𝑖, ᵇᵉˡˡᵃᵗᵒʳ ˀ

ᵃˡᵉˣᵃ,            play           𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊           𝚋𝚢            𝑠𝑎𝑛           𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻.

[bitchmare]

𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢   :    bellatrix   black,     written   by   jade   (twenty1,   pst,   she/her).

character   board   +    intro    +    threads .

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼   𝗮𝘆𝗮𝗹𝗮  ,       𝔪.

She knew her mother’s owl’s schedule well enough by now that Marisol was fairly sure the bird would be waiting for her with that first letter of the year. Most people didn’t bother going to the owlery to pick up post, rather waiting for breakfast when they would all be let into the Great Hall. In fact, a lot of people didn’t even think about the fact that the owls would arrive at different times of day, not all at once like that. When it came to animals, Marisol had never been most people. The mess of the owlery didn’t bother her and she liked being around the other owls as much as her family one. More than that, she had a close relationship with her mum and she wanted to read her letter as soon as possible (no, not just because she forgot to pack enough underwear).

It was for that reason that she ran up the steps of the tower, only faltering when her foot landed in sticky goo, sliding a little way forward but thankfully not far enough that she ended in the splits or on her bum. She waved a hand dismissively once she had regained her balance. “Oh, it’s nothing a tergeo couldn’t fix. Do you have a letter too? Hello, gorgeous.” Though her voice didn’t change in tone, the latter was directed towards owl that flew down to greet her rather than the other woman. She gave the bird a stroke and let it nip her ear as she untied her mum’s letter.

    *    great     -     it  was  the  hippie.          with an unwarranted vigor,     eyes are rolled and fingertips push into the flesh of her forehead,     digging in with enthusiasm.         if only she could   claw   right in and tear her consciousness straight out from its lofty throne to save herself the inevitable torture of this conversation.           oh well.           time to put on her big girl slacks and get the other girl to flee first.

         her eyebrow twitches at the gorgeous comment,     the disbelief her expression is wearing hidden by her turned back,     lady her only witness     (looking  equally  disturbed).         marisol would see a one - legged,     albino rat and still give the thing a kiss instead of putting it out of its misery.         bellatrix would pay to see it,     in fact,     if only to gloat when they both croak from rabies.

❛   your  definition  of  gorgeous  is  even  kinder  than  you,      marisol.   ❜         a declaration of love would sound   twisted   in her mouth,     gnarled by the razor blades she calls vocal cords,     much less the bullshit she spews to a random.         it would have been kinder to ignore her,     but bella is anything but kind.

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸  ,       𝔫.

“you should’ve told me to watch my step before,” narcissa whines, taking a step back from the white goo. face turned sour at the sight of her pretty black shoes stained with what she could only guess to be owl poop. she shakes her head in dismay. pulling out her wand, she casts a cleaning spell on her shoes before she turns back to face bella. “why is the owlery always so dirty anyway? they should clean it more!” cissa frowns. she takes out the letter she wants to send, one addressed to their mother, and ties it to the leg of whichever owl is closest to her, feeding it a treat. “have you written to mum yet?” she asks bella, smiling at her in a teasing sort of way, “she’s going to want to hear from you.”

   *   if  there's  one  sound  she  has  carved  into  her  memory,      it's the detonation of narcissa's whine;     the specific timbre it catches in open air,     and what exactly that means for bella's next move.          her youth was spent minding it,     acting accordingly,     cradling it with a calloused touch.          spilled   milk,       missing   toys,       splintered   thumbs      -      they were bella's problems before they were narcissa's.         owl shit,     however?         she was on her own.         ❛   well,      you  cleaned  it  up,      didn't  you   ?   ❜         she faces her,     something akin to a smile playing on her lips;     the expression could even be called gentle,     if you forgot it was her.         ❛   shall  i  give  a  gold  star  for  the  golden  girl   ?   ❜

at the question,     her eyes roll into the back of her head and run the risk of getting stuck back there.         if there's anyone who could make her cut against the grain,     make her say nothing if she couldn't say something nice,     it was her baby sister.         bella could only thank merlin's soggy bottom that narcissa didn't often ask her to.         except in the case of owling their mother.         gag.         ❛   it's  been,      like,      a  day.        unless  you'd  like  me  to  relay  your  little  accident  just  now,      there's  nothing  to  say.          if  anything,      i'm  doing  her  a  favor,      saving  her  from  the  gory  details  of  her  favorite  daughter's  dirty  escapades.   ❜

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗳𝗼𝘆  ,       𝔩.

‘ shite. ’ he’s glad he’s managed to regain his balance before he crumbles to the floor. but the frown on his face indicates that would have been somewhat kinder. lucius examines his leather shoe , tilting his foot to and fro. ‘ this were new. ’ and he says it with an arrogance of a spoiled rich child , before taking out his wand. there’s a flick of the wrist and a quiet mumble , and his soiled shoes manage to clean themselves.

‘ i’ll have to get another pair soon. ’ because of course , they’re already trash even when he’s just gotten them clean. no matter , lucius no longer lingers on it as he approaches his own owl , brandishing a small little scroll.

  *   it's tough getting a laugh out of bellatrix black    -    one  that's  with  you  rather  than  at  you,      that  is.         there isn't happiness in the notes and wild pitch of her laughter,     but scorn,     and mockery,     and a certain slant of delight,     thrilled to witness another's distress,     no matter how insignificant.         this isn't any less true when it comes to lucius and the shit on his shoe,     though it might have been called extra cruel when her glee came at a close friend's expense.         if it was anyone   but   lucius,     she would have maybe even cared,     or at least swallowed the bubbling laughter.         but this was her sister's    not - really - but - it - counts    ex we're talking about,     so bella just laughed even harder.

she turns on her heel,     leaning against the railing at her back to eye his approaching figure,     her unchecked relish apparent in the keen quirk of her smirk.         ❛   if  only  it'd  hit  the  bulls  eye  on  that  giant  head  of  yours        ...        a  quick  beheading  would  have  cleaned  it  right  up.   ❜

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸  ,       𝔰.

——  ♡   the  main  reason  sirius  even  owned  an  owl  was  because  of  his  family .  his  parents’  encouragement  to  do  so –  (  as  a  status  symbol  and  to  write  home  )  – however  ,   didn’t  change  how  he  felt  about  the  bird  ,  who  a  much  younger  sirius  had  named  vega  ,  a  way  to  honour  himself  and  his  adoptive  father .  

❛   FUCK  OFF .  ❜    voice  neutral  ,  perhaps  even  tired  ,  not  missing  a  beat  with  his  retort  from  recognizing  her  own  as  he  pretended  to  not  notice  or  care  about  the  goo  now  on  his  shoe  .  he  knew  he  had  to  ,  to  not  let  her  feel  triumphant  in  getting  to  him  –  a  reflection  of  both  their  bold  personalities  which  ,  in  turn  ,  one  could  argue  is  a  reflection  of  their  family  (  which  would  both  spark  and  stamp  out  the  nature  vs.  nurture  question  in  many  ) . sirius  stepped  further  into  the  owlery  ,  approaching  vega  with  a  small  bag  of  food  clenched  in  his  right  hand .  a  moment  of  silence  lingered  between  the  two  cousins  ,  and  two  slytherin  beaters  ,  unsure  whether  to  break  it  or  enjoy  it .  eventually ,  “you  coming  to  practice  today ?”

    *    sirius  can  be  tolerable,      if only for the ego boost it gives bellatrix to stand next to him.         today,      she’d just rather throw him off the tower and nip her    nineteen - year - old    headache in the bud.

his mouth moves and her eyes roll;      a  tale  as  old  as  time.         ❛   who  else  will  show  you  how  to  swing   ?   ❜         she finally turns her head,      taking in the ugly picture he makes,      before her attention is back on lady,      voice hushing into an exaggerated whisper,      loud enough to reach her target audience and sweet enough to nauseate.         ❛   who’s  a  good  girl   ?            who’s  much  prettier  and  faster  than  that  weird  little  vega   ?           who  could  fly  circles  around  him   ?   ❜         lady hoots with a trained arrogance,      and bella laughs with an inherent one.

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲  ,       𝔯.

it’s entirely too early in the day to deal with bellatrix black.

“i’d look good in anything.“  he mimics her pose – resting both elbows on the desk and slouching forward, chin cupped between the palms of his hands. now that she’s here rod resigns himself to having the peaceful waters of his afternoon disturbed. after all – once bella sinks her teeth in? it’s impossible to get her to spit you back out. rod’s learned from experience that it’s better to ride it out until her sharp tongue cuts into your pride enough for her to be satisfied.

“hands off, love.” rod clicks his tongue. “as much as i’d enjoy your hands on me – i don’t think your sister would appreciate you mauling her future husband.”

    *    rodolphus  has  the  keys  to  many  of  her  doors,        along with the rare talent to oil the hinges to the ones he doesn't,      but,      looking at him now,      whole yet untouchable before her greedy reach,      it’s high time she set up some    traps.         she just can’t quite decide if they’re to keep him    in  or  out.

      ❛   except  arrogance.   ❜           lying   is   the   most   fun   a   girl   can   have   without   taking   her   clothes   off,      after all,      so if she’s barred from the latter,      she’ll delight in the former.        true,      wickedness drapes off his figure like swathes of silk and she’s addicted to the touch,      but she’s quite fond of her reign as the biggest ego in hogwarts    -    no need for a king to her queen.         as he’s so fond of reminding her.           ❛   well,        i  think  she’d  appreciate  being  called  by  her  name,        if  you’re  breaking  your  back  trying  to  be  the  proper  husband  and  all.   ❜            she clicks her tongue right back.       ❛   careful  not  to  say  the  wrong  one.   ❜

[poetrywillsaveme]

Where do I come from?  Where do I come from, that I have become so filled with the smell of night?

from ‘Let Us Believe in the Beginning of a Cold Season’ in Another Birth: Selected Poems, by Forugh Farrokhzad, Ismail Salami (Translator)

[lilmamabeyellin]

Fran Fine invented serving LOOKS.

[bitchmare]

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱     𝗮𝘀       :       open​    .

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻       :       owlery     ,       hogwarts     .

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲       :       utp     /       sept   3     .

    *    one  could  make  the  statement,      spit out with vitriol and proclaimed with fervent disgust,        that   bellatrix   black   was   never   happy.           not for an innocent reason,      anyway.         and they’d be   right.        in fact,      bella herself would encourage this sentiment with glee;      if she could,      she’d whisper it into the ears of each unfortunate soul within the hogwarts student body so that it could echo in their nightmares and clear a fear - paved path to classes in the morning.         however,      there was a notable exception,      and that came from the relative sanctity of the owlery.         this close to the start of term,      both company and bird shit was minimal,      though today salazar himself seemed to performing an unfunny bit for her from beyond the grave                [   . . .   ]                just as she finished giving lady her feathers stroke of the day,      a pair of footsteps announced themselves as a thundering,      intrusive annoyance.         like fate neatly ticking a checkbox,      there’s a falter in the movement as one foot steps      -      and   slips      -      in mockingly white goo.         without looking away from lady’s red eyes,      smirk obvious in her voice,       ❛   watch  your  step.   ❜

[bitchmare]

𝑖.     ❥       ❬    ⁿᵒᵘⁿ    ❭       . . .        𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲  ,       𝔯.

asleep – rodolphus is a better version of himself.

perhaps it’s because his mouth is shut (he often talks too much, and with too little substance). or perhaps with his face relaxed and the usual tightness in his jaw loosened, the fan of his lashes dark and his mouth slightly curled at the corners – rodolphus lestrange looks peaceful. as if he wasn’t capable at all of relentlessly teasing you or releasing subtly barbed comments with a flick of his tongue.

it’s better to leave him be. awake – rod is at least three times unlikable company.

it’s unfortunate that he’s sleeping on your books.

as if sensing the weight of someone else’s attention he rouses, gaze unfocused as it wavers on your neck before flicking up to the general vicinity of your right cheekbone. “are these yours?“ he lifts his head to pat the leather-bound cover of the top book. “let me borrow them. they’re comfortable.”

    *    ❛   if  only  i’d  stuck  with  care  of  magical  creatures                 -                 you’d  look  so  much  better  with  your  eye  missing  and  that  feisty  little  book  would  have  saved  me  the  trouble  of  having  to  bite   it   out   myself.   ❜         she snarls the word,      mouth pulling as if to show off the fangs that merlin forsook her at birth.         ❛   eye  patches  are  quite  in,        you  know.           cissa  would  thank  me.   ❜         she drops her schoolbag with a bang on the wooden tabletop,      putting more fervor behind the action than was warranted      (if it was anyone but her),      and pulls up a chair next to him,      chin falling into its typical place in the palm of her hand.         (rodolphus,      too,      used to find himself there.)

       ❛   is  this  where  you’ve  been,        then   ?           slaughtering  sheep  in  your  sleep   ?   ❜

[kaosjane]

[loveyouforl000years-deactivated]

on haunted houses

anatomy by kitty horrorshow // x // shastra deo // tuser nedlittle // lisa robertson // marcin bialas // dale bailey // yiyun li // marcin bialas // anatomy by kitty horrorshow

[holdoncallfailed]

jenny holzer x caravaggio