blowing shit up with homemade dynamite

Felix was certain his heart was moments away from falling out of his arse. It should be noted that he also had failed almost every single biology class, but that was beside the point. His palms turned sweaty, and he attempted to rub them against his trousers without appearing obvious. “Yeah, uh, chips…” But he couldn’t stay here, eating chips with his ex-girlfriend of all people. It seemed all too casual. “But, you know, you’re probably busy. And I’ve got—” Say something, he encouraged himself, but no more words came from his mouth. 

.

“Yes, mon canard, quite busy as always. Between work and the holiday season coming upon us at the boarding house, oh, you know how it is.” Aly wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow, eyes twinkling as she blinked at the toy before her. “We will be seeing each other, yes?” Hold out your hopes for me, she wagered Felix once more, raising from the barstool. The chips were left stone cold, but the way she sauntered while exiting the grotesques pub could’ve brought forth any heat. She glanced back. 

Caught ya.

.

Killian put on a smile, as if to maintain an air of politeness. “Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever had a reason to put the fear of God into anyone,” he said as he waved an until cigarette around. “I’m a very reasonable man, as you very well know, Ms. Carrow. Not only that, but most people are smart enough to not cross me or my family. Doesn’t do to screw people over who can screw you over worse, see.”

Aly smashed a smoke bomb down onto the ground and hopefully fled freely. For now.

.

Calista glanced down as the woman put a hand on her shoulder, but didn’t move, looking back at her. “Well, they’re just people, aren’t they? I’m not more scared of them than I am of any other stranger wandering down the street,” she said. She did note the use of the collective pronoun, including herself as one of the witches. “Calista,” she offered, and looking at her expectantly waiting for her to return the favor.

Aly left with an endearing smile whist blowing a kiss, “Calista. Find me at the London Zoo. It’ll be magic.”

when: 19 november 1980 where: cardiff, otb parlor  who: @alycarrow​ 

Killian was explaining to someone why the bet they placed mean they owed money rather than being paid out. It seemed that the especially dim-witted were betting tonight. That was the way Killian liked it. A guaranteed several extra galleons straight into his pockets from the overly confident gambler who couldn’t be stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement, a blonde moving away from him. He was quick to excuse himself, swiftly following her motions and moving around the crowd to cut her off. 

“Dare I ask where you’re going? I believe you were favoring the Yellow Hornet to win, and I do believe the outcome did not come out in your favor, so you’ll be owing me some money, Ms. Carrow. Yet again.” 

.

A new cigarette was hanging from her lips, as fresh as the red manicure she wore. Her heart thudded and the inhalation of nicotine did nothing for her nerves, not when a man of Killain’s stature and wealth stood directly in her path. Aly had almost made it out freely into the crisp night, but as always, a fucking man had prevented further happiness. She ashed her cigarette, careful of avoiding his shoes. There was a game she had to play now. One of utmost respect, one of dignity. She was not Cardiff scum and she’d be doing the Carrows justice if she kept their name solid in the eyes of the Whitehorns.

“I have a question. Have you ever put the fear of God into anyone who’s crossed you?”

.

“Charlotte Brontë,” she offered, as she listened to her. An eyebrow peaked as she mentioned birds being set free from the zoo. Was she serious or was this part of the extended metaphor she had started? “Sounds like I should just keep an eye on the zoo. Get to be part of it all that way. Means I won’t have to bother with the papers the day after.” 

She shrugged. “A time when we’re learning witches and wizards are real? Maybe it’s because I live in a fantasy world all my own, but is it really so shocking? When artwork and depictions of dragons and magic overlap and have similarities in some way across cultures? Should have known this whole time, really.”

.

Alecto’s smile turned fond at the offering, deciding to take it seriously and to the heart. “If you don’t show, I will hunt you down.” The soft laughter that followed may have reassured anyone it was simply a joke, but the hand that laid upon the woman’s shoulder now, wasn’t near as gentle. “You don’t sound afraid of the existence of witches. That’s reassuring, because we’re real rides.” Aly smirked now. “Tell me your name.”

WHEN: Tuesday, 16 November, 1980; around noon WHERE: The Fly, Appleby  WHO: Felix Macmillan & Alecto Carrow ( @alycarrow​ )

With his first class not starting until nearly the evening, Felix indulged in a proper lie in, busying himself with his iFlown. Not that this was particularly uncommon, given he wasn’t a morning person even in the slightest. Still, rolling out of bed finally after 11 o’clock was late for Felix. He only made haste when his stomach rumbled and nothing in the kitchen stuck out to him. Wrapped in a thick, colorful jumper, Felix ventured into the main centre of Appleby, carving his way through the streets until arriving at his favorite greasy pub in town. 

Nothing could bring down his high, the knowledge that in only a few minutes he would shove chips into his face. That is, until his gaze landed onto his ex. The ex who dumped him on his birthday. Months past, and seeing Aly Carrow still stung. But there was no use in running, given they already made eye contact. “Oh, uh. Hi.” 

.

“Felix,” she breathed, brows raising in faux shock. It must’ve looked rather endearing, or soft, if compared to the last time they’d seen each other. It didn’t take long for a dimple smile to show. “Hi. You know how much I love the peanut butter milkshakes here.” They’re the only place in the whole of Great Britain to have them, she was sure of it, and had told him every single time she ordered them. Aly sipped generously. In reality, she would have much rather been outside in the alley having a smoke. But she refrained gracefully, because what kind of boy would Felix be if he wanted to snog a girl who tasted of nicotine? 

She continued to bring attention to her plumped lips, licking them free of the creamy treat, “Let me guess... Hmm. Chips?” There was a basket she’d ordered already and Aly did not hesitate pushing them over to share.

.

Calista looked the other woman up and down. She took in her appearance, the cool confidence, her neatly manicured nails, the pearl necklace and coat. Someone she should be wary of? Hard to say, but it almost didn’t matter as she approached everyone as someone to be wary of. 

“Should there be a reason I should need to have something to prove by walking around at this time of night? I could ask you the same thing.” Not to mention, the girl was far more showy than Calista had ever been. 

.

How juvenile to say she felt the rules set in place were not to be followed. To hell with curfew. It was much deeper than the surface level bullshit she often reacted with. “The only thing we’ve to prove is you can’t cage us.” There was a crack as she bit into the disappearing sucker, the gum released at once. Aly littered the soggy stick with a flick of her fingers, slowly chewing to savor the piece of bubblegum that’d only last in flavor a solid five minutes.

“Who was it that said something about no net ensnaring me? She said she was no bird, she was a human being.” Her lips quirked as she indulged herself in speaking of her passion, “Soon, no net will ensnare the birds of the London Zoo. Do keep an eye on the paper for that read.” The calculated plan washed a great deal of calmness over the Carrow witch, one not a single person could snatch away, like they had her freedom to roam. “You must have something of your own keeping you sane in these trying times.” Suspicious wee thing she was.

when: 9 november 1980 where: dark alley, muggle london who: calista + aly

London had never been a particularly quiet city. She supposed it had its quiet areas, but certainly for the past week the entire area was abuzz with the news that had arrived not but a week ago. The idea–no, the fact– that magic was real had made even the quietest sections roar to life. Calista wouldn’t doubt even the quietest hamlets across the country were suddenly surging with renewed energy and chatter as the news had hit. 

The idea did not surprise Calista, really. It certainly didn’t change her own reality, her own life. Besides, back in the day, in a world that was barely traveled and people encountered others who looked or behaved different, it had never gone well. If history was any indicator, there would be discord and conflict before any sort of peace was achieved and so Calista distracted herself in the only way she knew how, with her art. It was graffiti art of a rabbit pulling a human out of its hat. Only the rabbit was really a human in a fur suit. 

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are. I can hear you,” she said as she turned around. 

.

“Consider me...” she paused, only to give the lollipop she handled another lick, almost to the very center, where the savored treat would finally relinquish the piece of bubble gum Aly had been after all evening long, “hot on your trail.” Consider it her very favorite place to be, given the opportune moment. The manicured nails of her left hand slipped a finger around the gifted pearl necklace that adorned her neck. It took the tongue of a siren to earn such a present, because the money in her family’s wallet never could. Not unless Amy finally bucked up with courage and found herself a real man, a wealthy man, a man able to be manipulated and destroyed and juiced for every piece of character or feeling he’d ever possessed. Their gene pool was slimming by the hour, surely every horny wixen having their way showing off tips, tricks, and their dicks to every desperate muggle. Of course, those limbs were nothing in comparison to the piece of wood she carried deep within her fuzzy coat’s pockets. 

Aly did not want to drain this woman dry, not at all. Other ideas would temp her daydreams, that was undeniable. Inevitable, you could say.

“Have much to prove, taking a walk this time of night?” An interested brow perked. She licked the sucker once more.

.

Narcissa swallowed, and tried not to make it obvious how difficult a task it proved. “You want… a cotillion?” Skepticism and confusion both melded together as she asked the question, but politeness and excitement overruled all. Sure, Aly came from a poorer family than the Blacks, sure she was not so refined, and okay so maybe Narcissa had never really given her much a thought before — but if she still believed that Andromeda and Sirius could see the error of their ways then she had to believe there was still hope for the Carrows to be polished. At least they had the blood and loyalty to it. Even fools gold shone when the light hit it right. 

“Now, I can’t make it anything proper.” By which she meant, Narcissa could not find another twelve or so girls to be introduced into society alongside Aly. All the ones worth introducing had already had their debut. “But every girl deserves her day in society,” this she believed firmly, and said it so. “Give me a date and I’ll see to the rest.” Or, her House Elf would for her. Narcissa’s eyes fell to Aly’s outfit with distaste. She cleared her throat. “Gown included.” She couldn’t risk the embarrassment of hosting someone who wasn’t dressed and couldn’t act the part. 

.

Well. Like all proper ladies, Narcissa had been trained in the art of mothering. At least, insofar as Druella Black knew anything about mothering to pass down. Somewhere in this sect of knowledge lay the thought she grabbed onto now: the signs of a stroke. But no. Aly was too young for that, surely. And though the Carrows were poor, they were of good blood. No. It couldn’t be something so dirty as a stroke. A spell gone awry though? Narcissa would do her duty and see it out to the end, until Alecto had calmed down and wasn’t speaking such nonsense…

But then her vocabulary caught up with her mind. It was neither ailment nor insanity. Alecto was talking about cotillion. Coming out. She giggled in delight. “Yes, of course I did. Where else would I?” Genuinely, Narcissa could not fathom an alternative. Accepting that she was caught in Alecto’s orbit for now, she thought to at least not be simply a ragdoll in the middle of it. Narcissa — barely — shook her hips. “Most of them were pimply,” she admitted, another giggle escaping her. This one, with some guilt. “I don’t think that can count as swanky. They’ll grow to be though.” Some of them already had.

.

“What age, Black?” Aly, too wrapped up checking out her swaying in the mirror across the room, did not initially elaborate. It was too important to make sure she’d placed the glitter at the right angle above her clavicle. If it was not highlighted by the hands of Jesus Christ himself, it would not be worthy enough for the strip club. The twisted tongued veela sparkled, though. She took a victory twirl.

Overtly long, manicure nails might’ve accidentally scraped Narcissa as she fluttered on by once more, fingers gliding along her back. “I want my own. Chwelve, thirteen, twenty-five, who fucks. I want my comin’ out. Don’ I deserve tha’ much?” She was older by, what, a few minutes? She wanted her moment, hers alone. “What ye think?”

.

Had Narcissa been less shocked by the make, color, and general oafishness of the boots she might have not been so surprised to find Aly dancing around her, but she had been —distracted, that is — so now found herself caught in the whirlwind. Desperately trying to get out of the Carrow’s way, she managed only to get herself further in it. A red boot collided with the shined black of her mary-janes, squealing as it scuffed the shine from it, and Narcissa let out a polite but aghast hiss. “Oh my,” she said, putting both arms out in front of her to grab Aly’s gyrating form by the shoulders. “It’s a bit provocative, don’t you think?” Though Narcissa suspected Aly didn’t think as much.

.

“Where ye think m’performin’, mini eejit?” 

Aly’s hands plopped to the top of Cissa’s, eyebrows also dancing in tune with the music she’d been given to maneuver to. For having never hearing such a beat, or wearing such a western cultured outfit, the Carrow had picked it up quick, because if there was a fast buck involved, it was worth getting dirty.

“Heart-twat Theater’s, fer, ye guessed it. Dem juiced up twats. This ain’t no ballet. You learnt to dance for a catlion, heh? Wit swanky blokes?”

.

Narcissa blinked once, twice, inclined her head nearer Aly and blinked a third time, and still could not understand a word the girl said to her, or comprehend the scene unfolding before her eyes. She breathed shallow breaths (Low Street flats certainly contained dust mites and molds that would cause lasting effect on her lungs), and tried smiling. “Aly, I don’t have a clue what you’re saying to me.” For a moment she wondered if the Carrow girl was on drugs. Was that why she’d invited Narcissa in? Did she need help? Narcissa stood in the middle of the room, trying to work it out.  

.

“Are ye ready boots? Start... walkin'.” The dancer’s tone was smoky and low as she sang. The previously charmed red pair of cowboy boots began grooving beside Aly, her hips now gyrating at a speedy too unholy for even the kinkiest of gentleman’s clubs. It’s what they’d asked for, though, wasn’t it?” The boots made a bee-line for Narcissa’s graceful frame, scootin’ around the blonde in circles, surely leaving fresh scuff marks on the floor in their wake.

.

Amy nodded, chin stiff above her sagging shoulders as she crossed her arms over the once too loose bosom of her dress. Grabbing drinks with the inventor of the iFlown—what a fine opportunity. Any young witch would be lucky to go. On another day, Amy might have been one of them. It was not so long ago that she had twirled her skirt in front of the mirror on her way to a date with a handsome, perfect gentlewizard. But there had been potential then, the whole world at her fingertips. Amy didn’t see the potential anymore; instead, she clung to those memories, the ones she now knew the ending to.

It was impossible to hide her upset from her twin sister, but Amycus tried anyway. She lifted her chin so high that she thought Alecto might not see the tears in her eyes, nor the pout of her lower lip. “Does he know I’m coming, or is it a surprise?”

.

Aly could not give you the definition of telepathy if you presented the word, but by Merlin, did she feel it strongly. Abrasively, her hands fell to Amy’s shoulders to give them a healthy shaking, one to burst any bubble she could’ve possibly been floating about inside.

“Ye don’ think of that cunt. Ye don’ speak of him, ye don’ moan his name at night.” After the sisterly pep-talk, Aly could no longer bear to witness her sister fail yet again at keeping a grown man wound tightly around her slim digit. “Surprisin’ him. Unless ye can’ handle the challenge. Anythin’ ye can do, remember, I do better.”

It was with a endearing peck to the crown of her head did Aly bid her twin farewell.

.

Asher had no dogfight when it came to anything Irish, meaning there was no emotion to even offer Alecto. Already he had learned about the power of remaining passive. Nonchalance doing more than outward anger ever could. Whether it was defensive, or offensive, that didn’t matter. Here was another opportunity to pretend at being someone who didn’t care.

“Then we’ll do it. Been a while since anyone’s done anything fun around here.” Fun. Such an easy word to twist. Asher could almost tie the word up with his tongue like a cherry stem.

.

“The ways this has made me heart sing like a fookin’ blue tit.” 

Aly caught her burning cigarette before the ash could litter across the newspaper clipping. This particular piece would go into the scrapbook she was eager to put together. You had to recount your very own adventures. It’s the only thing that would make her Great. Pleased with Asher’s agreeance, she pat a permanently icy hand to Asher’s face. His beauty had never been lost upon her. It’d made her sick. Before her stomach could turn at his melty pair of eyes, she nursed the sickness with another long drag.

“Only pussies show unprepared. Lest we forget, kiddie.”

.

Lorcan raised a brow at the proposition. Intrigued. “Lead the way, beautiful.” They supplied with their signature grin, ever curious to see where this encounter might lead. It wasn’t the first time a young woman had led them to quieter, darker spots and lest death becomes them, it wouldn’t be the last. “Have you explored many a dark corners of this empty hunk of stone?”

.

“Aw, sweet tongue,” Aly cooed. She’d have loved to taste it whole, observing them with eyes of admiration, no longer hesitating to wrap the wixen into her widow’s web. A perfectly manicured set of fingers tangled into the stranger’s, knowing they’d no longer be unfamiliar if she tried. As long as their hands stayed clasp, the schemes kept turning like wheels inside her brain. 

Wherever the afternoon led them, Alecto would ensure, her impression would be everlasting. Castle be damned. This was her moment. Her stage. Her spotlight.

“Ye will soon learn, precious.” Indeed they would.