FLOWER BOY

philippa grabbed  his  hand,  accepting  his  help  &  stood  up.  she  was  a  tad  down,  but  she  was  understand  his  side.  all  this  fancy  parties  is  beautiful  & all,  but,  the  oufits  & the  masks  can  be  quite  umcomfortable.   ❛ I  understand,  there  is  nothing  to  worry.  I  hate  being  blind  without  my  glasses,  I  should  be  the  one  to  paying  attention. ❜   she  removed  her  mask,  throwing  it  away.   ❛ I’m  done  with  the  party  today.  &  good  luck… ❜  she  pointed  to  the  party,  before  walk  away.  

Hesitating over his next decision, Dom finally cleared his throat to speak. “Actually, before you leave—would you like to go somewhere else and possibly get a drink? I’m not really feeling the whole masquerade theme but I could sure use some booze.” He removed his mask, stuffing it into his back pocket as he flashed her a warm smile.

As she slid her finger across the screen to answer her mothers call, her smile turned into a pensive frown. It only took three seconds of conversation with her mother to ruin her day. Ophelia stood with her back straightened and chills on her skin as her mother told her, “Lia, don’t taint your body like this.”  Growing up, her parents spoke maliciously about those with tattoos and spoke about their temples being ruined. How can a temple be ruined by self expressive decoration?, she thought to herself, silent on the phone. “I gotta go mom, I’ll ca— , can you hold on please?“ she said, as she tilted her head to hold onto the phone so she could rummage through her purse for her debit card. Grabbing her card, straightening back up, she looked up to see she was next and realize her mom had hung up on her. Sliding her phone into her purses side pocket with a sigh of relief, she walked over to the artist and nodded along to his introduction. “Hey, I’m actually here for a dove behind my ear. I was just hoping for a minimalist tattoo since it’s my first one…” As she shrugged and sat on the chair, she glanced up at the various designs on the wall. “It’s addicting, isn’t it?”

“Addicting is one way to describe it, that’s for sure,” he laughed, gesturing at his tattooed arms. He had gotten his first tattoo at age eighteen but had collected many pieces on his body over the years. Yet he wasn’t even close to being finished. “A dove behind your ear...how big are you wanting it?” He asked, pulling out cleaner to sanitize his station. “And are you wanting color?” Dominik continued his routine, pulling out a fresh needle for each client and squirting out the colored ink of his choice.

Zoe had decided to do something out of character for her to start off the new year. What was it? A tattoo. She had been waiting for a little bit before she heard a voice approach her. “Oh, yes. I’d love to get a tattoo on my forearm.”

“Tattoo on the forearm—good choice. Any idea on what you want?” Dominik asked as he waved her over to his station which was separated from the others.  He patted the back of the chair, flashing her a friendly grin. “Take a seat for me, if you don’t mind.”

This is yet another reckless, impulsive, typical Mara decision like cutting her own hair or signing up a random BDSM web site while she’s drunk. Without thinking too much, she found herself in the nearest tattoo shop. She didn’t even know if she wanted to have a tattoo or not. “Hello.” She said as looking around. “Truth be told, I have no clue what I want.”

Dominik chuckled at her comment. It was one that he heard frequently, unsure of how people find themselves in this kind of situation. “Well I can’t tell you what to get, but I will say it should be something you don’t mind having on your skin forever.” He said with a smirk, pulling a couple of line books from a shelf in his station. Handing them to the blonde, he pointed towards the empty seat. “Feel free to look through those. They’re just some random sketches I’ve done before in the past.”

He couldn’t believe that his friend wanted a tattoo-Just for the hell of it, he said. So when they finally came to the tattoo parlor, Tristan’s friend instantly knew what he wanted-a nice skull tattoo-and instantly rolled his sleeve to his bicep. “Dude,” Tristan said with a laugh and shake of his head. “Seriously, there?” his friend nodded and waited patiently to get his tattoo on his skin. “It’s just for him, not me, I’m good.”

Dominik spoke with the male’s friend, discussing the exact details of how he wanted the skull to look. Having the right idea, he asked him to take a seat while he started the routine of sketching, sanitizing, etc. “So no tattoo for you, huh, mate?” He asked Tristan, glancing up at him while setting up his tattoo gun.

“Actually, believe it or not, I’m not here for me.” It was a bold claim, given that he was standing on his own near the front counter of the tattoo parlor, having been flipping through one of their example books to pass the time. Isaac stuck with it, glancing around the busy shop before he gestured towards the front door. “I’m with a friend who wanted to get something done, but he had to step out to take a call… There isn’t any chance that I can hold his spot even now that you’re ready, huh?” He asked, glancing back to the other with a hopeful lift of his brows.

Looking past the male at the entrance, Dominik pondered over his question for a long moment before answering. “I’ll let you keep his spot for a short bit but I can’t wait forever, mate. It's a full house right now and everyone else will want to wait too. Any way you could grab ‘im for me here soon?”

“Finally,” Blythe breathed in a sigh of relief, a little irritated she had to wait this long. It had been a spur of the moment decision though, so she figured waiting came with the territory. “You guys do piercings here, right?”

Dominik chuckled, acknowledging the girl’s reaction to being next in line. “Yes, we do.” Nodding his head, he waved the female over to several glass cases, each filled with different kinds of jewels and piercings. “What kind of piercing are you thinking about?”

° ☽ —     kosh hadn’t been on line for that long. she was originally there to visit a friend of hers, but decided since she had already been there she might as well get another tattoo. she had four at the moment and this would be her fifth one. she had one running down the back of her right leg, a small paragraph on the left side of the back of her rib cage, a tiger on the back side of her right hand, and the date of her brother’s death ( in roman numerals ) right above her right collar bone. “hey,” she greeted with a friendly smile. “i’m fine– so i was wondering if you could do the phrase an ounce of blood is worth more than a pound of friendship written down my spine in arabic. i have it translated already… .”

Using his hand to wave the female over, he leaned down and grabbed a blank sheet of paper from one of the shelves. He began writing, speaking aloud as he wrote with the pencil. “An ounce of blood is... worth more than a pound of friendship... Is that right? Any sort of preference on the lettering?”

“Hey,” Emily replied, mirroring his smile. “I’ve been waiting in line for a while, but I’m not actually sure what I want,” she explained, her smile turning more sheepish. “You do piercings too, right? Because I’m not so sure I could handle a tattoo,” she chuckled. “I was just thinking of getting a few new ear piercings is all. What do you think?”

“If you’re not quite feeling a tattoo today, what about we get you those new piercings and maybe we can schedule a date for a tattoo later?” Dom asked, shrugging his shoulders. Realizing how he worded his phrasing, he shook his head in embarrassment. “I meant appointment, sorry. What kind of ear piercings were you thinking?" ”

Anton looked up. He was, in truth, already just a bit anxious being in the building, and now, being approached, he found himself overcome by visions of someone trying to strap him down and come after him with one of those guns. Flashing a smile, though, he kept his dramatic monologue internal, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Oh, uh, hey, man. I just promised I’d come give moral support today. I don’t really think I’m the tattoo type myself,” he replied, pursing his lips.

“No worries, mate. Tattoos aren’t for everyone.” Dom replied, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “I guess I won’t hold it against you or anything,” he joked, shooting the other male a look. “Do you not have a single one?”

Alba had been walking down the street, it was all peaceful until someone started calling out to her. She looked back to see a male from the modelling office, it took little to no time for Abby to move faster then her body had energy for. I am not dealing with them making me feel like shit today. Taking a sharp turn around a corner and quickly into the nearest store. Jumping at the voice slightly, “oh sorry…” Her heavy breathing slowing now her chase had stopped. “I was avoiding someone, and here I am…”

“It’s a shame you’re avoiding someone. However, if they end up coming in, I’ll help hide you somewhere safe. Or I’ll just kick their ass myself.” Dominik replied in a playful tone. He looked past her at the entrance, making sure no one was following behind her. “So now that you’re here—would you like a tattoo? Or are you just wanting to just take cover here?”

New Year, new goals, right? Nova had always wanted to get some sort of ink, something small and cute. She’d finally made a decision a couple of months ago and booked in at a tattoo shop she’d been recommended… but now, she was kind of regretting it. As she sat waiting, watching and listening to the sound of the tattoo gun buzz, it was really off putting; though before she could think of leaving, someone approached. “Oh. Hi..” She forced a nervous smile, rubbing her arm. “I got booked in here a while ago and uh.. with someone called Dom? It’s only a small.. tattoo. Sorry, I’m really nervous..”

“No need to be sorry, really.” Dominik reassured the woman, his tone of sincerity. “Do you know what exactly you’re wanting to get and where?” He could tell she was nervous. Both the expression on her face and the sound of her voice gave that away seconds into the exchange.

“Oh wow, you are already turning into an old man! Do you need me to get you a walker sometime?” she asked with a laugh. “Champagne. Sure, I would love a drink. I need to take it easy though. That drink hits me quick.”

“Take it easy, my ass.” He responded, a wide smirk on his face. He quickly left for the bar to retrieve several glasses, two of champagne and two of scotch. “Here’s to becoming an old man.”