bakerstreet | 1920s Meme

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[meme] au

1920s Meme

1920s AU Meme

It’s the roaring 20s, skirts are short, the music is fast, the economy is booming, and there’s a party to be had.

Scenarios:
1. The Jazz Club - Some nights the jazz here is slow and crooning, some nights it’s fast and hot. It’s the hippest place in town. Maybe you’re in the audience, maybe you’re on stage—hey, maybe you even own the place.
2. Hollywood - The movie industry is new and exiting, and it isn’t yet being taken seriously as an art form, even though the popularity of the silver screen is booming. Are you an actor, here to play a role in the moving pictures, or perhaps you’ve got a dream of becoming a director of your own?
3. Gangsters - Somebody’s got to make and move all the gin that this society demands. Get your gun and your best suit, there’s crime to be had out here.
4. Daredevils and aviators - Airplanes, airships, and hot air balloons! Everything flies in the jazz age, and even if you go down in flames, at least you’ll die young and beautiful. There are records to be set, and lots of money in it if you’re willing to try some crazy daredevil stunts. Want to fly around the world? Get your goggles, let’s go!
5. The Most Glamorous Party — Long Island, Paris, Venice, Monte Carlo? Wherever this party is at, it’s huge, and glamorous, and all the most interesting and beautiful people have been invited. Champagne is flowing and all the inhibitions have been thrown out the window.
6. Wildcard! Choose your own 1920s adventure!

Post with who your character would likely be in the 1920s, along with any preferences!

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[Disenchanted nobleman's son at a glamorous party, probably being unimpressed and lonely.]

[Definitely a Prohibition agent, probably working undercover. And given 1920s pulp horror culture, mayybe there's some weird squid-headed god worshipping cultists out there he can bother??]

[Famous nightclub singer who is either on stage somewhere or having a hell of a good time at a party.]

[ ota for gen, m/f for shippy ]

[Owner of an automobile company. Rich playboy. Most likely at some fundraising party etc.]

[A devil-may-care, very Elinor Smith-like stunt pilot, now spending her evening at a very lively, very illegal party.]

(Canonically he’s still alive and well in the 20s! He’s been promoted to inspector, and I imagine he still takes an active role in working cases. If dealing with crime in the 20s isn’t your thing, he would also be easily found in a more social environment.]

[ Not exactly an AU as he was around for this era, but especially open to wild parties with lots of imbibing and indulgence. Prefs and interests here! ]

[Options options! He could simply be visiting, long lived fuck he is, maybe Dracula moved to the New World at some point and Alucard was born at the turn of the century, maybe something else???]

The Starks and the Targareyns are old money. Old money and into politics. But that's just not the life that Jon wants, especially not after his father was assassinated by the Baratheons over laws that his father hadn't wanted to pass. Raised by his mother Lyanna with his Uncle Ned and his cousins, he'd never really said no to the money, but he also wanted to build something for himself, so he wouldn't have to only live off the money. Which is how he'd come to own Ghost, the premiere Jazz club in the city. The line on a normal night was always down the block and around the corner, with a VIP guest list that were welcome to jump the line any night, as well as some of the country's best live entertainment every night.

Well. Almost every night.

Tonight was a little different. The Skywalkers had booked the place solid for a private party to celebrate this or that, Jon hadn't fully paid attention to the what. The decorations for the party were a little higher end than normal for the private party, and the band had been set up and given a playlist specifically curated by the family for the event. His staff even had special uniforms for tonight, distinguishing them from the patrons in their fancy suits and beautiful dresses. What was also different for this party, was that Jon wasn't just the owner of the establishment as he moved around the room, but an attendee of the party as well seeing as how he was dating one of the Skywalkers.

Weaving through a few people, he smiled and shook hands like a good blue blood. Though his smile starts to be a little more real, a little less strained as his hand comes to rest on the small of Jane's back lightly. Dipping, he brushes a kiss to the shell of her ear. "Sorry that took so long, there was a minor issue in the kitchen, but it's all straightened out now." Playing double duty meant he'd had to leave Jane to the wolves, but he hoped that she didn't have too much trouble with his family while he was gone.

A champagne bottle pops in an adjacent room, probably the twelfth of the evening. Crowley is still finishing a glass from the last bottle as he leans in the archway, curious to hear what the next toast will be held to. He hadn't been invited to the party, not directly, but the guest list was too large for anyone to notice.

He looked the part with his dark dress coat and a three-piece suit with just enough edge to it that he could have been associated with the local mob scene. A cane was tucked under his arm though he didn't need it, and his short hair was slicked to the side, perfectly parted. He wore a pair of dark oval spectacles, though the lights were already low for atmosphere, and it had been quite late.

And then something caught his eye, or someone, anyway. Crowley discarded his now-empty glass of champagne for two fresh flutes, heading in the direction of the man with white-blonde hair and an all-too-familiar color palette. He slid behind the crowds clinking glasses and cheering, moving almost serpent-like along the outer walls, toeing gracefully past dancers until he found himself behind the angel.

"Sir, I'm not so sure you're on the guest list." he teased.

[ooc; I've read your interests and am happy to take this in any direction you'd like! Feel free to DM me if you'd like to sort out specifics.]

[Either a federal agent or private detective on hire to bust up gang activity in Prohibition America, or shifting his age down - the youngest son of some British landed gentry using his holiday in America to get into a little bit of trouble without it getting back to his family]

The big band has been playing all night; at first Aziraphale found all that brass jarring, but as the evening went on, with plentiful flutes of champagne to enjoy, he began to get used to it and appreciate the exuberant dancing it provoked, reminding him a little bit of the fun of the gavotte. Now he stands idly tapping his fingers against his thigh, dressed in a cream-colored dinner jacket with satin lapels and cuffs, over flat-fronted trousers (slim-cut as is the style) and a silver vest buttoned over his middle. His wing-tipped shoes are polished to gleaming, top hat set upon his pale curls. The whole ensemble was custom made—quite modern by his standards, but it’s a spectacular party, and he’s glad that he made an extra effort to fit in.

Which is why, when someone tells him he's not on the guest list, he's ready to turn with an indignant word or two, except Aziraphale recognizes the voice and of course the red hair when he does turn--slicked down as seems to be the style for most of the men, smooth and gleaming--and his indignation melts away into a cheeriness that is in no small part brightened by the champagne he's been imbibing. "Oh, Crowley!" It's so good to see him, in spite of their recent spat a few decades ago in St James Park--perhaps this too is an effect of the champagne, but Aziraphale's much too into the spirit of the party to remember old grievances. And look, the dear fellow's brought an extra flute.

"I--I can't say I was expecting you." Aziraphale beams, glances him over: Crowley's wearing black, of course, and it suits him, even or especially the hint of a criminal element in his style. "But as it happens, I am on the guest list."

[ Will do! :) ]

[A trust fund baby turned gangster. Frequents fancy parties, speakeasy and dark alleys alike.

No smut, okay with fade to black.

An outstretched arm offers the angel a fresh flute of champagne, and Crowley smirks slightly, scoffing as Aziraphale corrects him. There was a bit of fun that came with ruffling the angel's feathers, but it did surprise him to find that Aziraphale had been sent an invitation. Such a lavish event was filled to the brim with temptations left and right, and while the angel had been a bit hedonistic at times, he had rarely shown face anywhere without other motives... at least to Crowley's knowledge.

The demon, by chance, hadn't expected to be there either, but he couldn't resist a bit of fun when the opportunity presented itself, and large crowds of drunk people gave him ample opportunity to stir up a bit of trouble.

"That makes one of us."

[It'd have to stay gen (or one-sided flirting on Loki's part if you want) because Crowley is still Aziraphiliac even if they're Not Speaking during this time period but come on, how about some Jazz Era shenanigans? ;)]

The Skywalkers, on the other hand, were new money. Virtually unheard of until two generations ago, after war hero Anakin Skywalker married European aristocrat Padmé Amidala, and eventually made a name for themselves in the aviation industry. Now the Skywalkers owned and ran a small commercial airline — very risky, with how new aviation technology was, but also very profitable.

It wasn’t their families that brought Jane and Jon together, though. She’d just shown up one afternoon at his club, during band auditions. His staff had turned her away, because she came alone and it was a band audition, but she’d sassed the guy and gone up the stage to sing anyway. First few lines and the room fell into a hush; she’d thought she’d impressed them, until she heard the keys come alive to accompany her. She turned her head and there he was on the piano, smiling warmly at her, and her world practically stopped.

She never figured out what compelled her to go, only that something about the place had called out to her. Until that moment when their eyes met. She didn’t get the job, but he did ask her out after that.

She turns to peer up at him, grinning. “Good, because Robb just ditched me for girls he could actually date instead of babysit.” She tilts her head meaningfully to his cousin’s direction, out somewhere in the crowd and surrounded by a group of giggling ladies, before handing Jon the glass of champagne she’d been saving for him.

[ Canon time period. ]

[Hell yeah! I'm good with either first time meeting or assumed CR (HC them meeting in Arthurian times for assumed CR?)]

"Thank you, dear fellow." Aziraphale was happy to accept the champagne, raising it to Crowley in acknowledgement before taking a sip of golden effervescence. He quite liked champagne, always enjoyed the way the bubbles tickled his nose, but hadn't had as much occasion to drink it until the 20s, when it seemed to be the featured alcoholic drink at any party thrown by anyone who was someone. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but he was here mostly because of hedonism and temptation: he'd met the Ashbys when they'd offered an indecent sum of money for one of his rare old volumes, and though Aziraphale had been reluctant to part with it, curiosity got the better of him and led him to accept the invitation to their sprawling mansion on the coast. And some other invitations that had been presented by the company of fine young men they kept. It was all in good fun, but perhaps Crowley didn't need to know all the details.

"Ah, over there--" Aziraphale pointed out the dark-haired man and the young woman with striking red curls on his arm, glittering with finery, across the room, leaning close to Crowley so that he would hear him over the music. "Those are the Ashbys. Book collectors. They invited me after I let them buy one of my first editions."

Crowley mirrored the angel's raised glass before bringing it to his lips. He hadn't been picky when it came to alcohol. As long as things were drinkable and of at least some quality. he'd make do. He didn't drink for the taste, after all.

The demon leaned in to better hear Aziraphale over the brass, positioning himself so that he would have a better view of the party, in particular the hosts. Book collectors by hobby, but certainly not where they'd come into money. Crowley felt a bit of a demonic itch at the back of his brain, already thinking of creative ways to reserve souls for hell, but he shook it off. It would be pointless with the angel in the room anyway.

"Can't say I've met them." he muttered, taking another sip of his champagne,"But I see no point in doing what I came here to do now, it'll all even out."

He'd of winked with his last statement, but behind his glasses the angel wouldn't have noticed.

Jon had heard Catelyn doubt how long aviation and their new money would last. But then when wasn't it all about money for some people. In the grand scale of things, her family hadn't openly frowned at Jon when he'd started dating Jane. And for better, his mother had been absolutely taken with Jane when he'd first introduced them. For Jon though, it wasn't about the money or status or joining their families together that had caught Jon's attention.

No, he'd been caught by Jane the moment she'd come into audition at his club by herself. Watching her sass her way onto the stage despite being told no, despite not having a band, had been impressive. And to be fair to Jane, her singing had impressed the room, but they'd never seen Jon take a personal interest in accompanying anyone before. Most of his employees knew he played, he had a habit of playing during closing when the club was finally quiet and the only thing that needing doing were the glasses. But he wasn't one to showcase that, or really play for anyone despite his mother telling him he should play more and far more publicly than he does.

He'd fallen for her from the moment she walked into his club, if he's being honest, and he's grateful that she agreed to go out with him when he'd asked. If only because now he gets to cherish her every day.

Fingers brush hers as he takes the champagne and steals a very soft kiss. "Like you really need a babysitter, you were just using him as a shield so you didn't have to mingle by yourself." His arm settles a little more firmly around her, pulling her into his side and warmth, and his hand settles on her hip possessively. "Luckily I'm back so I can help. Though if you want after we make the rounds we can go hide in my office." Where there's quiet and a couch.

Jane’s family hadn’t openly frowned on her dating Jon either — except Ben, but when did he ever not frown and glower at any of the boys that caught his little sister’s attention? And there have been plenty, all dark-haired pretty boys that had an impressive talent or two, though not one of them had interested her enough to warrant a second date. It’s almost as if she’s been looking for a very specific person, because she’d not stopped being flighty until she met Jon.

And she’s been crazy about his playing. Like his mother, she’d been encouraging him to play more, although she can’t be incredibly pushy since she refuses to do the same with her singing. She’s not even sure what possessed her to go to that audition, because it’s not like she’s been dreaming about becoming a singer. She just enjoys it for the most part.

Though what she’s enjoying the most these days is getting to spend time with her boyfriend. She especially loves it when he holds her close like that, claiming her and being possessive. Which is weird, since she’d hated it when other men exhibited that sort of behavior around her.

“I would love to right this moment,” she says, leaning into him, “but Ben’s kind of blackmailed me into agreeing to do a song.” She looks to the far end of the room, to where her brother’s standing nervously. “He’s proposing to his fancy European girlfriend.”

Which explains how extra everything is.

Jon had ignored Ben's grumbling and glowering, something in him telling him that's just always how her brother is, even when he'd never met Ben before. He also figured that at some point Ben would see that Jon wants the best for Jane, and wouldn't be going anywhere, deciding to prove by action instead of placating her brother. But then Jon's always been a man of action more than flowery words.

There'd been a few women Jon had dated here and there, but none of them had stuck. Nothing had felt right, there hadn't been that click that told him this person was the right one for him. But the moment Jane walked through the door he'd felt that snap of everything falling into place. He'd agree, that it did feel like he was searching or waiting for that right person, and it had definitely been Jane.

He's happy to play for her in private, and she has VIP status at his club so she can come and go as she pleases, even welcome to sit with him on the bench while the staff closes the club and he plays. But he likes keeping it to just them mostly. He feels like it's a little more special when it's shared specifically with the people that he cares about. She'll find out at the big Christmas gala his family throws that he's nudged into playing for the party a little, occasionally while Sansa or the family sing holiday songs too. What they do for family.

The being possessive, he's never been with any of the other girls he's dated either. But something about Jane urges him to be so. It's slightly subtle though, and it's not done in a way to make her feel trapped. Because despite the possessive arm around her, if she wanted or needed to slip free there's still more than enough room and the hold says he wouldn't stop her. At the same time, it's a quiet way of letting her know he wants her, and of letting some of the guests know that she's very taken.

"Blackmailed you, huh?" He rests his nose against Jane's hair a little as he glances over at her brother with a small smile. He hasn't proposed to Jane yet. But he may have been ring shopping recently. "At least it's for a good cause though. That's Rey, right? The one you introduced me to at the last party?"

That does explain why everything is so extra. Though, Jon knows how he wants to propose to Jane, and while they'll have an engagement party that's this extra, he wants the proposal to be a little more private. Yes. He's been planning.

[ I'm thinking an actor with strong mob ties, probably via Mystique or Sabertooth. A common sight at the glamorous parties, jazz clubs, and a known flirt. ]

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Page 1 of 3

1920s Meme

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