the tribute that doesn’t disappear 🖤
there’s a version of the future i keep thinking about.
goddess is standing in front of a mirror months from now, turning just enough to catch the light on fresh ink.
maybe it’s delicate. maybe it’s dark. maybe it’s something strange and beautiful that looks like it was always supposed to be there.
and somewhere, staring at a photo of it, is a pet with a very specific secret.
you helped put that there.
not metaphorically.
not “your tribute bought goddess coffee once” or “maybe part of that send went toward something pretty.”
you know exactly where your money went.
into the appointment.
into the artist’s hands.
into the ink that sank beneath goddess’s skin and stayed there.
permanently.
that’s the part of the fantasy that keeps circling my brain.
most tributes have a little life cycle.
you send.
goddess smiles.
the money becomes dinner, a new outfit, nails, something unnecessary and pretty, whatever happened to catch my attention that day.
and eventually the thing is gone.
but this?
this would follow me.
you could disappear for six months and come back to find it still sitting exactly where you left it. you could be scrolling one evening and suddenly there it is in a photo.
that tattoo.
goddess’s tattoo.
except your stomach does that funny little drop because your brain immediately supplies the missing sentence:
i paid for some of that.
maybe you funded one tiny section.
maybe you covered the deposit.
maybe you decided being responsible for half of it sounded much more satisfying.
maybe one particularly devoted pet eventually decides they want the unbearable privilege of saying:
that one is mine.
not mine in the sense that you own anything.
don’t get carried away, pet.
goddess still belongs entirely to herself.
but mine in that delicious little private way where every time the tattoo appears, you know you left a fingerprint on the story behind it.
money changed hands.
the money became ink.
the ink became part of me.
and now there’s no refund button.
no undo.
no transaction disappearing down an activity feed until neither of us remembers what it was for.
you get to watch your tribute become permanent.
i think i’d enjoy making a ritual out of it, too.
showing you the design once it’s chosen.
letting you watch the fund creep closer to the goal.
maybe sending a little update when the appointment gets booked.
then the day comes.
goddess sits in the chair.
the stencil goes on.
the machine starts buzzing.
and somewhere in the back of my mind is the knowledge that a pet willingly handed over part of their fun money because they wanted to help put something beautiful on me forever.
that is an absurdly intimate form of spoiling when you really think about it.
then comes my favorite part.
the reveal.
healed enough to show off properly.
a photograph where the ink is finally part of the landscape of my body instead of an idea on somebody’s screen.
and underneath it, maybe just a simple little message:
look what you helped give goddess. 🌹
imagine what that does to you.
every future selfie where it peeks through.
every lingerie set that frames it differently.
every video where you catch sight of it for half a second.
every stranger complimenting it without knowing the story.
they just see a pretty tattoo.
you see the receipt.
😌
and maybe that becomes addictive in its own peculiar way.
not spending recklessly.
not handing over money that belongs somewhere important.
just looking at the amount you already decided was yours to play with and thinking:
what if i turned some of this into something goddess can never spend away?
coffee disappears.
flowers die.
clothes eventually get replaced.
but ink?
ink remembers.
so consider this me calling the fantasy into existence.
there are tattoos goddess wants.
there is skin waiting for them.
and somewhere out there is a pet who is going to experience the deeply unfair satisfaction of seeing one and realizing:
that little piece of goddess exists because i helped pay for it.
the fund is open.
let’s see who ends up becoming part of the story. 🖤🌹