#temp:starter

[tndrhartd]

date: 29th march 1925, sunday location: these new york streets closed to @doe-meads

it was late by the time that arthur stepped out of the front of his store, making sure the door was tightly sealed, chains locked, front shuttered, even taking a step back to do an assessment for the hundredth time, before he was satisfied enough to walk away, feet leading him in the direction of boulevardier as it often did. sundays were one of their slower days, what with men having to carry the pretense of being upstanding heads of family, and most activities and gatherings around the city reserved for the weekend. were he more active in the community, arthur supposed he would be one of those people, with social circles and parties, flitting around friends’ homes, but his was a clandestine business, his identity not quite the norm, and frankly, he didn’t mind his small group of friends.

most of whom, truly, had become more than, dorcas being the foremost of those. was it a habit or a quiet arrangement, arthur didn’t know, but once they fell into the routine, it became like clockwork: arthur finishing work, going to pick her up as hers ended, then sharing the travel back to their building, catching up on how the other was doing, checking on each other, then finally sharing a meal; hardly as conventional as most families, but it was comforting, having that opportunity to make sure dorcas and her mother were doing as well as can be managed. for him, they were, in essence, living together as family, his adopted mother and his little sister...

... and at the sight of her, a wide smile broke out across arthur’s face, mixed with relief that she appeared fine. shifting the brown bag full of hot food he had tucked under his arm, he quickly made his way over to her, giving a small wave as he did then feeling foolish about it, but he couldn’t really feel bad, he just always felt excited seeing her again. “hey, doe-nut,” he pulled her close, giving her a half hug with one arm. “everything went good tonight? no fights or creeps?”

[sun-swallowedme]

where: the boulevardier 

who: open

James swirled his glass, the amber liquid catching the little light in the club. He didn’t always make it a point to spend the evening here, but he had felt the familiar itching under his skin, an impatience indicating that he needed to get out, to find something to occupy his time. Taking a sip of his drink, his eyes scanned the room for a solution to his problem, settling on a figure near the stage. Sauntering over, he slipped into the seat next to theirs, a smirk playing on his lips as he said, “Enjoying the show?” as he nodded up at Mary.

[tcbedestroyed]

where: felix felicis when: april 30th, in the evening  who: open

tuesday nights were calm, or as calm as they could be at the felix felicis. the gamblers themselves didn’t ask for too many drinks, and the only real traffic coming through were fellow deatheaters. nights like things served as the perfect time to try to crack open a book, which led to him usually closing it prematurely to break up some kind of debacle.

tonight did not bring that kind of interruption, nor was it the fatigue of his eyes. instead, he felt a presence looming over him. he knew full well that one could not feel a shadow, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t have an aura about it. “might there be a reason you’re looming over me?” he said, barely looking up from his papers.

[rodvlphus]

date: may 20th, 1925 location: central park status: open

“Oh, what wonderful attire. Certainly the, uh, bee’s knees. You thought that when you got dressed today, right?”

[lionhevrted]

where: some bookstore near the precinct

when: lunchtime

who: open

Minnie’s day could have been better - should have been, really - but she had made the resolution to try and make it more positive. There was no reason to dwell on the stress of her job, or the fine line she sometimes walked with those she held closest to her, or the fact that her apartment still sometimes felt empty years after the loss of her husband. She wandered through the familiar shelves, trying to find a particular book, only to round a corner, knocking a book out of someone’s hands. “So sorry about that,” she said, stooping to pick up the book from the floor, “Are you okay?”

[frxnklxng]

date: march 15th, 1925--frank’s first day as a free man. location: orion black charitable ball. status: open.

Fabian forced him here. Pulled up outside of the prison gates in the car that frank missed so dearly, garment bag in hand, to instruct him of his attendance at the black’s memorial gala in honor of their uncle. He came without Gideon in tow, despair painted across the irises of his eyes, but there wasn’t nearly enough time to cry. Frank did his time, yes, but there were more important appointments at hand. Frank had to pick up what the hole of Gideon left behind: smile, make nice, flirt with the ladies, all so Fabian could go and do whatever it was that he had to do. For some reason, he couldn’t tell Frank. Wouldn’t, Frank thought was more like it. But now he was back to where he belonged--back to his promises. It was bittersweet, surrounded by the extravagance and slightly ostentatious decor the Blacks preferred, because while he felt finally alive... The mark of death clung to him so.  

He stood near the bar, a lively jazz band playing a few feet away from him, and smiled in kindness as some older man--an old business partner of some firm or other--was talking his ear off. Longbottom, I know the name, but he offered no other information about his father, his ancestors, than he would have liked to hear. So he smiled. He nodded. His eyes glanced around the room, scanning for an escape, when a hand on his shoulder startled him. 

“Excuse me, sir. One moment,” he said to the stranger. Then, “There are politer ways to interrupt a conversation,” he pointed out as he turned to face who had approached him.

[divincrights]

where: outside cafe, two blocks from nypd office when: may ninth, the afternoon status: open

    coffee was normally for the morning time when sybill was surrounded by knickknacks at their desk. on days when they weren’t stuck in the office, however, coffee could be had after lunch with a pastry. the small cinnamon ones with the icing drizzled over the top. it was the peak of their day, and the perfect opprotunity to cleanse their taort cards. besides filing, the days had consisted of nothing but answering the phone and mailing out correspondence. it was nice to organize the major arcana instead.      it was nicer to be free, to not have someone criticizing their every move. except for it still felt like it. they set down the cards, knowing they’d have to start over, before looking across the way and making eye contact with the person sitting at the other table that was outside the small cafe. “may...may i help you?” they asked, although there was no venom in their voice. 

[syncopatedsongbird-blog]

date: march 15th, 1925 location: the gala status: open

Mary was having a good night. It could be argued that her evening was better than that, that she was having a grand time at the party. The alcohol she had managed to find throughout the evening so far left her feeling warm, a little giddy as she sought out something to help her parched throat after the last dance. She leaned against the dry bar, fingers drumming gently across it’s top as she waited for her drink when she spotted something out of place beneath a crumpled napkin. Absently, she reached for it, turning the queen of hearts card over and noting the address written on it. It was for a place in Manhattan, that much she knew, but she wasn’t familiar enough with the area to place it. Without much thought she slipped it into her bag, making a mental note to pass it on to one of the hosts before the night was out on the off chance someone came looking for it. She thanked the bartender as they handed her her drink, turning to go and almost immediately bumping into someone. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry-are you alright?”

[ofremuslupin-blog]

DATE: march 15th , 1925 LOCATION: the plaza hotel STATUS: open

remus stood off to the side of the room, his eyes roaming over the swaths of people that filled the hotel’s ballroom. it was gaudy, goddamn near the finest thing he had ever thought he had seem. his lip curled in disgust as he considered that this was the way some of these people lived every day. he could never. if anyone looked too closely at him, they would see how his tie was askew, how the extra fabric of his suit hung off him messily. of all the people who didn’t belong here, he would certainly claim he was one of them.

but of course, this was for the marauders’ business. that overrode any sensibility of his that told him he didn’t want to be here because -- most certainly -- anything he and his friends did was exciting. it was thrilling and wild and really all he could ever want to be doing with his life. still, a part of him whispered in the back of his mind that this was wrong. they were causing trouble for themselves and money be damned -- they needed to stop it.

maybe his nerves were why his hands were shaking ( or maybe it was planned ! or even maybe it was something else -- remus would never say ) but sparkling cider started sloshing against the rim of the glass and suddenly the flute fell to the ground, landing with a crash. he stared at the broken glass for a moment before taking a step backwards away from the shrapnel and spilt alcohol. “ christ almighty, ” he swore unkindly. his gaze ripped upwards and he said, “ if that got on anyone, i apologize. let me know if i can get you a napkin or something to help clean up. ”

[fortescucs]

date. march 15th, 1925 location. orion black memorial ball status. open

If pressed for an explanation to explain her presence here, Alice would have been struck dumb; unable to make even herself understand what had possessed her to don a gown and enter the nest of vipers. Exchanging information for money, information for danger was not the same thing as signing herself up for a life of crime - or so she told herself. And yet, if that were true, then why was she here? Shaking her head a little at the thought of it - and almost as if to remember the police badge and gun she carried in her purse - Alice trained her eyes on the person next to her - and more specifically, the flute in their hand. “That better not be moonshine in that glass.” They could work out how serious she was.

[e-mmavanity]

where: the boulevardier when: evening who: open 

For some reason, Emma thought she needed a change in scenery. It wasn’t as if the Death Eaters’ bar was particularly boring, but only so many new faces cycled through the doors with a playing card in their hand. Besides, there was supposed to be live music at the Boulevardier tonight, and she heard that the regular performer was actually good. Perhaps the Felix Felicis could take some notes. 

She ordered one of the specialty drinks and took an empty table near the back of the bar, having no interest in speaking to the bartenders that were working that night. Though she had been hoping the show would start before any fans stopped by, she heard the unfortunate squeak of a chair beside her. “I don’t remember inviting anyone to join me,” she said, her eyes failing to even glance at the companion that just joined her. 

[amcarrows]

date: june 20th, 1925. location: black estate, basement.  status: closed to @strcetrat

they’d told him that he should get ready for another job, soon. he knew what that meant - get your tools. generally, he preferred not to linger on the details like who it would be he’d be getting rid of, what they’d done. and this time was no different, except he’d overheard someone mention short curly hair and the whispered name that sounded vaguely like peter and it instantly told him that something was very, very wrong. 

now, he wasn’t usually the kind of person to rely solely on his gut feelings, but he found himself heading downstairs anyway under the guise of grabbing the necessary equipment, 

but nothing could have truly prepared him to actually run into one peter pettigrew at the basement of the estate, because well - didn’t this change everything? 

anger would (should) have been his first response, but it wasn’t exactly what came to him when he saw the state peter - and his friend, that he surprisingly recognized from the gala - was in. 

“what did you do?” he hissed, “you can’t - why are you here, peter?” 

[officerrevans]

date/location: march 25th, 1925. the black gala.  status: open 

Getting an invitation to the gala had been a surprise to Lily herself; then again, most of the past couple years had been a surprise to her, so she really wasn’t sure what to expect anymore. Like most things that happened in the city, the way some members of the Black family had come to know her seemed a bit off. But, who was she to turn away some of the most powerful people in the city, or turn down an invitation to their gala? So many whom Lily had files open about on her desk or a curiosity about would be there and many of her superiors wouldn’t be. More than anything, it was the perfect chance for something. 

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place in a dress from the back of her mother’s closet that she was sure had once belonged to Petunia. The women around her were far better dressed, in ensembles that were surely new and fancy, and Lily was sure she stuck out like a sore thumb. With every look she got, she wished more and more than she had her revolver with her; at least with it, she’d feel a little more secure. 

“Oh,” Lily exclaimed, spotting a person in front of her of interest. Staying focused on what she wanted would keep her not thinking about how little she belonged. “Hello,” she smiled, approaching them as if she wasn’t afraid at all, as if they knew who she was completely. “I was wondering if I’d be seeing you tonight.”

[blxckandrxmeda]

date: april 30th, 1925. locations: black’s blossoms & blooms.  status: open.

Tuesday afternoon tickled its way by, strolling along at a leisurely pace. Yet inside the doors of her own floral shop, Andromeda felt as if the entire day was hurling along at light speed. May was right around the corner, the warmth of the flirtatious summer slowly seeping in, and the youngest Black was currently bustling along in the backroom, cutting ribbons, with three different types of flower petals caught in her hair. The bell attached to the front door of the shop rang, twinkling lights illuminating, and the wash of fresh air filtering in from the open windows lured her out the front. 

“Two for one sale today! Gift wrapping and ribbon decorations only seventy-five cents extra today, as well,” she hollered from the back, wrapping the last strands of ribbon around her arm to hang it from the display up front. Hurrying out, she let her smile stretch across her face as she searched for the customer who remained hidden by the multiple flower displays. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Andromeda called out. 

[rcgulux-blog]

date: may 1925 location: random diner closed to: @renagadeking​

if there was one thing his father had taught him, it was that it was always best to hide yourself in plain sight. and though he once trusted his brother - if he could even call him that anymore -  that was clearly no longer the case and he would rather cut off his own foot than invite him into his own home. so, here they were - at a diner in some corner of the city, where no-one would bat an eye if one of them disappeared into the night. 

he picked at a fry, then looked up at sirius for a moment. “well, don’t you look like you haven’t slept in your own bed for several years.” but he wasn’t there to hurl insults at the other man. he was only there to tell him what he deserved to know. 

“still, i’m surprised you’re alive. should i bother asking what you’ve been doing?” 

[strcetrat]

date: february 1925 location: um. some small speakeasy? closed to @amcarrows​

this job was, by far, the easiest that he had been given since the marauders had started their little affair, which meant that his nerves were positively shot, just like his anxiety levels were through the roof, casually strolling now through the doors of the bar with a curt nod of feigned familiarity to the man stood beside it. introduce himself to amycus, make friends, get him talking about his line of work... easy, but easy often meant complacency, and complacency increased the odds of something going horribly wrong and him being the unfortunate victim: the streets had thought him that, alleys and dark corners beating the lesson so deep in him, his very core seemed to shake at any instance of straightforwardness. a struggle as it was to maintain an image of calm collectedness, peter held on to the hope that wearing the best clothes he owned – though they were far, far from being the best in the establishment – would cover it all up, tuck in the imperfect parts of his mask behind it in order to convince his target, add another layer on top of this carefully curated image of innocence, of being nothing more than just a friendly face hoping to make conversation.

speaking of friendly faces… peter was so taken aback at the sight of amycus’ own, glimpsed by him through the mirror at the back of the bar where the man was seated, seemingly deeply lost in thought, that he had to stop and think if he wanted to or even could go through with it, another sign that this was.. far from what he had expected. it was one that he had only ever seen under the harsh glow of street lamps, always at a calculated distance, but now, up close, it seemed so... tranquil, even melancholic almost, and that nugget of curiosity over such emotions pulled him out of his plan enough to carelessly sit himself down next to amycus, making it absollutely certain that the other would have noticed his arrival. not quite the smooth entrance he had imagined himself doing, too late to take it back now.

“oh, sorry, this is an empty seat, right?” he threw the question out into the open, but since it was just him and amycus at that side of the nearly empty bar, it was clear who he was talking to and pointing the barstool with his eyebrows to. placing his sweating, clammy hands on the bar and making to pull himself back up from his seat, peter looked at amycus through the mirror, using it as a buffer out of fear that direct eye contact so quickly would give him away... among other things. “it’s just that... i’ve been here a few times before,” a lie, he was mostly at the boulevardier and he wasn’t the most staunch of drinkers. “and i’ve never seen you here, and all of a sudden getting to sit on this spot felt like the most urgent and important thing.”