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#prohibition era
a-dream-seeking-light · 9 months
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wanimal
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blackwolfmanx2 · 4 months
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Real Talk:
Today is December 5th 2023, the 90th year of the Repeal of Prohibition Day. That means more than 100 years ago, the government banned alcohol, all in the name of “protecting children”. But hey that's government for you, they see alcohol as the problem and point the blame on it instead of shitty parenting. Sort of makes you figure that alcohol should have never been banned in the first place.
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autumnmobile12 · 11 months
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Defying the Volstead Act: Illicit Affairs
“We came to America for a better life and what did we find?  Enforced sobriety.” ~ Trevor Belmont
Castlevania Prohibition AU
I’m having way too much fun with this one.  Alucard is too powerful, Sypha is adorable, and Trevor’s just done.  Definitely gonna be drawing more characters in this au, stay tuned!
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fizziepopangel · 1 year
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Lackadaisy Pilot Review
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Based on a comic series by Tracy J Butler, Lackadaisy is an animation set in 1927 St. Louis Missouri, during the time that prohibition was a thing, and features a cast of anthropomorphic cats who seem to be trying to keep a slowly dying speakeasy alive.
Straight away we're introduced to three of our main characters as they begin their duty of gathering booze to bring back to the speakeasy. It becomes clear early in the show that the trio each have their own "skill set"; one being a driver, one an odd combo of the anxious voice of reason and the trigger-happy gunman, and the third being the groups hopeful and slightly reckless musician. Soon after we're introduced to our trio of illegal liquor distributors, we're introduced to what seems to be a slightly more sophisticated trio of bootleggers with trigger happy tendencies. While we're introduced to a few more characters by the time the credits roll, the trio put on screen first (Ivy, Freckle, and Rocky) seem to be the main focus of this episode, making it easier to digest rather than having thrown into the first episode full force.
Sticking to the topic of characters, I loved that while every character wasn't shoved down my throat for the full 27 minutes, but each character did have moment in the spotlight with a brief introduction that left them stuck in my head despite how minor their role in this episode seemed to be. As for our trio of merry alcohol fetchers, I believe that for being the first episode and only being about a half hour long, their stories and characters were construed very well; well enough that I already have twos characters that grabbed my attention enough to want more story for him (and of course one of those was Freckle, the anxious, trigger-happy cat😂). For someone who usually isn't into period pieces like this, me wanting more story for a character within a history-based animation like this one seems like a success story to me.
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Speaking of the animation, oh. my. god. This is animated beautifully done! From the bright, vibrant colors that caught my attention in the first few second of the episode, to the way the way each character's voice is perfectly suited to the style of both the character and the time period. It's wonderful to see.
In the end, I believe this can and will be a solid series if the creators and the studio choose to continue past just the pilot. If it's continued, I would definitely recommend this series, but until then I would highly recommend watching the pilot and going to check out the comic (like I plan to do now!).
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laiqualaurelote · 7 months
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When the shots rang out in the Arc, the band didn’t stop playing. It was twelve minutes into the new year at a Stark speakeasy and the joint was jumping, the floor crammed with gin baby socialites essaying the Charleston, mobsters clustered around tables, petty thieves circling and dipping into the pockets of the unwary. When the bullets started flying the crowd screamed and sought to scatter but the bandleader barely blinked, just led his crew full tilt into another chorus of ‘I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate’. The singer, a svelte Sokovian songbird in a shimmering scarlet number, sidestepped a bullet that buried itself in a piano leg and kept right on crooning, All the boys in the neighbourhood know she can shimmy and it’s understood, while all hell broke loose on the dance floor.
On an average night in the Arc you could find a good sample of Manhattan’s criminal element. This night was especially high on variety: the Chitauri, who were low-level thugs at best, had capered in close to midnight, already drunk from another shindig across Soho; the Hand had strayed from Hell’s Kitchen to be in attendance, as had some of the Harlem War Dogs. Even the Ten Rings had put in a rare appearance. What was not known to any of these parties was that the crown prince of Wakanda was drinking incognito in the club, or that his retinue of bodyguards – all tall women in bobbed wigs and glittering gowns they seemed to barely tolerate – had stationed themselves throughout the crowd.
The brawl started when one of the Chitauri got into a spat over a dance hostess – or at least he thought she was a hostess, a redhead in black he’d seen regularly moving across many a floor, though if he’d asked around he’d have realised nobody knew her name. He’d thrown a punch, which had hit one of the Hand, and members from both gangs had started piling in. Who fired the first shot wasn’t clear, but the rest needed no encouragement. The civilians who’d come in from upstate for a taste of forbidden fruit cowered under tables; the club’s regulars launched themselves into the fray with relish. Thor Odinson, senator’s son who frequented far too many watering holes for his father’s dry agenda, was bashing brawlers left, right and centre with a barstool. The Wakandan women had produced gleaming spears from beneath their gowns and actually appeared to be hurling men through the air. It seemed like the entire fracas would burn out of the club and up into the streets of Manhattan like wildfire – but then there was an enormous boom from above the crowd that had everyone throwing themselves flat.
“I’d say this party is getting out of hand,” said Tony Stark. “Even for me.”
it’s my @marveltrumpshate 1920s Prohibition era Steve/Tony AU for @nostalgicatsea! the gin is cold but the jazz is hot, etc.
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texaschainsawmascara · 11 months
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Boardwalk Empire
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brutermonger · 4 months
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The Moonshine comic covers are just *chefs kiss* 🤌✨
Super eager to dive into the series. 😌🐺🍺
art by Eduardo Risso and written by Brian Azzarello
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orchidscript · 7 months
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I’m a glutton for punishment, and sinking myself into a new fic before I’ve finished the one ahead of it seems to be my new MO. So, please enjoy some more Carlos and TK in 1920s New York.
~*~*
“I don’t just balance the books here officer, I am the books. This is my joint. So, if you’re here to nab me-.” The man dropped his elbows onto the table top with a loud thunk. He grinned sharply as he held out his wrists to be cuffed like a smart-mouthed kid looking for a communion wafer. “I’m all yours. Just know, I’ve tried to handcuff someone before. I learned how to get out.”
Carlos exhaled, answering mildly: “That’s not what I’m here for.”
A single dark eyebrow arched, eyes glittering with amusement. “No?”
Carlos lifted his chin, held his jaw square. “No.”
“No…” Strand stared at him, green eyes sharp in the smoky dim of the place. “So. You don’t wanna pinch me. And you don’t want my booze.” A grin too feline to be innocent spread across his features. “You must want my money.”
Carlos swallowed tightly. If his mother could see him now. She’d raise hell and then some. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Then keep on speaking, Reyes.” Strand tilted back in his chair. This cigarette in his mouth was unlit, his fingers lithe around it. “Because as far as I can tell, you’re too much of a good boy to run rum around Queens.”
Carlos’ nose wrinkled. “I’m not—.”
“You are,” Strand said. “You and that little gold crucifix you hide in your collar.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “You’re a good boy, bit of a mama’s boy too probably. You reek of it. I’ll bet you the Chicago Outfit can smell it from Capone’s offices, so there’s no way Lepke and Lanksy are gonna see past it.”
Carlos opened his mouth to protest. He was a cop for fuck’s sake, not some snot-nosed kid. He’d been on murder detail ever since he showed up in New York. He’d seen stabbings, muggings, men raked down by repeating rifles from a passing car, bodies fished out of the Gowanus, and people blue from poisoned alcohol in seedy speakeasies.
He wasn’t fresh and green anymore. He was rougher around the edges now than when he left home. He felt meaner too. Might as well put it to good use, even if it meant he’d never look his parents straight in the eye again.
Strand nodded to the main door with his unlit cigarette. “I’d get to stepping, officer. Never know who might walk in a place like this.”
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I'm only going to provide "propaganda" for the ME here.
You have this man to thank for being a scientific voice against the Prohibition of Alcohol. Why you generally don't have to worry if the booze you're drinking hasn't been spiked with methanol. (Which can/will make you go blind and die pretty horribly.)
He was also one of the main guys campaigning against leaded gasoline!
Among many other achievements (with a lot of help from his colleague, Alexander Gettler.)
If you wanna know more about this man, I high-key recommend reading "The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York" by Deborah Blum. (Or the documentary based off of it!)
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acesentialsketches · 1 year
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Have two characters drawn in my personal take on the early rubberhose animation style!
First character is Cat, first designed and created by my good friend foxxy-tf! She was created first, and later inspired me to create Tilly. Modeled after 20s Flapper girls. Definitely does alcohol smuggling on the side.
I actually tried drawing her several times but struggled with the proportions until late last year, when I finally got it with this drawing. Drawing Sonic characters for much of 2022 really helped.
Second character is mine! Matilda, aka Tilly the Filly! Dressed up like a classic cabbie driver. She is a cab driver by day and a getaway driver by night! I initially made a design for her back in 2020 but never did much with her, until I was inspired to draw her stylistically in line with Foxxy's Cat.
Her taxi meter can print out receipts for the things she smuggles inside her car!
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eyecandyeoz · 1 year
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Cemetery Weather
Part VI - Little Talks
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Pairing: Richard Harrow(Boardwalk Empire) x Female OC Audette Rhys
Warnings: Angst, talk of depression/mental health, suicide, fluff, hurt/comfort, guns, language, racial offenses, prostitution mention, mafia drama/violence, discrimination for disability, female@male catcalling/assault, drinking, smoking
Summary: Jimmy’s effective negotiation tactics were crucial in preventing any more bloodshed between business partners. However, the distance between Richard and Audette is excruciating. With her hiding away in Atlantic City and him carted off to be Capone’s glorified errand boy, a secret correspondence is conjured that tides them over until they’re reunited again. That is, unless something rocks the boat...
Note: After some thoughtful encouragement I received via a few lovely Ao3 comments to continue this, I HAVE!!
Main Masterlist - Cemetery Weather Masterlist
My Kofi -  about 3.5k words
Richard,
The good thing about love is that it travels. Wherever it takes us, it is a treasure to experience. I don’t blame you for your own need to be the buffer between me and the harsh realities of the world. I’ve seen how dark a place it can be, and there’s no doubt I won’t cross paths with it again in the future. Just know that I can hold my own when I need to. Think on that for me.
Always yours.
Inked words on a page hold infinitely more weight than the leaflets they’re written on. Richard has read and reread these first few letters received from Audette more times than he can count. Every word is scorched into his memory at this point, and it certainly makes his days working in his nemesis’ presence all the more bearable. He knows how strong and independent she is, but that doesn’t stop him from aiming to shoulder any and all of her burdens. Sadly, he wouldn’t dare to carry these letters around on his person in fear of them being found during a routine pat-down. As per the agreement, one of the major stipulations Capone made with Jimmy is that Richard pays off his debt unarmed through the entire duration. Capone hasn’t had the fortune of seeing him in action, but the testimony of his associates influences him remain on guard.
Richard lifts them to his nose, straining so hard to catch notes of Audette’s effervescent perfume misted onto the pages. The scent reaches his senses in a familiar way, as if these notes retaining the essence of her solidify an everlasting connection before the pair’s wanton convergence. It’s a warm, sweet scent with layers and layers of depth. He closes his eyes, imagining she’s right there with him. Holding him. Calming him. The mere vestiges of her manifest a hypnotic tranquility, a moment of vital meditation before the humiliation in store for him today and the many days ahead. The coexistence of unbridled toughness with unconditional tenderness is what makes Richard who he is. He doesn’t lack the strength to truly effect change when needed while still having the ability to be Audette’s safe haven, likewise from afar. Knowing how to balance these traits is the true key, a skill that is not easily learned. He learned this for her. He’s learning to feel again. For her.
Richard slides his letters into a keepsake box where all his other personal items are stored, already longing to unfurl them again. Alas, with time not on his side, he hurriedly disembarks on yet another degrading day of swallowed pride. The ride to the Four Deuces with his chauffeur is perpetually an unnerving one, no matter the day of the week. Chicago is far deeper into the lion’s den than Richard cares to venture. Nearly a thousand miles away from her and the hurt is rendered powerful still. They were kind enough to not strip him of daily amenities, giving him a place to stay a few blocks from Capone’s headquarters. However, with eyes on every street corner in the city, it would be impossible for Richard to make a sneaky getaway without a well-placed distraction. His boarding room is nothing to write Audette about, under the cover of cunning alias, not wanting to complain. At least he has somewhere to decompress after playing butler to his enemies.
“And we’re here! Now run along. Don’t wana keep the boss waitin’.” Richard adjusts his hat and glasses upon stepping out of the automobile, reaching for a paper bagged lunch before shutting the door. The establishment is already roaring with overlapping laughter, billowing clouds of smoke and seminude women flaunting themselves at all who come close. They’re privy to Richard’s daily appearance, but a persistent group mischievous ladies treat him like a customer upon every entry. 
“Hey, handsome. You bring me something yummy to eat or should I settle for what’s in that bag?” Slender, manicured hands reach for Richard’s tie while two pairs of others yank the hat off his head and tug on his collar. They don’t smell anything like Audette, stopping him dead in his tracks as a wall of obnoxious odor burns all that remains of her from his nostrils. He doesn’t judge these women for their chosen profession, he only wishes they wouldn’t treat him like he is part of the clientele they’re meant to attract.
“You shouldn’t be doing that. I’ve been coming here every day.” Richard uses his free hand to meekly swat their grasps away, uncomfortable and invaded. 
“Yeah... but you’re just so fun to tease. You ever gonna give me a chance or have ya got someone waiting back home fer ya, nice guy?” Richard’s expression ignites in reference to Audette, quickly playing off this rather obvious tell when the sound of scuttling footsteps grows louder.
“Alright, gals. Lay off.” Capone announces while fastening his cufflinks as he descends the staircase dressed in a tailored suit, casually appearing without his overcoat. The women release Richard, practically jumping back a couple feet after Capone’s scolding. “My piss pot needs a scrubbin’.”
Richard keeps his vision glued to the hardwood floor, tracing the scratches and stains with his eye. But before he could retire to the kitchen to hang up his coat and store his lunch, Capone halts him. “Hold up. You know the drill.”
“Mister Capone-
“Call me Al.” He smiles, drenched in saccharine.
“Al.” Richard clears his throat. “This is just food, I assure you.”
“Well, if I had x-ray vision, I would believe that. But since I don’t...” With Richard towering over him and the girls watching this ingratiating exchange, he contemplates squashing Capone like the pest that he is. Instead, he passes the bag into his possession, hoping he doesn’t violate the only meal he’s allowed in the day once again.
“Just be glad Jimmy talked me out of a strip search, rest his soul. I liked that cool cat.” Capone nonchalantly discloses as he starts rummaging through the packed lunch, tossing an apple over his shoulder to suffer bruises from a tumble across the hardwood and biting into the hunk of cheese wrapped in parchment. Thankfully, the egg salad sandwich remains untouched as this crime boss’ taste buds are not refined enough to sample, even out of spite. 
Through the delivery of damning news, Richard’s fists clench upon instinct as he collects his lunch from the floor as Capone and his coons file down the staircase.. “Pardon?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? Apparently, some business with a certain Manny Horvitz caught up with him. If the guy ain’t careful, he’s as good as dead.” Upon this reiteration, Richard breathes a sigh of relief that Jimmy isn’t gone, but the treaty they shared at his house a few months prior is losing its pertinence. Why hasn’t he sent word? Does Audette know? Richard cycles through the possible reasons, surmising that Jimmy’s reluctance to admit his faults has placed Audette and Angela downrange and directly in the line of fire. “Now, I ain’t payin ya to stand around. My uncle’s on his way for a private meetin’ and everyone’s gotta vamoose when he gets here. ‘Cept you, Richard. All the glass at the bar still needs polishin’.”
‘You don’t pay me at all.’ Richard ponders angrily to himself. He’s going to give Jimmy an earful when he has the chance. But for now, he’s tasked with preparing the brothel for its guests and attendees after the meeting has ended. One by one, the ladies are taken upstairs by Capone’s troop where they will spend a greater portion of the day keeping each other busy. Minding his business in the kitchen, Richard watches the hierarchal trade-off happen between Torrio and Capone, passing the proverbial torch to the man who holds the real power.
Richard sets up a tray with a few crystal glasses and a decanter of whiskey, dropping a chipped piece of ice into each. He walks it into the meeting area, setting it down on one of the tables. Torrio fans himself with his hat before sitting, giving Richard a welcoming grin. “Thanks, Sonny. Say, you’re good for far more than scaring the rats away like my nephew always says. I oughta tell him to take it easy on ya.”
“I’d appreciate that, Mister Torrio.” Richard fills his glass, hovering over the second until he’s been approved to fill that as well.
“Nucky Thompson here to see you, sir.” A man announces from the doorway and Richard nearly drops the decanter. He turns his face away, hiding the unmasked portion from anyone’s view so as not to let anyone in on his apprehension of this untimely interaction. With the history he shares with Jimmy, it’s unknown what his intentions are.
“Send him in.” Torrio, orders, downing the whole glass Richard had only just tended to. He remains motionless, facing the opposite direction and silently praying he’s not called on once again. Unfortunately, he won’t be let off that easily. “Hey. No lollygaggin’. I need another round over here, Half-Moon.”
Torrio calls Ricard back and just as Nucky enters, they exchange glances. Nucky’s brows raise yet he’s able to read the room and not threaten the integrity of whatever operation Richard has found himself in, formally carrying on with the issue at hand as he retreats a few steps away to the kitchen where he may safely and covertly eavesdrop. “I appreciate the accommodations, Torrio.”
“It’s better we do this where no one else can hear, no?” Torrio agrees, his Italian cadence adding a bit of flair to his speech. “Just tell me how I can help you out, Nuck.”
“You can start by getting the pissants who work for you in line.” Torrio is speechless. Such a bold assumption as all ceremony has been dropped, he’s hoping Nucky has evidence to back up these atrocious claims. “Vito Scalercio ring a bell?”
“Never heard of the fella.” Torrio, admits, completely bewildered.
“Well, he shot me, John.” Nucky exclaims, rather offended and waving his gauze-wrapped hand as corroboration. “And before the feds could return the favor, he was living in a boarding house leased by your boy.”
“Nah, you got the wrong guy. It can’t be Al. He knows better.” Torrio shakes his head back and forth in denial, practically spitting out his drink when he first heard the notion.
“Apparently not. That loose-cannon nephew of yours tried to have me killed.” Nucky bites back in riposte.
Torrio grimaces at this utter betrayal. Just a few moments ago they were laughing, joking and planning for the future of the enterprise. “I knew somethin’ was up when I first noticed that little prick has been talkin’ to your Jimmy Darmody.
“I don’t know if this helps any, but I overheard Al say something like Jimmy’s also doin’ crummy business with a certain Manny Horvitz? The guy was bellyaching to anyone who would listen ‘bout being owed more than five thousand in liquor.” One of Torrio’s bodyguards interjects.
“Now you decide to tell me this?” Torrio’s patience is wearing thin, wondering what other secrets will come piling out of the woodwork.
“I thought you knew!” The bodyguard shrugs.
“The pups have grown fangs, gentlemen. They’ve begun to bite the hand that feeds.” Nucky disappointedly alleges, dropping his gaze to the floor before the crack in the pantry door announces Richard’s presence. Through the darkened slat, Richard releases his grasp on the handle, letting it close flush with its frame. He can still hear the parley, but he’ll have to wish that Nucky didn’t see him.
“What are you gonna do?” Torrio asks, noticeably upset.
“Oh, I don’t know. What would you do, John?” Nucky snaps back annoyedly.
“Kill the kid.” Torrio proposes, considering the same fate for Capone.
“Your nephew, too? With what resources? Feds have been breathing down my neck since I got out of the hospital.”
“On second thought, do nothing.” Torrio suggests after a quick reassessment and Nucky contorts his wrinkled face even more, but still interested. “There’s no obvious play to be had. I would wait. Plan something out. Somebody’s sure to slip soon enough. Hell, just think of the payout on something like this.”
Nucky reflects on it for a moment, taking the served drink in his non-injured hand, swirling it, then finishing it off before making way for the exit door. “This was a very enlightening chat, Mister Torrio. I appreciate the counsel.”
“Until we meet again, Nuck.” Torrio waves to Nucky as he exits. Richard grips the counter for stability, trying not to crumble into the impending mental breakdown after hearing a plot to kill his best friend. Unable to act on it now, Richard feels powerless. Being sent away was supposed to help the people he loves. Now, he’s feeling more trapped than ever.
~~~
Audette despises being indebted to anyone. And while Tommy rather enjoys the spontaneous company, she can’t say she believes the same about Jimmy or Angela. She does what she can in terms of tending to the household responsibilities, biding her time until another letter from Richard arrives what with Jimmy being gone most of the days. However, on this particular morning, he’s actually made an appearance for once.
“Angela, pick up the phone! Is anyone here?” Jimmy hollers from the bathroom into an empty foyer. He limps out wearing only a towel loosely secured to his hips, having ended his shower prematurely with suds still in his hair. With no one else around, he takes the call. “Hello?”
“Princeton, it’s me.” Capone addresses him via nickname.
“Finally, Jesus. Why you been ducking me?” Jimmy heaves a sigh of relief, having been expecting this call.
“I don’t owe ya money, and I sure as shit ain’t scared of ya, so why the hell would I be duckin’?” Capone rationalizes with a hint of arrogance.
“Four messages until you ring me back, what do you call that?” Jimmy isn’t having it, letting his displeasure be known.
“Busy. What you want? Me to string you a lie like I do all my doting broads?”
“I want an explanation. Your friend from Chicago failed to complete his job.” Jimmy claims in reference to the unsuccessful hit on Nucky Thompson.
“God rest his soul.” Al replies, a little too passively for Jimmy’s tastes.
“That’s all you got to say?” Jimmy’s temper escalates.
“Speakin’ of explanations, hows ‘bout you give one to me? Think I don’t know about your little side business with this Manny fella?” Al implies, taking a jab at Jimmy’s bluff.
“That’s under control, Al. Don’t concern yourself.” Jimmy simmers himself down, trying to keep his anger at an optimal level.
“Deception ain’t a good look on ya, Jim. You vouched for this Richard guy, but now I’m thinkin’ he’s not really worth my time. Pretty clever of you to talk me into sending one of my guys to finish Nucky off. All in the name of business, huh? If you ask me, sounds like it was a little more than that. Maybe it’s fate he didn’t bite the bullet.”
“Enough with the jokes, Al. The issue with Manny is handled and you’d be wise not to alter our deal with Richard any further. By the way, that’s on your boy’s ass for ending up in the morgue, not mine.”
“See that’s just it. I’m not much for carrying around dead weight, pal. So, youse either get all your ducks in a row, or Half-Moon over here is gonna be wearing a new pair of cement shoes before I send him to sleep with the fishes.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to-” He begins to raise his voice even louder as he resentfully speaks into the receiver. Besides working together in bootlegging business, Jimmy was hoping this rogue associate of Capone’s would live up to expectations. One can imagine his umbrage when he finds that Nucky turned the tables at the last second, resulting in a measly gun wound to the palm and a fresh set of bragging rights.
“Jimmy!” Angela stops him from delivering any more profanity unto their ears in fear of offending the small child with the roaring conversation.
“How long have you been standing there?” Jimmy’s eyes scan between the three faces before landing on Audette’s last. She’s crying, backing away to rush out of the house while Angela looks on, startled and frozen in the corridor with Tommy’s little hand in hers. 
“Long enough. We’re going to the beach.” She says before ushering Tommy out the same door Audette fled through seconds prior, having heard every bit of the conversation.
“Ange, wait!” Jimmy tries to catch up, but his war-torn leg prevents him from keeping up with her quickened gait, the shrapnel still embedded deep into his muscular flesh. “Al, look. I gotta go.”
Jimmy hangs up the phone, realizing he’s dropped the ball and let everyone in on the impending calamity that’s already done a commendable job of dampening the mood of Audette’s stay. He might as well have told her outright that Richard’s debt will turn into a life sentence if they don’t find a way for him out of there and fast. The distant image of Audette sitting down with her face in her hands as Angela consoles her fits into the frame of the front door Jimmy looks out from like a melancholy painting. At this dreadful transgression, Jimmy is wrought with contrition and unthinkingly drives his fist into the fortified wall, bloodying his knuckles.
Jimmy looks at the beads of red forming on his hand then to Audette, walking to the bathroom to complete his shower and to clear his head. Once finished, he combs his hair, bandages his wounds and walks out to hopefully meet Angela to have a proper discussion.
“You smoke now?” He asks, coming up behind her to take a cigarette out of his own pack she is sampling from.
“Now?” She asks, rhetorically. Her nerves are rightly shaken, in need of a calming agent.
“Meaning, you didn’t used to smoke before. At least, not to my knowledge.” Jimmy lights his cigarette as he slumps into the seat opposite the garden table to Angela, morose and repentant for any conundrum of secrecy he’s put her through. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“She’ll have to be.” Angela takes in a long drag while looking at Audette, fiery cherry gleaming bright before she lets it all out in one breath. “We need to talk.”
“I know, look Ange-”
“Why did you marry me, Jimmy?” Angela contends to him with a rather jarring question.
“I love you. Why else?” Jimmy is not privy to the correct answer she is looking for, settling for what his gut believes he should say.
“Is that what you tell yourself? Because it isn’t true.” Angela crosses her legs, adjusting her skirt with indifference.
“I could ask you the same.” Jimmy reacts, awaiting her reasoning.
“I was pregnant, for starters. It’s what society expected it of me? You kept pushing it...”
Jimmy groans in defeat as he sinks further into the ornate iron lawn chair. “Well, that’s romantic.”
“It’s honest, Jimmy. I only ask the same of you.” With full transparency, Angela finds herself losing the love she has for the man Jimmy’s become and doesn’t see a reason to hide it any longer.
“I haven’t lied to you Angela.” Jimmy asserts, trying to save his case.
“You haven’t said a goddamn word either!” Angela rethinks her volume before speaking again, sharply taking in a breath. “You go out, sometimes for days only to come back home at odd hours with blood on your clothes. Am I to believe what you’re doing out there is good?”
“I’m selling booze, Ange. That’s it. Do you want to give me an earful about the Volstead Act too?” Jimmy pinches his nose to suppress an oncoming headache and Angela regains her steadfast composure.
Crashing of the nearby waves adds gravity to this long pause. Angela is looking directly at him with calculating eyes, choosing her next words carefully. “Did you try to have Nucky Thompson killed?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to, but the call was mine to make.” Jimmy doesn’t see a reason to lie. It would only make things worse.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Angela gasps, frightened at these unhinged tendencies of her husband.
“He was supposed to just go to jail. My father’s idea.” Jimmy knows there is nothing he can say that will justify his actions, no matter how Shakespearean. “Naturally, we would end up taking over.”
“You used to love him more than your real father.” Angela’s attempt to pull at Jimmy’s heartstrings is all for naught, not knowing exactly the kind of man Nucky has turned into either.
“He’s not what he seems, Ange. I held true to the mental boundaries I would never cross when we started working together, but as I got further and further involved-”
“You didn’t want this, so why go through with it anyway?” Angela asks, disrupting Jimmy’s focus.
“Gillian.” He confesses dishonorably, unable hide from the pain of just how much Angela despises Jimmy’s mother. “She convinced me.”
Angela nods, then breaks the gaze she holds with Jimmy to focus her attention on Audette seated with Tommy many meters away having dried her tears and is now building a sandcastle. She stands, puts her cigarette out and points her feet to the horizon with the aim of joining them, not knowing how many more hours of this domestic bliss they have left. “You should get in touch with Richard. They’re depending on you, you know.” She adds before advancing towards Audette partaking in playful distractions with Angela’s son seated at the shore.
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bangsanghyeok  @rangbangs
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diving down into my drafts (which i use to store future reblogs) and discovered that this was flagged during the prohibition era.  oddly enough @myglorydayswon‘s reblog of it isn’t flagged, yet it gets tripped again as soon as i reblog it.  op has been inactive since 2019 so the odds of getting him back here just to appeal one of his posts is unlikely.  if this were posted by him now it probably wouldn’t get flagged, especially if he put a community label on it.  i can’t use community labels in the legacy editor so we’ll see how this goes.  at one point when you clicked the “missing community label” button it would just apply a community label for you., but then it started just flagging your post instead so i don’t know what will happen here.  
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spookulele · 1 month
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Anette is such a zany little critter
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autumnmobile12 · 10 months
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Defying the Volstead Act: We Play What We Play
The forge master duo and Lenore playing for the speakeasy.
Castlevania Prohibition AU
The trombone is a left-handed trombone.  I definitely did not draw it backwards.  Not at all.  Don't worry about it.
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boyslit · 1 month
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hey if anyone is insane about makeup history and knows much about cosmetics in the 1920s and will let me pick your brain a little i would love that
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galarfiend · 2 years
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do you think gamefreak has noticed how perfect a unova legends game based on the prohibition era would be. pokemon prohibition. battle arena speakeasies. elesa anscestor cruising around in a ford filled with illegal pokemon. I SWEAR TO ARCEUS IF THEY DO ANYTHING ELSE-
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