Traditional style tattoo design showing a blue gem, a red bomb with a lit fuse and green leaves and vines, with banners reading Sirens who slay together and Stay together, shown on a navy phone case.

Sirens who slay together tattoo design on phone case

Traditional · Colour · Flash

A drawn tattoo style design with a pale blue faceted gem above a red bomb with a black diamond marking and a lit fuse. Green leaves and vines fill the background, and two cream banners with black lettering read Sirens who slay together and Stay together. Bold dark outlines and flat fills sit on a dark navy background, which is the surface of a phone case in this product photo.

Traditional Banner Gem Leaves Vine Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are the one who counts the caravans at dawn, because Mags always miscounts and Dee never counts at all. The fair is leaving Hartlepool with its lights off and the generator coughing, and the wind off the sea is already finding the gaps in your coat. On the side of the sweet-stall van someone has painted the old motto in curling cream letters, and you still think it is a daft thing to paint on a van nobody owns.

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Dee sits on the step of the dodgems with a blue glass gem the size of a plum in her lap, the one she uses for the Madame Ruby act. She turns it over to catch the last streetlamp and says it came out of a pub fruit machine in 1987 and has been paying out ever since. You tell her it's cracked. She says so is everybody in this town, which is why they came.

Trouble turns up at the gate in the shape of a man from the council with a clipboard and a grudge about the firework licence. Dee hands him a cup of tea and a leaflet about the lost property office. You go round the back to the firework van, where Teddy left a cheap banger fizzing last August and you have never let him forget it. When you come back, the man is already walking briskly towards the car park, clutching his tea, and the sky above the big top has gone a soft orange from a rocket nobody meant to fire.

Later, when the rides are chained and the gulls have taken over the chip papers, Dee presses the gem into your palm. It is warm from her pocket. "Ours now," she says, and you close your fingers round it, the way you did when you were both nine and swore on a jam jar of pennies that neither of you would ever leave the other one standing at a fairground gate.