brutality.

alecto carrow nineteen • death eaterslytherin • twin sister each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil affiliated with a private independent group of writers

[cruelecto]

antonindolohcvs‌:

Where: Abandoned Classroom, Fourth Floor With: Antonin Dolohov & @cruelecto​

Alecto Carrow. Formidably, she had his respect from killing her parents, he’d heard through some pathetic rumor—to be confirmed by those who’s opinion actually mattered. To say that Antonin was impressed of that which her twin, she could achieve was rare. It helped the witch was in parlay with Bellatrix. Something like favouritism he played, or that he refused to bother himself with weak-willed women who cowered in the face of death. He wanted nothing to do with beings like that. He’d wipe his own kind from the face of the Earth if only to leave the strong, the willing, the most vile like himself.

Working within the school was particularly exhausting. To remain steadfast and innocent when the eyes of the Headmaster bore down on you at every moment, when that utter cunt Venusia was keeping her own watchful eye on him, something that made his actions all that more careful. He had a job to do, to grow their own organization. Place those trusted most at the hands of the Dark Lord so they may bear in all the gifts that could be received by the most inner working circle of Lord Voldemort. It wasn’t just a job to Antonin. It was his life, the very thing he’d give his soul for, if he considered the idea of having one. Seated in the empty classroom he charmed to deflect the unwanted visitors as he waited for her. No greeting—she needed for soft formality, as though he was trying to be generous. “The other day you were arguing with Frank Longbottom’s boy—“ He commented, playing with whatever abandoned toy left on a desk where he was seated. “Looked heated. Do share the details.”

She’d learned early on what it was to respect someone, to face your fears in their gaze and listen to every word that slipped from their trained tongue. Antonin Dolohov was heinous, a horrible man who’d done the worst things in which Alecto could imagine. Yet, he was no Amycus. He couldn’t read the thoughts that riddled her mind, and whilst Amycus had spared her of such a thing, it remained a plague. He was within one of the most respected men in the Dark Lord’s ranks, and an assumed brilliant liar as he bore the skin of a sheep. Readying his teeth, sharpening his claws, hiding in the shadows. However, was she not the very same? A girl swathed in disguises, chameleon enough to allow herself refuge in a circle most cunning? Yet, her loyalty remained to Amycus and Amycus alone. To the likes of those like Bellatrix, to those like Antonin, however, their loyalties had never been themselves but merely him. She wonders, if only momentarily, what it was like to be so devout to someone such as him.

He doesn’t greet her, and she needn’t do the same to him. She’d been summoned for a reason, and it ate away at her core in wonder until she was finally standing in front of him. The other day you were arguing with Frank Longbottom’s boy –– less of an argument, she thinks, more of a meeting with ones ever present, ever annoying, seemingly unwanted moral compass. She nods gently along, teeth gritted and palms going cold. “He seems to believe making a public spectacle of his heroics will earn him nothing but love and admiration from the lot of them I suppose –– “ Her vocals strained, an anger swelling inside her at the mere thought of him. “I simply stated that it was foolish to believe hiding such horrors from children would do them any good, and he disagreed.” Pointed nose rising as lips pursed. “He wishes to shield those from the real world and I told him he was an idiot for it.” 

[hayleymarshalldaily]

xoxo

[cruelecto]

longbottomsfrank‌: 

To fail was to try—and Frank would do nothing but try. Acceptance into the Order program was only the first step in many to accept failure as a passage in life. But he saw another world, another light, he saw optimism. He saw the second chance in everyone, if they were willing. It was a shame to believe people couldn’t change, that they couldn’t become more than what life had asked of them. He had—in the darkness that was found with his father, he walked through. He knew he had to find something to fight for. “Those were terrible incidents… It’s shameful to consider them anything but.” He shook his head to her. No. For all the times he might’ve tripped over his two feet, sputtered, he never broke. Not like this. “Aurors are showing up more and more every day, whether we all like it or not. Just because they’re not giving you a day-by-day play doesn’t mean help won’t be given to those in need at Hogwarts.” As his jaw clenched, as height held above her, as there was some small shred of hope hung onto the idea of hope. That’s who Frank was. “Isn’t that what we do, Alecto? You tell me what you think of me, I tell you what I think of you, it never goes really further than that.”

Since you make no light of telling me exactly what it is you think of me ––– make no mistake, Frank, if you deem me a threat, a monster, someone who has yet to escape their tyrants, then so be it. You want to craft an idealistic world, a vision without things such as pain and hatred, then you’re just like the rest of them –– You see, I’m terrible. And I’ve no intent on rising above that, your majesty. “You envision a world where that’s all you’ve got, and I pity you for it.” He finally said in sound tones, strong and sincere in their irony, as he shook his head. Alecto managed to rightfully irritate him in the way he was sure he did to her. “How detrimental had your youth been—“ And he knew his was bad enough to know seeking out that positive light was the only thing he would have to focus on if he was going to survive war. “For you to see only one side of what war causes. There’s nothing heroic about doing what is right.” The thought had always dawned on him why anyone might’ve wanted to thrust him into the position he held in the Duelling club—and perhaps if outnumbered by one opinion compared to another, their roles would be reversed. Alecto held power, and Frank held sense. Maybe that was the beacon of his threat to the witch before him, why he remained some sense of it even when he never meant to me. “Alecto, you can scare everyone else in this castle—“ He whispered as she stepped closer. “But you don’t scare me. I’ve worked with you long enough to know every move you’re going to make.” It would’ve been the same, he to her. Very few stood on equal ground as they did.

"Help be given to those who need it –– listen to yourself.” She means to mock, means to torment. After all, this was the hell in which they’d created in one another, was it not? He, in her, saw something dark and dangerous. She, in turn, saw something in which she’d never speak. For, some secrets were better laid to rest, buried beneath dirt, never to be seen again. If she were honest, if she were true, she would’ve admitted herself a being of necessity, of self preservation, more so than anything loyal. The Dark Lord was a means to an end, a protective cause that would assure her safety, that would assure her brothers safety. Was she such a callous beast for wanting to ensure such a thing? For wanting to protect her family as much as he had been so adamant to protect his? It never goes further than that. He’d been right to vocalize such. She’d never been one to stray away from what it was that’d managed to irritate her so. They, forever in a stalemate, awaiting the others next move, next plan of action to bring the other to their knees. There was no surrendering left within her, not for the likes of Frank Longbottom. They could fracture one another time and time again, yet here they stood. It was a constant dance in which the pair of them had been entangled in. Uncertain fully what it was that had caused them such a frustration that the other simply didn’t agree. Would she have felt better if Frank bore the dark mark upon his skin? Would there be an air between them in which soothed her rather than enraged her? Why was it that she’d remained so bloody adamant on his stance –– 

“PITY me all you like, Frank.” The words come out with a hollowed laughter, shaking her head as he speaks. “It’s in your blood, is it not? You’re designed to be some sort of saviour. Well, hear me out, you pity me for being so blind to change while you’re no better.” Blood wars hadn’t begun with their generation and she was certain they wouldn’t end. It’s his next words that cause her to speak through gritted teeth, anger arising once more. “You think I only see one side? You think I don’t know what will happen to everyone in this castle –– you think I don’t get that?” She arches a brow, reminded of how blind Bellatrix was in her loyalty, how sadistic the lot of them were. How she bore a tattoo upon her arm, ink bleeding into her veins, because she’d believed it her best option. The Carrow name had been dragged through the mud, had been cast aside and besmirched by those who’d come before her, before Amycus. How betrayed he’d feel if he’d known, how disgraced he’d be if he could read the thoughts that plagued her mind, the turmoil that riddled her in moments such as this. When she’d seen so clearly what it was Frank was saying, when she’d heard so willingly that with their actions came consequences most deadly. The Dark Lord promised power, he promised a world where they could thrive in the ways their founders had before them without the worry of becoming the hunted –– so why had it been that, throughout this, Alecto had felt herself watched ‘round every corner? Blood staining her hands, the cries of Xenophilius ringing through her mind like something of a song. There’d been no absolution for what she’d done, what she’d do, to survive. Why was she made to feel bad about it, to feel like some monster simply because given the chance, she’d pick herself time and time again over any cause. “I know that this –– all of this is going to end, and you know it too.” She’d wanted to scream, yet when his tone turned to that of a whisper she found herself taken aback. “It’s foolish to believe that there’s a chance at stopping any of it. That you have any say in what happens. That I have any say. We’re not players in this, Frank.” She’d meant it, sincerity dripping from her tongue for the first time as she spoke freely to him. As if whispered words that yearned for freedom not only freed her from shackles, but thoughts running rampant in her mind. “You’ve known me long enough, it seems, to predict my next move so tell me why it is you seem so bloody adamant on changing it.”

[cruelecto]

unafraiidoftoil‌:

“I did-didn’t mean to,” her words were too soft, too shaky to be seen as someone with a spine, someone who could stand up for themselves. When surrounded by her friends, Wendy kept a brave face on and a smile, even in the face of others who fight to tear her down. She’ll stand up for her friends, she’ll push her friends and lift them up higher than she could stand. Wendy found the strength within her to keep going forward because of her friends. But when she found herself alone, in times like this, that sickening feeling crept through her – reminding her of the loneliness she felt that day, the fear and the way it froze her limbs. There was no one else around her to pull strength from and she didn’t have enough of it on her own. Alecto’s words seemed to feel like knives slicing through her skin, reminding her that not everyone in this school wanted to be her friend or liked her. Forgettable, clumsy, daft, oblivious. The words were chosen to wound and how deep they seemed to cut. “I’m sorry, Alecto Carrow, truly. I should-should have been more careful, seen where I was going. It won’t happen again, I promise, hugging her wet books closer to her, she gulped as she finally looked Alecto in the face. “Please, I should really be getting to class.”

She’d never much patience for meek people. Those who couldn’t hold their own, who’d hid in the shadows if only to believe themselves safe within its clutches. However, unbeknownst to them, she’d waited. Waiting to bare her teeth to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in her grasp, coiling herself ‘round them until they’d nearly suffocated. Wendy, unfortunate as she was, had caught Alecto whilst her tempers flared. Whilst her impulsive nature rivalled that of her betrothed if only because she’d found herself pushed to the brink by the all mighty saviour of the damned. “Speak up, Slinkhard.” Her tone is hardened, sharpened against the air between them as she takes a step. “––’m afraid not even the bloody mice roaming the castle can hear you when you mumble.” A beat, sure her cruel tone had seeped into the likes of poor, pathetic Wendy. “It’s pathetic.” She, but a vulture, picking at the stray bits of a fragile girl that’d been left over from years of being used as nothing more than a target, a victim to torment, a piece of meat to continue to rip flesh from bone. “Why would you want to hurry away so fast?” Her brows arch, tongue pressing against cheek as her lips curl. “You don’t think I would hurt you, do you Wendy?” As if a cat, with mouse dangled in front of her upon a string. There was little Alecto wouldn’t resort to whilst finding herself in a bout of frustration. When she’d found herself thrust into the reality that she was the monster they’d all made her to be. That, with blood stained upon her hands, she’d accepted her inevitable fate as someone to be feared, something that went bump in the midst of a quiet night. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon if you know what’s good for you –– “ Her tone is laced with nonchalance, a slight sigh escaping her lips as she feigns interest. “ You see, Wendy. I, myself, don’t quite like the things I’ve been hearing from your friends –– rather hurtful, words. Wouldn’t you say?” 

[lynchoid]

[damonmulciber]

@cruelecto

[alicentrism]

[dailywomen]

It’s important for little girls to have characters to look up to, and also be entertained by the fantasy parts. There are a lot of not-so-good role models out there for younger kids, it’s good to have someone they can relate to on television.

[cruelecto]

damonmulciber‌:

You think I hold any pity for the blood traitor? Damon was staring at her, one brow twitching upward as he heard. ‘I don’t feel anything when I think of him,’ she said. And Damon was not a complete idiot; he could read between the lines. He was struck speechless, just watching as she put the ladle down and continued to speak to him. Her forehead creased a little when she was stressed and thinking about something, it was a lot like Amycus’. But it was nicer on her - more intriguing. Amycus had plain blue eyes, Alecto has a concoction of colours that ‘hazel’ just did not give justice to. He was left simply watching while Alecto confessed that she wasn’t angry. He was left just watching and wondering just how much much she meant be everything she’d said so far.

Her hand brushed up against his and Damon froze. He was afraid to even breath, lest he somehow scare her off. It was a ridiculous notion but it was still an instinct - a sudden need to keep that moment frozen in time. Alecto was Alecto, he’d known her since childhood. Smart, crafty, creative, merciless Alecto Carrow. She was the epitome of womenkind. But she’d always been too valuable at his side as his friend. Hints and suggestive looks were saved for worthless and replaceable. He wouldn’t have dared risk it. But to say Damon hadn’t been tempted several times over would be an understatement. Ever since the betrothal he’d tip toed around the idea more and more. It felt now as if those doors had been opened wide for the invitation and he thought he might either burst from the excitement or the very unexpected worry that he would have to digest and understand later.

Dark brows raised as Damon looked up from her hand back over to meet her gaze again. The breath of a laugh left him, only a little more than a simple exhale of the air he’d been holding in. A small smile - humorless but genuine. “If I’ve learned anything about myself in all these years, Ali… it’s that I’m quite the survivor. Getting into a few scrapes with the filth, as you so brilliantly put,” He smile a bit wider, happy he’d been very wrong. “— is exactly… what is going to keep us on top…” He put his own hand over her’s. “And I do forgive you…” Damon had known it was just a figure of expression: ‘And forgive me if I’d rather you here ––– than not.’ But he simply could not help himself. There was small, soft grin on his face. “Because I feel the exact same way.” And then a pause to let Alecto take that sentence’s meaning as she so desired. It would have been a correct assumption in any sense that she did. “I mean, how absolutely dull would it be here to have you worry about no one else this often? I really couldn’t let you go through all that boredom…” He spoke uncharacteristically quietly despite the fact he was joking, as he always loved to do. 

He’d stared at her much too often. As if he were studying something inside her that she’d yet to release, that she’d yet to acknowledge. He’d never attempted to tame the demon that she’d succumbed to every once and awhile, had never floundered about at the thought of her intellect. Instead, he’d remained at her side as a friend, as a confidant, and now as a future. It’d be foolish of her not to admit that she’d lucked out if only because Damon, as cruel as he was, was the only saving grace to her and her brother in a pool of bumbling idiots. She’d rather be caught dead than allow herself to be married off to the likes of the Lestrange brothers, Avery or the barely tolerable Macnair. No. Damon Mulciber had known exactly where he’d stood in her mind, she’d made certain of it. That their demons collided so willingly in the dark, that within a hushed corridor it was him she’d trust first and foremost. Without so much as a second thought she could only imagine it’d be the same on his end. For, he tip toed the line of facing the wrath of Amycus. No matter how pleasant they’d been, no matter what bond and brotherhood they’d shared, Alecto had known that when it came down to logistics, that Amycus would always choose her. 

Survivor. Such an ugly word, she’d thought. As teeth gnash together, she wonders how far she’d be willing to break open his chest, crack his ribs and expose every vulnerable part inside him. She wonders if he’d let her, and for a moment she believes it possible. However, her own atrocities and sins keep her from doing so, a hindrance if there ever was one. “Is that where you aim to be?” Her brows perk at the confession. Whilst Alecto had crafted herself into something of perfection, of a girl who’d remained oblivious as ever to the happenings around her, quietly going about her day to throw off any sense of suspicion that surrounded her. Clearly, Damon had other plans. Where they’d each earned a place beside the Dark Lord for a reason, Alecto had wondered, if for the first time, she was finally seeing just how deep Damon was willing to dive into his services. “Do you wish to see yourself with the likes of Bellatrix, of Antonin?” She knows there’s hesitance in her thoughts, and yet she remains stoic enough for it not to leak into her words. However much she’d trusted Damon, she savoured these thoughts for Amycus and Amycus alone. His touch bringing her slight comfort, a strange and oddly welcomed feeling arising as she feels cheeks fill themselves with heat. She’d known him to be a monster, had known herself to be much the same. Who better to love than that of a reflection of ones self? Her eyes roll at his jest, a lighthearted turn of events that she’d once shielded herself from. Allowing feelings to be kept at bay if only to allow her to focus ––– 

“You’re a welcome distraction.” Releasing her hand from his grip, she opts to stir counterclockwise within her cauldron. Eyes lingering a moment too long upon his features before she manages to tear away to focus on the colour her potion was swiftly becoming. Watching as the liquid turned from a brightened opal to a grim black, she heaves a sigh. “I’ve been at this for weeks.” It’s said absentmindedly, tongue pressing against cheek as she speaks. “Knicked some things from Pomfrey’s own blasted cellar and yet here we are –– if I can’t salvage what’s left in this cauldron we might as well call it a quits.” She’d found potions, poisons and the like, to be a welcome career. Whilst she didn’t boast about her talents like the mudblood Head Girl or Severus, growing agitated at the thought that they’d managed to outshine her, it didn’t mean she hadn’t a talent for such. Knowing very well that after Hogwarts, with the help of her engagement, she needn’t seek out work that cornered her, suffocated her. Now comfortably opting to freelance, to sell potions and poisons to the likes of anyone willing to pay the highest price. She’d yet to share her complete plan with Damon, and yet now was as best a time as any. “I’m brewing something complicated.” It’s matter of factly as she reaches across him, grabbing the last remnants of lace wing fly before throwing it into the concoction. “Something I fully intend to use upon the likes of someone. Whilst Greta makes for the perfect victim, I’m growing tired of her whining.” Brushing thought away from her, she’d grown bored with the girl much too easily. “Call me a philanthropist, but I figure I’d let you do the honours of picking someone new, since you are having a hand in this.” 

[petrovq-blog]

get to know me meme: [1/5] favorite female characters: Hayley Marshall (The Originals)

“Please tell me that we’re gonna kill someone.”

[cruelecto]

brentonavery‌:

Where: Slytherin changing rooms Who: Brenton && @cruelecto​

“Yes! Get in there!” Brenton was in a brilliant mood. Exhilarated beyond belief, like he hadn’t just seen one of his friends break an arm; like they hadn’t conceded too many goals. No, he was celebrating as if they had won, not merely drawn. “Shame you didn’t get Blishwick off her broom, too, but at least it was enough to stop her getting the Snitch. Fuck, that was such a good game!” He raised the bat that he still hadn’t put down – too excited to do anything but pace around the changing room while the rest of the team took to the showers – wanting to knock it against Alecto’s in a Beater-bat-high-five.

She tastes bitter defeat within her throat, lingering sourly and yet she cannot help but feel as though she’d done the right thing. Knocked some bloody sense into mudblood Stebbins, put her in her place on the field as much as she’d been capable of without facing Emma Vanity’s rather lacklustre wrath at throwing the game entirely. Quidditch was an outlet in which Alecto could release the swelling rage that she’d carried within, and she’d welcomed it much like a docile pet. Allowing it to purr gently, to coil itself around her body entirely as if it were harmless. “Shame I didn’t give Stebbins a run for her money and knock her into the ground where she belongs.” She speaks through gritted teeth, raising her bat to gnash against Brenton’s. Her counterpart, the brutish arm to her calculations in the sky. “Got a few hits in though, not as much as I’d like considering –– “ Lips purse, a light shrug rolling from her shoulders. “Can’t wait to hear Vanity go on about how we’ve failed her this time.” Lingering notes of disbelief ring through her tone, mocking as ever. 

[cruelecto]

bloomingevans‌:

“Really?” Lily said, crossing her arms and squinting her already narrowed eyes. The shadows cast over those bright green irises were far darker than usual with the strength of that glare. “Haven’t the foggiest? How is it then that Madam Pomfrey reports missing aconite roots from storage and the latest textbook stolen from the Forbidden Section of the library details some of the worst, most vile potions and poisons.” She couldn’t know if the ambitious, clever woman was simply curious and academic with her potions. Slughorn had let her read the book for academic reasons, after all. But maybe there was some sway that Alecto’s vile fiancé had over her. She couldn’t know, not after what was done to Mary. “I’ve read the book, Carrow, I know the reaction of aconitine on potions… There is no reason you should be working on anything of the sort.” 

"Are you here to accuse me of something so crass, Evans?” Her brows are perked, interest piqued as she decides to play a game with the Head Girl. “Might I just suggest that I was merely attempted to get a leg up on my education, and here you are placing such out dated stereotypes upon me.” Tongue pressed in cheek, her tone is nothing short of angelic, condescendingly so as gaze hovers upon that of the redhead. She’d known her to be self righteous, to believe herself having the upper hand when it came to the majority within the castle. All the same, she’d left nothing but a disgusted taste within Alecto’s mouth. “One might even say that this is an abuse of power. If I were to go to Professor Slughorn, or even perhaps Dumbledore and tell him that your prejudice seems to be clouding your judgement.” She’d always likened a cat toying with a mouse, nails digging into it’s tail to pin it in place before she’d devoured it. Alecto Carrow made no secret of her opinions to some, and for all intents and purposes, she’d enjoyed pretending. Allowing professors to believe her to be something of a studious prodigy, a girl who’d no business placing herself in a mans war. 

[cruelecto]

unafraiidoftoil‌:

She hadn’t been paying attention. Too many books were in her hands, having been in too much of a rush to stuff them into her bag as she needed to run to class as quickly as she could. Wendy wasn’t one to be late for class but she had been trying to finish her Defense essay and completely lost track of time, needing to be in Herbology in just a few minutes. She didn’t see Alecto, only felt her, and stumbling made the books fall into the snow and Wendy for that matter. Alecto’s voice and words made Wendy’s whole body freeze as if the snow had seeped into her bones rather just on her skin. “It’s okay, I should have watched where I was going,” she mumbled, slowly picking up a few of her books, she could spell them dry later. “I’ve always been a little on the clumsy side. It’s no issue, though, and I must really be going.” Her whole mouth felt dry and was her hands shaking from the cold or from fear? There is something about the Carrow twins that never settled well with Wendy. 

"Yes, you should’ve.” Whilst her tone was nothing but a saccharine fantasy, sweetness lingering in the air, her gaze had been anything but. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. Wendy was an easy enough target, someone with such a quiet demeanour that Alecto would be certain she’d never garner the strength nor courage to go about telling people. Lithe digits reaching for her wand before she’d cast nonverbal spell towards the girl to dry her books in question. “Now, Wendy, tell me exactly what it is that makes you feel as though you can just –– barge into people like that, hm?” Her tongue was cruel, her words wicked, knowing that she’d been pushed to her breaking point mere hours earlier. There’d been a joy she’d felt in allowing others to feel guilt, to watch as light was drained from their eyes as her manipulation took a hold of them. Shaking her head, Alecto allows a faux sense of hurt wash over her features, feeding off the guilt that’d surely stir within the Hufflepuff. “Are you certain? That it’s really no issue? That your very –– dare I say forgettable presence ––– isn’t bothersome to some? Clumsy or not, surely there’s no excuse for being so daft and oblivious to such a thing.” Lips curling into a smile, as if her words are something of a comfort to the girl as she stands studying her over again.

[cruelecto]

pctterprongs‌:

James might’ve felt alone in the nature to deflect. His mind was focused on school, but his eyes were watching. Watching Peter, making sure he was alright. Making sure Remus didn’t sink, didn’t snap. Sirius—James didn’t have words. No, he did. Disappointment came to mind. Strongly, soundly. He knew his friend, his best friend, his fucking brother was better than this. Better than what they were making him out to be, pertaining him to be like the family James knew he wasn’t like. He knew that exactly fourteen minutes on the Hogwarts express, their first year. He knew that the instant he met Sirius. So why now… why he wouldn’t see… James shook his head. They were all slipping into the worst versions of themselves. James himself could feel himself recoiling, fighting every urge within himself to not go down that path no matter what. He couldn’t be that person who hexed people for the arrogant notion to say he was the one who did it. James refused to crumble, still holding his head high, still attending class, doing all he could to ignore the goading. Including moments Remus had to hold him down in Charms just to stop him. But his mind was muddled, and his path blocked. “I’ve things on my mind, yes.” He answered coolly, hiking his bag further up his shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you, Alecto?”

To manipulate the board, to watch as the self proclaimed kings began to fall from their hand crafted pedestals was something that Alecto had taken a pride in. Whilst she’d no hand in their downfall, it hadn’t made it all the less sweet. Sirius Black was once to be her intended, that thought alone now made her skin crawl. He’d become something less like a man and more like a pathetic dog who’d followed around the likes of James Potter, blood traitor to the core. She’d never thought him to be anything magnificent, unable to believe that others sought him out like some saviour. If Dumbledore had any sense of self, he would’ve done her a favour and given the Head Boy position to someone much more worthy, Longbottom perhaps. “Such a pity –– what with everything that’s gone on since the holidays. You should know everyone in Slytherin believes Peter nothing but innocent. Takes a real man to do such things, now doesn’t it? Besides, if anyone I’d hardly think Peter himself capable –– he hardly holds himself together in Duelling club without lookin’ as though he’s pissed his trousers.“ She shakes her head, feigning sorrow as she speaks. Knowing that, if anything, his sorrow was something so sickeningly sweet it had felt like liquid gold against her throat. “As a matter of fact, now that you bring it up, yes. You see –– “ Nose scrunches as she speaks. “Since you’re reputation has seemingly taken a hit with the professors, students and well –– general public alike –– I can’t really have the lot of you in Duelling Club anymore, not when the safety of the students is at stake being ‘round you lot, and as President I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence if I didn’t bring your character into question.” 

[cruelecto]

longbottomsfrank‌:

“Your light of truth and mine jus’ aren’t the same, Alecto.” He was never kind, as dispersed with the other students. He was firm, direct with the witch in the same way she was with her. But his futile was that Frank was good. Whatever Alecto chose to be, her views were her own. He wouldn’t force her into complying with him—there was only encouragement. “Isn’t prepared?” He stepped forward, hands pocketed, but never within a mere fingertips stretch of his wand, as he shook his head. “What would you suggest we’ve got to be prepared for?” He knew he was lying through his teeth, interjecting her speech, cool and effortless when it came to Alecto, among all others. She was, after all, his equal in so many complex ways one might not understand. “Terrible things have happened, surely, but they won’t bring a fight to children.” They already had. “That would be insane.”  Say, what if one of them were threatened in mere moments –– There was a severity to the sudden stance he took—heroic, some could say. “That was an unfortunate, terrible incident. I wouldn’t wish it on m’own worst enemy.” He was quite possibly looking at his. “But it’s different this time. The school’s prepared this time.” The Order is prepared this time. The furious nature of many within their own ready and willing to rise to the ranks. A student army was forming right underneath those who might’ve pushed back on it. He shook his head. “Not all of us were born into cruelty. We’re products of it—but we can choose t’be somethin’ else. You have t’know that—“ You have to see that. He thought, shaking his head. “I choose to see the world as what it could be with work. With effort. By fighting back, by giving people their right t’freedom, t’think what they want and hell—if they need that sugar-coating on all the other things for one second—people are entitled t’that, Alecto.” He shook his head. “Everyone can be a product of cruelty, but risin’ above that is what makes you who you are. You should know that.” He didn’t yell when he spoke or cause harsh incentive to a fight. It was that Frank was an opportunist—and he wanted the world to be better instead of lingering on a constant basis as he did with how terrible it’d fallen. “You can’t believe we’re all meant t’be terrible.” He nearly whispered. Because then Frank, unfortunately, would’ve been just like his Father.

“That’s the only correct thing that’s come from your mouth in quite some time, Frank.” It haunts her, how easily he crawls beneath her skin. How easily she allows it to happen. Perhaps it was due to his skill, the undeniable truth of it all. The truth that whilst his blood was pure and his name carried a legacy in its own, that Frank had chosen a side much like Alecto. His, conforming to a new world in which would surely be the root of their downfall. Hers, inability to stray from the past and all its truths that would allow them to remain. It’d bothered her, neigh, plagued her, how hotheaded she’d found herself becoming within his presence. His calm composure nothing but a trigger, a tipping point in her sanity. He’d surely known it as well as she. “Won’t bring a fight to children? What do you call Filch, hmm? Or perhaps the death of Xenophilius went unnoticed by you.” She’d call him a fool if she hadn’t known he had taken a hit much like the rest of the blood traitor scum he’d chosen to surround himself with. Yet, she’d remembered it all too clearly. Xenophilius choking on his own blood, bubbling within his throat as she’d glared down at him, menacingly as ever. There’d been a fight in the way she’d remained so calm in the face of violence, that to murder, to flay, to hunt, had only ever brought her a feeling of peace. She cannot help but scoff, a hollowed laughter itching at her throat as she crosses arms against chest. “The school’s prepared? What is it that you know that I don’t, Frank. The presence of the Aurors surely hasn’t grown any –– “ It’s naive to believe that there hadn’t been a divide, knowing fully well that whilst she’d been loyal to the Death Eaters, that there wouldn’t have been some sort of half hearted heroic organization formed by the likes of someone –– someone like the man standing in front of her. A hero complex if there ever was one, she’d thought he would’ve thrown himself into the fire if it meant protecting others. A pity his talents were wasted on such a thing, that his chivalrous nature would surely be his undoing, whilst her own self preservation would save her from such a thing. 

She’d bore the mark of the Dark Lord out of necessity, because to survive one had to choose a winning side, one had to swear fealty to a cause they’d believed if they’d wanted to see the light of day, and she had. His words sting slightly as they echo in the corridor, knowing fully well that each is intended to slice through skin over and over again. She’d known cruelty, she’d escaped from it hadn’t she? Much like others within the castle, unchaining herself from a man who’d sought to make her a monster much like himself, a machine intended to torment and torture. However, she’d freed herself from him, had freed her brother, if only out of the love she’d had for him. DId that make her a monster, did it make her cruel and callous simply because she’d chosen the correct side, the winning side? “Since you make no light of telling me exactly what it is you think of me ––– “ A pause, she chokes back on the lump that had grown within her throat. A vulnerability in which she hadn’t allowed anyone to rightfully see. Not Amycus, nor Damon or Andromeda. “––make no mistake, Frank, if you deem me a threat, a monster, someone who has yet to escape their tyrants, then so be it. You want to craft an idealistic world, a vision without things such as pain and hatred, then you’re just like the rest of them –– “ Vocals get caught within her throat for a moment of brevity as gaze narrows. “You see, I’m terrible.” Lips twitch at her words, laced with malicious intent. “And I’ve no intent on rising above that, your majesty.”  

[ferrisbueller]

[themanipcompany]

Phoebe Tonkin x Max Irons

[katsmoving]

all monsters were once full of light, but it was stolen from them by despair, then the darkness seeped into their veins, like a deadly disease without a cure, and once hope betrays you, you can’t help but let the devil inside.

this is how the devil was born // k.s. (via worthystevie)