

Jumping from her reverie, Azami turned to the young boy who had come to her door and nodded to him. Thanking him quietly, she quickly moved to dress in the crimson red dress that had been selected. The dress hugged and skimmed over her hips and showed off her thin waist. The V in the back showing off the soft skin, while thin straps sat on her shoulders. 

A doll, she was a doll. 

Slipping into her shoes, white gloves were slipped on before she left the room and headed for the stage. 

Lin wasn’t sure how she found herself back in the smoke filled club. Or how she found herself seated at a table, whiskey in hand, rather than leaning against the bar. She’d even gone home to change out of her uniform. Black trousers that cinched high on her waist paired with the white silk blouse that tapered into her form, two buttons left open to allow her neck to be seen. She’d kept the bun, but put on some lipstick.

Maybe it had been something in those eyes that made her forget herself. She was just here to get information, she’d be able to sit without standing out dressed like this. 

That’s what she told herself anyway. 

So lost in her thoughts Lin had been that she hadn’t noticed Azami take the stage, hadn’t noticed the shift in the room as it stilled. Waiting for the first notes from the maestro that stood on the stage.  

“Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this”

The siren’s pull had moved from her ears and down to her belly. The smooth sounds catching her off guard as pale green eyes sought out the darker green ones. Something was off about them tonight. The fire was still there, and they still held hers captive but there was something deeper. Something Lin couldn’t put a word to.

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me.”

The song faded as eyes locked, whiskey came to her lips and burned her throat. An anchor. Something to hold her there. She couldn’t fall under the spell completely if she was still feeling the burn of the alcohol. If she could feel the outside world still tugging at her. 

Unlike the previous night, she didn’t make her way to her immediately. She waited. She listened as she sang through the upbeat tunes. Watched as she accepted a martini from a man, only to set it back on the bar when his back had turned. 

Sitting back in her chair, she pulled her own cigarette from its case a bit too forcefully before lighting and releasing her own mark into the air. She knew she was there. 

Azami had felt the chief’s eyes on her most of the night. Felt them as she made her rounds, made her wait. Tempted her to fetch her from the hands of others. She was almost disappointed when she didn’t. Finally making her way to the table, she offered Lin one of her signature smiles before taking her seat. 

“I’m glad you could make it, chief. Did you enjoy the set?” Azami asked, a finger motioning one of the waiters over. Ordering herself another gin and tonic she sat back in her chair. 

Lin brought the cigarette back to her lips and had just pulled a drag from it when fingers reached over and plucked it from her hand. She watched the other woman bring it to her lips deliberately, eyes never leaving hers and watching her expectantly. 

“It was...good.” Her hand reached for the cigarette when it was handed back to her, noticing the way the two lipsticks seemed to mingle. “Now, about our deal.” 

“Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it chief?” Azami asked, offering the waiter a winning smile when her drink was brought to her. “While I enjoy my drink for a moment, why don’t you tell me about your day.” 

“My day? Why the fuck would you want to know--”

“Do you see that man behind me? The one in the obnoxious red suit?” Azami asked and waited until she received a nod from the chief before speaking again. “That’s Jun. Not a major player so he wouldn’t be on your radar, but he reports back to Ju-long who…”

“Who is one of the higher ups to the Agni Kai triad.” Lin finished and reached for her drink. 

“Very good, chief.” Sipping her drink, Azami watched the woman. “All of these men know you. All of them are trying to discern if you’re you, or if you’re just another woman.”

“And what happens if they find out?” Lin asked, sipping her whiskey. 

“They let you go the other night. Coming in more than once means one of two things; you’re willing to be bought, or you’re on to something. Guess it depends which you present to them.” Azami answered, setting her glass down. 

She could feel Takao’s eyes on her and tried to ignore it. Instead she tried to focus on the pale green of Lin’s eyes, she wondered if she realized there were small auburn fleks in the green. Probably not. 

“And how did a lady like you get caught up in this?” 

“A lady she says, been a while since someone called me that.” Azami chuckled and folded her arms. “That’s a long, sad story. Maybe I’ll let you convince me to tell you about it, one day. Now, to our deal, there’s four people that keep coming in to speak with the owner, two men, two women. One of the men seems to be the ringleader, keeps one of the dames on his arm. Not sure what their deal is, seems to be upset about that young kid with ties that could shake up the layers of power. Don’t have any names.” 

Lin leaned forward, she’d heard rumor of this group, had heard of the destruction they left behind them. “Can you come down to the station to describe them?”

“And risk my own neck, or find myself in the bottom of the bay? No thanks, chief.” 

“We could protect you, Azami.” Lin pointed out, I could protect you, her mind whispered back. 

“No, you couldn’t chief.” Azami answered, reaching to finish her drink. “So I guess your need for me is done.” 

Let me protect you. Get out of here while you can.

“When is your next set?” Lin asked, almost shocked that the words had escaped her. 

“Two nights from now.” Azami answered, watching the woman quietly. Gone were the flirtatious smiles. This woman was good, she didn’t want to drag her into this world. But too many people outside this club relied on her keeping Takao’s eyes off of them. “Should I expect you?”

Swirling the amber fluid in the glass, Lin tossed the rest back and hummed. “Will you have more information for me?”

Sing pretty bird, sing just for me. Sing the sweetest song you ever did see.

“Perhaps. Guess you’ll have to show up and see.” Azami answered and stood. She was tired. Her set was done and the next doll took the stage. She wanted out of the dress. She wanted to remove the facade. She wanted to go home. 

A caged little bird, a sweet little doll. Remember child, you’re only as good as what they need you for.

Lin watched Azami walk away as she turned to reach for her grey trench coat. She moved with an effortless grace, but this time her head stayed lowered. Only the staff received any kind of smile when they came over to speak with her on her way to the back door. Had her eyes seemed despondent when she had asked if she’d have more information in two days time? 

Now why would you care? Her mind whispered back.

Shaking it off, she stood and began out of the club. This nightingale, Azami, she corrected herself, had been something she’d been trying to look into since their first meeting. But every lead she found seemed to dangle in the wind. Women like that were dangerous. Women like that would get you killed.

But then, why did she feel her stomach clench when the fire in those eyes had dulled? Why had her heart tied up when that voice had hooked her in despite her best attempts to ignore it? Why was she dreaming of green eyed sirens when she closed her eyes?

She needed to get home. She needed a stronger drink. And she needed to crack this mystery so she could leave this woman behind.

[woosey-woo-shitposts]

Guns and Roses

(Obey Me! Mafia!AU)

This au's concept originated from this user

Parts of this storyline are loosely inspired by Mafiatell (An Undertale Mafia AU) written by Staringback, adapted into a comic by Cutthroat-Jutsu which was later voice-dubbed by Vade.

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This narrative was written in first person to minimize the use of MC's pronouns for your enjoyment, however I ask you pardon any errors because I am inexperienced in this writing style.

As a matter of fact, I loathe it. But I wanted to make this a fun read. I did this for you.

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"You have got to be kidding me!" I snarled as I observed the wrinkled notice in my hands. Of course, the one time I get a good night's sleep, my landlord gives me a demand to pay extra for this month's rent! That was my biggest pet peeve: when they demanded money but never chose to specify WHY. As far as I knew, this wasn't a matter of protection fees, this was him taking advantage in the cruel world we all lived in.

I can't wait to get out of this town. Every cop, politician, or anyone else in some position of power was corrupted by selfish desire. As for me? I'm just someone living on my lonesome in a piece-of-crap apartment on a singer's wage. Oh-- yeah. I sing and dance if the price is right. If you dress nice and pile on enough make-up, you might make it out here. Unfortunately, I never made it past the low-life bars that paid a somewhat survivable wage. Now I had to lose all my leftover money on this in order to not get kicked out by my greedy landlord. My friends taught me to never respect someone who wears sunglasses indoors! What a mess...

I know what you might be thinking: "why not find another place to stay?" And my answer is-- this is the cheapest place around--even with that "living fee" my landlord was forcing me to pay IN ADDITION to this month's rent! Yeah, I still haven't forgotten about it! Thanks to a certain gang that controlled the area, it was hard to find a living space that didn't put you in debt because of the additional "protection fee" that all tenants were charged. All this city cared about were money and power and control. Sometimes they went hand-in-hand.

After a few moments of pacing, I finally went to my room to pick out some clothes for tonight's gig. That was the best I could do for now.

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Heavy on the eyeshadow, bright red on the lipstick. That's what the club owner asked for before I retreated into the bathroom to apply it all. If I had a say, I'd be going without the skimpy flapper girl dress, but that's what they wanted. For whatever reason, though, the club owner seemed more... tense than usual. I've seen low-life thugs and lesser members of the local gang in this club during my past performances, so it couldn't be that. What if it was someone more important...?

"Showtime in 10, darling~!" The owner hollered from the changing room door, snapping me from my thoughts as abruptly as they arrived in my head. He was attractive to say the least, although I could go without them opening the door and leering in. It was almost like they were trying to sneak a peek at me every time. Even if that wasn't bothering me, I felt this knot twisting in my gut, telling me that something big was going to happen tonight as I fixed up my hair to the best of my ability.

I could hear my shoes clicking against the wood flooring as I approached the stage. To my right was a small jazz crew: a trumpet, and a saxophone player... although one looked to be a kid in height, especially with how his blonde hair was styled. He looked far too short for the clarinet he was playing. The other gentleman was tall and muscular with darker skin. He also had a calming air about him, like a long lost friend of mine. To my left was someone on the piano, cracking his knuckles and poising his hands over the ivory keys. I've never seen him before. He was slender with white hair, but I couldn't see his face from where I stood as I adjusted the height of the microphone. However, my attention was drawn to the the pianist that stood from his post to investigate who was standing in the crowd.

------------

"Would you look at that?" A gentle, yet playful voice uttered before he turned to face me. He was tall, probably 5'11, with steely gray eyes and pale skin that was almost as white as his hair. Of course, I wanted to introduce myself, but my attention was drawn to the slightly parted curtains he was peeking through.

I squinted out at the dimly lit bar, scanning the tables. As I suspected: there were mostly low-life criminals drinking their worries away, however I noticed a menacing aura wafting from a far corner of the room.

Draped in shadow, there looked to be three men whose eyes seemed to glow with an inhuman glint. The first man seemed to be the tallest out of the three: dressed in a jarring red suit with a black tie and a golden chain linking his collar and his suit. His hair surprisingly looked even redder than the clothes on his back. Then there were his eyes, glowing like yellow-hot coals that matched the shimmering gold chains he wore.

On the far end of the table was a slender looking gentleman wearing a mint green jacket over a black vest. His eyes were shimmering emeralds, although I was more focused on how he patiently was sitting by, more focused on their surroundings than the men he was sitting with.

To his left--sitting between him and the man in red--was another man, sitting barely as tall as the first, yet sharing the same if not a more menacing aura than the figure in red. He had a more standard looking suit with a red vest and tie with a black suit jacket resting on his shoulders. His hair was black, swooped partially to one side more than the other with a hint of silver fading from the tips. I also took notice of his black gloves. He must've gotten his hands dirty in the past. Then there were his eyes. Those eyes were a shade of red that almost blended into the lighting of the room from what I could see from the curtain. Even so, I could feel a sudden piercing sensation when I felt like I was being watched. Before I could figure it out, I hastily closed the curtains and returned my attention to the pianist.

"That... that was Diavolo, wasn't it?" I questioned with a quiver of my lip. I heard that the gang leader of this area was a man who dressed in red as to hide how much blood covered his hands.

"Wow, even small town singers know him?" The man questioned in a teasing tone.

I narrowed my gaze at him in a cold glare. "Know /of/ him. I've never seen him in person, let alone pictures of him."

The pale man shrugged off my glare, keeping an almost foxlike arrogance about his demeanor. "Well, consider yourself lucky if you survive the night. Rumor has it his gaze can curse the weak of mind."

Right when I parted my lips to snap back at him with something- that club owner called from behind us.

"Get in position, you four!" He said in a hushed shout, signaling for the performers to get ready to start their number.

I bit my lip with growing anxiety before the club owner waved at me from back stage before offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing what seemed to be "break a leg". All I could do was nod curtly to acknowledge it until the curtains swung apart, temporarily blinding me with the stage lights.

------------

I had to admit, these musicians had talent. It was easy to keep in pace with them through the first number. As I removed the microphone from its stand, I danced about, letting my clothes sway about until the crowd cheered and called out to me. Even so, I felt that knot in my stomach. As my motions slowed, I noticed Diavolo and the other two men looking my way... whispering. It left me unsettled.

My dancing slowed to a stop as I returned to my spot by the microphone stand, but I kept with the upbeat tempo until the song ended. Those catcalls and whistles erupted into proud cheering where I stood. Still, my gaze fixated on those three figures, my gaze briefly locking with Diavolo's as a quiet gulp swallowed back my anxieties.

With a forced smile, I waved to the crowd. "I see a few unfamiliar faces tonight. I hope you enjoyed the music." I chuckled lightly to myself. "This next one is dedicated to a special guest tonight." Even though my body was fighting against a terrified tremor, my eyes met with those monsters again before winking in their direction.

------------

The crowd fell silent in appreciation of the next song, although, to a mixture of relief and fear, I saw Diavolo leave with his entourage of two. A few thoughts came to mind as the second and final song ended before the cheering became muffled behind a closed curtain.

"Bravo, darling~!" The owner rushed in to hug me, catching me off-guard. "Beautiful singing as always." He chimed as he twirled me about.

"Easy, Asmo." The saxophone player interjected, quickly separating me from the overexcited club owner. "A lot just happened. Give them some space."

The rosy-haired man blinked, taken aback by that remark. "If you insist. Darling, you're free to go. I left your pay in the changing room." He smiled in fake innocence as I walked past him and off the stage. In the corner of my eye, I saw Asmo glancing over his shoulder in... concern?... as I went backstage and back into that changing room.

------------

The room was pitch black when I stepped into it. Odd, I don't remember turning off the lights when I left to perform. I took a few steps into the room in order to find the light switch, using what little light that came in from the hall until--

Click...

My heart suddenly sank into my stomach the moment the door shut behind. Immediately afterwards, the light was switched on and a hand brought itself on my shoulder the moment I thought about running for the door I came through.

"I don't think so." A gentle voice mused. A side glance revealed a white silk glove gripping my shoulder. Even if it didn't look strong, my body refused to budge against it. Then, however, my attention was brought to a towering man in in a red and black suit. That tall, dark, and mysterious guy Diavolo was talking with. My heart was racing a mile a second as he stood up and approached me. Is this it? Is this how I die?! My eyes went wide as they locked with his.

The moment he brought his hand up to my chin, I let out a sharp gasp-- I couldn't help myself... I was scared for my life! I found myself tensing up as he forced me to look him in the eyes. Those dark red eyes were much more intimidating up close.

"Tell me, human." He began, voice deep and low. It wasn't even a whisper, but it was quiet enough to have the same effect on me. He tilted his head, glaring angrily down at me before he spoke. "Why were you looking at Lord Diavolo?"

TO BE CONTINUED

[meyerlansky]

Yes, please! I would love a daemon explanation, explanations and Boardwalk babbles are the best.

…is this for all of them

i’m gonna do all of them

because this is who i am as a person

FAIR WARNING LONG POST AHEAD and it’s even longer under the cut. also general disclaimer that this is all personal thoughts and rationale and i tried to make my reasoning as easy to follow as possible, but in a lot of cases there’s a not-insubstantial amount of symbolism/superficiality/whatever, and some choices have less biological rationale than others. second disclaimer that i TRIED to keep my reasons for picking daemons within the same taxonomic group consistent [i.e. all the people with canid daemons are canids for the same or similar reasons, all the bird daemons are bird-daemons for similar reasons, etc] but it’s not always the case. also not every set i’ve made has been posted yet, and not every set i’m planning has been finished, so if anyone wants to know rationale behind later daemons feel free to ask again :D OKAY SO HERE WE GO:

nucky — white-tailed eagle

from the start nucky’s pretty solidly been some kind of predatory sea bird in my head, for what are probably fairly obvious reasons: a predator because, like most of the characters i’ve continued to give predator/carnivore daemons [and there are a LOT of carnivore daemons], he makes his living off the desires—and suffering—of other people, a bird because he thinks of himself as more above the dirty work of street-level gangstering, and a sea bird because of how intrinsically his goals are tied to Atlantic City as a whole. originally i had an osprey for nucky, for a few reasons. one element of my reasoning for the osprey was their flashy coloring, to parallel his predilection for loud clothes a la his salmon suit in the early seasons, and the fact that ospreys are not technically considered “sea eagles,” which i thought fit with his position as more of a politician than a gangster. changing his daemon to a white-tailed eagle was actually kind of a snap decision on sunday night before i posted the first photoset, and… honestly i based the change on the fact that ospreys prefer to take their prey live, whereas the true sea eagles [including bald eagles, as a note] are far more open to scavenging after other predators have done the heavy lifting for them. so that kind of covers the “not a real gangster” angle as well as the more biological metaphor with the osprey. the flashiness analogue was lost a little bit, since ospreys are definitely a bit more exciting to look at, but nucky’s look sobers up after s1 and definitely after s2, so i figure it’s a worthwhile loss. white-tailed eagles also get a bonus in that they’re native to ireland and have been successfully reintroduced there, whereas ospreys apparently died out in ireland in the 19thc. there’s a few instances where i tried to match animal ranges to ethnicities, but i gave up on that when it became too limiting, but i still like to note it where it matches up :P

the other seven i’ve posted so far are under the cut!

eli — black bear

the fact that black bears are the most common and smallest of the north american bears drawing a parallel to eli’s inferiority complex is a minor reason, but really i picked a black bear literally so i could make the mama-bear joke, considering daemons are the “opposite” gender of their person. that’s literally it. he’s big, burly, and scary when you go after his kids, but pretty non-confrontational otherwise.

margaret — sand cat

OKAY SO margaret is another one who went through some changes, although hers aren’t as recent as “the sunday before i started posting the sets.” initially i had her as some kind of deer, specifically a fallow deer, back when i was sticking to the range-ethnicity parallel. deer also get scarily protective of their offspring, and they’re quiet but can be dangerous when backed into a corner, so it felt like… an okay fit, if not a perfect one. and then i thought about it some more, and let’s be real: margaret is as much a carnivore as the bulk of the cast, though not necessarily an APEX PREDATOR the same way a lot of the gangster daemons shook out to be. i toyed with giving her some kind of mustelid, but at the moment meyer’s the only one with one of those and she’s not QUITE coldly-ruthless enough to be in the same class as martens :P she got something that looks cute and pettable on the outside, but is actually extremely well-adapted to fill a carnivorous niche in harsh environments, which is a deliberate metaphor for her ability to survive no matter what she’s facing, while using other people’s perceptions to slide under the radar if need be. despite their cute appearance, sand cats also pack a bite force quotient of 136, which means that, relative to their body size, they deliver more force per bite than MANY other predators, including wolves, hyenas, and tigers. fitting, considering margaret is one of the only characters who can definitively be said to come out on top by the end of season five. a final tidbit for mags: she’s one of the few characters whose daemon i thought up a name for. his name is properly “gallchobhair” but once they get to the states it pretty quickly gets americanized to “gallagher” and they give up trying to correct people after a few months.

owen — yellow mongoose

owen gave me SO MUCH TROUBLE, you would not BELIEVE. for the same reasons i eventually settled on a sand cat for margeret, owen got a mongoose: cute to look at, but can fuck up anything that needs fucking up if they get in their way. initially i gave owen a river otter, because of their density in ireland, the aforementioned mustelid reputation of fucking shit up, and the connection between an aquatic mammal and his position as nucky’s bodyguard and bootlegging shipment protector. an otter for owen [haaa] never sat 100% perfectly with me, though, in no small part because the aquaticness of his job is really tangential to what he does and who he is as a character. also otters are mustelids, but they… aren’t exactly intimidating. mongooses, on the other hand, have the deserved reputation as cobra-killers, which is a bit more appropriate for a dude who sliced through a man’s fingers to choke him to death. that said, yellow mongooses don’t live off snakes and are pretty social creatures, which i thought was a decent parallel to owen wanting out of the gangster lifestyle and wanting to settle down with margaret, all interpretation as to whether he would’ve stuck with that aside. this is one of the choices i’m not completely confident with, so hopefully it doesn’t seem too horribly out-there to people with more of an investment in owen than i’ve got.

jimmy — ethiopian wolf

a lot of the gangster types have wild canids. it’s kind of unavoidable as a parallel, because gangsters tend to stick together in a way that cats don’t, but the apex predator position can’t go unacknowleged. i went with an ethiopian wolf for jimmy in particular because it’s not an especially well-known species, so i couldn’t get super slammed for being unoriginal by picking a grey wolf or something. they’re further down the evolutionary chain than jackals [who will make an appearance IN LATER PHOTOSETS] but not so far down as to be right next to or within the sphere of domesticated dogs; for the canids i interpreted relative-distance-from-domestication as commentary on how independent the character[s] in question operated throughout the show. jimmy is fairly reliant on his social connections, not willing to make moves on nucky until he has support from the other younger gangsters, but not totally unable to strike out on his own–even if he’s not running with a full-fledged “pack” of other younger gangsters, he’s always got at least one compatriot at his side in pretty much any endeavor. ethiopian wolves are also less physically intimidating than other larger wolf species, which fits jimmy’s tendency to think things through rather than rushing in and relying on brute force to win. and… alright, this is a reason decided upon in bad taste because i’m a bad person, and i debated whether i should cop to it or not, but i highly doubt anyone’s gonna even bother reading this, so: ethiopian wolves also have some of the highest rates of incidental inbreeding due to their tendency to not disperse offspring very far. there you go, i'm officially The Worst.

gillian — trumpeter swan

gillian as a swan is also probably a fairly obvious choice, between the water motif, the graceful beauty swans are known for, and the way they’ll peck your eyes out if you get too close to their roost—especially if they’ve got babies. again, the sees-self-as-above-dirty-work played into the choice of a bird daemon, and i’m also not opposed to the idea that gillian would be a witch the way many bird-daemon-havers are in the HDM canon. nucky probably isn’t a witch, but gillian totally could be. anyway, i went with a trumpeter swan specifically because they’re the biggest of the north american swans, and gillian runs with some pretty big players, so i thought it fit. they also are somewhat pleasant to listen to compared to other swans, their calls do sound a bit like trumpets as the name implies, which fits with gillian’s preference to talk her way out of situations by telling other people things they don’t mind hearing. they were also on the brink of extinction in the early 20th century, which would add to the air of exceptionality and desirability gillian cultivates for herself. i know rose definitely helped out with this one so a lot of the credit goes to her on what gillian got.

angela— desert cottontail

i’ll accept flak for giving angela one of the only purely-herbivorous daemons among the whole cast, but really nothing else i tried out for her fit as well. rabbits are small, quiet, and as one of the few characters who’s essentially a noncombatant through the show, she got a noncombative species. since angela is hardly antisocial the more solitary rabbit species didn’t quite fit, but for me one of her defining characteristics is her disinterest in traditional domesticity, so the european rabbit with its extensive social burrows was out too. desert cottontails strike a happy medium, as they’re more comfortable with shared or overlapping territories than many hares and larger rabbits, but don’t nest communally. rabbits also give birth to young that can’t fend for itself immediately after birth, which felt fitting since angela rejects domesticity but wholly embraces motherhood. also credit to rose on this one because i’m pretty sure we talked about hedgehogs for angela which put me on the path of small herbivores; i think i was still in “daemons should either be new world animals or range match character ethnicity” mode and went for rabbit instead because of that BUT CREDIT WHERE IT’S DUE ANYWAY FOR TRAIN OF THOUGHT

richard — rhodesian ridgeback

probably there’s disagreement out there on this one, especially given where i stand on what a domesticated animal as your daemon means about your strength of will, but from what i remember of HDM canon, soldiers tend to have loyal fall-in-line types of animals like canines, so career-soldier richard got a domestic dog. as for the breed, rhodesian ridgebacks are visually-intimidating dogs with a protective streak but generally calm in adulthood. they tend to be good with kids, especially when the dogs themselves are older and their energy level isn’t puppyish anymore. not super invested in this one, you might be able to tell :P

[mastcomm]

Pearl Jam Dances to a Different Beat, and 11 More New Songs

Introducing “Gigaton,” its first studio album since 2013, Pearl Jam has come up with what might have happened if Talking Heads had invented grunge when they made “Speaking in Tongues.” The beat is funky, jabbed by jumpy rhythm guitar, and Eddie Vedder’s vocal lines hop all over the place, leaping an octave or arguing with themselves in staccato bursts or turning to sustained melody: “Expecting perfection leaves a lot to ignore/When the past is the present and the future’s no more.” Even if its references are obvious, Pearl Jam is clearly pushing itself. JON PARELES

Hayley Williams, ‘Simmer’

This is not pop-punk. Hayley Williams, from Paramore, drives her solo statement (although she’s still collaborating with Paramore’s guitarist Taylor York) with syncopated, almost Caribbean-tinged drums. The song starts with her panting breath pacing the beat; the video shows her on the run, nude, in a horror-movie pursuit. But her voice is levelheaded, refusing to panic, trying to gauge “the line between wrath and mercy” while vowing to protect her child. There’s more tension because she refuses to explode. PARELES

Megan Thee Stallion, ‘B.I.T.C.H.’

Megan Thee Stallion is still trying to determine the best way to package her ferocious, sharp-elbowed rhymes into a package that has both hard and soft appeal. On “B.I.T.C.H.,” she turns for inspiration to a star of an era when that was the norm: 2Pac. “B.I.T.C.H.” updates “Ratha Be Ya ____,” one of his more salacious songs (and itself an update of the Bootsy’s Rubber Band track “I’d Rather Be With You,” the bedrock of many a ’90s rap hit). But while 2Pac’s song was a flirtatious encouragement by a sexual scalawag, Megan’s version is brimming with stern resentment to a man who can’t seem to commit. Not that she’s waiting around: “I got my mind on gettin’ paid, we ain’t spoke in some days/He prolly’ thinkin’ I’m in pain but I’m really on game.” JON CARAMANICA

Mitski, ‘Cop Car’

Mitski unleashes psychic demons and massive grunge guitar chords in this inexorable eruption of a song. She sings with a sociopathic air of control as the music floods in around her — distorted guitars, queasily hyperactive strings — and she sweetly delivers a final threat. PARELES

Tony Allen and Hugh Masekela, ‘We’ve Landed’

Tony Allen, 79, is the Nigerian drummer who helped Fela Kuti invent Afrobeat in the 1970s. Hugh Masekela, who died in 2018, was a South African trumpeter who became symbolic of his country’s long-suppressed culture during the darkest years of apartheid. The two master musicians first met a half-century ago, when Masekela was working with Kuti; they discussed recording an album together for many years before finally doing it in 2010. Now, 10 years later, the results are finally being released. On “We’ve Landed” — the album’s low-key but persuasive debut single — only a simple, repeated bass line and a generous cloud of reverb stand between Allen’s quilted drumming and Masekela’s loose coils of trumpet. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLO

Madame Gandhi, ‘See Me Thru’

The singer, songwriter, drummer and producer Madame Gandhi finds a swinging backbeat — often doubletiming into drum-and-bass — for “See Me Thru,” a dreamily multilayered love song happily buffeted by rhythmic crosscurrents. The extended a cappella vocals over the video credits are an invitation to remix. PARELES

Jessie Reyez, ‘Love in the Dark’

Jessie Reyez has a special voice that’s capable of serrated soul belting and several more nuanced modes. It can sizzle, it can hiss, it can quiver with nerve. On this arresting song about loss, it’s pulsing with perseverance and strength in the face of trauma. The song moves slowly and with reverence, and Reyez is singing with sadness and restraint while drizzling in some of her signature twists. But the raw power of the words is undeniable: “I’d do anything to relive our memories/And listen to your songs play in my head/’Cause I hate the silence, it’s the only thing I get.” CARAMANICA

Wye Oak, ‘Fear of Heights’

“You say it’s worth it for the view,” Jenn Wasner sings to a partner who forces her to confront her fear of heights. The song’s restlessly strummed folk-rock ponders whether the trauma was worth it, circling through possibilities but never settling on an answer. PARELES

Wiz Khalifa featuring Ty Dolla Sign, Lil Yachty and Sueco the Child, ‘Speed Me Up’

Maybe eight months ago, the quasi-comic sleepy-voiced rapper Sueco the Child made his debut with a viral hit, “Fast.” Now he’s on a song with Wiz Khalifa, Lil Yachty and Ty Dolla Sign from the soundtrack to the forthcoming Sonic the Hedgehog movie. Also: There is a forthcoming Sonic the Hedgehog movie. Also: Wiz Khalifa persists, rapping about “rings of gold.” This year is already wild. CARAMANICA

Endless Boogie featuring Stephen Malkmus and Matt Sweeney, ‘Jerome’

Guitars, guitars, guitars: churning and tangling and wriggling and racing and squealing. Endless Boogie, founded in 1997, put its concept in its name, bringing Minimalist drone and endurance to basic garage-rock. “Jerome” has Rolling Stones roots — it’s “Live With Me” turned into a manic fixation. Joining the members of Endless Boogie are Stephen Malkmus and Matt Sweeney on additional guitars, keeping things especially frantic. PARELES

Wire has been making lean, cleareyed, dystopian rock since its 1977 debut album, finding the common ground of punk and Minimalist repetition and distilling dire observations into telegraphic lyrics. The band is still trenchant in “Cactused” from its new album, “Mind Hive.” The song has two contrasting sections — one clinically spoke-sung, one ominously cheerful — as the lyrics note “the collective hive mind algorithmically scanning” and warn “Ooh, you better watch your step.” PARELES

Ben Williams, ‘We Shall Overcome’

Soon after he won the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition, Ben Williams made it clear that he intended to be more than a virtuoso bass player. His debut album, “State of Art” (2011), put him near the top of his class in a generation of jazz musicians just starting to get comfortable with their omnivorous appetite for fusion. Now 35, Williams has stayed that course; on “I Am a Man,” his forthcoming third album, looming synths and steady-rocking beats accompany songs that insist upon perseverance and social justice. The album ends with Williams’s trudging but faintly glamorous take on “We Shall Overcome,” the Civil Rights Movement anthem, with a droning synthesizer alternating between just two chords while Williams sings the lyrics in harmonized overdubs, echoes of D’Angelo’s “Africa” ricocheting around. RUSSONELLO

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