magicmarked

Latest Posts by magicmarked

"Sorry Molly, did I hurt you?" There was a genuine hint of concern in Amos' voice when he realized he'd almost knocked her over — but not enough to release his tight grip on the bowl of Sugar Quills, held to his chest like a prized possession. "I promise they're not all for Cedric, I haven't gone off the rails that far yet, he still has to eat his vegetables every day." Amos was surprised Cedric didn't immediately drop into the conversation to contest that statement, but a quick sidelong glance showed him staring longingly at the wall of Bertie Botts, perfectly entranced.

"Fine, fine — I'm willing to make a trade, half of these for the Caramel Cobwebs you've got in your basket," Though he had the feeling Molly was toying with him, the sight of the hands on her hips made him hold up a hand in mock surrender. "I'm trying to make treat bags for the kids at work, but everything's so bloody expensive, hence why I'm trying to hoard the discounted items like a dragon with gold."

It may have been crazy to shower Bill and Charlie with sweets but she loved treating them. They were crazy boys but loving and caring. They deserved the best and Molly was willing to do what she could to show them love, both through her actions and filling them with little trinkets of joy. And Merlin did they love their candies. It was a rare moment that they weren't with her and didn't want to forget about them while out and about.

As she was at Sugarplum's Sweet Shop, she spotted the discounted sugar quills. "Ooo!" she said to herself and scooted that way. Before she knew it Amos almost knocked her over. "Oi!" came from her lips as she looked over. "Amos! How dare you!" She knew Amos well enough to give him a hard time. She wanted to know him better. They needed to have proper playdates. Parents needed to stick together.

"A sugar quill emergency? And my boys aren't an emergency? How could you insinuate such a thing?" Molly asked with her hands on her hips.

"Never been to a Sugarplum's sale before?" Amos asked at the sight of furrowed brows, followed by a pardon. He knew he must look ridiculous, but when half the customers were on a sugar high most the time, he managed to blend in decently well. "These things get brutal, I'm talking multiple Healers needing to be called in kind of brutal," He knew that it would likely not explain his behavior much, but at the very least, he noticed the old employee stocking shelves nodding along with him.

"Diggory. Amos. Amos Diggory." If anything, Amos was just making himself look worse by repeating his name, as if the other man wasn't aware how names worked. "Are you sure? These are 50% off, you know." Unable to shut himself up, Amos held up the bowl with it's large discount sticker as evidence.

"Sorry, it's been a long day, 'm feeling a bit frazzled, like the seams are coming off," Amos figured an apology wasn't going to save him from this disaster of a show, but he figured that before he had to dart off again to save Cedric from the bad flavors of Bertie Bott's, he might as well make an attempt at it.

Corban was shopping for his younger sisters. It wasn't the most fun chore, but the two had been demanding more snacks, and it was his duty as an elder of the three to provide. The cart was almost full, filled with sweets and sours he knew those little menaces would enjoy and leave him be for a week, if lucky. He wasn't truly planning on buying the discount Sugar Quills, or maybe he would have if he deemed them decent enough. He was just curious as to what could have been the reason for said discount. The man was about to reach for it when someone else snatched it up. In a rather quick manner, it somewhat reminded him of a hawk. However, as he looked at the man and his somewhat, barely-held-together attire, he felt quipped by his imagination. There was no hawk in front of him. Just a tired but still rather handsome man.

He wasn't planning on caring until the comment had been made by the man, a rather silly one at that, childish even. Corban's brows furrowed slightly. He eyed the man up again, now studying him a bit closer.

"Pardon?" Then he paused. "I do not plan to fight you for it. They are all yours, Mister...?" he trailed off unsure what the name of the stranger was, although he could swear their face was familiar.

"A mother's hopes and wishes, all in the gutter," Daphne replied in the same humorous tone. Pureblood households and their dedication to etiquette was unwavering, she remembered the gruelling lessons of her own — Merlin forbid they forgot which fork to stab themselves with. Cleaning the handkerchief as well, she neatly folded it on the table next to her.

"Then I'd say you have a golden business opportunity on your hands — I know plenty Ministry colleagues willing to pay a fortune for a prescribed vacation," Daphne replied. "Ah, dinner with your parents — wedding preparations I assume?"

"I fear that is something my mother has been trying for years and look where it has landed me." He teased. Manners was something he prided himself on, used in the right context. There was a concern for Daphne. "You can keep it." He had more of them at home.

"And if I do?" It wasn't hard to pay the right person to give him what he wanted, or bribe them, there was always something available at the tip of his fingers. He sits down beside her. "I am free for now. Dinner with my parents later, but I don't mind keeping them waiting."

If there was one virtue Daphne luckily possessed, it was that of patience. Years of tip-toeing around the Avery estate, needing to pick the exact moment when to move and when to stay silent — she had never been rustled easily, and today was not when she was about to start, not when she needed a drink. Still, that didn't mean she was going to give in easily — especially not when someone wanted her to.

"I don't care to fix what is your problem, not mine. If you wanted to sit somewhere by yourself undisturbed, you should have chosen a less busy pub," Daphne spoke in a matter-of-fact way, little indication of emotion in the words, However, at the sight of the cigarettes and smoke blown directly towards her, she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

Picking a slim menthol cigarette from her purse, she demonstratively put it to her lips. Though she did not intend to be very petty about this situation — showing that she was the mature one in this conversation — Daphne felt something take over about half way through her smoke. Head tilted to the other side, she 'accidentally' dropped her cigarette into the witch's drink to extinguish. Doe-eyed and innocent looking, she turned back, feigning an apologetic expression. "Oops."

The witch was going to be a pain in Georgette's ass. It was obvious from the first words out of her mouth. Not that she would expect anything less. It was an example of why she never wanted to interact with other people. She may have had an attitude but that didn't give others license to have one, no matter how hypocritical that sounded. If approached the right way then maybe Georgette wouldn't be such a bitch but that's not how anyone greeted her.

"I'll close my eyes where I please," she said looking at Daphne, a witch she didn't even know. Obviously a no one. "Sounds like a problem you need to fix. Has nothing to do with me." Georgette rubbed her temples as Daphne didn't speak. At least wasn't speaking for a moment but of course her annoying voice perked up again.

Georgette took out her cigarettes. Maybe the smoke would make her go away. She lit the cigarette, inhaled and exhaled, making sure smoke went in Daphne's direction without blowing it directly in her face.

WHO : amos diggory & anyone. WHERE : sugarplum's sweet shop, diagon alley. WHEN : late afternoon.

With Cedric momentarily distracted by a kid floating around after chewing on some Fizzing Whizzbees, Amos was taking his chances by loading his Sugarplum's basket full of treats. The kids on the Little League team he coached had reached the semi-finals today — and they were expecting a reward. While he wondered how much of this could be put down under 'equipment costs budget', Amos spotted the gold mine — a bowl full of discounted Sugar Quills. "Dibs!" He called, just as he grabbed the bowl right before the next person trying to reach for it, looking (and feeling) particularly childish. "Sorry, it's a Sugar Quill emergency — if you want any, you're going to have to fight me for them."

MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING @ Giorgio Armani

"In my defense, I thought you were one of the bar hangers back there, spotting a moment of weakness and deciding to take their chance to save a damsel in distress," Daphne shrugged apologetically, gratefully noting the fact that Emma's stance provided a barrier between her and those previously mentioned bar hangers. "I would be very grateful for your help — I'm running out of tissue to soak through and I really do not have the energy to redo this paperwork because of the blood."

"Is that how you greet all your friends?" Emma raised an eyebrow unfazed by the glare directed at her. She didn't take it personally, standing in front of Daphne as if blocking her from other people's view. People loved to gossip after all. "I guess you don't want my help then?" As a quidditch player she was used to getting blood out of various things, but Emma would step back if Daphne didn't want her input.

The charming smile that marked Evelyn Zabini's face immediately softened the glare on her own, replaced by an expression that was vaguely apologetic — though still half hidden under a blood stained tissue. "Sorry, paperwork tends to make me act a bit cranky." Harpy-like was the expression some of her co-workers preferred, but Daphne did very little to dismiss that reputation.

"Admiring? Well, I'm glad to hear you enjoyed me with blood gushing down my face," She replied jokingly, casting an Episkey now that the bleeding had slowed enough for her to grab her wand. Once the damage was fixed and cleaned, she offered Evelyn a smile of her own in return. "It's lovely to see you too."

"It's barely past lunch time — of course I'm still working!" Somewhat of a workaholic, Daphne occasionally left the Ministry offices as late as 9 PM. However, the drinks put in front of her by Evelyn were compelling. At the very least, she could have a long lunch. "I can't say no to a gorgeous face like that, but you can't get me too sloshed — I do actually need to finish this proposal by tomorrow."

Evelyn had never been the sort to retire to her home after a long day of work. Unless of course there was someone she was meeting at said home. Otherwise she liked to make plans with others, she preferred a busy evening enjoying herself over the solitude of being at home. While she'd not had plans for the day, it made little difference to her. She made her way to the Leaky Cauldron, hopeful that surely she could find someone to keep her company or to entertain her at the very least.

Stepping into the pub, she took in her surroundings, searching for a familiar face. She smiled as she spotted Daphne, making her way to the bar she ordered them both a drink before she headed to Daphne's table. A laugh slipped past her lips as Daphne whirled on her and she flashed her a charming smile. "Nice to see you too Daphne. And I wasn't staring...only admiring." She assured her with a playful little wink. Without asking she moved to sit down across from her friend, groaning as she saw what was spread out. "You can't possibly still be working." She set the drinks down and shook her head. "I think it's time to call it a day." She had little care that it was only noon.

"Well, someone ought to teach you some manners," Daphne replied, though her tone was light and teasing now that she knew the face belonged to someone familiar, not a stranger. Taking the handkerchief, she cleaned up the last of the blood pouring from her nose. "Thank you."

"No need for a Healer, unless you know one that prescribes a month long holiday as cures?" She joked, before casting a quick Cleaning Charm on the affected area — as she finished, Daphne gestured for Lucius to take a seat. "If you're not meeting someone else, of course."

Lucius was meeting with a wizard to handle business. Curious if the outcome would aid in their cause, insistent that they would get great allies, and though the man wished for a night to think, he was quite certain they would come around to his view. There were other ways to get what he wanted and he kept those for last resort.

The blonde did a double take, the face familiar, snorting at her words. "I was never one to be polite," Lucius teased, pulling out a handkerchief from his inside pocket for her. "Do we need to get you looked at?"

"Liar," Daphne responded with a look at the sight of his eyes roaming, though the effect it was meant to have was significantly diminished by the sudden nasal quality of her voice — caused by the tissue pressed up against it. The nosebleeds were a byproduct of some experimentation with spell invention during her youth, and her father had discouraged her from getting it fixed — what better way to support the family blood curse with evidence like that, after all?

Once the blood had stopped, Daphne finally had a hand free to reach for her wand, casting a simple Tergeo to take care of the blood on her paperwork, though small pink-toned splats still remained, already seeped through too far for her to clean. With a sigh, Daphne accepted the drink, raising it to Rabastan in cheers before taking a sip.

"Thank you, I did need that, yes," She responded after savoring the drink, nodding towards the mountains of paperwork before her. "Germans do so enjoy doing everything by the book, which means endless proposals to file and documents to spit through." It was a miracle Daphne wasn't nursing a migraine yet. "And what has gotten you drinking this early in the day?"

Having just spent too much time on the wrong side of the Leaky Cauldron, Rabastan determined he deserved a firewhisky or two. Muggles repulsed him. He could practically feel their filth tainting his existence. It was most undesirable. But he would not complain about such things, and had completed the task assigned to him by the Dark Lord efficiently.

As he waited for his drink at the bar, he considered that he would visit Gringotts next. He desired an assignment from the goblins; something that would permit him to practise as much magic as possible, to remove the smear of muggle inadequacy from his day. Turning, glass in hand, he noted Daphne attending to a wealth of work so impressive it rivelled even his own overzealous tendencies.

"I was not staring," he asserted, as he did precisely that. His eyes roamed her features, noting the nosebleed and the crimson smatters on the parchment in front of her. "Miss Avery," he drawled, sitting beside her without an invitation. "You appear to have greater need of this drink than me." Pushing it towards her, he then gestured for the barmaid to send another firewhisky to their table.

welcome to 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 : a dependent multimuse blog for lumosfm, as penned by danai ( 27, they / she, gmt+2 ).

DAPHNE AVERY ┊ 24 ✧ icw intern & law student ✧ pureblood ✧ death eaters. — introduction. musings. interactions. wanted connections.

AMOS DIGGORY ┊ 27 ✧ little league quidditch coach & dad ✧ pureblood ✧ ootp. — introduction. musings. interactions. wanted connections.

✧ they asked me if i love her to death, and i said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life"

— mahmoud darwish, the butterfly's burden

Is that  AMOS DIGGORY  stepping out into Diagon Alley? Ministry records tell us that they were born on  APRIL 2ND  and are a  27  year old,  PUREBLOOD  who works as a  SINGLE DAD & LITTLE LEAGUE QUIDDITCH COACH.  Some have said that they can be described as being  PASSIONATE, SOCIAL & PROTECTIVE,  however, they also see themselves as being OBSTINATE, TEMPERAMENTAL & UNFOCUSED.  Apparently,  HE  look(s) a lot like  MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING,  whoever that is, and if they had to pick a side in the war, they would choose to  JOIN THE ORDER.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBASICSㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FULL NAME : Amos Percival Diggory.

NICKNAMES : Ame, Daddy.

AGE : Twenty-seven.

BIRTHDAY : April 2nd.

GENDER & PRONOUNS : Cis man, he/him/his.

SEXUALITY : Bisexual, biromantic.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Widowed.

AFFILIATION : The Order of the Phoenix.

FACECLAIM : Michael Evans Behling.

OCCUPATION : Single dad, part-time Little League Quidditch coach, former Magizoologist in training, but that doesn't pay the bills.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤPERSONALITYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

POSITIVES : Passionate, social, protective, stout-hearted, loyal.

NEUTRALS : Grieving, mercurial, defiant, adventurous, daring.

NEGATIVES : Obstinate, temperamental, unfocused, audacious, blunt.

MORAL ALIGNMENT : Chaotic good.

WESTERN ZODIAC : Aries sun, Scorpio moon, Sagittarius rising.

HEAVENLY VIRTUE : Charity.

DEADLY SIN : Wrath.

TAROT CARD : The Tower ( upright ).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤFAMILYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FATHER : Cedric Diggory sr ( deceased ).

MOTHER : Catriona Diggory ( owner of the Murtlap Inn )

SIBLINGS : Twin sister, younger sibling.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER : Florence Diggory ( murdered 8 months ago ).

CHILDREN : Cedric Diggory jr ( almost 2 years old ).

PET(S) : N/A.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤMAGICAL PROFILEㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

HOGWARTS HOUSE : Hufflepuff.

ABILITIES : Almost fully trained Magizoologist.

WAND : Cedar wood, dragon heartstring core, 13", somewhat bendy.

PATRONUS : St. Bernard dog.

ASSOCIATED MEMORY : It is the first moments after Cedric's birth, the infant laying on his wife's chest, the happy but exhausted smile on her face, the warm feeling of joyous tears on his cheeks, happiness like he had never known before.

AMORTENTIA : Amos smells a forest bonfire first, with fragrant herbs added to add a pleasant scent to the flames, followed by orange blossoms, and finally, freshly made pumpkin pastries.

REVERSE AMORTENTIA : When thinking of Amos, you'll first be hit with the scent of bergamot, followed by undertones of freshly mowed grass, baby powder, and a vague but sharp tang of antiseptic.

BOGGART : It's a kneeling figure that resembles Amos himself, kneeling on a freshly overturned grave, that has the name of his deceased wife, and in scratch marks underneath it, the name of Cedric has been added.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBACKGROUNDㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

[ trigger warnings for : pregnancy, murder, grief ]

Amos Diggory had always enjoyed a simple life. There was no great tragedy or betrayal haunting his family, his parents were happily married, their jobs kept the Diggory family in comfortable middle class life, they weren't known pureblood supremacists, nor were they blood traitors — no, everything about Amos' life was perfectly content, average almost, and he certainly enjoyed it that way.

The first perceived tragedy came to Amos when his twin sister was sorted into Gryffindor and he was sorted into Hufflepuff. It was made worse by the Sorting Hat's doubt — he almost made it into the house of lions with her, almost, but not quite. Hufflepuff suited Amos just fine, but being separated for the first time in his life certainly did not. With how many of their peers had more tragic upbringing, Amos' complaints were brushed off by both his housemates and the school staff, but to him? This mole hill was a mountain.

Forced to be on his own, away from family for the first time, Amos spent the first few weeks at Hogwarts with a grumpy frown on his face — though it didn't last long. He had always been naturally gregarious, a good time boy, easy-going and even easier to befriend, and if there was one thing Amos could not bear, it was loneliness. He thrived during his school years, there was sometimes a certain guilt at his lack of involvement in the horrible war consuming his peers, but Amos did not feel strongly enough to sign himself up for something so deadly.

After graduation, he was aimless — he'd hoped for a Quidditch scouting (despite subconsciously knowing he was not good enough to play professionally), but found himself with less prospects than he thought. He drifted through a series of jobs, bartending at his parents' inn, security guard at Gringotts, even spent a month or two in hitwizard training — until one day, a few years after graduation, he ran into his former Care of Magical Creatures professor. Surprisingly gifted at the subject and having spent many summers on his cousin's Erumpent range, he fell into an apprenticeship with a Magizoologist head first — though the pay was poor and the days long, he finally found something that truly brought him passion and excitement.

Travelling the world changed Amos somewhat, he came home more cultured, more experienced, more daring. No longer simple, but with a love for adventure — which was what first drew him to Florence. Bold and exciting, she loomed larger than life in the pub where they first met — her smile lighting up the room. Their romance started as a whirlwind, and by the time Amos realized how engrained she was with the Order of the Phoenix, he was already head over heels. As a muggleborn, Florence had strong opinions on pureblood supremacy and was never afraid to voice them. Amos felt lost in that world occasionally, increasingly worried for her safety.

Cedric was not planned, but he was news happily received. Amos would be a full-fledged Magizoologist soon enough, and Florence was a gifted Cursebreaker. They married in a small, private ceremony, not wanting to scare her Muggle family too much, and welcomed Cedric six months later. However, there was an increase in the recklessness that consumed Florence after their child was born. She wanted to make the world safe for him — but as a result, put herself into danger more often. There was a sense of dread haunting Amos, one that was unfortunately confirmed eight months ago, when Aurors knocked on his door with the news of his wife's murder at the hands of suspected Death Eaters.

Amos wanted to let his grief consume him. When his father had died of illness a few years ago, he had been sad, but it had been bearable — the death of Florence threatened to tear him apart. He could not let it happen, he was desperately willing for it not to happen. Cedric needed him. Cedric needed him. Barely a year old, and desperately missing his mama — Amos had something earth shattering happen to him, but he could not let it break him. Shoving down his heartwrenching grief, Amos pushed forward instead.

He left behind his passion for Magizoology for a better paying job at the Quidditch stadium, coaching the children's team. He moved back to his parental home, out of the small cottage filled with memories of Florence and their life together. He attended the trial for his wife's murderers with a stoic, still expression. There was so much emotion churning underneath the surface, and soon there was a fist shaped indent in the door to his bedroom. Anger took over grief, and Amos found himself following in Florence's footsteps, joining the Order — at least, that's what he tells himself. Nevermind that it is a good outlet for his anger too.

Eight months since her death, and Amos is holding himself together with duct tape and a prayer. He had just found his life, his future, everything he had ever dreamed off — and now his world had ended. His family worries that Amos is hurrying towards his own early grave, and knowing Cedric would be alone is the only thought that brings some caution to his deeds. But there is always a cliff, and Amos is eagerly dangling off the edge.

TLDR : Danai loves hurting characters. Amos was a middle class, easy-going young guy, never involved in the war or politics, enjoying his neutrality. He apprenticed as a Magizoologist for years, travelling the world and finding new adventures. He fell head over heels in love with a muggleborn Order member named Florence, and together they had a child, Cedric. Eight months ago, Florence was murdered by suspected Death Eaters, shattering his life. He is growing increasingly angry and reckless as a result, and is trying desperately to keep himself together for the sake of his son.

being in yr 20s is abt experiencing the worst thing you can imagine & then having to go to the grocery store

"Since you've decided on the curious choice of sitting at a bar with your eyes closed, you may not have noticed," Daphne started as she theatrically made herself comfortable on the bar stool, further proving her point. "There is no other place to sit, the place is packed." Daphne silently nursed her glass of firewhiskey, taking a small sip before putting it down again. She used the time to look at the woman next to her, noticing the splintered fingers wrapped around the glass, but not giving any indication or response in her body language. "If you want to sit somewhere by yourself, I'd suggest the floor — I'm pretty sure they cleaned it last year."

where: three broomsticks. who: open.

It wasn't often that Georgette left the confines of her beloved store, her home, where she felt most at ease but something compelled her. Her mind was foggy and she felt she needed some air and a brief change of scenery. While she didn't dare drink alcohol she did enjoy a good non-alcoholic butterbeer. Although there would be people drinking, she thought she could handle a single butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and then head back home. Just enough time to get in and get out. She didn't want to stray for long anyway.

She sat down at the bar and ordered her drink, making it very clear she wanted no alcohol in her drink. She would hex the wizard if he tried to pull a fast one on her. As he passed her the cold beverage, her forever splintered fingers wrapped around the glass. It was a good feeling. She closed her eyes and imagined she was by herself, but Georgette could not pretend for long as she felt someone beside her.

"You could go away right now and make this easier on both of us," she said before finally opening her eyes.

"I'm fine," There was a strong emphasis on the last word, Daphne didn't enjoy looking wounded — especially not over something as stupid as tripping. Her heel had broken, and the pavement around Knockturn, with all it's jagged edges, had hurt like a bitch. On top of that, her wand had rolled away into the darkness, so she couldn't even heal herself. "If you could shine a little Lumos though, it would be appreciated."

where: knockturn alley who: open

He'd always had mixed feelings when it came to the night shift, on one side he'd much rather be home in bed with his wife, but missions during late hours were always more interesting than those happening in daytime. Sent out to check on a business that was rumored to be selling illegal dark objects, Frank was just leaving the shop when he heard a loud and piercing scream. He turned quickly towards the source of the sound, trotting towards it. "Are you okay?" The Auror asked as he came upon a figure down the alley.

WHO : daphne avery & anyone. WHERE : the leaky cauldron, diagon alley. WHEN : around lunch time.

Daphne's internship was connected to the British envoy to the ICW, and since he was usually busy or out of the country, she ended up doing a significant amount of work — however, with no one to directly supervise her, there were very few rules and even less oversight. Though there were more malicious purposes for that, Daphne most often used it to work outside of the office — currently ending up at the Leaky Cauldron. Buried in the enormous pile of work, she didn't even notice the drops of blood until they landed on the part she was reading. Nosebleed. Hastily grabbing napkins, she furiously dabbed against it before it could ruin more of the documents, until she felt eyes on her back. Instantly, she swivelled around on her chair, a glare on her face. "Staring is considered rude, you know."

✧ a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort

— gillian flynn, sharp objects

Is that DAPHNE AVERY stepping out into Diagon Alley? Ministry records tell us that they were born on AUGUST 9TH and are a 24 year old, PUREBLOOD who works as a INTERN at the INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS. Some have said that they can be described as being TENACIOUS, POISED & ERUDITE, however, they also see themselves as being DISINGENUOUS, SELF-INDULGENT & DESENSITIZED. Apparently, SHE look(s) a lot like DAVIKA HOORNE, whoever that is, and if they had to pick a side in the war, they would choose to JOIN THE DEATH EATERS (PUBLICALLY NEUTRAL).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBASICSㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FULL NAME : Daphne Lucretia Thidarat Avery.

NICKNAMES : Daph.

AGE : Twenty-four.

BIRTHDAY : August 9th.

GENDER & PRONOUNS : Cis woman, she/her/hers.

SEXUALITY : Bisexual, biromantic.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Single.

AFFILIATION : The Death Eaters (publically presents as neutral).

FACECLAIM : Davika Hoorne.

OCCUPATION : Law student, socialite & intern at the International Confederation of Wizards ( United Kingdom envoy ).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤPERSONALITYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

POSITIVES : Tenacious, poised, erudite, charismatic, observant.

NEUTRALS : Analytical, ambitious, detail-oriented, resourceful, calculating.

NEGATIVES : Disingenuous, self-indulgent, desensitized, spoiled, paranoid.

MORAL ALIGNMENT : Lawful neutral.

WESTERN ZODIAC : Leo sun, Capricorn moon, Gemini rising.

HEAVENLY VIRTUE : Diligence.

DEADLY SIN : Pride.

TAROT CARD : The Chariot ( reversed ).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤFAMILYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FATHER : Horatius Avery ( Avery conglomerate head, political powerbroker ).

MOTHER : Pimchanok Avery ( deceased ).

SIBLINGS : Achilles Avery ( deceased ), Sybella Avery ( deceased ), Caius Avery ( disowned ).

CHILDREN : N/A.

PET(S) : A cat named Iago.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤMAGICAL PROFILEㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

HOGWARTS HOUSE : Slytherin.

ABILITIES : Skilled Occlumens.

WAND : Elm wood, veela hair core, 11", rigid.

PATRONUS : Occamy.

ASSOCIATED MEMORY : A distant memory of when Daphne was eight, on a setee in her chambers, with her mother gently brushing her hair while humming the childhood lullaby she sang for all the Avery children. The memories of scent of her perfume and pure and utter comfort of it never fail to make her smile

AMORTENTIA : Daphne smells the floral but earthy scent of walking through a lavender field most powerfully, with undertones of the dusty, parchment-like scent that comes from opening ancient tomes, and a light hint of methol.

REVERSE AMORTENTIA : When thinking of Daphne, burnt cherries is the most powerful scent that comes up first, but underneath lingers the scent of firewhiskey, freshly washed bedsheets, and a light hint of vanilla.

BOGGART : A wall of family portraits, all depicting gruesome mutilations or murder scenes, but still featuring the members of her family itself.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBACKGROUNDㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

[ trigger warnings for : violence, murder, child abuse ]

Daphne was the youngest of the Avery siblings — and has since realized that has been her saving grace. The Avery estate has it's own mausoleum, to preserve the family history, and in her twenty-four years, she has seen three of it's tombs filled with the bodies of her mother, brother, and sister. And while society grieved with the Avery family for the blood curse that had struck all three of them down, Daphne quietly withdrew into herself — she knew the only curse that had touched them had come from her fathers' wand.

There is a certain amount of delusion necessary to survive in the Avery family, as well as a healthy dose of paranoia. Disappointing Father enacted a heavy price toll — but Daphne was lucky enough to have seen the mistakes made by her siblings, first. Once she was old enough to be paid attention to, she had already taught herself the steps necessary in the dance that her family had painstakingly learned. She would be perfect — and Father would love her.

She was ten, the first time she felt the burn of a Crucio on her skin. She had lasted longer than most of her siblings, and perhaps in that, became too overconfident. When her mother passed away that year, the occurrences became more frequent. The shield was gone — and Horatius Avery had free reign to turn his children into the clever vipers he desired, by any means necessary. Sybella comforted her about mother's death one night, and it was the first time she learned that her siblings were in conspiracy — murmurs of "he did it" first reaching her ears. And just before she left for Hogwarts, Sybella joined her mother in the family tomb.

Daphne knew not to disappoint father, so she would excel in Slytherin, just like her siblings. With a sharp mind and withering glare already taught to her, she managed to climb into the role her father wanted for his children to fill — but cruelty did not come with ease, or enjoyment for that matter. However, the first skill Avery children learned was deception, and Daphne practiced it exceptionally well. A nonchalant, wealthy, spoiled brat — nothing mattered ( everything mattered ), always down for a good time ( debauchery numbed the fear ), and with a shallow demeanor ( faked so no one ever expected her to truly participate in the violence of her pureblood peers ).

It was in her fifth year, just before winter break, that Achilles died. When Daphne came home from school, she found Caius in a fit of rage — confessing everything to her. Achilles wanted to leave, filled with anger over the deaths of Sybella and their mother. When Father found out, his rage was earth-shattering. Achilles the heir, dead at twenty-six. Daphne turned even further into a shell of herself, animated and extravagant on the outside, but terrified on the inside. When Caius showed up in her room at night, saying he was leaving — that she could come with, she was paralyzed with only one thought: I don't want to die. Caius left, unable to get her to move. She doesn't know where he is, but father publically disowned him for marrying a Muggle — so she hoped that meant he was alive.

There was only one Avery left, and all her father's attention was on her. It seemed there was a realization in Horatius at that — he was getting older, and there was no guarantee that he would be around long enough for a new wife and child to be raised in his exacting demands. Daphne was the last option — and it meant that as long as she met his biggest demands, she would have more freedom than her siblings. After so many years, Daphne was already conditioned to please — but having that extra attention, the freedom, it was enough to twist into her mind. This was good — she did good, she proved herself worthy.

A brimming career in the International Confederation of Wizards, the only heir to the Avery legacy, a father that loved her ( again, delusion is necessary for Daphne to survive ), and an unmarked position in the Death Eaters — influencing international policy to their advantage. Daphne has created palaces in her mind, grand and imposing, where her ambition has succeeded and she has become everything she has ever wanted. The dark history and blood on the floors has been carefully hidden, and the graveyards no longer have their dirt disturbed — for now.

TLDR : The Avery family is a fucked up wealthy pureblood family. Daphne's father murdered her mother and two of her siblings after years of abuse because he demands unachievable perfection. Her second brother ran away and got disowned, making her the only Avery left — leading to her father having to learn to compromise to keep the one child he has left and not destroy the family legacy. Daphne has compartmentalized and lives in delusion, pretending everything is great and she is living the best possible life.

davika hoorne for elle 

otp meme ≡ [2/7] scenes

I think I was just born with something dark and ugly inside of me. Always waiting to be found out.

planetarium - adrienne rich/@twoheadedfawnn/ugly, bitter, and true - suzanne rivecca/a burning hill - mitski/a hora da estrela- clarice lispector/ @100493503004422/sharp objects - gillian flynn

LEIGHTON MURRAY in THE SEX LIVES OF COLLEGE GIRLS (2021-) CASSIE HOWARD in EUPHORIA (2019-)

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering’.

[text id: i am too little, and too much, and never enough.]

🌟

I don’t need to feel better. (requested by anonymous)

Do you ever just go wow I have a lot of repressed anger