one of [THOSE] girls

[alectorose]

[alectorose]

PAGE ONE

Dear Journal,

I am so bored with my life that I have actually decided to create a journal. What is this bullshit? I'm not the kind of girl who keeps a journal, you understand. I don't giggle and whip myself into a tizzy every time I open a blank notebook and start writing in it with a freshly dipped quill. No, it would be absurd to compare me to such. I'm just fucking bored, all right? Damned Rodolphus won't let me come to any of the Death Eater parties anymore so I'm stuck here with my pussy of a brother, who whines incessantly about some Hufflepuff slut who has apparently ensnared his soul. It's disgusting, journal. Makes me want to fucking vomit. That, or shove his face in the toilet and flush repeatedly.

...That's not a bad idea. I'll be back.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE TWO

Dear Journal,

Oh, guess what? Apparently dearest Rodolphus led a rogue attack on Evans and Potters' wedding and conjured a fiendfyre and I wasn't there. Not by my own volition, no, of course not. By his. Because apparently I'm not to be invited to these sorts of things. Well, do you know what I have to say to that?

Fuck him.

He's damned lucky I love him because if I didn't my wand would be so far up his ass right now, it would be coming out his mouth––ugh. I feel like I've been getting cut out of the action lately. It's Rodolphus this and Bellatrix that and Regulus this, but never Alecto. Piss and moan. I'm going out for a smoke or something, ditching this joint and this stupid book.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE THREE

Dear Journal,

...Hah. I forgot I owned this pathetic scrap of leather. Oh well. I suppose, now I should fill you (though is it really appropriate to call you a 'you,' seeing as you're inanimate and probably not deserving of such a pronoun?) in on my summer's travails, eh? Well, they are quite simple. As follows:

• Rodolphus the asshole led an assault on the Snotter wedding and didn't invite me. But that's okay, because the Dark Lord wasn't too happy about it and he got his ass kicked.
  
• Got into a fight with Sirius, not that it even mat
  
• Went shopping with Sadiebabe a few times, got some new knives.
  
• Nothing.
  
• And, oh, nothing.
  
• Oh, and guess what? Dearest, darlingest, Amycus here is now dating Priscilla Pryce. Priscilla Pryce! Un-fucking-believable. He goes from a Bingblott, to a Pryce. I mean, that's somewhat of a step up but fuck, does he really know just how minimal of a step that is!? Ugh.
  
• So, now I have to think of a way to get that Pryce pariah off his ass.
  
• Still thinking.
  

And this essentially brings you up to date.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE FOUR

Dear Journal,

Note to self: do not attack random girls at Hogsmeade if you do not want to piss off the Dark Lord.

Jesus.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE FIVE

Dear Journal,

Ah, journal, there has been an excellent development! I did a little digging, made a few visits, dropped in on good, old Prunella Pryce, and guess what I found out? Dirt, that's what (that, and Pru really doesn't like knives). Priscilla Pryce is a half-blood. Yes, you heard me right. The fucking skank isn't even a pureblood, she's been masquerading all this time. A fake. So, of course, I had a nice girl to girl chat with Prissy dear, and, wouldn't you know, she ends up dumping Amycus! Not like I blackmailed her or anything. Just told her to tell him she was in love with someone else, show herself for the fake and the slut that she really is, or I'd expose her and her family to the entire wizarding world. Just a little advice; blackmail is a bit of an extreme. (; Amycus, of course, is being a brooding little ninny, but honestly, journal, I'm quite pleased with my work. They're broken up, I've succeeded, and now Amy is coming home to me to join the followers of the Dark Lord.

Finally, the child is doing something right.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE SIX

Dear Journal,

So, I did some investigating and came up with this.

Eligible Bachelorettes for Asswipe of Brother:
Pryce (obviously not viable any longer)
Black (any of them; perhaps too high maintenance anyhow)
MacMillan
Gamp
Reginald (though I don't really like her)
Brown (don't much like her either)
Bingblott (no, just no)
Laurentine (acceptable, but also high maintenance)
Khan (but she's annoying as fuck)
Travers
Burke

So that leaves... Gamp and Travers and Burke. This is not an impressive list. Although, my brother is not that impressive of a marital candidate. Perhaps I should be less picky. Sigh. I have a feeling this is going to be a long project, journal.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE SEVEN

Dear Journal,

I hate everyone. I want to kill them all. With my knives. And my wand. Starting with Sirius Orion Black.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE EIGHT

Dear Journal,

Oops. I was drunk last night. Disregard that last entry. Or, rather, don't disregard it, just accept it as factual and move on. Though I would have preferred it to not leave my head. This is sort of confirmation that I'm not over him.

Fuck.

Am I twelve? Talking about my feelings in this damned book? Wow. Wow.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. I've gotta kill someone or else I'm going to go insane. Fuck this probation shit.

Alcohol? I think yes.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,

[alectorose]

PAGE NINE

Dear Journal,

Ideas for slaughter of McKinnon:
––Incendio followed by knives followed by the Killing Curse.
––Body-binding jinx followed by knives followed by Incendio followed by the Killing Curse.
––Crucio followed by Incendio followed by knives followed by the Killing Curse.
––Body-binding jinx followed by Crucio followed by knives followed by Incendio followed by the Killing Curse.
––Imperio followed by Crucio followed by knives followed by the Killing Curse.
––Imperio her to run into my knife. Multiple times.
––Crucio until she breaks.
––Hmm. More to come later.

I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. Damn it.

I need a drink.

VIVA MORSMORDRE,