The Favourite (2018), dir. Yorgos Lanthimos.
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YOU ARE THE REASON
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@sheweapon
The Favourite (2018), dir. Yorgos Lanthimos.
🌈 for a random encounter starter @steelbones
she has cast a spell of smoldering darkness over the store, rolling off the walls like a thick smoke. that lovely feeling of dread, disease and death hangs in the air, as heavy and penetrating as ever. it follows her around like a second skin, like a perfume that she can’t quite shake. nor does she want to. “ i thought i made it quite clear that i wanted this place empty, tonight, “ she says after a while. fingers trace a skull that lays on display, mindlessly, barely noticing how a curse buzzes beneath her finger tips, threatening to break free. “ my family is quite patient with the way this place is being run, but everyone has a limit, “ she adds, a threat much more severe than that of a cursed skull lingering in her voice. the shopkeep disappears before she decides to act on it, and her attention diverts to AUGUSTUS. a slight smile appears on her hips, and her stance softens ever so slightly. shoulders hunch downwards, and her wand is slipped back into the sleeve of her robe. the darkness still doesn’t fade. “ you should know better than to follow me, rookwood. “ there’s a pause. smoke continues to roll across the floors of borgin & burkes, making it very hard to see much of... anything. but some errands are worth the precaution ( and some people are just that dramatic, too ). “ or are we calling this a merry twist of fate? a happy coincidence? “ she continues, feet crossing in front of her. her eyes sparkle in the dark, some form of twisted amusement lingering far below the usual clouded darkness. “ men like you usually don’t walk into places like this. “ or, they do. but like her, she assumes that he’s smart enough to do it when no one’s looking.
“She is unconquerable, austere, cold as the moon,”
— Amy Lowell, from The Complete Poetical Works of A. L.; “Malmaison,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
grvngrass.
to say that eloise greengrass was out of her element would be a bit of an understatement. here she was, beginning her first real job ( working for the family business doesn’t count ) and it happens to be for one of the most powerful people in the ministry. she’s not SCARED, only intimidated by the woman towering above her, but she doesn’t crack. yet she can’t ignore the unmistakable feeling that bellatrix can see right through her facade, can detect even the slightest bit of discomfort, even if its buried deep beneath the surface. the thought alone was terrifying, but she perseveres, swallowing the regret that had already begun to seep in. “i can be discreet.” she assures her boss, rose colored lips pressed together as her hands fold in her lap. she was good at taking orders ( she had learned from the best after all ) and there was nothing she wanted to do more than impress her boss, if that was even possible. “what do you need me to do, mrs. lestrange ?”
" so if i told you, “ she begins, her voice like warm honey, soft and thick and dangerously sweet. her head cocks to the side, ever so slightly, and her eyes narrow. there is a hint of amusement hiding in their depths, buried far below, yet causing ripples in an otherwise calm gaze. “ .... that i am having an affair, and hiding it from my husband, i shouldn’t expect to read it in the tabloids tomorrow? “ she says, and the softness in her voice gains an edge, becomes a little sharper. “i need someone that i can trust.” her mind reaches out on instinct ----- the legilimens in her never fully resting, never fully retracting its claws. she can’t help herself, it’s second nature to invade, to destroy, to distract. every mind is her playground, her toy - a thing for her to break... or make. “miss greengrass, do you happen to know how to cast an unbreakable vow? “
a thick silence hangs over the ministry bathroom. it’s the kind that leaves you out of breath, out of depth ---- somehow suffocating you from within. but bellatrix pretends not to notice, instead focusing on her reflection in the mirror, a bony finger carefully adjusting her lipstick, making sure that she at least looks the part that she is supposed to play. the part that she has come to hate. “ it’s a shame, don’t you think? “ she says, and her words sound far more thoughtful than they are. there are few things she still care about, these days ---- this persona she has adopted is far down on the list --- and one she is very much ready to drop. and then again - her mask is slipping. slowly, but surely. “ washing our streets in pure blood? what a waste. “ it’s almost as if it isn’t her own cousin that she’s speaking of. so very detached, so very reckless. where is that heartache now, that started all this? for family? for legacy? for bloodlines? how far has she fallen? “ shameful how the order has become so utterly evil, isn’t it? to murder an innocent boy in cold blood... makes you think twice about who you’re supporting. “
@grvngrass sent ----- " i’m a fast learner. "
sharp fingernails tap against her desk, and her lips pull into a half smile, exposing a row of teeth that are almost too white to look quite real. the soft january sun slices through the large window ( because of course, bellatrix lestrange’s office is nothing short of fucking extraordinary ), and bathes them in warmth. it’s a sharp contrast to the chilliness in her gaze. “ i should hope so. you’ll have to be, “ she says, cold authority pouring into her voice, sending slivers of ice coursing through the air. she doesn’t break eye contact with the young girl as she leans forward, and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. she feeds off it - bathes in the way she can bend, break, shape the greengrass girl to her will. perhaps that’s what draws bellatrix to her ---- but her name and legacy alone are enough to make her... weak. “ --- i need someone. tonight. “ she finally says. there’s a long pause. a clawlike hand is placed underneath her chin, an elbow rested against her desk. “ it’s a private matter. not... ministry related. you will have to be discreet. "
allistors.
@sheweapon // bellatrix lestrange sent a prompt: “ you need to bleed. a lot. ”
one, two, three… his eyes closed for just one heartbeat before he got up, wand blasting in all directions, a loud ring on the side of his head - he believed he hit some of his targets before ducking under the next table. his left hand touched his ear and came back painted crimson, making the auror exhale sharply, but he couldn’t think of what it could possibly mean right there and then. alastor looked at the marble column where he could try to protect himself next, but a glaring problem was there. an auror, her back against the stone, her body lifeless. you need to bleed. the words echoed through the destroyed ballroom like the voice of a nightmare, following every and each one of them.
one, two, three. he had to get up again, before they blew up the table and him with it. his patronus asking amelia for backup was long gone but no one had arrived yet and he could sense the clock ticking for him, the people in masks and black robes taking the roles of the reapers. one, two, three. me or them. one, two, three. “ AVADA KEDAVRA, ” his voice, louder than in any other spells before, rang through the room like a lighthouse, with him as the epicenter, the ultimate target. he didn’t use it often, or lightly, but when he did it the light was near blinding and his voice near a roar. alastor did not kill with ease, but when he tried to, he did it with full conviction.
she can hear her blood pumping, rage and chaos boiling beneath her skin, making her see red. the scene unfolds before her eyes, and she watches it with the interest of a cat toying with its prey, ready to pounce. knuckles whiten as fingers harden around her wand, carelessly dodging another curse with a snap of her wrist. her entire body aches ---- but she can barely feel it. she doesn’t feel anything, anymore. but remnants of battles won - and battles lost, are making themselves known across her skin. she’s stained a dark plum, damson colored marks spreading across her shoulders, her back, her neck. constellations of stars in lilac and yellow and blue are painted upon aching limbs, and tomorrow, they’ll be a reminder of what she’s fighting for. that she is right.
“ you’re gonna have to try harder than that, alastor !! “ she shouts, and the anger that hides underneath all those layers of attempted perfection spills through, making her words practically electrified with hatred. she sends a curse shooting through the skies, and she sees that lovely shade of red flying through the air as she hits her mark. later, she’ll find it funny how they all bleed the same. pure blood. spoiled blood. still that beautiful shade of red that she adores.
she ducks behind a pillar, rolls out of the way of another blow. not quite quick enough, this time. a sharp pain presses her to the floor, an animal like shriek echoing across the ball room. it sounds like the agonizing scream of someone who is half wolf, half girl, but to bellatrix, it’s still just pain - temporary, fleeting, absolutely lovely.
“ so you want to dance? “ she manages to get out. stands up, on legs that aren’t quite as steady as they used to be. it’s pure instinct that allows her to dodge the bolt of green lightning that comes her way ------ or sheer luck. maybe a bit of both. she doesn’t notice how her nose is spilling blood, scarlet trickling down her lips, her neck. but she does notice that she’s shaking, so she steadies herself, stubbornness and immense willpower the only things keeping her on her feet.
a bolt of light flies through the air, aimed directly for his chest. she doesn’t even say the words anymore ---- CRUCIO is ingrained so deeply within her that the two of them have become one. as she approaches him, her eyes spitting fire, she lets out a soft cooing sound. “ the killing curse, alastor? “ she whispers. lips tug into a smile behind a mask sticky with sweat. “ how many people have fallen to your sword? “ there’s a slight pause, and head tilts to the side, genuine curiosity igniting in an otherwise hollow gaze. always so dramatic, so theatrical. “ did you enjoy it? watching the light drain from their eyes? “
assassin’s creed sentence meme . taken from ac: odyssey , adjust pronouns or sentence structure if needed. part one.
let us meet our fate, shall we?
i’ve never been so lucky in my life.
you’re the boss.
this shit happens every week.
i can’t keep doing this.
thanks for the warning.
what happened to you?
i’ll try to put in a good word for you.
i wish you would have told me that before they hit me.
i’m a fast learner.
you want me to collect my own debt?
how do you want to handle this one?
are you alright?
you have to be stronger than that.
don’t give in.
you worry too much.
you don’t look so good.
that’s already been taken care of. by me.
it’s hot, i’m in a bad mood, and you’re going to pay.
are you out of your fucking mind?
i won’t do all the dirty work.
he wouldn’t be after me if it wasn’t for you.
you know me. always prepared.
get to the point.
better be worth something.
i think that’s enough for one day.
i can never catch a break, can i?
why are you here?
that’s why it will cost you.
you’re not being very helpful.
did he hurt your feelings?
you want it? go get it.
perhaps the fates brought us together after all.
you can’t go where i’m going.
i need to be alone.
you haven’t seen the last of me.
you can’t let this happen.
look at me.
i know what must be done.
( 📺 for me to use a line from the last TV show I watched as a starter ----- from new amsterdam ) ---- @marvmacdonald
“ if the system can’t handle the little things, then it certainly won’t notice the big ones, “ she says, a smile tingeing her words, making them sound softer. as if she’s speaking to a puppy ---- a sweet thing, below her. to bellatrix, that is what the young aurors are. small and sweet and funny - for a while. but all toys must be put down, eventually. but not quite yet. “ or do you think the auror department is being run efficiently? “ she asks, surprise spilling from her voice, an eyebrow quirking in query. the smile never disappears from her lips. “ under a bones ? “
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“Hecate was the goddess of the Dark of the Moon, the black nights when the moon was hidden. She was associated with deeds of darkness, the Goddess of the Crossways, which were held to be ghostly places of evil magic” - Edith Hamilton’s Mythology.
THE WHOLE FUCKING FIRE.
bellatrix hecate lestrange. thirty four. head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes. + daring, passionate, ambitious, clever. - sadistic, two faced, cruel, unstable. death eater.
“She was a witch, as Harry knew, with prodigious skill and no conscience.”
[instagram @potterbyblvnk]