If Your Scene Feels Lifeless, Someone Is Being Too Polite
Stories stall when everyone behaves. Real tension appears when someone:
• asks the wrong question
• says something they shouldn’t
• notices something uncomfortable
• refuses to drop the topic
• misunderstands something important
• interrupts at the worst moment
The shop was dead. The only person in sight, was lying on one of the padded tables, phone in hand. ”Oh, shit. Hey.” The guy got off the table. ”Wasn't expecting anyone today. What can I do for you?”
Buck looked to the front of the shop. At the sign that said we're open! and the letters on the window saying walk-ins welcome!
”Bodymod convention. Half my staff is there.”
”Oh.”
”So. Looking for a new tattoo?” the guy asked, eyes roving over every piece of exposed skin on Buck's body.
”Do you sell bioflex?”
He paused for a fraction of a second, eyes settling on Buck's face; quick glance at his ears, then back. ”We do. My piercer is out, but I think I can manage,” he smirked. He had two sets of dimples. One pair was natural, the second due to cheek piercings. ”What are you looking for?”
The jewellery display was massive. ”I got injured a couple of weeks ago. They said I could keep mine in for the imaging, but I got to thinking, it'll probably happen again and I don't have any retainers.”
The guy frowned. ”What do you do, since you expect injuries?”
”Oh, I'm a firefighter.”
The guy looked him up and down. Again. ”Well.” He looked over the display. ”Glass retainers are best, but not always possible. But if imaging is your concern, you can just switch to titanium. Unless you're being ripped off, titanium is implant grade. It's on the expensive side, but safety wise, it's worth it.”
Buck took in the visible piercings on the guy's face. ”Are yours titanium?”
”Mine are steel. I prefer the weight. Titanium is a different experience. Light weight. Some people like that.”
Buck moved his tongue stud around. He couldn't imagine it weighing less than it did now. ”Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe it won't be an issue.” He sighed. ”I am accident prone, though.”
”What're you working with? Got a hardware store under there?” He nodded at Buck's clothes.
Buck laughed. ”Nah, nothing like that. I took most of them out. I've got tongue, nipples, stomach and dick.”
”Nice.” He said it so deadpan, Buck snorted.
”I might need to think about this,” Buck said.
”That's cool. I don't think we're planning on moving anytime soon.”
Buck looked wistfully at the wall of jewellery. ”I didn't used to be able to enter a place like this and not get something.”
”I've got time, if you want it.”
Buck looked at him for a beat. ”Are you enabling me?”
”I'm running a business.”
”Do you have flash?”
The flash was gorgeous. Better than anything Buck currently had on his body. All the flash sheets were signed, with a loopy Tommy in the corner.
Buck picked a flower. There was a wide variety of motifs, but the flowers called to him. California poppy Tommy explained. The state flower. Buck wasn't sure he was staying for good, but he'd had a good time so far. It was fitting to have something to remember it by.
”Alright, Evan, take your pants off.” Buck didn't introduce himself. He'd handed over his ID and Tommy called him what was printed on it. It was novel. He didn't know anyone who called him by his first name anymore. He hadn't heard from his sister in years.
Together they found a suitable gap on Buck's thigh. The stencil was small. Tommy had probably drawn it with a woman in mind. It was the kind of size that would fit perfectly on a dainty wrist or maybe a hip. Tommy's linework was bold, but he still managed to make the petals look dainty.
”How's that?”
Buck looked in the mirror. Usually, he let the artist (or person (it was usually just a person who happened to own a machine)) do what they wanted. Buck wasn't an artist; he didn't have the eye for it.
”Looks good.”
”Now's your chance to move it or change your mind,” Tommy said.
”No, no, this is good. I like it.”
Buck spent the next hour and a half being groped by Tommy's gloves. They kept a conversation going, but Buck was somewhere up in the ether. He hadn't eaten recently and he also hadn't been tattooed in over a year. His brain felt like soup. Good soup, but soup. Most of his concentration was focused on not getting hard. All that buzzing and groping so close to his dick was working for him.
”That doesn't look too happy,” Tommy commented, water bottle halfway to his mouth.
Buck glanced at his stomach, where he'd hiked up his shirt in an attempt to cool down. He poked the barbell in his bellybutton. ”Was hoping I could keep it, but my uniform is fucking with it. My belt sits right on top of it.”
”That sucks,” Tommy said, and snapped on a new pair of gloves.
”Just as well,” Buck sighed. ”With my luck, I'd rip it out on a call. Maybe it's for the best.” Some days it felt like the job was slowly chiselling away who he was. He'd fought tooth and nail to figure out who he was. As much as he liked the job, it didn't always feel like there was room for him.
But he didn't lament about that to Tommy.
.
Buck spent the healing period petting the hairless spot on his thigh, that didn't stay hairless for long. The tattoo healed like a dream, and Bobby was none the wiser.
It wasn't an actual concern. Buck didn't know if Bobby had an opinion on what he did with his body, outside of looking presentable at work. Still, it felt like the smart thing to do.
Once it stopped smarting, Buck kind of forgot about it. About the tattoo and the piercing jewellery. He'd found Tommy on Instagram, but it was a business account. All the fresh tattoos on the grid, the flash offered in his stories and the announcements for open bookings bled into all the other tattoo accounts Buck followed.
Being a firefighter was more time-consuming than he thought it would be. The twenty-four hour shifts wrecked havoc on his routine, and on his body. He had to retire the bellybutton piercing.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
This is so cool. It's like sitting in a jam session with these guys but they're really in an embassy playing their song about their country and culture. With a picture of Chinggis Khan on the wall, because of course
[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'JK Rowling posted upskirt photos of a woman on Twitter' to Cas 'I love you'. /End ID]
No one doing this should be allowed to call themselves a feminist.
The wealthy author escalated a social media spat that resulted in posting a photo from a 2023 event at the Institute of Economic Affairs in
Let's not beat around the bush: Children's author JK Rowling sexually harassed someone. In some jurisdictions, this would count as sexual abuse. JK Rowling has committed a sex crime against a woman and fell back on the old rape apologist standby of "she was asking for it".
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
