#hand poke tattoo london

[teaglitch]

木

[fairytaleendingss]

Room For One More?

Chapter 1

Summary: After a sudden eviction from your home, your friend Mary puts you in contact with her high school friends, James, Sirius and Remus who just so happen to be in need of a roommate. However, living with a group of boys you’ve never met before proves to be more complicated than you expected; especially when they’re all so attractive.

CW: None I don’t think.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

——

To say that life had been crazy lately would be putting it lightly. You had only just moved to the city six months ago, in pursuit of a career you were still yet to achieve, got landed with an office job that you were only barely qualified for, and the eviction notice on the door of your shitty downtown apartment was just the icing on the cake.

For a good few days it seemed like your world was caving in around you as you tried to collect yourself and figure out the next steps. In a city like London, real estate was scarce, not to mention expensive, and you were still working to pay off your student loans.

It was only two days before you were set to be kicked out when your new friend, Mary stepped in and saved the day.

You met Mary at your new office job and she’d been somewhat of a saving grace from the beginning.

She had been a splash of colour in a sea of black suits and beige blouses. She’d been quick to introduce herself, inviting you to join her for lunch on your first day, during which she caught you up on all the ins and outs of office politics. The two of you had become fast friends, something you were extremely grateful for.

And you found yourself even more grateful for her, as her car pulled into the driveway of the apartment building you were about to call your new home.

“How do you know these guys again?” You asked, glancing up at the red brick structure through the passenger window.

“We all went to high school together,” She explained. “I know them really well, trust me they’re great guys.”

You believed her. She’d never given you a reason not to. But still, moving into a household with three strange men that you’ve never met, is bound to be daunting nonetheless.

“And you’re 100% sure they’re okay with me moving in? I mean, they don’t even know me!”

She only giggled. “Don’t be silly! They’re completely on board. They’ve been looking for a new roommate since their other friend Peter moved out a month ago to get a place with his girlfriend, Sybil. They were just about to put up an ad on Craigslist, for heavens sake. Trust me, you’re doing them a favour. If I love you, they’ll love you too.”

You nodded at her but your heart still hummed unsurely in your chest. You took a deep breath. It was now or never.

After a treacherous journey up the narrow staircase with boxes in hand, you arrived at the door to the apartment. Mary was behind you, lugging a suitcase full of your clothes. You wished, for a moment that her friends at least lived in a building that had an elevator. You erased that thought from your mind a moment later, when you remembered that these people were doing you a massive favour. Besides, you were hardly in a position to complain.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. When it swung open you had to make a conscious effort to pick your jaw up off the floor.

Standing in front of you was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. He was fair and lean with long strands of dark hair fanning his face. He was chiseled in a way that made him look delicate, almost doll-like but he also had tattoos lining his arms and chest, which you could see poking out from beneath his white t-shirt. He was leaning against the doorframe, effortlessly cool, looking down at you with a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“Hey there gorgeous. You must be the new roommate. I’m Sirius.”

You peered up at him in shock, not quite sure how to respond to this man who had the face of a Greek God. And did he just call you gorgeous? You weren’t sure what you were expecting but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Um, hi,” you stumbled awkwardly. Your hands felt clammy even just looking at this guy, how the hell are you supposed to live with him? “I’m y/n.”

His grin only widened “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Ugh, stop flirting with her Sirius! And move out of the way, this stuff we’re carrying is heavy you know.”

You’d almost forgotten Mary was there until she’s stepping forward, shoving past Sirius who was blocking the doorway, and entering the apartment.

“Sorry hun, just trying to make conversation,” Sirius teased, stepping aside gently to let you in.

The place was bigger than you expected. Not huge but definitely comfortable, and better decorated. The picture you’d created in your imagination could only be described as a “bro cave” with bean bags on the floor and minimal furnishings. However, you were pleasantly surprised to see that the place is rather nice and homey, with comfortable leather furniture and a few framed artworks on the walls.

“Well, welcome home,” Sirius said, following you into the living room. “I can’t take any credit for the interior design, unfortunately. That was all Remus. Speaking of, I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you.”

Sirius padded off down the hall, making his way to one of the rooms and banging heavily on the door.

“Remus! The new roommate is here! Don’t be rude and come and meet her!”

The boy that emerged was equally as attractive as Sirius. He was taller than the first boy, with a mop of sandy hair and dark, piercing eyes. He wasn’t as effortlessly cool as Sirius, he was more lanky and hunched in posture, but he had a sort of nerdy charm about him that was very endearing. He was dressed in a thick woollen jumper and his hair was mattered. He blinked up at Sirius, like he hadn’t quite caught up with the situation yet.

“What’s going on?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes. “Our new roommate is here! Come and say hello!”

He peered out of the doorway. Looking in either direction before his eyes landed on you. Not quite sure what to do with yourself, you sent him an awkward wave.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” he replied in return, with a tight lipped smile. Then he turned back to Sirius.

“Could you go away now please? I was having a nap.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

There door was abruptly slammed in his face.

You stood in the living room, holding a box to your chest awkwardly, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable about the interaction. Sirius could apparently tell, and was quick to jump to your aid.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said dismissively. “He’s just in a mood. He’s a med student and all the studying is driving him wild at the moment. He’ll come good after he gets a bit of sleep. Now, how about I show you to your room?”

He directed you down the hallway to a door at the end. Inside, you could already see Mary hanging up your clothes in the wardrobe.

“So this is you,” Sirius muttered, gesturing to the space like a magician revealing his assistant had not, in fact, been sawed in half. Then he sent you another flirtatious smile, something you were quickly learning was a signature of his.

“I’ll leave you girls to it but just shout if there’s anything you need. Although, if you want someone to help carry boxes, I’d recommend waiting until James gets home later on. He’s the athletic one of the three of us. And let me tell you those stairs are a killer.”

You chuckled, a genuine smile overtaking your face for the first time in this whole experience.

“Thanks Sirius. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he drawled, giving you a wink.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Okay Sirius. Thank you but you can go now. We have a lot of unpacking to do here.”

Once Sirius had departed, you and Mary got to work on unpacking your things. Luckily for you, Peter had left behind a bed frame and a few pieces of furniture in his move, a saving grace considering most of your stuff had come with the previous apartment. You still had a mattress strapped to the roof of Mary’s car that needed bringing in, but like Sirius had said, Mary insisted that you wait for the mysterious James to return from work to help you carry any of the heavier items inside (With the way the others talked about him, you could only imagine he must be a superhero). Instead you busied yourself with unpacking your random assortment of trinkets collected over the years.

“So how are you feeling about the place?” Mary pried, unpacking a few shoe boxes into the bottom of the closet.

“It seems alright,” you admitted. “To be honest, I was a little nervous going into this but Sirius seems nice. I think he and I will get along.”

Mary smiled. “Oh good! I knew you’d like it. And just wait until you get to know the other boys better too. You’ll fit right in! I’m sure of it.”

You have her an anxious smile. “I really hope you’re right.”

—

It was a few hours later, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

“Honey! I’m home!” A playful voice boomed down the doorway.

You slowly emerged from your room to greet your final roommate. The guy was visibly buff and wearing a mud-covered jersey. He had matted tuft of thick dark curls and round glasses that balanced on the edge of his nose.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he kicked his shoes off.

“Hi. I’m y/n. I’m your new roommate.”

He looked up curiously before his expression morphed into a dazzlingly charming smile. He began to approach you and you held out a hand for him to shake. He bypassed the gesture all together, instead choosing to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug.

You were caught a little off-guard at first but tentatively hugged him back, heat rising in your cheeks as you felt the muscles of his biceps flex against you.

Pull yourself together!! You thought.

As he pulled away, he looked down at you, a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes. He smiled widely, reminding you somewhat of a playful puppy.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” He exclaimed. “Mary’s told me so much about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your own face as you looked up at him. You really liked James, you decided.

“How have you been settling in so far?” He continued.

“Pretty well, I suppose. I’ve done most of my unpacking now.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Well if you need help with anything, let me know. I’d be happy to assist.”

You grimaced. “Actually there is one thing you might be able to help me with?”

He raised a brow expectantly.

“How do you feel about mattress transportation?”

—

Manoeuvring a queen sized mattress up three floors of narrow stairs proved to be a challenging task. But somehow, between the two of you, you managed it.

By the time James actually wrestled the mattress on your bed-frame, you were just about ready to collapse on top of it.

Mary, unfortunately, had found the whole display hilarious, especially the moment where you’d lost your grip and send the mattress sliding down the stairs back to the first floor. So instead of offering to help, she’d taken the opportunity to film the entire ordeal on her phone. You expected it would be gracing social media by the end of the evening.

“Well, I’d say that’s a job well done!” James exclaimed as he finally dropped the material onto the bed-frame.

You chuckled. “Yeah! I mean it only took an hour and a half.”

James smiled and checked the watch on his wrist.

“It’s getting late and I really should shower. But how about we order pizza afterwards. We could have dinner and get to know each other a little better.”

“I’d like that.”

“Great! Mary, darling, you’re invited too of course.”

The girl looked between the two of you, smiling playfully. Then she shot you a look.

“Thanks for the offer Jamie but I actually have some stuff I need to get done back at home. You guys enjoy though.”

She sent you a wink as she went and your eyes widened.

“I’m going to go wash off, but there’s a take out menu on the fridge,” James said. “Pick out whatever you want. My shout.”

—

A short while later you found yourself sat on the loveseat, a plate of pizza in your lap while Sirius and James sat side by side on the couch, bickering about the most recent episode of the Bachelor. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched on.

They argued in a way that was firm but affectionate. You could tell that they were particularly close and had clearly known each other a long time.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Sirius exclaimed, waving his piece of pizza in the air for emphasis. “Jennifer was such a bitch! She totally deserved to be sent home.”

James gasped in mock offence. “No way! He should’ve kept her. They had a special connection.”

“Are you kidding?” Sirius blurted. “All she did was talk about herself. She barely even gave him the time of day.”

“I disagree! She was playing hard to get. Girls only do that when they like someone!” James stated matter-of-factly. You couldn’t contain your snort at the comment.

Sirius turned to you then, a smirk adorning his gorgeous face. “Well, lucky for us, we now have a girl here to settle agreements such as these. What do you think, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately at the nickname. “If I’m being honest, I have to agree with Sirius. Jennifer was kind of a bitch.”

Sirius cheered and James held a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Well you’re both wrong,” James joked. “We must have been watching two different shows.”

Sirius scoffed. “Nah, mate. You just have a terrible radar when it comes to girls. I mean, you’ve been chasing the same girl since you were fifteen and she’s still shown you no interest.”

Your eyebrows raised at that one. “Wait what? I feel like I’ve missed a chapter here.“

“She’s just a friend.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a friend you’ve been in love with since third form.”

James sighed.

“There’s this girl, Lily, in our friend group,” he began to explain, looking rather bashful. “And I’ve kind of been into her for a while but she always turns me down.”

You grimaced, clicking your tongue in sympathy. “That sucks. But hey, If she’s managed to keep your interest for all these years then she must really be special. I’d love to meet her sometime.”

James smiled gently. “I’m sure you will soon. She and Mary are quite close.”

Sirius face lit up suddenly at that. “Actually guys, that reminds me. The band is playing a gig on Saturday and everyone’s coming. You should join us y/n!”

“Hold on, since when are you in a band?” You queried. “I thought you were a bartender.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’m a bit of both! Bartender by night and lead singer of ‘Snakes and Lions’ by… well also by night I guess.”

“Basically, he plays in a band on the weekends,” James clarified.

“Yeah, and soon, we’ll be world famous!”

“Well I’d love to come and see you play,” you uttered.

“Great, it’s a date then.”

“What’s a date?”

You all looked up to see that Remus had finally emerged from his room. He looked tired and a little disheveled. Although you supposed that was the only way you’d had a chance to see him so far.

“Rem, mate! Come join us! We got Italian sausage just for you!”

Sirius gestured to one of the pizza boxes on the table and Remus nodded, grabbing a plate to fill.

“We were just telling y/n about Sirius’ gig this weekend.”

Remus looked up at you for a moment, his tired eyes unreadable. Then he straightened himself up and came to stand before you awkwardly.

“You’re um… you’re in my seat.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

You shot up from the spot, feeling rather mortified by the interaction.

“It’s okay, you can come sit here!” James stated, sliding further towards the armrest of the sofa and patting the spot in between himself and Sirius.

You sat down tentatively, but Sirius threw an arm around your shoulder which helped a bit in easing the nerves.

You found yourself glancing over at Remus. He seemed quiet as he munched on his pizza. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of frustration towards him. He’d been nothing but rude to you since you arrived and you had no clue why.

“So tell us, y/n. What brought you to London?”

Your thoughts were cut short by Sirius’ question.

“Well, I just finished my degree not too long ago and I decided I needed a change, I suppose. London has a lot of good opportunities.”

“What did you study?” James asked, leaning his head in his hand as he looked down at you.

“Literature actually. I want to be a writer.”

Sirius brows shot up. “Really? That’s great. You should talk about that with Remus. He loves books.”

“Hmm?” The boy looked up then, as if having been lost in his own world, before brought back by the sound of his name.

“Y/n studied literature at university.”

He glanced over at you, only looking mildly interested. “Oh, that’s good.”

Then he turned his wrist glancing down at the watch that he wore. “It’s getting late. If you all don’t mind, I think I will finish dinner in my room. I have a lot of work to do.”

You frowned at that. Had you done something to upset him? Why was he so eager to get away from you?

“Alright mate. We’ll see you in the morning,” James muttered, oblivious to the issue.

Remus nodded at him before getting up slowly and sauntering back into his room.

James continued munching on his pizza happily but Sirius clearly noticed the way you tensed at the boy’s exit. He leaned in closely, speaking in a low tone so only you could hear.

“Sorry about him. He really isn’t like this usually. I’ll have a talk with him.”

You sighed. “No no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

You really didn’t want to be a point of contention between these boys.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble-“

“No it’s fine,” you shook your head. “Actually, I’m feeling a little tired as well. I might turn in for the evening.”

James looked over at you with gentle eyes. “Okay. Sleep well.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, jumping up from the couch. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Once you got to your room, you lay back heavily against the door, sighing. You considered the events of the day. There had been few hiccups but you decided then and there that you’d do whatever you could to move past them.

You got along well with James and Sirius seemed friendly. It was just Remus who was yet to warm up to you.

As you got ready for bed, your mind ran over the interactions that you’d had so far and wondered what might be the root of his frustrations.

Maybe things will be different tomorrow, you thought, as you settled in for the night.

[harryslittlefreakk]

late night talking

summary: a chance meeting with harry before his wembley dates leads you into a bizarre friendship

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: i HATE writing meetings. this part is so slow but the next part is linked underneath, which is much nicer ;)

my masterlist can be found here!

“Just a caramel macchiato please”, you said, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. You always had a hard time sleeping in hotels and tonight was no different. You’d travelled to London to attend some concerts with your best friend, and although she’d invited you to stay with her, you didn’t want to infiltrate her newlywed bubble. So now you were standing in a quiet Starbucks, in your pyjamas, at almost midnight.

You chose one of the comfy tables at the back, hoping not to be noticed by any of the other crazies out at this hour. But not long after you sat down, someone decided to sit in the seat immediately behind yours. You sighed and kept your eyes on your phone, knowing only too well what kind of person chooses a seat next to a woman in a deserted space.

“Sorry, do you have a napkin?” A man’s spoke came from behind you, interrupting your quiet solace. You grabbed one off your table and turned around to pass it over, not looking too closely at the man who asked. His gold rings caught your attention, an obnoxious H S that sent your wide eyes darting up to meet his. The brown curls peeking out from under his hood, the dimpled grin sitting on his chiselled face. It really was Harry. Your heart rate quickened, inches away from the face of the man you were here to see. His laugh broke your spell, and you realised you’d never even let go of the napkin. “Sorry, sorr-“, you spluttered, suddenly unable to think, let alone speak. Harry watched your brain reboot, his smile never faltering, before asking what you were drinking.

He looked over at you from the counter, taking you in. Your messy brown hair, your black vest top paired with pale pink pyjama pants. Your zip-up hoodie had slipped off your shoulders, allowing him to see some patchwork tattoos poking out.

When he returned, Harry sat down across from you and placed the drinks down gently. Holding out a hand for you to shake, he told you his name, which of course you already knew. “Y/N,” you replied, meeting his green eyes. “Well, Y/N, what are you doing in a Starbucks at this time?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his coffee. You mirrored him, bringing your cup to your lips before explaining how you couldn’t sleep in hotels and were in town for a show. He smirked, eyes glimmering knowingly. “I’m here for a show too. And I like being out at this time. It always feels more anonymous.”

~~~

The girl behind the counter called out to you, letting you know the cafe was closing. You hadn’t even noticed the tables being wiped down or the whirring of the coffee machines on their cleaning cycle. Harry slipped a 20 onto the counter as you stumbled out together, mumbling a quick apology. The air was cold after a warm day, and only then you realised how late it must be. “My hotels this way,” you pointed, not wanting to take any more of Harry’s time. His strong hand reached out and grabbed yours, tugging you behind him as he stepped in the opposite direction. “Come on,” he grinned. “I know somewhere we can get more coffee.”

You walked through an eerily deserted London, laughing alongside Harry but wondering now what on God’s green earth you were doing. If Harry was anyone else, you’d be running a mile. You glanced down at your feet, unsure why they weren’t taking you home. Your heart-print pyjama pants were just another reminder of where you should be going. But as you doubted yourself, Harry ground to a halt, sending you flying into the back of him. “What are you doing?” You asked, staring up at the skyscraper hotel in front of you. This was definitely nicer than your choice of digs. Harry only smirked in response, walking towards the doors. You followed him blindly, trailing through the entrance and into the lift behind him. He pulled down his hood and ran a hand through his hair, watching himself in the mirror before his eyes flicked to you. Finally, he spoke, “hotels will give you coffee at any hour on any day, I’ve noticed.”

“Are you staying here?,” you questioned, stepping out of the lift straight into what must have been the penthouse suite. Your eyes were wide in awe, you’d never seen a hotel room like this before. A small kitchen sat on one wall, with a living area big enough to seat an entire family. A king size bed peeked out from behind a glass room divider, everything accented with black and gold glossy metals. You ran your fingers across the back of one of the blue sofas, twirling round to take in your surroundings before your eyes rested on Harry’s. He nodded, amused by your wonder. “You’re welcome,” you scoffed, setting your jacket down on the table. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, opening his mouth to question you. Swatting at his chest, you replied, “I paid good money for your shows. You’d be in a travelodge if it wasn’t for me.”

“You and thousands of others!” He interjected, swatting right back at your hand. You giggled, holding your hands up in surrender. “Okay, big man.”

Harry slipped off his hoodie, leaving him in only a sweatshirt and running shorts. You studied him properly for the first time, your eyes running from his tousled hair, to the way his sweatshirt was the perfect amount of baggy, to his toned, tanned thighs. If you weren’t careful you might have dribbled. He’d been the celebrity you’d pined over for years, and now you were standing in his hotel room. “You like what you see?,” he said, snapping you out of your daydream as he padded over to the coffee machine. “You got me here under false pretences, you know that?,” you grinned, plopping down on one of the armchairs. Harry’s head whipped around, mouth wide open in a half smirk. “I promised you coffee,” he gestured to the coffee machine, “here’s coffee.”

“You didn’t tell me the coffee was in your hotel room,” you smirked, before mouthing ‘weirdo’. Harry wagged a pointed finger at you, “ah ah ah. Only nice manners get you caffeine in my cafe.”

Your conversation continued well into the early hours. Tattoos, music, work, life, pets - you had everything and more to talk about. And you seemed to feel bizarrely comfortable around each other. It was almost 4am before you checked the time, and you stood up almost immediately to grab your jacket and leave. “My God, Harry, I should really-“ you tilted your head towards the door, your voice groggy now from talking and laughing for so long. “Stay here tonight,” Harry’s words came out quiet and almost shy. “It’s too late to go back to where you’re staying, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you out alone at this hour.” He stood up as he spoke, yawning and stretching his arms. “Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

As he led you towards the bathroom, you realised just how exhausted you were. And his enormous bed did look comfier than anywhere you’d slept in your life. “Harry, I’m really sorry, but do you have a t-shirt or something I can borrow?,” you asked, leaning on the doorframe. He looked you up and down, laughing. “You’re wearing pyjamas already pet.”

“I know! I know. But I went outside in these. Plus my legs get hot when I sleep.” This was true. You loved fluffy pyjama pants as loungewear but you only ever slept in a top and pants, and you couldn’t exactly wear your skimpy vest on its own tonight. Harry shook his head as he chuckled, his unkempt curls bobbing as he did. He yanked a shirt out of his wardrobe and chucked it at you. “Yeah yeah. You just want to tell the world you wore Harry Styles’ shirt.”

“Oh yes,” you rebutted. “Because ‘I slept in Harry Styles’ hotel’ wouldn’t make a good enough story.”

As you came out the bathroom, you resumed your post leaning against the doorframe, watching Harry throw a blanket on the sofa before trying and failing, several times, to stuff his long body on the loveseat. Stifling a laugh, you called out, “Harry, seriously. Not a chance you’re fitting on that sofa. Come to bed.”

As much as he tried to ignore it, you telling Harry to come to bed was far more inviting than he wanted it to be. He felt nuts. After all, you were a fan - a big enough fan that you’d go to all 4 of his Wembley dates. If word ever got out, he’d have hoards of fans outside every hotel waiting to be the next lucky girl. He just couldn’t explain why he was so drawn to you.

“Thank god for that,” Harry sighed, throwing his head back. “I have places to be tomorrow, I need a good sleep.” He whipped the covers bad and climbed in next to you, rubbing his hands over his face. You were thrashing around, trying to find a comfy position. Settling on your side, you tried to scoot as close to the edge as possible to make this slightly less awkward. Neither of you were used to sharing a bed without the promise of ending up tangled around one another.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly now. “What are you wearing tomorrow love?” Pulling you head up to look at him, you giggled sweetly. That pet name could be dangerous for you. “Why do you want to know?,” you questioned. Suddenly, you felt shy about your outfit choice. You were saving your best outfit for the final date, and now you wished you had something flashier to tell him - although, he’d seen you in your cutesiest pyjamas so the damage may have already been done.

“Want to see if I can spot you in the crowd,” he replied, shrugging his bare shoulders under the duvet. You tapped on your nose as you replied, “baby, you don’t need to worry about spotting me. Anyway, what are you wearing?”

Harry copied you and tapped on his nose, before switching off the bedside lamp and calling out a soft ‘goodnight’. You were pinching yourself up and down your arms to make sure you weren’t already dreaming. You couldn’t believe an insomnia stroll turned into Harry Styles’ bed. The Harry Styles’ bed. If only you knew what the rest of the week would hold.

part two

[raviliuz]

Slytherin Quidditch Team jobs after Hogwarts

🔥Terence Higgs🔥

After graduation, he started working at the White Wywern as a bartender. He felt in the right place and his boss joked that they have never sold so many drinks before, because let's be real, who would say no to him? But it's obviously not a job for whole life. He was 26 when he changed his job and started working at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He works in London, magical artifacts are sent to him and he's role is to discover their origin, history, and the way they work, as well as the function of the magic enchanted in them

⚡Marcus Flint⚡

Ha had offers from professional Quidditch teams but, surprisingly, didn't want to go professional. Being a professional player comes with many sacrifices and obligations. Marcus was afraid he would lose this pure happiness from playing due to the required lifestyle. Also, it's easy to get injured badly which can end one's career and affect the rest of the life. It wasn't an easy decision for him to make, he loves Quidditch and it was his dream for many years. He started working as a tattoo artist in a studio in Knockturn Alley. After the war, he started doing cover-up tattoos for the dark mark, using magical ink. Marcus was raised in a toxic pure-blood family but he has friends who helped him saw that bullshit and became a better person. However, he knows not everyone was so lucky and he understood what might lead them to the dark path. He was more than happy to help them to leave the past behind and become a better person

💀Cassius Warrington💀

Cass back in his Hogwarts years loved piercing and did his and his friends' ones. Obviously, they were completely unprofessional, done with a needle in the dormitory, but let's be real, we all were there. After Hogwarts, he started doing it seriously and professionally, in sterilized conditions, and started doing stick and poke tattoos. He bought the tattoo studio, the same one Flint worked at, so technically, he was Marcus' boss. Cass often calls him "captain" and Flint always answers with "boss". They remake the whole studio design. Flint specialized in tattoos and Warrington in piercing and small stick and poke designs

♦️Peregrine Derrick♦️

He worked his ass off during 7th year to persuade his dreams of becoming a healer at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Man passed 6 N.E.W.T.s with the best grades to be able to do so. Learning about magical creatures was interesting, not easy but he actually liked that so studying wasn't that hard and tiring for him. Transmutation on the other hand... He was lucky Montague is a transmutation genius and helped him a lot. Considering his love for magical creatures, it's not a surprise he decided to specialize in treatment for creature-induced injuries. Working in St Mungo's allowed him to see extremely rare cases. Obviously, his main goal is always to help his patient but he can't help but be interested in those creatures and the incidents that happened. Man lost all his hope in humans, hearing the stories and reasoning behind their actions. Amount of people sure that this random creature classified as impossible to domesticate would love them and make them the exception in their killing spree is amazing

🌱Lucian Bole🌱

He decided what he wants to do in life during the holidays, before his 7th year. It required exams from muggle subjects he didn't know shit about (wowie, ending education in muggle subjects at the age of 11) so he started learning them during his 7th year and took a year off after Hogwarts. He passed exams and started studying at a muggle university to become a dietitian and personal trainer. Luke accommodated himself in the muggle world quite well, found muggle friends and girlfriend, and lived his best student life. After uni, Lucian started working with wizard sportsmen but mostly like, solo-athletes instead of Quidditch players or teams (why the fuck wizards don't have more sports, controversial opinion but Quidditch is bloody boring)

🌻Adrian Pucey🌻

Adrian despite his good grades, overall the best from the whole Team, he didn't want to sit by the desk for 8 hours in ministry. After graduating, he started working at Madam Malkin's. At first, he thought of it as a temporary job to do something while he would try to find the job of his dreams. But he found his place at Madam Malkin's. Adrian loved watching kids excited about starting Hogwarts, nervous wizards looking for good clothes for a date, fiancees looking for perfect outfits for their perfect day. He fell in love with being able to help them. Adrian changed Madam Malkin's a lot, making it a very size-inclusive, body-positive place (to Adrian, who struggled a lot with self-esteem and his body image, it was incredibly important). He even started a second-hand department in the shop with cheap, used and renewed clothes

🕸️Graham Montague🕸️

QUIDDITCH! He was the one and only to go professional. He was the youngest player at Hogwarts in their times to receive an offer – he was 15 when Falmouth Falcons contacted him. But he wanted to finish Hogwarts first and more teams reached out to him. Graham decided to sign a contract with Ballycastle Bats. At first, he was reserve obviously, but the first-team chaser got injured at the end of the season so he got to play. He did well and made an impression good enough to receive his chance as a first-team chaser next season. He played for them for four years. During 4th season he got injured badly and had to end his career. But his team didn't leave him and Montague became coach helper and after a few years, when the coach retired, he was promoted to main coach.

🌸Miles Bletchley🌸

After Hogwarts Miles started working at Madam Malkin's with Adrian to have a stable source of money. In his free time, he wrote articles for Daily Prophet, getting paid for articles, not hours. Miles started writing stories when he was twelve and found a passion, he wanted to base his life on. After some time, his essays gained popularity and respect among editors. Miles got a work offer for 8 hours daily, with hourly pay, and changed jobs. After the war, he was promoted to main editor and fought with tons of bullshit articles like LOOK WHAT HARRY POTTER WORE (in polish we say it's fighting the treadmills, like in Don Kichot, to fight a meaningless war that can't end with success, idk if there's an english idiom for that). His main goal, which was more likely to have a positive outcome, was to clearly sort news from gossips.

Not me making job headcanons because I'm looking for a summer job and it's the only thing I can think about

Btw I finished high school and my exams, now wait for the results (7th of July, two days before my bday, don't they dare ruined it). I was scared for my advanced polish exam (the "only" task is to write an essay which makes the topic really important u know, get a topic you don't know shit about and you're screwed). But topics (you have 2 to pick from) were awesome, almost everyone, including me, wrote "functions of mixing the realistic and fantastic conventions", the second one was also cool, sth about using elements from mythology and Bible in works from different centuries but it imposed the use of book that no one likes

Idk it got kinda long

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twelve.

Thank you to all of you engaging with this, still :) 30 notes to unlock the next chapter, as explained before. 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,872 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Calamity Joe!” Frankie called at seeing Keri being carried over to the table at the bar by Angel, clung on around him like a little koala bear on a big tree. “What did you do?”  

“Showing off,” Ash voiced, who was carrying their three boards. “Again!”  

“I landed off one of the bigger ramps a little too sharply, lost the tail and did a somersault. Kinda fell funny on my ankle.” She poked her bottom lip, looking so adorable, Angel placing her down in a seat. “Aaron left, by the way. Got an Uber home. I kinda get the impression he still isn’t cool about my choices being mine alone, but that’s on him.”  

Rachel, Frankie and Jaime nodded knowingly, but Ash looked lost. “Somebody wanna fill me in?” He then seemed to recall something. “Oh! Is this what the scumbag comment was about? I wasn’t really paying attention. There was a platinum blonde coming down the hill, and that’s my preferred type, you know?”  

Angel sat beside him, fist bumping him for his comment before removing his arm from his thick jacket and rolling up his sleeve, tapping his Mayans tattoo. “This is what he don’t like.”

Ash’s mouth dropped open. “No way, bro. You’re an outlaw?” he exclaimed quietly. “That’s so badass!” He then drummed his hands off the table before standing. “Alright! I’ve been MIA for weeks so I’m figuring it’s my round first. Usual, everyone? Angel, come help me carry, man. We’ll get shots, too, start Friday early. Fuck it, I’ll wheel my bike round the back and come get it tomorrow, let’s drink.”  

Another fist bump was exchanged, the guys getting up and heading inside to the bar. It rolled right off Ash’s back, a total non-issue. That was him through and through, though. He was very accepting of people from all walks of life. Heck, it was his family dynamic, his mother a free-spirited Korean woman whose family had moved over when she was six and spent most of her late teens and early twenties hitchhiking around Europe and America, meeting his father, the trainee forensic accountant when she arrived in Reno.

“See, why can’t Aaron be like Ash?” Keri sighed, reaching across the table and stealing one of Frankie’s cigarettes.

“Because not everyone has a mom like Sook. I mean, the woman travelled through Texas with a charter of Hell’s Angels, after all. Remember she told us that? And the punks she lived with in London?” Frankie reminded her.

“And the drag queens in New York?” Jaime interjected with.

Frankie pointed at her girlfriend with a nod. “Yeah, them too. Ash has grown up with all of these stories, so it’s made him more open minded. You know Aaron is only concerned for you, no matter how frustrating it might be. Did he even talk to Angel much?”

Keri shrugged, taking a long drag on her cigarette. “It was mostly Angel making an effort. Aaron wasn’t rude, per say, but he didn’t engage more than he needed to.”  

“Well, so far I think he’s great, these two seem to love him, and I think Ash has a new guy crush, so that tells you a lot right there, doesn’t it?” Rachel added to the conversation. “And I am absolutely, hand on heart envious. He’s divine!”  

“And so far, from what I’ve seen, really nice guy, too. He’s engaging, he’s funny, he’s real. I like him,” Frankie offered, Jaime nodding.

“He has good energy. I like his aura.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, but her face was loving. “I knew you’d say that, babe.”  

As if further solidifying himself in her friend’s estimations, Angel returned with Ash after a few further minutes, carrying with him a towel full of ice. “Gimme your foot.” Keri obliged, Angel unlacing her boot and then resting her foot in his lap, holding the knotted towel to her ankle. Immediately, she let out a little whine, and it was so adorable, Angel felt his heartstrings tug. “I know, tiny. You’re just lucky it ain’t broken, only sprained.”

“If you’d have been on ski’s, K, you probably would have,” Ash added, leaning around Angel and passing her a shot of Jagermeister, everyone bar the driving duo of Rachel and Jaime sinking them, and Ash, who’d chosen something bright green and apple flavoured. “I dunno how you guys can drink that stuff. It’s like death in brown liquid form.”  

“Just because you can’t drink to save your life,” Rachel reminded him with a wink, Angel turning to him with a curiously raised eyebrow.

“Our boy here is a lightweight. Feather light,” Frankie nodded.

Ash was quick in his protesting. “Hey, I’m getting better! I had no choice but to recently. Went on a date with a girl from Tinder, she was there early and had bought me a drink. And so she’s hot, right, so hot, and she says she can’t date a man who doesn’t drink bourbon, so we’re on the fucking Jim Beam right from the first moment. I swear I matched her drink for drink, went and threw up, felt sober again and carried on, but all on an empty stomach, so I was wasted by 9pm and working my balls off to keep up the pretence I was fine.”  

“And you didn’t fall over?” Keri asked, sipping her beer.

“Nah, I’m leaving that to you this week, short stack,” he winked, grinning over his glass.  

“Oh, so you’re funny when mixed with bourbon!”

He shuddered instantly. “Never again. I had to let her down there, because I swear, if I even so much as smell that stuff again, I’ll throw up, or pass out. Probably both. I’m not her guy, if I can’t just drink beer than nope.”

“That’s like me and vodka, mano,” Angel revealed, lighting a cigarette. “I can’t drink it, not after sharing a bottle with a girl I was dating in high school and throwing up all over the damned place. I have never, ever been ejected from an apartment that fast in my life, didn’t even get laid either. Fucking sucked. Then on the way home I ended up getting cornered by a damned rattlesnake.”

The whole table then suddenly pointed at Keri, Ash leading the explanation. “Same thing happened to her when these guys went on a photography trip right out to the eastern borders of the state, and I went along for a day out. I had to run like fucking Superman, haul her over my shoulder and then quietly get the hell out of there before it struck her. She was just standing there screaming, frozen to the spot. My dad’s fucking nuts, though. We don’t get many around our house, we’re too urban, but if he’s anywhere where he encounters snakes and they won’t go away on their own, he stands on the back of their head gently, picks them up and flings them!”

“Yeah, he’s doing the right thing. That’s what I do now, too. Usually they just want to be left alone, but if one’s antagonised, sometimes you don’t get any choice. Especially if it’s in your house. We get loads in Santo Padre, because we’re basically a town right on the fucking desert. See, I got bite scars here,” he began, pointing to his hand, “here, and here,” he continued, showing the ones on his arms. “I don’t always have the best of luck with animals, man. I got a scar on my ass from being gored by a bull.”

The whole table looked interested by that, Angel going on to reveal the story. “So, my buddy Coco and I were drunk one time, he used to be in the military and was home on leave, and we decided to go cow tipping. Except we were much too drunk to notice the sign on the paddock gate that stated there was a bull within, and yep, he got me. Threw me straight back over the damned fence with a hole in my ass cheek, while Coco laughed so much, I think he did actually piss himself a little bit.”  

“Oh look,” Frankie laughed. “We got Calamity Joe 2.0 here!”  

“Why do I get the impression you have an entire catalogue of stories like that you could share?” Keri asked, Angel balancing the ice towel on her ankle so he could pick up his beer.  

“Because I do,” he winked, grinning. “I got some successes as well. Like when I was with a girl who kept horses, and I wanted to go get more alcohol but was too over the limit to take my bike, so I took one of her horses to the local liquor store. Rode him inside and everything, didn’t wanna leave the dude out there alone. The staff were too busy falling apart with laughter to yell at me, so I just grabbed the beer, got a bottle of tequila and a pack of smokes, threw it all into my backpack, and then me and Jeepers went home. It’s on YouTube still, I think. Some guy filmed it all.”

There was an immediate scramble for phones. “What’s it called?” Rachel cried, launching the app.  

“Drunk guy rides horse into store, or something like that,” Angel confirmed, Rachel tapping and then scrolling.  

“That’s Lucy, right? The only ex you’ve ever remained friends with, Sharise’s bestie? Did I remember right?” Keri asked, Angel nodding. She remembered him mentioning that they were still in touch, deciding that they worked much better as friends once their two-year relationship had come to an end.  

“You did,” he confirmed, looking to Rachel, who turned her phone to him.

“There’s more results than you’d imagine for that!” He reached for it, scrolling down, snorting with laughter when he recognised the thumbnail that was him, clicking and enlarging it, turning the volume up as everyone peered in close, beginning to laugh, a very drunken Angel riding a big horse through the aisles like it was the most normal thing in the world, saying “c’mon, Jeeps. Let’s go” once he was done, turning the horse around and nonchalantly riding him out again, his hooves loud upon the tiled floor as exited the store to a hell of a lot of laughter from customers and employees alike.

Angel very much marched to the beat of his own drum, and it was another thing in a nice little list beginning to build up over why Keri found herself liking him more and more with every moment that passed. She’d always been a little too cautious to be so spirited, so admired him for such. What she truly enjoyed even more though was seeing how well Angel fitted in with her little group, everyone leaving to go and change into more comfortable clothes (bar Ash, who’d packed a change) before they all met up again later at The Lounge.  

It was a night that ended a little short for Keri, though, abandoning drinking in order to be able to safely take a few painkillers, wanting to go and put her foot up somewhere comfortable, so heading back to the apartment at 8pm with Angel, while the others all stayed on.  

“I’m sorry me and my stupid ankle ruined the night,” she spoke, after getting comfortable in her pyjamas, sitting on the couch with another ice pack on her ankle, her foot once again in Angel’s lap.  

“You ain’t ruined shit,” he assured her, stroking her leg. “Getting to spend time with you is exactly why I came up here. Doesn't matter to me where the location for that is either.” It made something happy flutter through her insides, to hear that.  

“Oh!” she suddenly cried, remembering something she’d meant to show him much earlier. “I took this of you mid-air, and I think I did pretty good considering it was only on my phone.” While he and Ash had enjoyed tackling the ramp she’d taken a tumble upon landing from, Keri had sat down out of the way, clicking a few pictures with the aid of her iPhone, locating the best one of Angel and turning the screen to show him.  

“No way! I actually look like I know what I’m doing.” He studied the picture, swiping to find a few more, loving one of him and Ash pulling ridiculous faces, an ability they seemed to have very much in common. “I like that guy, he’s fuckin’ great.” he added, laughing as he handed her phone back, Keri sending him a few of the pictures over on a Whatsapp message.  

“He feels the same, although he says you give him beard envy. He can’t grow his for shit, it just comes in patchy whenever he tries,” she laughed, remembering the last time Ash had attempted anything more than designer stubble. Turning the screen again, she showed him one Frankie had taken of them both on their descent, Keri grinning from ear to ear while Angel had been trying his hardest not to fall over again.  

Saving them to a folder to keep her pictures all neat, she deleted a couple of old ones, landing on some she’d forgotten she’d kept on there. “Hey, look at these,” she spoke, shuffling a little closer to him. “Paris catacombs, five years ago when we went on vacation.”  

“Woah, that’s a fucking lot of skulls!” he exclaimed, Keri beginning to swipe through the images, explaining what she remembered from their tour guide. “You know, I wish I was more well-travelled, but we were fairly poor while I was growing up, so we never went anywhere far away on vacation. I’ve been a few places here and there in my adult years, but mainly within this continent. Furthest I ever went was Montreal, because Lucy has family up there. Going to Europe or further afield would be a trip, though.”  

“As soon as I’m finished with college, I’m going to do a little tour around, working as I go, kinda like Sook, Ash’s mom, but without the hitch hiking. I’ve been saving to head over to Ireland for a while, so that’s my first destination.” she revealed, placing her phone down and reaching to remove the ice from her ankle, giving it a couple of rotations. Ibuprofen and ice were definitely helping it hurt less.  

Angel nodded with a smile, excusing himself to use the bathroom, although he didn’t actually need to go. Her words had made a small flare flicker within him, a sudden wonder over how he would fit into the life of a girl who had those ambitions, with his own life so firmly rooted in Santo Padre. Questioning such so early wouldn’t usually have entered his head, but he had to acknowledge that even after a short time, Keri was most definitely someone who he could see himself eventually catching feelings for.  

It was certainly indicative of how much he really did like her already.

Fate had brought her to him for a reason, he thought, leaning back against the sink in the bathroom, quietly despairing at himself for having those thoughts. He could have a penchant for drama, he knew this, but usually his pragmatism got him through any emotional unsteadiness he experienced throughout life. Eventually.

Alas, women were his weakness. They always had been, Angel knowing that deep down, despite rarely being the man who ever offered anything more than fleeting connections where commitment was concerned, a committed relationship was exactly what he sought, someone who was all his, and he all theirs in turn. His longest relationship had lasted just two years. It wasn’t good going for a man who’d recently turned thirty-six.

“It’s day one with her, man,” he muttered, flushing the toilet and running the tap. “Y’all ain’t got nothing to stress out about yet, because it ain’t even anything right now.” Was it even dating? It was hard to define, having started in such a unique, unbelievable way.  

Still, when he returned to her, continuing their discussion, Keri noticed that he seemed a little different to what she’d gotten used to, her inner monologue beginning to babble. He seemed quieter, a little withdrawn, a definite shift that she couldn’t help but begin to fret over. Had she said something off putting?  

It wasn’t until much later, while he was sleeping next to her that it hit Keri. Her mention of travel; he’d closed off immediately after that. She closed her eyes, groaning faintly with discomfort at the realisation. They lived far apart enough as it was, and now she was talking of heading off for months on end, which she now saw at her sending a clear signal that going forward, there wasn’t any time set aside in her mind to continue seeing where things went with him.  

Had she just completely blown it? If things with him worked out, then she’d be prepared to reconsider her plans, or include him in them. Lying there cringing into the darkness, she knew if she broached it with him, she ran the risk of scaring him off completely, should her assumption be incorrect.  

She sighed softly, her insides turning over with an uncomfortable prickle. “I guess they don’t call me calamity Joe for nothing.”  

[fritextramole]

Jenny Humphrey tattoos headcanons

she starts with a stick n poke of a safety pin on her wrist. her girlfriend at the time gave it to her one night, she tattooed a fish on the (marine biology major) she was dating at the time. they broke up 2 weeks later

she shows Eric on their next video chat, and she convinces him that they need matching tattoos. she spends a few weeks sending him designs until he lands on an anatomical heart. they get them done when he comes to visit (he insists on a proper tattoo parlor)

(she keeps a stick n poke kit for herself, but keeps her relationship with the parlor for parts of her arm she can't reach)

she gets more during her time in London, filling up a sleeve on her left arm. most of them are impulse decisions. things she thought would look good and sketched once or twice before stick n poking them on her arm

highlights include: the phases of the moon in a band around her upper arm, a ghost pinup on her forearm, and a pair of scissors on the back of her hand, with the blades on her index and middle finger

after the phases of the moon, Eric asks her to design a sun tattoo, in honor of both his sisters (this is his second one)

@buffyspeak suggested she gets a guitar, paintbrush, and quill tattooed in a circle on her shoulder

she pulls an all nighter to finish Inside, then she finds the meanest quote about her and tattoos it inside her upper arm. (Dan finds out years later and experiences every possible emotion at once)

she gets a few bigger pieces done outside the sleeve, including a spiderweb on her right side and barbed wire around her upper thigh

she keeps her tattoos secret from her family (minus Eric, who sees them all) for a long time, sticking to long sleeves during video calls and only visiting in cold weather

they finally see the full sleeve when she's forced back in June to attend Dan and Serena's engagement party

Dan hates them initially, but seeing how happy Jenny is (plus some well placed words from Serena) calm him down in a few days

Serena thinks they're cool as hell (and is vocally supportive)

Rufus reacts like Dan, but more and longer, not calming down until she tells him about the guitar on her shoulder

Blair hates them to the point of making Jenny wear a long sleeve dress to the wedding "for the sake of the pictures" (Jenny thinks it's funny enough to go along with, but not so funny she'll go down without a fight)

Lily likes them, but still think Jenny should wear long sleeves to the wedding

Nate thinks they're cool, but doesn't wanna take sides in a Dan+Blair vs Jenny fight, so he doesn't say anything

(he pulls her aside later to tell her how jealous he is that she has that freedom. she tells him he's a grown man and nobody can stop him (she offers to design a tattoo for him))

Eric maintains that he had no idea (this lie works until someone catches a glimpse of one of his tattoos)

she starts designing tattoos for her family, and within a year everyone but Blair has at least one. she designs them for Blair anyway

(Dan gets a trio on his shoulder to match jennys, but switches the quill for a sewing needle. Serena gets flowers on her calfs (lilies for her mom, peonies for Blair, forget-me-nots for Dan, lavender for Eric, sunflowers for Nate, dahlias for Jenny) Nate lets jenny give him a stick and poke frog on his arm)

(upon her divorce, Blair gets a tiara on the back of her neck)

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

fireworks (and their ashes)

CHAPTER 2

(AO3)

A woman stumbles loudly down the stairs to the Archives.

Jon involuntarily knew that she was coming long before she entered the building, which is quite a thing to get used to, but at least he can try to meet her at the bottom of the stairs rather than force her to try to communicate to someone that she needs to make a Statement.

The haggard-looking woman has the bar along the stairwell in a white-knuckled grip as she limps her way down. There's no elevator to the Archives, unfortunately, and Jon's not in much of a position to help her, either. He leans heavily on his cane and holds out his less-scarred hand for support once she gets close enough to reach it. She smiles at him in thanks, and nearly tries to talk before seemingly remembering the clean white bandages that are wrapped around her throat.

When they do, eventually, get to Jon's office, the woman tries to communicate using a few haphazard signs, and then finally resorting to pulling out her phone and beginning to type. Jon holds up a single hand, unobtrusively enough that it takes her a moment to notice it, and she stops typing and looks up at him.

"Are you here to make a Statement?" Jon asks, and the woman nods slightly before wincing. The wound must be quite recent, then, considering that even that small movement causes that much pain.

Jon digs through his desk drawers for a moment, having nearly forgotten which drawer the empty Statement forms were stored in, but he eventually finds them and puts one in front of her, along with a pen. Then, he pulls out another file that he's supposed to be doing follow-up on- though he's only doing work at all so the woman can make her Statement in peace without him staring creepily at her the entire time- and sets about doing a bit of background research on his computer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her begin to fill out the form.

Statement of Eleanor Greene, regarding the man who tried to kill her. Statement given and recorded 6th March, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

I thank God every day for my daughter.

She's a miracle baby, because she somehow managed to be conceived despite multiple forms of birth control, but I don't love her any less for it. I won't pretend it wasn't difficult to raise her alone, but we've managed, and she is quite possibly the best thing that's happened to me. I've thanked God for her for years, because I'd never known just how fulfilling it would be to become a parent.

Recently, I also began to thank Him for leading me to name her Sasha. I don't think I would still be alive if I'd named her anything else.

It was only a week ago that I nearly died, and just two days since I was released from the hospital. It seems so strange to me now, to be in my own house with this injury, almost like I'd been imagining that going back home would magically reverse this and fix me entirely. That's not how this works, though, I know that, but it still feels so odd, odder still to live in my own house and know, truly, that there are demons that walk this Earth with the rest of us.

How else would I describe them? The scarred man and the devil woman whispering in his ear, both of them demons, or else vengeful angels here for the rapture- but I highly doubt there was anything holy about them.

The scariest thing, despite everything else that they did, despite everything else that I'm going to be telling you, is that neither of them looked anything out of the ordinary. The man had long-ish hair, just past his shoulders, I'd say, while the woman had hers buzzed short. They wore casual street clothes. The only truly distinctive parts of either of their appearances was the intricate-looking tattoo that could just barely be seen on the man's wrist, poking out of the sleeve of his coat, but I wouldn't have looked at either of them twice under normal circumstances.

The man was smoking a cigarette while leaning against a wall, somewhat ahead of where I was walking. The woman was leaning against the same wall, either already having finished her cigarette or not having smoked one at all, and neither of them were talking. The woman was watching me as I approached to pass, and the man was only looking at his cigarette. I didn't blame him; he looked tired. He looked like he needed it.

This whole thing only started because I decided to be bothered by something he did. He flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement just in front of me, though it did not hit me. I could have just kept walking, and the whole thing wouldn't have happened. Instead, I stopped short, and glared at him while he was fishing in his pockets and paying me no mind at all.

"Excuse me," I'd said, in a rather nasty tone of voice, I admit, "I would rather not step on your filthy litter, thank you."

He looked up at me, and then gave me a strangely evaluating look before glancing over at the woman. She'd been watching with a mean little smirk on her face, like she knew that something was going to happen and she couldn't wait to get involved. Finally, he said to the woman, seeming entirely as though he was ignoring me completely, "No strings, right?"

The woman smiled, and echoed, "No strings."

Everything escalated very quickly after that. One moment, I was standing on the pavement, glaring at a rude man in an interaction I was under the vague impression I'd forget by time I made it home that evening, and the next I was flat on my back on that same pavement, his hands curled around my throat while the woman kneeled down next to me and just watched.

"Oh, look at her, she's terrified already and you haven't even done anything! You're doing wonderfully." She said in a saccharine voice, like that of a primary school teacher encouraging a slower pupil in basic arithmetic. As she spoke, the hands around my throat seemed to burn, like it wasn't enough that he was choking me to death, he just had to start burning me too.

"Shut up and be useful, will you?" The man growled in response, and the woman simply laughed, in a way that was only reminiscent of the crackle of a particularly large bonfire. It could have been welcoming, in the right circumstances, but now was only dangerous. It suited her in a way that warmth and invitation did not.

This is when my memory starts to get a bit blurry. He wasn't quite cutting off my air flow, but it was hard enough to breathe that I could feel myself beginning to black out. I knew I was going to die, then and there, on a populated street- there should have been people around, why didn't there seem to be any in the moment?- tinged with the slightly sweet smell of burning flesh.

"Oh, but I am, don't you see it? Rage is so easy, you don't need control yet so long as you can get yourself in a fury at the drop of a hat. You're too slow now, not angry enough. Think of... hmm. I don't know, think of whatever the hell reason you had for getting up again." She encouraged, though her tone slowly grew more dismissive as she went on, like whatever they were united in, whatever she was educating him in, they'd had very different reasons for joining. Whatever the hell reason he had seemed to be good enough for him, though, because I could swear I felt my skin start to crack from the heat.

I couldn't die, not then. I still had my daughter, she still needed me! She needed me!

I still don't know how I managed to do it. The doctors all said my voice box is damaged beyond repair, that whatever fire I had around my throat would've burned away my speech capabilities after less than thirty seconds, but I swear it had been minutes since he'd started this torture. No matter what the truth is, though, I still barely breathed out her name, a desperate plea for my Sasha.

The name must have meant something to him, because his grip suddenly became slack, just enough for me to get a good lungful of air. I had to think quickly, because his momentary mercy wouldn't have been forever, I could tell that right away, so I kicked at him as much as I could while he was still distracted.

I don't know how I managed to escape. The woman looked like she was going to give chase, but then she looked back at the man and started laughing at him, calling him "sentimental" and "weak," and I took that as my chance to run.

Nobody seemed to be around, even though I knew there had been people nearby when I was walking. Perhaps they'd all run when they saw the man attacking me? Not unlikely, especially since there's no way I wasn't burned. There's no way the man was human, anyway; it would've been smarter to keep out of the way of those demons.

I don't know how long it was before I found someone who could help. Long enough that I had to put my hands around my throat to staunch the bleeding, long enough to notice the sole of my shoe- the one I'd used to kick at my assailant- had melted and begun to burn my foot. Someone did help in the end, though- the first passersby I saw, in fact, he called an ambulance and helped make sure I got to the hospital safely.

Like I told you earlier, my voice box is damaged to such a degree that most doctors said I'd never speak again. Even the more optimistic of them told me I'd never sound the same. I'll have scars the rest of my life.

I've been learning sign language, but it's slow going. I only know about three signs so far, but Sasha's been learning along with me. I think... I think things will get better, at least. I won't be stuck like this.

I just thought that you'd be interested in hearing- well, reading- about it. An encounter with a real demon.

Statement ends.

Jon records the Statement long after Ms. Greene leaves, meaning that he's alone with his thoughts on what this Statement means.

It has to be Tim, right? Tim and Jude, still terrorizing random Londoners, though to what end? What does "no strings" mean? Do they have a deal, an arrangement of some kind? Jude teaches Tim how to properly be an Avatar of the Desolation, for... what? Out of the goodness of her own heart? The chance to slowly try to indoctrinate him into the Cult of the Lightless Flame? Some other ulterior motive? He highly doubts that there would really be no strings attached to that sort of arrangement, especially with Jude Perry involved.

Tim's escalating. He's grown more personal in his attempted murders, going from blowing up a building to choking out somebody's mother. What happened in the time between December and last week that would've escalated things this much?

Jon sighs, and leans back in his chair. He rubs at his eyes, hoping that some kind of revelation will make itself clear to him, but nothing does.

[plantfeed]

welcome to marina, JUDE DEMPSEY ( cis man, he/him) ! they are a TWENTY-FIVE year old who has lived on the island for TWO MONTHS. word on the street is they’re currently living in TOWER HILL and works as a FREELANCE VIDEOGRAPHER / LOCATION SCOUT ON FILM & TV SETS. everyone also says they look a lot like ARON PIPER. what do you think? — NORA, 27, she/her, GMT.

here is the pinterest for jude. here’s a jude musings tag. this vine radiates jude energy.  so does this.  this video is very jude. u can find everythin i have abt him under the cut. 

as a warning this is the most british character i've ever played so a lot of this will probably be largely unintelligible to anyone outside the gulf stream bt thats ok im used to ppl not understanding a word im saying xx

stats.

NAME:   jude dempsey. AGE:   twenty-five. GENDER & PRONOUNS:    cis man, he/him. OCCUPATION:  says he’s an early-career filmmaker and he has done a few music videos but mostly he just creates videography content for ladbible and vice’s social media. also a location scout on film n tv sets.  ARCHETYPES: the anarchist. the cheeky chappy. the going-nowhere-fast. the aimless. the hostile. the charity case. the juvenile delinquent. ZODIAC: saggitarius sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising. HEIGHT:  6′1 with hair, 6′0 without RESIDENCY: tower hill. previously rochdale, greater manchester. occasionally london. came to marina to work on a film a few months back n when the job ended he jst ended up staying. TATTOOS: covered in them. for a few years when he was in high school, his sister aoife was thinking about becoming a tattoo artist and he was her walking canvas. after seeing how some of jude’s tats turned out, she decided against them, but they’re all super special to him. FACECLAIM:   arón piper.

POSITIVE TRAITS.   spirited ,  rambunctious ,  witty , well - intentioned ( most of the time ),  passionate , decisive , physically affectionate ,  a loyal friend , assertive .

NEGATIVE TRAITS.   foolhardy ,  grumpy ,  paradoxical ,  rude , stupid ,  jealous , obsessive , struggles to admit when he’s wrong ,  over confident ( and for what ? )  lacks the ability to self-reflect .

LIKES.  banter ,  tk maxx ,  footie with the lads ,  spending all day in spoons ,   cheap lager , cat-calling workmen as a power play ,  saying  ‘ oh, crumbs ’  when shit goes down ,  playing fifa on xbox ,  hoodies that say ‘ supreme ’  and  ‘ anti - social social club ’ ,  the beastie boys ,  break - dancing ,  knowing the guy in the corner - shop and his whole family by name ,   knock - off adidas ,  pitt bull terriers ,  energy drinks ,  M.I.L.Fs ,  shooting hoops after school with a crate full of tinnies , absolutely dousing himself in CK one before a big night on the town ,  bingeing the real housewives ,  having a block list as long as your arm ,  taylor swift , saying  “ that’s your girlfriend ”  to his mates about the weirdest looking people you see on the street ,  walking into a club with a fit bird on your arm knowing that you’ll probably get sucked off in the loos ,  making his one night stand a full english ,  sleight of hand magic tricks , always being covered in scabs , paddington 2 , making the spotify playlist for pre-drinks , doing the duck face or biting his tongue in selfies . 

aesthetics.

blood stains on a cigarette rizzla, a jovial whistle as you tend to a full english breakfast ( eggs served sunny-side up ), jamming screwdrivers into the tag around your ankle to sneak out of the house to boiler room dj sets, a stick-and-poke tattoo spelling ‘ACAB’ across your knuckles that you got at a house party while tripping on ket,  a ‘no ball games’ sign used as one goal post & a tracksuit jumper used as the other one, rugby socks and porno mags stuffed beneath a single bed still laundered with spiderman bed sheets.

character references.

Ronan (The Raven Cycle), Daniel Dessario (Freaks & Geeks), Lip Gallagher (Shameless), Mercutio (Romeo & Juliet), Connell (Normal People), Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games), Eggsy (Kingsman), whatever Channing Tatum’s character is called (Step Up), Kurtan (This Country), Pete Davidson’s character in Bodies, Bodies, Bodies.

bullet point summary of jude

tw drugs and a life of crime

jude is peak dark fruits twitter, massive “u fooking wot mate???” football hooligan britpop love island lad, appears quite jack-the-lad, but also just massive softie once you chisel your way passed the six layers of reinforced concrete barrier beneath his adidas shell suit

self-declared ‘bad boy’ who mums can’t help but love and sadly yes in the past he has fucked a girlfriend’s mum :/

massive dark fruits brit pop, crossbody bum bag, novelty sunglasses geezer. marcus rashford fanboy. probably has a slit in his eyebrow and has definitely shaved go faster racing stripes into his hair before.

b4 coming 2 marina he was bopping about between london and manchester bcos he works freelance as a location scout n a runner on film sets. he does videography stuff for magazines frm time to time too. came to marina bcos a film was shooting there, ended up staying. i think we'll go w that.

has always had strong women in his life so loves it when a girl could kick his ass. loves his mum so much, has 2 sisters he adores, n thinks his dad's a p.o.s, n is like. u know what. women are really excellent. maybe i shd return their tinder messages

bt then finds it hard to commit bcos,...... theres so many opportunities doesn't wnna shut himself off location wise job wise relationship wise. but usually he’s quite good at communicating that and not being a total dick to women

having said that he is a bit of a bastard if im honest but is fully aware of it and his new years resolution would be to not leave girls on red even if it’s just a ‘haha’

worms have 4 hearts but no one to love cos their gross. that’s jude. he’s a mattress on the floor no bedframe guy :/

impulsive guy who jumps from thing to thing (parkour).

he actually does do parkour tho n as a kid on house arrest he used to make stupid youtube videos of him doing parkour and him breakdancing in his garden. hate it here

literally cant stop stealing things. may or may not include other ppls partners.

white boy who thinks he can rap. always rolling ciggies in the smoking area of the local dive bar that plays arctic monkeys and stone roses and has a stupid tiny hat that all those skateboarders wear and always has a chain around his neck and loads of rings and is tryna chat up the barmaid so he can stay after they close and fuck her from behind while she counts whats in the tills :/

tells ppl he rides a motorbike but its..... a fucking vespa..... get the fuck out of here w ur gay yearning n silenzio bruno.....

'straight' white guy with massive homoerotic struggles for his mates but its just boys being boys. lads being lads. mate what are you being weird about it for. 

if he had longer to grown and evolve i wld probs want him to overcome his toxic masculine internalised homophobia n be with a guy bt alas. we cant have everything.

his usual type is someone fun loving and carefree whos here for a good time and not for a long time bt thats bcos he avoids commitment and has a deep-rooted fear of not being enough. 

jude's quite a passionate and obsessive person which is why he usually tries to keep romance and sex separate with sex as a very casual no feelings, we're not friends, kinda thing bcos i think he can just become completely possessed by some1 n willing to do anything fr them n frankly..... it scares him.

despite putting out such a fuckboy persona he actually wants someone to find him worthy of love and be willing 2 put in the time.

the last rp i played him in was a love island rp. he fingered someone on his first day then cheated on them like 2 days later (bt technically they weren't even coupled up n the initial fingering was kind of cheating) and ended up proposing to his new gf in the finale. went in there for the jet-2 holiday and money to buy his mum a house n then fell head over dick in love and was super intense the whole way through bt kinda funny. not decided if im keeping love island in his backstory bt probably wont as its in mimi's and this island isn't big enough for two ex love island contestants

loves to dance. loves 100 gecs and king gizzard and the lizard wizard bt very into hip hop and 00s grime too. can still breakdance a bit. george sampson from britain’s got talent was his hero in secondary school

background / bio stuff

—  twenty-five. cis-male. he / him. bisexual bt in denial. has a million different piercings and tattoos and broken so many bones. he was originally based on the tarot card the fool (which represents spontaneity, impulsivity, new beginnings, improvising, leaps of faith or lack of direction, poor judgement, chaos and stupidity depending on which way up it is). i have a full bio for him but i wrote it when i was like 14 and frankly its embarrassing so ur just getting bullet points (n tbh they are long as fuck…. so…..) xx 

— born in rochdale, raised in manchester. his family ran the market stool that sells knock-off adidas trainers fake rollex watches (u kno the one. or is this just a british thing?) so he worked on that quite a lot as a kid, this little 10 year old boy in a bucket hat and a tracksuit shouting from his market stool. all of his childhood birthday parties were at the local boozer so the parents could get pissed while the kids ran around throwing pool balls at each other. 

— there wasn’t much stability in his childhood. they were constantly being chucked out of whatever flat they were renting. one of his goals for coming on love island is to win a lot of money so he can buy his mum a house bcos he’s fed up of seeing her live in absolute shitholes.

—  he was in and out the care system as well as juvenile detention a lot as a kid for petty crimes like larcency, public indecency, trespassing, graffiti. his mum was the most non-maternal mum ever and basically ran their home like an oliver twist workhouse bt he still loved her. came from a family of miscreants who were often in trouble with the law and as a result social services got involved and he was tossed about different foster families like a hot potato but he kept running back to his mum (mama's boy).

— this is really sad but i think a lot of the reason why he committed petty crimes was because when he was in the juvenile detention centre there was structure, and people checking in on him to make sure he hadn’t vanished, and he got regular meals, and he was kind of lacking those things at home…. the fridge was always empty, no one cared if he was in his room or out on the streets causing trouble…. in juvie he got a sense of family as fucked up as that sounds….. it’s also where he learned to fight 

— very working class roots, proud of this fact, and fucking hates the rich. is the type to grafiti a house in the posh neighbourhoods and cut their telephone wires with pliers because why not, they can just get their butler to fix it.  people at school would call his family  “ne’er-do-wells”, and as a result he spent most of his youth causing havoc on the streets because it was the only kind of identity he knew so he might as well live up to it. his brothers worked at the fun fairs and carnivals in the summer months. jude used to rollerblade around and steal candy flosses from the pier and rig the slot machines so that they’d spill out loads of coins for him. the archetypal lock-picking chaotic neutral rogue type.

 — constantly undermines his own intelligence and doesn’t really trust that he’s actually clever, despite the fact that he could have done well in school if he’d tried (and wasn’t constantly having to parent his younger siblings because as soon as the older ones reached 16 they were out of that house and into the world). he knows that people will see him and just assume he’s a dumb idiot so he’s kind of in a place where he makes people think that before they can even assume it, because that way he feels in control. is constantly saying he can’t read but in fact!! he can read. it just takes him a bit longer cos the words move around on the page he’s got dyslexia 

— never finished school. got a bus to london at sixteen years old with a skateboard, his best mate, a jar full of pennies and a digital camera. they couch surfed for ages and were in a lot of dodgy situations until jude got pretty involved in the industrial skate scene. then they just slept on sk8rbois sofas and in their dirty basements for a while until they had enough money to rent a flat. also super into parkour. when he wasn’t freerunning himself he took videos of the others n he built up a small following on youtube.

—  now works as a freelance photographer / content creator for VICE and other online journals. involved in a lot of zines. it’s a lot of effort and not much money so he also works as a runner on tv sets when ever tv or film shoots locally. he also does bar shifts here and there when he’s had a massive piss up and spent £100 buying shots and needs to get some money in before pay day. basically a jack-of-all-trades with 5 different jobs that he swaps like interchangeable hats and doesn’t correctly fill out his tax returns for.

— has been hopping around place to place since he left school at 16. doesn’t really consider anywhere home, but rather the feeling of cracking the top off an ice cold bottle of beer and slapping ur mates on the thighs. he would go back home to his parents house but honestly his dad is never there and his mum is p much a liability and always drunk and even tho he loves her loads the hero pedestal he put her on as a kid is kinda gone now and he just cant be bothered to deal with it any more, plus all his siblings have moved out now. 

headcanons.

— despite being lacking in maturity, jude’s kind of like, a caring if somewhat grumpy father figure. because his parents were never really around and him n his siblings had to look out for each other, he likes to make sure everyone’s eaten, and is always the first to offer up his bed or sofa if someone needs a place to stay. he climbs trees to help injured birds and has a rescue staffie with three legs, as well as two stray cats he’s loosely adopted because they always seemed hungry, and now he’s called them smokey n bandit. he likes animals more than people. 

— very physically fit. wants to run fast so he can overtake the bourgeoise when the zombies come. sporty soft jock himbo type and was always better with his body than he was with words. he’s learned to say more by not speaking. loves basketball. loves football n rugby. loves being in the gym mostly so he can watch hot gymshark influencer girls do their squats.

— was massively into parkour as a kid. now a freerunner and freelance photographer. is one of those guys u see nowadays on instagram who climb to the top of a really high building in their fuckin sneakers to do an ig story of new york from like, 100ft up and get paid by vice to do it. he started doing shit like that when he was like 15 because UNILAD or s/t saw one of his instagram videos of him up this building taking shots on his go-pro n were like hey we can use this

 — relationship wise, he tends to pine after one person for ages and fuck a load of people to get over them and not really treat the people very well who he fucks along the way in his process of coping with someone not wanting him back. can get a bit obsessive. a bit intense. a typical scorpio moon that way. if he’s all-in on you he’s loyal as fuck but it takes a lot for him to go all in. enjoys the will-they-won’t they and the thrill of the chase more than he enjoys being in a relationship.

— kind of an amalgamation of daniel dessario and nick andopolis in freaks and geeks. obsessed with dad rock and can play electric guitar but is pretty bad at it. is that one friend who’s always like “tame impala are so much better than the stone roses man. talking heads were the fucking bomb, you weren’t there, you don’t know david byrne like i do” etc etc pop culture references. also really into dad rock and fuckin loves parquet courts.

— chews the inside of his cheek when he’s nervous or irritated. it’s a tick he’s had since youth, almost a way of biting his tongue. it used to give him terrible mouth ulcers. he’s also heavily avoidant when it comes to dealing with anything not chill n usually runs from it or gets blackout drunk. he definitely uses binge drinking as a coping mechanism.

— can be difficult to talk to and finds communicating what he actually feels hard at times like usually it'll come out as a different emotion. ppl in prev rps have said he's autistic bt idk if he is i dnt wanna diagnose without knowing enough.

— though his blood can easily boil, he’s not quick to resort to violence. he prefers to either run from it or clumsily attempt being a peacemaker. he’ll only usually end up fighting accidentally, literally that tommy shelby gif like STOP FIGHTING NO FUCKING FIGHTING and two seconds later he’s throwing a punch.

— but apart from that, he’s pretty solid. may appear to be a ‘lads lad’ but is actually a fucking sweetheart. some character inspos are connell from normal people, daniel dessario, eggsy from kingsman, soren from the dragon prince, lip from shameless, dionysus god of wine and ecstasy, channing tatum’s character in step up and sokka in A:TLA.

 — an angry boi but also a soft boi beneath the angry boi. has a heart of gold deep down but was always getting dragged into dodgy shit as a kid because he came from a rough family and never learned any better. reminds me a lot of fezco in euphoria because he’s dumb and rough around the edges bt he’s also well-intentioned and cld be a decent person but is v much a victim of his circumstances. like yeah he’s physically assaulted several police officers and committed a heinous amount of vandalism and shoplifts something almost every time he enters a shop but he’s trying every day to be better  🥺👉👈 .

WANTED PLOTS.

— fellow filmmakers who maybe also worked on the film he came here to shoot and hooked him up with another job in the area. he's now freelancing doing videography so anyone who needs video work done or advertisements hit me up.

— also considering making him a school janitor if he runs out of work n he would just jump onto the trollies and wheel about until he ends up spilling floor gel everywhere

— someone teach him to surf because we don't have any beaches or water at all for that matter in england

— sexy toxic evil flings. only been here 2 months so sadly cant do ex girlfriend or childhood sweetheart or best friends at school but cld have hooked up w ppl in the first week and ghosted thinking he'd only be there a little while but now he's got a flat and quite likes the island and isn't in a hurry to leave because all thats waiting for him back home is heartbreak.

— actually his sister aoife married an american and had a baby with him and moved away from home so MAYBE actually his sister and his sisters partner live in marina and that's why he's stayed here longer n cld be a way for him to kno ppl. so ppl cld know his sister or her partner maybe. they are very very earthy airy fairy campfire songs reiki healing spiritual retreat in the woods type ppl (nothin like jude) n probs run breathwork classes etc. maybe i make a wanted connection

— honestly brotps. i want so many brotps, if ur character is lad behaviour at all, then hook me up they could be best mates. alternatively they could just really see too much of themselves in each other and not get on spicy.

— skate gang he does parkour, freerunning and skateboarding so would hang around parks where they have shit he can jump off

— anything and everything. honestly please bombard me with messages, i’m in the discord (nora / plantfeed), or you can im me, i’m slow to message but once we get the ball rolling i promise it’ll be a hoot ok pce and love x

[chrisdonetattoos]

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲ #chrisdoneflash ▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲ Available to be hand poked ▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲ DM and chrisdonetattoos@gmail.com ▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲ :)

[mentallyloveless23]

Rose-colored boy

I hear you making all that noise

About the world you want to see

And oh, I'm so annoyed

'Cause I just killed off what was left of the optimist in me

-mentallyloveless23

[chaoticloving]

take it off

Harry Styles x reader (SOH)

Summary: Right before sex, Harry sees something on Y/n that he's never seen before. masterlist

warnings: light smut, boobs<3, mentions of stick and pokes

w/c: 0.9k

a/n: little blurb since i haven't posted in forever! but i promise i'm writing im just crazy stressed <3 also i am in love with tattoos so much and this is just an indulgent on that lol

"Fuck-"

"Don't you dare stop."

"Wasn't planning on it." Harry moaned, his hand slowly feeling up and down Y/n's body. His lips reattached to hers. "You taste so good."

A steamy night that consisted of teasing hands under the table and kisses when no one was looking. It was a blur to get out of the London club, Harry just remembers Y/n's hand squeezing his ass. They had luckily ran away from the paparazzi that was just arriving to the club before they could get any compromising photos.

But now, in the comfort of Harry's flat, they could be as messy and in love as they want.

"Take off your shirt H." She mumbled, Y/n's mouth trailing down his jaw line.

"Only if you take off yours." Harry could feel Y/n smile against his cheek, leaving one last kiss there before breaking away.

"You're lucky you're so cute." When Y/n grabbed the hemming of her shirt, Harry tore off his, too impatient to wait any longer. Harry ended up helping Y/n take the shirt off; he hasn't quite realized that Y/n always takes longer to take off her shirt just to see Harry get all squeamish.

When Y/n's shirt is removed, she's left in a lace bra that Harry absolutely drools over. He goes headfirst into her neck, kissing slowly and sensually. His hand feeling her left breast while Y/n's hand find Harry's hair and pulls slightly.

"Can I take off your bra." He whispers, figures trailing over the straps. "Please."

She mumbled a faint yes under her breath and Harry is quick to react. Harry climbs more on top of her right after he bra comes off; Harry's mouth goes right on her skin, starting on her perfect jaw line and going lower onto her neck then onto her breast.

Harry was going to continue on but he saw some mark near his hand. He lifts his head to take a second glance and moves his hand from the side of her boob to her lower waist. He saw some black ink, and he knew it wasn't from his hand.

"What's wrong?" Y/n leaned up on her elbows to get a look at what happened and why Harry's mouth isn't on her. The only touch she was getting--other then Harry resting on her --was from Harry's finger on the side of her body. "Why are you poking me?"

"You have a tattoo?"

"Uhm, yeah?" She stated it like a question, but was curious to know the problem. "Why are you acting like this? It's just a crescent tattoo."

"I just didn't realize you had one" He admitted. "Does that make me a bad boyfriend?"

"You never noticed the tattoo on my boobs?" She gasped, shocked smile on her face. "But your obsessed with them how have you not noticed it?"

"In my defense the tattoo is on the side of your boobs." Harry unconsciously held her other breast, it made her giggle a bit, just out of pure ridiculous. "You know I like to see them straight on."

"Do you like it?"

"Your boobs? Of course!" Harry quickly said, kissing her nipples quickly then gently then kissed her face.

"The tattoo, love."

"Well, I love it too!" Harry quickly said. "I just felt bad that I haven't realized until now."

"Good because I have an appointment to next week for another." She kissed the side of his cheek, sitting up to do so.

"Ohh, what'cha planning on?"

"I want to get it on my thigh but I'm not sure if I want to replace the stick and poke I did in school or not." She shrugged, her finger trailing over the tattoo collection on his chest. She didn't want to admit it out loud, but tattoo's were always such a turn on for her. Little intricate designs all over Harry, they just looked amazing.

"Stick and poke in school? What crowd were you hanging out with?" Harry laughed.

"I did it myself actually." Her hand ghosting over her thigh. "Not very well obviously. But the tattoos I did on others were pretty good, should still be on them."

"You gave out tattoo's? How old were you?"

"Dunno, maybe sixteen?"

"Sixteen?" Harry's mouth was wide open, smiling a little, but mainly in shock. "And you were already a tattoo artist?"

"I was a girl with ink and a clean needle." Y/n shrugged. "They offered like fifty quid per tattoo too, and I really wanted more clothes ." She laughed, looking back up towards Harry.

Y/n's hand trailed lower to Harry's groin, he moaned which caused Harry to loose all focus of tattoos and lean in to kiss her. It got heated quickly but it was no surprise since they were about to have sex a couple minutes before. Harry's hand rested on her tattoo and side boob, his finger started tracing the tattoo too, starting to slowly memorize it just like Y/n has done with all of his tattoos.

"Can you do one for me?" Harry asked. "I want one thats in an area close to my dick and I don't really want a tattoo artist to see that." They both laughed, Y/n starting to give a hickey on the side of Harry's neck.

"I didn't hear an answer." Harry complained then gasped when the Y/n lightly bit down.

"I'll give you a tattoo." She decided. "But I don't take normal payment methods."

Harry chuckled, giving her a kiss. "I think I can give you something else."

Tag list

@uhuhuh @sucker4angstt @b-reads-things @augustfaultline @bxtchboy69 @japanchrry @lilbredsticc @daydreamingofmatilda @springholland @cacapeepee @yourgoldengirls @tenaciousperfectionunknown @timmyslover @mxltifxnd0m @lukewearingbeanies @haarrrys 

[dd122004dd]

‘Calm, little one.’

Ryan Clarke has the mark where his soulmate first touches him. It’s around his neck ironically and hers is on her hands. I was thinking, a little sub Ryan?

This is fic no 3 of the soulmate oneshot series, so if you have any bonds you desire to see, now’s your chance to send them in!

P.S. It took me a while to find the perfect gif, so here ya go!

Warning: Slight choking, mentions of dark magic, mentions of angst

Soulmarks. The one thing that bonded you to your soulmate. The only way you could find them. Everyone had soulmarks of different varieties. Some had their soulmate’s name tattooed on them, others could taste what their soulmates tasted, others had timers, calendars or ages written on their wrists, but my mark was different, if a little unconventional. It was the first time my soulmate touched me. 

My marks ran across my fingers as if my soulmate was clawing at my hands. 

It’s funny. Centuries ago I had imagined how I’d meet my soulmate, picturing thousands of scenarios of how I’d meet my ‘one’ but that was before I was turned into the monster that I am now, and who would want a monster for a mate? 

It all made sense now, why else would my soulmate claw at my hands? I was destined to kill my mate and that realization almost made me flip my switch.

I was one of the first vampires turned by the Mikaelsons. I was with them through a lot and after they and a large portion of the vampire population was gone, I had vowed to protect Klaus’s daughter so I stuck by Hope Mikaelson’s side, which led us both to the Salvatore house, a place I’ll admit I never expected to end up in.

Alaric was reluctant to let me come along but he begrudgingly agreed once Hope made it clear that the both of us came or neither of us came to hims ‘school for the supernatural’.

~

As the years moved past, Hope grew more jaded, more distant, a far cry from the once happy young girl she used to be. It made my heart ache but I tried to reassure her that I’d remain by her side as long as I was able.

 All that was thrown out of the window when Malivore appeared with his plethora of mythical creatures that were beyond any threat we had ever faced. Survival was not guaranteed but I had to make sure that Hope was safe.

I watched as she grew to love that boy, what was his name? Lanfrey? London? Yeah, right. Landon. I watched her slowly resemble the happy girl I used to know. I hoped that the gods would finally leave her alone to let her be happy with that boy who, might I say wore more eye make-up than Batman. (Yes, I know what Batman is, I spend the days with MG and the kids to be ‘up with the times’ or was it down?)

But that was before she jumped into Malivore, erasing her from all our memories. When she came back, she was a changed woman. Landon dating Josie caused her great heart ache. It broke her on the inside, even though she tried to cover it up.

Then Alaric was replaced by that fancy-hat wearing, alligator hunter-looking, dark-magic encouraging little snake Vardemous, who used Josie to create this poke-y thing that let one exchange bodies? Also, turns out the snake was actually Ryan, Malivore’s ‘son’, I know, plot twist but I always knew that there was something ‘sus’ about him. (Look at me using modern lingo.)

~

When Hope was about to be stabbed, pseudo Landon arrived to help her. It was at this moment that I sped towards the mud-man, knocking the dark artifact out of his hands and wrapping my hands around his throat as his hands clasped mine.

I felt tingling in my palm which spread through out my whole being. My mind only processed one word ‘Mate’. 

I snapped out of my reverie when I felt him struggle against me.

“Calm, little one.” I said, looking into his eyes.

He looked back at me, eyes a little glazed before he stopped struggling.

“Never expected that this is how I’d meet my soulmate.” he exclaimed nonchalantly. 

“And how did you expect to meet me?” I asked, curiously.

“Well, I certainly imagined the circumstances to be a bit kinkier.”

On hearing that, Hope choked a bit while pseudo Landon simply laughed. I smacked the back of his head and told him to wait in my bedroom (To which he replied, “Oooh, wish to punish me so soon, soulmate? At least take me out to dinner first.” which got him another smack.) before escorting Hope to her room to rest. 

As she laid down, she looked at me with bleary eyes, saying, “Did it have to be him?”

“Well, we can’t decide our soul’s match, Hope. You can trust that I will not forgive him easily for all the heartache and backstabbing he has done. But I cannot allow you to hurt him either. This is such a mess, isn’t it?”

“We just love messes, don’t we?” she replied sarcastically.

I laughed at her comment before telling her to rest.

~

Ryan was pacing in his soulmate’s bedroom. How could he not? He’d hurt so many people at the Salvatore school that he didn’t know whether they would be able to forgive him. He didn’t care about the others, they quite frankly didn’t matter, but what about you? Would you forgive him?

~

I stood in front of my door. What would happen now? My soulmate had hurt so many people, most importantly, Hope.

Squaring my shoulders back I entered my room with a neutral look on my face.

“Hello, soulmate.”

“H-Hi. Ehm...How...is Hope?”

“Exhausted, no thanks to you. So, tell me dearest, what is your name and why did you attack my Hope?”

Her phrasing infuriated the mud-man. What did she mean by ‘my Hope’ were they a thing? But Hope loved Landon. Unless...

“Ryan. Ryan Clarke. And what exactly did you mean by ‘my Hope’? Are you two dating, because I was under the impression that she was dating my baby brother. By the way, where is he?” he said nonchalantly, as if her statement hadn’t bothered him but the older vampire knew better.

“I am Y/N L/N, Ryan Clarke. Hope is like a daughter to me, it is rude to assume otherwise, little one. And Lanfrey and Hope are no longer together. He started dating Josie after Hope jumped into Malivore. But don’t you dare use this information to hurt Hope or Josie because if you do, little mud-man I will rip you apart piece by piece before sculpting you together again and repeating the entire process. You understand?”

He shakily nodded at her threat before quietly asking, “Now, what?”

The older vampire sighed, rubbing her eyes before looking at her soulmate, “I don’t know.”

“They won’t trust me.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Trust me, after what you did I’m a bit surprised that no one has hunted your ass down and gone all Danny LaRusso on your ass.” (Yes, that was a Glee reference and a  Karate kid reference.)

“So...” he gulped, “How do I get them to trust me?”

“Well, that, my dear shall require a lot of time and patience and no backstabbing. I shall ensure that you are not physically harmed but you will have to brave a storm of emotional pain unlike any other you have faced in order to earn everyone’s trust. Including mine. 

Now, I’m open to forgiving you but it will take time to forgive what you have done to the people I hold dear to me.”

“Understandable. I would expect nothing less from such a formidable woman as yourself.”

“Flatterer, but I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

A few moments of silence passed between us before I decided to break the silence.

“So, floor or bed?”

“Hmm?”

“Since you’re going to be gracing my chambers with your presence for the foreseeable future, what kind of sleeping arrangements would you be most comfortable with, Milord?”, I asked, dramatically as I put on an obnoxiously fake British accent.

“Are you always this dramatic, Downton Abbey?”

“Yes.”

“It’s annoying.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

“I believe you mean ‘gladly entwined with you’, dear Y/N.”

“Whatever, you still haven’t chosen an option.”

“Your bed is big enough for two.”

“Nuh-uh. I kick people in my sleep.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He could NOT handle it. Whatever that woman’s feet were made of, it certainly wasn’t flesh and bone. It felt like he was constantly being kicked with a metal horseshoe. At some point in the middle of the night he’d had enough and slept in the bathtub of her adjoining bathroom.

~

I woke up without Ryan beside me and panicked. ‘What if someone got to him in the night? What if he left?’ I was about to go into a downward spiral until I saw the bathroom door cracked open with small snores coming from inside. 

Opening it I saw my mate in an uncomfortably small tub with his legs dangling off the sides. Chuckling, I slowly lifted him up, he was heavier than he looked being a Golem and all, and set him down on the bed to catch some extra sleep while I went down to get the both of us breakfast.

In the living room, Hope, Alaric, MG, Lizzie, Josie and Kaleb breaking apart from each other and pretending to be normal. Sighing I put together a simple breakfast of sunny side-ups, bacon and sausages with toast. I put the food out on a tray before turning to the group.

“Okay, so are we going to address the Golem in the room or do we ignore it for a bit more?”

This seemed to open the flood-gates, which eventually lead to a screaming match within the group before the group begrudgingly agreed that Ryan would be living with them in the Salvatore boarding house and that they may be able to use his help in case any other monsters escaped Malivore before pseudo-Landon destroyed Malivore. (Also, Ryan stopped disintegrating after Malivore was destroyed as his father’s tie to him was broken.)

~

As the days went by, Ryan worked hard to gain everyone’s trust, even receiving a few broken bones from Josie. During this time, they grew closer, going on long walks through the forest, talking for long hours into the night, even training together. Their bond grew stronger everyday as they fell for each other.

Anyone could see it, how Y/N made Ryan a better person and how he made her a less temperamental version of herself. She seemed more relaxed now, more at-ease. And although there was trouble brewing on the horizon, they knew that come what may, they’d face it together.

[goldilockswrites]

Hey babe, can I ask for an angsty Damiano fic with prompts 18 + 20 from your list?

❤️

Tell Me Everything

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Pairing: Damiano David x Reader (she/her)

Requested: Yes

Summary: Will Y/N let the stars take full control of her life or will she let go?

Warnings: Mentions of scars

A/N: Hi, guys! This is the last fic of 2021! This year, despite being one of the hardest was also one of the most rewarding years ever! Thank you to all the people who made it this great! See you in 2022!  All the love, Axe <3

Tags: @wasteddoubts @teenyweenynightghost @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @cheese-toastie-11 @unitersmoonshine @selenophiliaxx @mywritingonlyfans @l0standn0tf0und-fics @sunflowerpumpkinpie @que--sera--sera @writingmaneskin(if you’d like to be removed from the tags feel free to tell me :) )

© 2021-2022 @idyllicbutterfly​ on Tumblr All Rights Reserved

Add yourself to my taglist - Check out my other stories

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The camera had a case made from raven dimpled aluminum, the lens jutted out on a highly polished brass-looking cylinder, finished at the end with a rim of more black metal. Two dials and an argent button poked out from the top; it bore the name Heloise. Delightfully heavy in her hands, it made magnificent mechanical rattling and clicking noises.

***

(his pov) Monday. Ink eyes fell back to his veiny, cold hand; chipped, rough nails coated in black nail polish, two silver bands on his middle and pointer finger. Velvety fingertips caressed the white, lustrous metal surface of the first one - flat, icy band; a plethora of bright red tulips painted on top of it, indented letters on the side spelled - “Veni. Vidi. Amavi.” (“We came. We saw. We loved.”). A slight smile; edges of thin black lips turning up, brightening his whole face. The second - a fine ring with a french cut emerald stuck to the apex of the silver shank; shiny prongs holding the green gem in place. Another engraving - “Ars longa, vita brevis.” (“Art is long, life is short.”).

- Aldgate East Tube Station. - The monotone, robotic voice echoed off the white walls, metal doors opening with a loud screech.

There. In the crowd of grey T-Shirts, frowns, stares stuck to the floor and a couple of over-the-top fur coats and absurd hats, he spotted her. She, whom he didn’t know, was holding onto one of the metal poles, standing right behind an elderly lady who sat right next to the automated sliding doors. She, who had stolen his breath just by blinking, had a light layer of black eyeshadow smeared on her eyelids, dark pink gloss on her lips, and a single dangling earring on her right ear - three bright, red tulips, identical to the ones on the singer’s ring. 

Without realizing what he’d done, the charcoal-eyed boy joined the huge mass of people, exiting the train two stops too early, far away from the street of his hotel. 

***

(her pov) Monday. Her calloused fingertips traced the smooth ingot surface of her camera. Heloise carved in aluminum. Ash eyes wandered around the crowd, stumbling over bright-colored mohawks, leather jackets, and braids, only to linger upon a ring. Scarlet Bokhara tulips. Identical to the ones that hung from her ears. The ones that were tattooed on her leg and the ones on the patches of her cinnamon backpack. The sketches in her father’s workshop; she could bet her head there was a Latin quote on the side of the argent band. 

***

Now the camera sat on a sombre koa shelf, a sheer layer of dust coating its magnesium-alloy body. The table beneath littered with countless photo albums; late-night trips to Rockaway Beach, the view from Peillon, him. 

***

(his pov) London had so many faces. Sidewalks moved like a living, breathing creature; the roads - rivers of cars. Aged buildings that have seen the modern times, witnessed change, stretching toward the blue sky. 

- Hey, watch where you’re going! 

***

(her pov) London had so many faces. The lemon-tinted gravel popped under her boots. All was hectic, blaring, real. Too real for her bubblegum brain. Y/N. Name stood bold, carved into the verdurous bench.  

- Hey, watch where you’re going! - A plethora of red flecks on a ring. The stranger colliding with the ground. 

***

Each photograph held a different story, just like each scar on her skin had a different tale, hidden deep beneath the bleached flesh. 

***

(her pov) All of a sudden golden daffodils seemed unimportant. Heloise hung low on her neck as she ran.

- Are you ok? - Voice, like a cascading waterfall. Brittle. 

- Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. - Only now, she noticed his face and realized; he looked like art. His cheeks were flushed, a few messy strands framed his sculpted face. Sable irises hidden behind a row of long eyelashes. His nose; left nostril adorned with a thin steely ring, had a slight bump. Chapped lips, insides red from being continuously bitten.  

***

(his pov) All of a sudden golden daffodils seemed unimportant. Her gaze roamed around his face; he took his own time to observe her. Now that she was so close he noticed the little things. A small beauty mark on her jaw; the little scar on her forehead; the depth of her almond-shaped, stormy eyes. Realising his head was still on the gravel, he lifted his body off the ground; sleeves revealing his own blotches. Blues. Pinks. Purples. 

- What’s your name? - He cursed himself for how apparent his accent was; words blurring, mouth feeling dry. 

- Y/N. - A smile burned on her face. A genuine one. - And what’s yours?

***

She left a trace everywhere she went, murmured her name to every mountain, repeated it like a mantra through all her travels, carved it into woods, bridges; until one day the names became two. 

***

(her pov) 

- Damiano. - A smirk shone on his anthracite-colored lips and just for a second the girl longed to be reckless and kiss him. 

***

(his pov)

- Damiano. - She echoed and it sounded like it was meant to be. 

***

Rich, astringent wine filled her mouth, taste buds tingling from the pungency that washed over them. A knock. 

***

(his pov) 6 months later. The frostiness crawled in the room. Grimy fingers clawed at the pine door frames; gleaming hinges screeching; numbing breaths making goosebumps run down his spine. The man felt small; like a plastic bag being thrown around in the air. 

- Amore? Are you ok? - Deja vu. Same question, just months apart. Y/N’s voice still sounded like pattering rain, each drop drumming on the umber roof. 

- No… - He knew there was no point in lying because all she had to do to find out the truth was look at him. Waverly breaths and heaving weren’t the dead giveaways of being happy. He wasn’t sure, they could even be a sign of being ok. 

***

(her pov) 6 months later.  Sunlight filtered through the cream voile curtains. Each gilded strand carefully woven in the braid of the sun. The sleep shooed away; constellations taken down from velvety skies; trees and wands of grass - magical. 

- Amore? Are you ok? - It was a stupid question. She knew he wasn’t. 

Tar-black strands, slightly wavy, a mess on his head; hands wrapped tightly around his shaking figure and at this moment she wanted nothing more than to hold him close, plant firefly-wings-gentle kisses to his temple and tell him everything will be alright. It won’t be, it never is. Both knew that, but sometimes believing that all will eventually get fixed was tempting. 

- No… - His sobs wrecked her. 

***

The wine danced around the rim of the glass, a small drop staining the white carpet. A curse left her lips as she ran to the front door. 

***

(her pov) Cobwebs of cracks covered the cement. Heloise clutched tightly in Y/N’s hand as she shot - mountains, the sky, foxes, Damiano. I hope this never ends. It will. She didn’t expect a response. Not now, not here. What do you mean? The voice in her head continued conversing with the nothing, to whoever had decided to creep in her mind and talk. 

***

(his pov) Cobwebs of cracks covered the cement. The camera clicked delightfully, as she positioned him in front of trees and flowers. A chartreuse pocket knife used to carve their names. The wooden handle was hand-painted with red Bokhara tulips - flowers her father had an obsession with. 

Unlike the silky petals, the blade digging in his skin stung, but now they were linked forever. His blood dripped with hers. 

Then her silver eyes glossed over.

***

Flashing sheets of icy droplets embraced his body. A tulle shirt draped over his ink-covered skin, tears pooling in his eyes; a bunch of red roses clutched in his hands. The argent band still wrapped around his ring finger. 

- What are you doing here? - Y/N wanted to reach out and wrap her arms around him, but she couldn’t. They didn’t want her to. 

- Tell me everything. - A cough left his throat and the woman pulled him into the apartment. 

Damiano, having been pushed down on the cracked ground, tilted his head up, bloodshot eyes meeting her venomous gaze.

- You have scars. - The girl looked deep inside his irises. - Some of these weren’t caused by me.

- You aren’t telling me anything. - The man stumbled, his body lifted off the ground. All that met his words was the silence. - Talk, god damn it! - His fingers tightened around her wrist as the now-ruined flowers were clutched in her hold. 

- Tell you what, Damiano! - She didn’t dare look at him, afraid she might ignite a new feeling; different than the hate she had convinced herself she felt. Perhaps the emotion was never new; it was just buried too deep inside. 

- Y/N, stop! You can’t let crystals, stars and voices control your life. That shit isn’t real. - His grip forced her to look at him. 

- To me it is! - The glass vase now filled with water, a few drops spilled on the marble counter.

- And what about me? Am I not real? Do you expect me to sit on the sidelines and pretend nothing happened? That we didn’t happen? - Heartbreaking screams wrecked him, fists slammed on the closest table.

- It’d be better if you did. - Poison laced with her voice.

- Fuck that. - In a split second his chapped lips were on hers. In his kiss she felt home. Waves crashed and thousands of cerise Bokhara tulips bloomed in the pit of her stomach.

[voiddaisy]

just a little head-cannon about the black brothers! just btw regulus initially being sorted into ravenclaw and only being forced into slytherin because walburga threw a fit is canon because i said so. and i’m new to tumblr so i dont know how formatting works, but you are all welcome for this masterpiece.

When they were 14 and 15, Regulus just about to enter fourth year and Sirius fifth, Sirius heard from a muggleborn friend about a tattoo artist who would tattoo 15 year olds without parental permission. So, in favor of forcing his brother to put himself out there, Sirius begged and begged Regulus to sneak out with him. And Regulus, who hated the thought of Sirius being around so many dangerous muggles, agreed, because if someone was going to save Sirius, it was going to be his brother.

So, one weekday afternoon, after their mother brushed them off and said she was going to be in the office until late that night, and a father who was too sick to get out of bed, Sirius grabbed on tightly to Regulus’ hand as the younger apparated them to a small alleyway in London. Sirius all but dragged Regulus to the parlor, a paper folded messily in his hand and the other clutching to Regulus’, as if his brother was going to fade away. Regulus stared at the paper, wondering if it had to do with James, the boy he was replaced with. At the tattoo parlor, Sirius was extremely secretive about what he was getting done, leaving Regulus in the waiting room (who was admittedly freaked out) and only coming to get him after talking to the tattooist. Regulus watched as his brother bravely laid on his stomach, the tattooist wiping sanitized cloths on Sirius’ shoulder and prepping his needles. Sirius took a deep breath and reached out for Regulus’ hand, and Regulus, who hated when his brother was in pain and bloody hell, why would he want a needle stuck into him a thousand times, grabbed it quickly and squeezed it tightly, apologizing and loosening his grip when he saw Sirius wince.

Regulus had to look away for most of the process, the blood and wincing from Sirius too much for him, but he held on to Sirius’ hand like it was his lifeline. When all was poked and done, Regulus finally looked over at Sirius’ red shoulder, just about tearing up when he saw an exact replica of Regulus’ favorite one of Sirius’ drawings: A lion with a raven perched on it’s shoulder. You know, Sirius had called it from the very beginning, that Regulus, the nerdiest person he knew, was bound to be sorted into Ravenclaw, and when he heard the hat call out Ravenclaw that night, he had genuine hope for his brother. Regulus remembers hating that night, hating his mother for storming into Dumbledore’s office and demanding her last chance be sorted into Slytherin, that she didn’t bloody care what the hat said, Regulus was to be a Slytherin. Regulus remembers being shoved into the Slytherin group just before they made their way to the dungeons, and he remembers crying himself to sleep that night because he had let Sirius down once again.

In that moment, Regulus decided, you know what, fuck you Walburga, I’m getting a bloody piercing! And so, he plopped himself into the chair next to Sirius’, wiping the minuscule tears from his eyes, and claimed he wanted his ears pierced. Sirius, shocked, quickly sat up, a cautious smile on his face.

“Trying to outshine me, Reggie?”

“Yes, actually, I am. I want each lobe pierced twice.”

And with some convincing from the tattooist, that having four separate new piercings at once is too hard to take care of for a fourteen year old, Regulus agreed to just one in each ear, and just as he had done for Sirius, Sirius grabbed Regulus’ hand and let him squeeze it as hard as he wanted when the needles pierced Regulus’ ears.

So, the Black brothers left London that day, one with his first tattoo, hidden under his button-up shirt, and one with his ears newly pierced, hiding them long forgotten. And when the younger brother apparated them back to 12 Grimmauld Place to find their mother sitting in the dining room, where they had left from, they both knew what was coming. And Sirius answered for the both of them, telling his mother they went to a wizard museum, saying that they visited Hogsmead, using every excuse in the book. And his mother finally looked, really looked, at Regulus, the silver studs on both his ears sticked out. He didn’t even see it coming when she reached to his left ear and yanked as hard as she could on the earring, effectively tearing through his earlobe and causing blood to pour out. He didn’t even see it coming when she pulled out her wand and muttered the word ‘crucio’, which had never been aimed at either of her sons before. And Regulus didn’t see it coming when he fell face first into the floor, the feeling of scalding hot knives stabbing into his skin so severe that he passed out.

And Sirius, oh Sirius, fell to the floor with his brother as Walburga walked back to her study, Sirius catching his head in his own lap, panicking as he whispered his brother’s name harshly and pressed his sleeve to Regulus’ furiously bleeding ear. And Sirius, always taking the blame for his brother, could only watch his brother’s still body as he prayed to whatever god was out there that his brother didn’t hate him when he woke up.

[gointothevvater]

I finally got around to doing a portrait and profile for my MTL OC! I’m really excited to share her with you guys! Also, I can’t draw full body pieces, so the chibi is the best way to show her completely, lol

Name: St. Cecilia Jameson 

Gender: Cis female

Status: Alive

Occupation: Singer for British rock band Stiletto ("Like the knife or like the shoe?" "Yes.")

Voiced by: Florence Pugh (Speaking), Lzzy Hale (Singing)

Age: A few months younger than Pickles

Date of birth: December 15 (She’s a Sagittarius!)

Place of birth: Oxford, England

Height: Five-foot-one

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship status: It's complicated. It's always complicated. She's unlucky in love. 

Birth name: Felicity Robinson (Initially, only Sammy knows this, though the rest of SnB learns it at Esme's funeral)

Nicknames: Ceelie (By Pickles and Sammy, mostly, though the Dethklok boys pick it up eventually), Star (By Magnus), princess (By Skwisgaar)

Ethnicity: Three quarters English, one quarter Punjabi

Family: Elizabeth Robinson, née Wallis (Mother), Bryony Robinson (Older half-sister), Esme Robinson, née Davies (Grandmother, deceased), Arjun Khatri (Biological father), Peter Khatri (Older half-brother) 

Current location: London, England

Appearance: St. Cecilia is a petite woman (She's half a head shorter than Pickles!) with golden skin and long white-blonde hair, which she wears in a high ponytail. She has thick, dark brows and bright brown eyes (Skwisgaar says she has "wolf eyes"). She has three white marigolds tattooed on each shoulder, a labret piercing, and a vertical collarbone piercing at the hollow of her throat. Her ears are pierced three times each, in which she wears two silver hoops and a silver stud on each side, and she has a small black star beneath each eye. She has a Christina piercing, nipple piercings, and a belly button piercing. She has a No Time For Antivenom tattoo on her sternum, and a European robin tattoo at the back of her neck. Along her spine, she has a tattoo reading "to thine own self be true." She has a shitty stick-and-poke crown tattooed behind her right ear. She has a pear body type, with wide hips, a small chest, and an even smaller waist (Nathan can encircle her waist with his hands). She typically wears a black muscle shirt, ripped dark jeans, heavy boots, black driving gloves, and a studded black leather collar with a D-ring at the front. She also wears a Gibson pearl guitar pick on a necklace, which was given to her by Pickles when they first started dating in the 80s. She wears a silver cuff on each ear, and her tongue is pierced with a simple silver stud. 

During flashbacks to the Snakes N' Barrels era, she's shown with darker blonde hair cut in a mullet style, and only her labret and ear piercings, plus one on the right side of her nose. She wears a cropped white tank, with high-waisted jeans and black Converse sneakers. She wears mismatched armbands, one black, one striped, and the same collar she wears in the present.

Her more casual look consists of a black button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up, which she wears tucked into a pair of leather pants. She wears pumps instead of boots, and her hair is twisted up in a clip. She keeps her collar, but doesn't wear the pick necklace or her ear cuff, and she switches her hoop earrings for studs. She doesn't apply her stars.

For fancier occasions, she wears a black dress with spaghetti straps and a flared skirt, black opera gloves and black strap pumps. She, as always, wears her collar with it, and she pulls her hair into a high bun. 

Personality: St. Cecilia is cocky, witty, and teasing, but ultimately good-natured. She's a bit selfish and stubborn, but she does everything with 110% effort, hoping to impress people, even if she winds up getting hurt in the process. She'll do literally anything for validation. To say she's vain would be an understatement. She's something of a coquette who flirts with both men and women, and is she has a tendency to "think with her dick," as Tony once put it. She's slow to anger, but quick to jealousy, and she holds grudges for far too long. She's the playful type, but it's largely in a chill way. She's an obvious extrovert, and the role as frontman for Stiletto came very naturally.  

Skills & Hobbies: St. Cecilia writes good poetry, great song lyrics, and terrible erotica. She likes plants and is quite the chess player (Though she hasn't managed to beat Charles even once), which she learned during her school days. She also learned to fence, ride horses, and speak fluent Latin there.

Musical Talents: She's a classically trained singer (When she was little, she was part of her church's choir), and she writes most of the song lyrics and some of the music for her band, Stiletto. In Snakes N' Barrels, she played lead guitar on a white Jackson Pro Series Rhoads RR3, but during their reunion concert, she plays a more modern Gibson Explorer '76 Reissue 2010 Cherry. She took piano lessons for several years as a child, and she's still pretty good. Nothing outstanding, but if Stiletto needs to incorporate a piano into a song, she's perfectly capable of playing it herself. 

Relationships: 

-Pickles the Drummer: Their relationship is a complicated one. They've known each other for ages, and they've been together through the highest highs and the lowest lows, all the way down to rock bottom. She partially blames him for her late teens and early twenties being the fiasco they were, and she cut off contact with him for a long time after the SnB breakup. During the run of the show itself, the two reconcile somewhat and even become more or less friends before Abigail shows up and things start to crumble again. They have a hard time admitting it, but there's love between them, and there has been for a long time. They're both afraid to try getting together again, though, as there's a mutual fear of the relationship ending as it did the first time, with them hating each other again. They're back together at the end of Doomstar, but there's no way of telling if the love between them is enough to keep them together or if they'll just fall apart all over again. 

-Magnus Hammersmith: They were more off-and-on than anything, but they were together for years, even though quite a bit of it was long-distance. It wasn't supposed to be a serious thing. It was just supposed to be a quick fuck. Then it was a performance to get back at Pickles, but Magnus quickly realized that St. Cecilia's feelings for Pickles were too strong for her to be any use to him in his revenge plot. The basis of their bond formed because they understood each other on a level they've never known with anyone else. Former Snakes N' Barrels guitarist St. Cecilia Jameson and former Dethklok guitarist Magus Hammersmith both understand on a fundamental level what it's like to be left behind and forgotten. Magnus caught a bit of feelings himself, and when Roy Cornickelson's funeral came around, Magnus warned her not to attend. It was their last interaction, and it forever cast him in a positive light for her, even after she learned what he was doing with the Metal Masked Assassin. 

-Nathan Explosion: They get along pretty well. Their first meeting was at a singers-only Crystal Mountain party, and they ended the evening with a quickie in the coatroom. He wrote a song about the encounter, but Pickles never figured out that it was about St. Cecilia, which Nathan thinks is just the funniest thing. He mostly sees St. Cecilia as one of the guys once she meets with Dethklok again for the SnB reunion. It's a "been there, done that" kind of deal. She's not brutal, but she's funny and she's fun, and goddamn, is she pretty, and they would absolutely hang out if they could get their schedules to line up.

-Skwisgaar Skwigelf: St. Cecilia is nothing short of enchanted by Skwisgaar. It's not a crush, exactly, but she has a huge amount of admiration for him. They've practiced together a time or two, but she's a little rusty and winds up with her fingers bleeding because her calluses have gone soft. He tends to tease her over her soft hands. A guitar god, he tells her, can't have hands like a princess. His calling her princess becomes a bit of a thing for them. The two of them often have brunch together, talking shit and drinking. She's good for him; He's never had a female friend before.

-Toki Wartooth: Within the series itself, St. Cecilia hasn't given Toki much thought. He's cute, but he's just sorta there. His incident during the SOBERTOWN USA concert really scared her, and she more or less avoids him after that. Post-DSR, though, their relationship changes. He, like her, was hurt by Magnus, and even with him dead, Toki misses him terribly. St. Cecilia misses him, too. As sad as it is, this becomes their common ground. Their other connection, odd as it sounds, is pole dancing. St. Cecilia does it for exercise, and Toki did it for money, and they often compete to see who's better on the pole. 

-William Murderface: St. Cecilia actually has a begrudging fondness for Murderface. He's awful, but he's also pretty funny, and she likes to hear him talk about knives and medieval weaponry, as her family home is full of such things. They clash over things, of course, but she likes being around him more often than not.

-Charles Offdensen: St. Cecilia really likes Charles, actually. He's basically the only person on the show who's really "on her level" class-wise. He attended Harvard, and she attended Oxford, so they have a great deal to talk about. They play a lot of chess and fence on occasion, and if it weren't for her feelings for Pickles and his obligation to the Church, they just might have gotten together.

-Dick Knubbler: They're friends, in a way. She thinks he's kind of a weirdo, but he knows how to have a good time, so as long as he isn't hitting on her, she likes being around him. 

-Abigail Remeltincdrinc: They became friends mostly due to the fact that they were both women in the music industry (And both working for Crystal Mountain) and supporting each other seemed the right thing to do. Abigail getting involved with Dethklok and catching Pickles's attention quickly became a sore spot, and they drifted apart after that. After DSR, things got even worse. Abigail, naturally, is glad that Magnus is gone, while St. Cecilia is devastated by the loss. They had something of a falling-out over it, and they haven't really spoken since. 

-Edgar Jomfru: Despite being very different people, St. Cecilia really enjoys Edgar's company. He merely tolerates her at first, but she grows on him, to the point where they're legitimately friends come Doomstar. The two of them often have lunch together on the roof of Mordhaus so they can get some fresh air. 

-Family: St. Cecilia's family consists of her mother, Elizabeth, her older sister, Bryony, and her now-deceased grandmother, Esme. St. Cecilia has a very formal, cold relationship with her mother, and she has no desire to change that. As far as she's concerned, her mother doesn't deserve to have a good relationship with her. St. Cecilia adores Bryony, though. Though Elizabeth brags about her, Bryony remains modest and is very close with her sister because of it. Though there's seven years between them, they may as well be twins. Esme, who passed away in 1993, was more of a mother to St. Cecilia than Elizabeth ever was, and St. Cecilia still misses her terribly. She was a big part of getting SnB off the ground, and the boys even came to her funeral.

-Snakes N' Barrels: St. Cecilia adores all the boys, of course, but Sammy is the only one she really kept in touch with after the breakup. He was her favorite long before Pickles joined. There was a pregnancy scare not long after the band took off that somehow, against all odds, brought the two of them even closer. Sammy was St. Cecilia's first love. Her relationships with Tony and Snazz were much more professional, though none of them were anywhere near professional. The crown tattoo behind her right ear was done by Tony on a drunken night in, and it was too good a night for her to even consider covering it or getting it removed. 

-Stiletto: She gets along with them all quite well! She's known Niamh McLoughlin, their bassist, the longest, and their friendship dates back to their school days. Lex Clarke and Priyanka Dayal, the drummer and the guitarist respectively, came as a package deal, as they've been more or less married for years. St. Cecilia adores them and the sweetness of their relationship. She's a little envious of them, actually, though she would never say so.

History:

-Childhood: St. Cecilia was born in Oxford, England to Elizabeth Robinson. She was raised more or less at her family's girls-only boarding school, away from her mother. When she was fourteen, she fell off a horse during an equestrian class and badly injured her shoulder. She was one of the popular girls during her school days, up until she hit fifteen and decided that she was no longer a child and had a right to demand respect from her emotionally distant mother. She quit the piano lessons she had been taking for several years and took up the guitar, though it aggravated her injured shoulder and even as a teen, she developed a dependence on painkillers. This rebellious period stretched until she was sixteen and ran away with the help of her grandmother. St. Cecilia was given her name just before she left, so it would be easier for her to hide, as well as a hefty sum to tide her over until she could get herself settled. She was only in LA for a few weeks before she met Sammy at a bar where the SnB prototype band was playing. Naturally, Snazz and Tony weren't thrilled with the idea of Sammy's kinda-sorta-girlfriend trying to become their lead guitarist, and when Snazz disparagingly referred to St. Cecilia as Yoko, she broke his nose (How could he have not expected violence when a Beatles-loving British girl was called such a horrible thing?). This earned their respect and is an event that they laugh about to this day. 

-Snakes n' Barrels era: St. Cecilia stuck with the band for several months before they found Pickles, and she was smitten with him the moment she heard him sing. Esme was an important source of financial support during their formative years. The band made it big after not too long, and they all grew quite close. St. Cecilia ended up in an ill-fated off-and-on relationship with Pickles as time went on, and to this day she doesn't remember the first time she told him she loved him. It wasn't long after his first OD and his following stint in rehab that she told him, and they were both drunk in celebration of his release. His tolerance, even post-rehab, was far higher than hers, though, and he remembers, though he sometimes hates that he does. Though there was genuine love between them, the stress of the band and both of their substance abuse problems drove a wedge between not only the couple, but also the entire band. Coupled with Pickles fucking groupies behind St. Cecilia's back and St. Cecilia's becoming a rather serious Vicodin addict to combat the pain in her injured shoulder, the band was doomed. Pickles came to see St. Cecilia off on her flight back to England, saying he would meet her there when his next residuals check came in, but he never made it, and they didn't speak to each other for years afterward. It hurt, but St. Cecilia supposed it was for the best. A clean break, and all that.

-Preklok: After SnB broke up, St. Cecilia returned to Oxford, staying with Bryony in their mother's guest house as she tried to figure out her next move. Despite her gift for writing lyrics, she had no talent for writing books, and that idea quickly went down the drain. She still received a large amount of money in residuals, but she was reduced to a mere socialite, though it mostly agreed with her. At her mother's insistence, she attended a few classes at Oxford University. She absolutely loved it. In 1992, Esme passed away. St. Cecilia only told Sammy about it, but he took the initiative and brought Pickles, Tony and Snazz with him to the funeral. St. Cecilia was initially pissed, but she really appreciated the support. That was the only time she saw Pickles between SnB's breakup and their reunion concert. He was devastated when her parting words to him were "I love you with everything I am, but I never wanna see you again." In the mid-90s, she posed for an issue of Playboy, and Pickles has a copy of the issue tucked away somewhere. It wasn't until 1998, when she moved to a little flat in London, that St. Cecilia reunited with her school friend Niamh and the idea of Stiletto came about. They found Priyanka and Lex at an open mic night at one of the local clubs, and they hit it off, both as friends and as bandmates. They played at many clubs and pubs, and they were soon found by a scout at another open mic night. They signed with the UK branch of Crystal Mountain Records and were assigned the surly but efficient Melinda Glasscock as their manager, and within three years, Stiletto was huge, due in part to St. Cecilia's residual fame from Snakes N' Barrels. Their first tour was through Europe, but the second came to America, where St. Cecilia met Magnus in a bar post-show. They got on really well, and she invited him to her hotel room for the night. They exchanged numbers and got quite close over time, with her even flying him out to London from time to time so they could hang out. Magnus knew who she was from the start, and while he planned to use her feelings for Pickles to get her on his side, that soon faded and he came to genuinely like her. She wouldn't learn who he was until later on. A few years before canon, she had a quickie with Nathan in a coat room at a singers-only part at Crystal Mountain records, and he used the fact that she couldn't fit her mouth around his dick as inspiration for Dethklok's infamous song "Glasgow Smile."

-Season 1: 

-St. Cecilia's first mention within the confines of canon is during Performance Klok, when Pickles mentions he hasn't been in a serious relationship since the '80s despite the fact that he would certainly thrive under such attention. 

-She first appears in Snakes N' Barrels, during the documentary the Dethklok is watching. The guys are a little critical when they (Save Nathan, who's known for a long time) learn that part of SnB's downfall was due to Pickles's failed relationship with St. Cecilia. There's some comedic nonsense talk about fucking one's guitarist before Pickles goes to speak with Charles. Though St. Cecilia is working on an album with Stiletto when she's asked to go the reunion, she manages to push through and finish in time, though she arrives nearly late. She finds Pickles backstage, and when he sweeps in to kiss her, she pulls away a bit, saying they can't do this, as she's spoken for. She lets him hold her close, though. The rest of Dethklok finds them like that, and St. Cecilia excuses herself to go find Sammy, Tony and Snazz. There's some talk about Pickles not leaving Dethklok, which he says he won't, but they're rather worried after catching him with St. Cecilia in his arms. Meanwhile, she manages to find the boys, and they meet with Pickles backstage. While the boys partake of the Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake, St. Cecilia doesn't, as she once humiliated herself by passing out on stage and doesn't wish to repeat the incident. She presses a kiss to Pickles's palm before they go on stage, an old ritual that they were never able to shake. What happens is far worse than someone just passing out, and she and Pickles leave the stage amidst the chaos while the medical Klokateers take care of the boys and see them off to the hospital. It's a disaster. She's embarrassed and angry, and she turns down Pickles's offer of a ride home and calls someone instead, as she didn't get her money converted and can't pay for a cab. This someone turns out to be the man who's claimed her, Magnus, and Pickles is none too happy about it. He tries to stop her from going with him, but it doesn't work. 

-She isn't seen in Dethkids, but she is mentioned. When Pickles starts drinking harder than usual, he finally gives in to the urge to call her, to talk about how Sammy and Snazz and Tony are doing, and to tell her that she should steer clear of Magnus. He's so drunk, though, that she barely has even an idea of what he's talking about. 

-Offscreen, but somewhere between the two SnB episodes, Magnus and St. Cecilia abruptly break up. She has a feeling something was going on with him, but his sudden disappearance really hurt her. They had been together off and on for years, after all. A few weeks before he left, he bought her a little pink knife and showed her how to use it, just in case he wasn't around to protect her. When he left, he left his guitar behind, and she still has it as of Doomstar. 

-Season 2: 

-She's mentioned by Seth in Dethwedding, though only as "that British chick" he thought Pickles would eventually have married. Pickles nearly decks him for even mentioning her.

-St. Cecilia's next appearance is in Snakes N' Barrels II. In part one, during the advertisement for the SOBERTOWN USA concert, she's missing from the band lineup, and Pickles is both relieved and a little concerned by her absence. 

-In SnB II part two, Nathan, Skwisgaar and Toki find her among the crowd at the SOBERTOWN USA concert. Nathan asks if she wasn't invited to play, but she says that she was: She just didn't think it was right to play without Pickles. Realizing that Pickles is sneaking around backstage, she leaves to go find him and try to keep him from doing something he'll regret. She only finds him just as Tony, Snazz and Sammy start freaking out, and she only just manages to keep Pickles from killing Rikki Kixx, though she honestly doesn't mind the thought of him dead. She pulls Pickles away from the stage, where he calls the Klokateers to take care of Sammy, Snazz and Tony, and she sets to icing down his bruised knuckles. She tells him that she and Magnus broke up, and he's thoroughly pleased about it: She's too good for him, anyway. That irritates her a bit, but she tells him to call her sometime, though she insists he do it when he's not drunk off his ass. 

-Season 3: 

 -Ironically, when Pickles calls her in Dethhealth to inform her that he's dying, he's in fact drunk again. She wants to go to Mordhaus to see him, but he tells her to stay where she is, as he doesn't want her seeing him like that, though she's seen him at rock bottom as it is. At the end of the episode, he's drunker and higher than ever, but he calls her again to let her know he's all right. She can't understand him, though, so he puts Nathan on to explain. She’s thoroughly relieved, but she’s still considering going to Mordhaus to see him. She implores of Nathan, "Take care of him, all right?"

-Offscreen, in the time between Dethhealth and Dethmas, Pickles goes to London for a while to appease St. Cecilia, and to their mutual surprise, it's not really all that different from how it was when they were actually together. There's lots of cuddling and kissing and great sex and just... Hanging out. It's easy for them to be together. They have their share of problems, but the old spark between them is still there. Pickles is honestly a little scared of that: What if he falls for her all over again just for her to break his heart like she did last time? The fact that she has Magnus's guitar makes him doubly suspicious. He starts drinking harder than ever to drown out the thoughts of her. 

-In Rehabklok, when Pickles's drinking is brought to the attention of the band and he's sent to rehab, he tries for a while to blame it on St. Cecilia. She broke his heart, and he drinks to cope. It makes perfect sense, until he starts to really think about it and realizes that he's equally at fault for how their relationship (And also SnB) fell apart. He realizes, after many years, that he hurt her as badly as she hurt him. And that makes him feel even worse. He talks the doctor into letting him call her to apologize, but it doesn't go well: She's a little offended that he would even consider blaming her for his drinking, given he was a drunk long before they met. "Is that what I am to you now? An excuse to get drunk and act a fool?" Not long after that, Pickles realizes the real cause for his drinking.

-Just before Charles goes to speak to the UN in Doublebookedklok, he calls St. Cecilia and cryptically asks her if she speaks Latin. She owes him a favor for getting her out of some legal trouble, so she can't really refuse. Several months before, she punched a scummy paparazzo who called Magnus washed-up, and Charles used his reeducation program to keep those involved from pressing charges or damaging St. Cecilia's reputation. 

-Season 4:

-In Fanklok, before Charles meets with the band to discuss Klokikon, he welcomes St. Cecilia to Mordhaus and presents her with an ancient-looking journal that belonged to Aurelius Isambard, one of the original prophets of the Church of the Black Klok. She's taken down to the basement, where she's introduced to Edgar Jomfru, and gets to work. 

-In Diversityklok, after he's spoken to Edgar, Charles speaks to St. Cecilia. He finds her engrossed, but thoroughly worried. She asks if this is real, and she's even more worried when he tells her it is. 

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia has been hard at work translating the journal, and she's come to a passage that seems to describe the growing tension between the band. It also mentions an approaching star, and she takes to sitting on the roof at night to observe the sky. 

-In Prankklok, when Pickles tells Nathan that he's not allowed to drink any tequila during their friender-bender, Nathan tells him he can't visit St. Cecilia when they stop in London. Pickles reluctantly agrees. Not long after, we see Pickles on his phone, though, debating on calling her just before he notices the storm warning.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia approaches Charles about a phrase repeated over and over in the journal: Fata sidus oritur, the star of fate is born. 

-After Charles breaks the news about Ice Festival to Skwisgaar in Bookklok, he goes to speak with St. Cecilia and Edgar in the basement. She's tacked two star maps to the wall: One from the previous week and one from the previous night. There's a spot near the center of the first map that seems bigger on the second one. She looks like the world is ending when she tells him it's the Doomstar. It's real. It's coming? When? Soon, she says. Far too soon.

-When Charles tells the boys he's going out of town in Dethcamp, it's to take St. Cecilia to an observatory, where they meet with Ishnifus and spend a few days tracking the Doomstar's movement as it comes closer and closer to Earth. 

-In Going Downklok, when Pickles shows up all decked out for his meeting with Abigail, Nathan is quick to ask, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" Pickles insists he doesn't; He and St. Cecilia was hurt and angry the last time they spoke. On top of that, he believes she's all the way in London, and Abigail is right there. 

-Offscreen, between Dethdinner and Breakup Klok, St. Cecilia is tagged in the video of Pickles leaving Dethklok by a drunken Toki. She's incredibly hurt. Pickles has nothing, he said. She, apparently, is nothing.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia speaks to Charles about staying at a hotel for a few days, just until Roy Cornickelson's funeral, after which she'll return to Mordhaus and her translation work. The day of the funeral, though, she receives a call from Magnus telling her she absolutely cannot attend, as he can't guarantee her safety. It's the last time she has contact with him before his death. We also see her watching the news about Dethklok's breakup and the insinuation that Abigail caused it, and st. Cecilia chucks a bottle at the TV, mirroring Pickles's actions in SnB II.

-In Breakup Klok, Pickles tries to call St. Cecilia to invite her to his wine tasting, but she refuses to answer and sends him straight to voicemail. Towards the end of the episode, after the escape from Salacia, Charles requests a check-up on Edgar and St. Cecilia back at Mordhaus, and Pickles is stunned and angry to learn that she's been more or less within arm's reach for months. Had he known, he's certain things would have been different-- He wouldn't have tried to make a move on Abigail and he wouldn't have fucked up his chance to get back with St. Cecilia again.

-In Church of the Black Klok, St. Cecilia is fetched from the hotel by Klokateers and taken to the Dethsub, where she meets with Charles, pointedly ignores Pickles, and goes to work with Edgar instead. 

-The Doomstar Requiem:

-In "One of Us Must Die," St. Cecilia can be seen on one of the slides, staring up into the sky with Isambard's journal held to her chest. Towards the end of the song, reading from the book, she sings, "Dethklok, they must be rejoined/Evil, it must be destroyed/No more apathetic stoics/They can learn to be heroic/Write the song that will be our salvation..."

-In "Training," while carrying the journal, she sings the lyrics, "As the prophecy foretold, the Doomstar has been born/And you all will be endowed with a power known to none." Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface are looking at the art of the Prophecy, but Pickles is watching her. Ishnifus places a hand upon her shoulder, and they sing together, "The Deth lights are within you all waiting to be woken/And when the five are united, the evil will be broken," in a show of solidarity.

-In "En Antris et Stella Fatum Cruenti," just after Ishnifus is killed and the Doomstar goes red, we see a shot of Charles, Edgar and St. Cecilia at the Church, watching the sky. 

-In "Morte Lumina," in a mirror to Nathan and Abigail's kiss, we see Pickles approach St. Cecilia, and she presses a kiss to his palm (Which is a really significant gesture between them) before he pulls her into his arms. 

Trivia: 

-The stars on her cheeks are actually a makeup trick, as she's afraid to have a needle so close to her eyes. 

-She smokes Honeyrose Cherry cigarettes (Which have roughened her voice a bit), but she doesn't drink to to excess, save when she's with Pickles. He's a terrible influence on her, but she adores him just the same. Considering him and Magnus, she has rather bad taste in men.

-Her signature scent is Estée Lauder's Cinnabar, which features notes of jasmine, orange blossom, cloves, and patchouli. She uses a cinnamon body oil when she wants to get Pickles's attention. It always works.

-She wants nothing more than to be loved, but she's keenly aware of the fact that most of the people who "love" her only want to coast on her fame. It's resulted in her having a hard time trusting people. The fact that Pickles and the rest of Dethklok don't need to coast off her is part of why she likes them so much.

-She's an iced coffee addict, and she prefers chocolate, caramel, or hazelnut varieties.

-She was raised Catholic, and while she lapsed a long time ago, she has occasional bouts of Catholic Guilt. Her name is related to her religion, as St. Cecilia is the patron saint of music.

-Her preferred alcohol is Bombay Sapphire gin, though she also likes white wine and champagne.

-She's a plant mom. Her flat is full of plants, including a little devil's tongue cactus she bought at a farmer's market in LA when she first came to America. It's traveled the world with her! It lived in the cupholder of Snazz's van for several years, and now it lives in her kitchen, perched on top of the microwave.

-She has a pretty serious oral fixation. She's always got something in her mouth: A cigarette, a pen, a popsicle, someone's fingers, a dick. Depends on her mood. Getting her tongue pierced helped a little, as she can play with the stud, but some habits just can't be broken.

-She and the rest of Stiletto own a condo building in London together, and she naturally has the penthouse to herself. It's very airy and open, with lots of mirrors and plants and exposed brick. One corner of her living room is just a huge window that looks out on the city. It's her favorite feature. Magnus is too nervous to go near it.

[jaskierswolf]

Written for @thewitchertransweek

Day 7: Free Day

Ship: Geraskier (Enby!jask and agender Geralt platonic soulmates)

Rating: T

Summary: Jaskier and Geralt finally have some time off together so they settle down to watch some TV

CW: Geralt uses she/he/they so it might seem a tad confusing if you're not used to it? It's intentional I swear

_

Days off were God's greatest gift, of that Jaskier was sure. They hated their job, still dreaming of life on the stage, performing Shakespeare in the grandest theatres in London, but their acting degree was taking them nowhere despite countless auditions, and the bills needed to be paid. For their birthday, their soulmate, Geralt, had bought tickets for a backstage tour of the globe, and Jaskier had been in nerd heaven the entire time. Alas, come Monday, they were back in the office, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

But not today! No, Jaskier was free for a whole four days and by some miracle their soulmate had time off too! Unlike Jaskier’s office, Geralt’s office was open during the weekends, and he tended to work later into the evenings. So, the time the two of them got to spend together was limited, but now they had four whole days.

It was going to be heavenly.

Jaskier lifted up the blanket as Geralt came back into the living room with a large bowl of popcorn in their hands. He settled down next to Jaskier, and picked up the remote to hit play. They were watching one of Geralt’s favourite detective shows that Jaskier was maybe a little bit addicted to after only a couple of episodes. They were already singing along to the theme tune and tapping their fingers against Geralt’s thigh before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

They snuggled closer against their soulmate’s chest, tracing the soft yellow tattoo on Geralt’s wrist, a wolf surrounded by buttercups. Geralt hummed, her fingers dancing over Jaskier’s waist where their matching tattoo was hidden beneath the folds of Geralt’s hoodie.

As a child, Jaskier had lamented that they only had a platonic soulmate, surrounded as they were by tales of romance and burning passionate loves that shone brighter than the sun. They’d even coloured in their tattoo in a red felt tip pen whenever they had P.E, ashamed of the yellow mark on their skin.

Meeting Geralt had changed everything. Jaskier was more than content with the love that existed between them, and they couldn’t imagine any romantic partner could ever mean more to them than Geralt. Although it was amusing whenever their friends just assumed they were dating, unable to comprehend the depth of their relationship.

It didn’t matter, Geralt and Jaskier knew the truth. That was what was important.

Jaskier smiled to themself, pressing their face against Geralt’s chest, a happy sigh escaping their lips.

“You’re not watching,” Geralt hummed.

“Shawn just faked a vision and Zazu didn’t believe him,” Jaskier mumbled, without looking up at the screen.

Geralt sighed, his fingers lacing with Jaskier’s. “His name is Lassiter.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re a mess.”

“I’m your mess,” Jaskier reminded them, poking the wolf on Geralt’s wrist. “My husband/wife/spouse.”

“We’re not married,” their soulmate grumbled, pulling Jaskier closer against her chest and tucking the blanket around their legs.

Jaskier huffed, “Close enough, my love.”

“Just watch the show, Jaskier.”

“Whatever you say, dearest,” they replied, already dozing off in their soulmate’s arms. “I love you the mostest.”

Geralt chuckled, squeezing Jaskier’s hand. “I love you the mostest too.”

_

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