Tribulation //RED QUEEN FANFICTION

1: Ink

"Diana," Shade says, gripping her hand in good-natured mock. "If something goes wrong, you should know-"

"Dude, get down and shut up. Seriously. I haven't even started." Thomas sits on his prepared chair, checking everything for the millionth time. When he's satisfied he shifts his weight and waits. With all the plastic foil and the paper towels, the couch looks like he's preparing a murder. But the first thing he's learned is that it's better to be safe than to be sorry. You got to have a clean work environment. "Not like I kill you."

Farley looks back at Shade in her usual mixture. Like he's something very special and weird at the very same time, but she's used to it by now. In a good way. Like Thomas watches corgi puppy videos. They are so freaking chill together, it's like they are married for fifty years. It's a little unnerving for him. He loves them but sometimes seeing people happy is hurting him. But it's his own fault. Not like he didn't know what would happen if he went away.

There's a bright ray of sunshine falling through the closed blinds. At least inside the apartment, it's not so hot. Fan's working high to keep it cool and low.

He glances over to Farley one last time, but she's just watching. Slipping on the gloves and cleaning everything up he gets to work.

The needle springs alive with a buzzing sound, awakened by the pedal Thomas rests his foot on.

Working on the skin is different than paper for many reasons. First of all, there's the feeling, the way he needs to work with a pencil has nothing in common with the way he works with the needle. A pencil is all messy raw force. A needle is graceful precision.

He can't afford to lose concentration. Every line needs his attention. He appreciates that. With the needle marking skin, there's no second chance.

By now Thomas has worked on several other people and knows how it's done. None of them was, of course, as young and pissy as Cameron, who discovered the stuff and sketches and wouldn't leave it alone. The beginning wasn't so perfect. There's a wonky bat-symbol on his lower leg proving it. He keeps it for shit and giggles, not trying to improve it.

He's started testing on himself, and it gradually became better. His arm is his best work on himself yet, bionic patterns and lines, half senseless like the lines of a sharpie, half machine part. They hug the inner side of his arm, whirl around his wrist and last up to his elbow. Metal under the skin, the image says, strength under weakness. Only took him several days alone all with himself and a need to stop thinking.

He had it covered and protected the last weeks, now it's almost healed. He wonders, for a second, what Maven thinks. He doesn't flash the tattoos around. People would need to see A LOT of him to see most of them. But that kind of people doesn't exist. And if they do, they leave after a day.

So if Thomas isn't showing him, he won't ever see them. And since they don't even text anymore, there is no use in asking anyway.

The needle now grazes Shades skin and after a strained second, he relaxes. "That's not too bad."

"Thanks." Thomas gloved hand grips the machine when he snorts. "But wait until we're going through color. You want a lotta red."

He's not so eager for that. Colour is new. He's not as practiced in it. Still, he doesn't refuse and he watched tons of stuff to make it right.

The equipment ate a lot of money and it isn't even flashy. But it's worth it. It's almost like he's made it, is worth something, of people, trust him enough to lie still and in pain until there's ink forming images on their skin.