exceptional tattoos

cityofaangels  asked:

I'm a sucker for tattoo shop AUs (Deep in the Heart of Me is my favorite fic EVER), and I can imagine Tony being the manager of a famous shop, and accepting stray artists that want to find a job and are poor/homeless/lost (among which Bucky, Clint and Nat), and just giving them a goal, a home and a future and ARG

Thank you for reminding me of the beauty that is tattoo AUs!!!! I can’t believe I forgot about this to be honest, I used to adore them in almost every fandom, but I haven’t thought of them in ages until I got your ask! I’m unfamiliar with the fic you’ve mentioned–I don’t read a lot of Stony–but I think I’ll give it a try! But for now, let’s get back to this AU.

I really like the idea of Tony being this crazy, loveable owner of a tattoo shop who hires very questionable people under ridiculous circumstances because he’s insane like that. I also headcanon that said questionable people are very protective of their smol boss because of it.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” the stranger snarls disturbingly animalistic.

“Uhm.” Tony stares at the knife—a real knife and definitely not one for the kitchen—and scruffles a tiny step backwards. Backs against a wall before he has the chance to bring a little more distance between himself and Stranger With Knife.

Damn those walls and the stupid people that build them.

He’s going to die here, alone, in an abandoned backstreet. Where nobody will find his body until they’ll have to hold the funeral with a closed coffin. If they’ll ever find his body.

There’s probably a life lesson in here, about how you’re not supposed to follow unknown men a head taller than you and double your weight in muscles into an abandoned backstreet for one. But Tony’s attention is too fixated on the knife to care much about unimportant details like that.

For once, he hysterically thinks, Rhodey won’t be able to scold me for my messed up priorities.

“I won’t ask again!” the man hisses dangerously. He’s got shaggy hair that could do with a cut and a wash, and his eyes flicker with the same restlessness that drew Tony to him initially.

And fine, he probably shouldn’t have followed the guy. He can see how this could be considered “creepy” by people less fluent in Tony-speak than Pepper or Rhodey. Natasha will undoubtedly slap him—gently, because she’s secretly a poisonous snake who’s adopted Tony as this weird, bumbling kitten that will not get killed by anyone but her—for this later. You know, if there is a later.

“I was wondering if you want to work for me,” Tony blurts out because he can’t think of anything else to say. Also because it’s true.

“I’m not fuckin’ work for hire!” the man growls. “I don’t do that shit anymore, so either back the fuck off or I’ll make sure you won’t need anything anymore!”

Alright. Tony decidedly isn’t going to ask what the guy’s going on about. Nope. Absolutely not. That would just be too stupid, even for him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks and promptly wants to knock himself out. At least that might improve his chances to not talk himself into an early death. Clint will not be impressed if he misses is 8 o’clock appointment tomorrow and he has to cover for Tony—neither will the customer. Clint isn’t useful for anything before eleven in the morning.

The man’s eyes—they’re a cold blue that would look a lot prettier if they weren’t levelling a glacial glare at Tony right now—narrow even further, the knife itching ever so slightly closer towards Tony, and nope, not a fan of that development at all.

“Look,” Tony decides to try and deescalate the situation, “You don’t have to answer that. Actually, please don’t answer that, because this sounds too much like one of those I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you thingies and Natty would not be pleased if you did. You know, kill me. Unless you tell her I called her Natty again. For some reason she really doesn’t like that? But what do I know, women are weird,” he muses with a shrug.

“Right, I was trying to make a point. See, you could just wave your knife around and possibly- probably kill me, which would really suck. Cause I’m not a big fan of being dead before my liver gives out on me and you don’t look like you’ve got another jacket, and blood is a bitch to get out.” Not that it would be much of a loss, with the oversized, worn down thing the man’s wearing. It looks like it’s being held together by stubbornness and nothing else.

He might have said that last part out loud as well, if the guy’s twitch is anything to go by. Tony can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.

“Or,” he hastily continues, “you could listen to my gracious proposal, accept it with genuine appreciation and enthusiasm and in two years we’ll both laugh about this moment.” He finishes with a bright smile and a happy clap. Screw Natasha and Pepper, he can be reasonable and mature. He’s not the one waving a butcher knife around after all.

Said knife is slowly lowered by the stranger who tilts his head to one side in a show curiosity. He seems—amused, almost. Or maybe that’s Tony’s screwed perception of reality talking. Clint’s mentioned he has a problem at one point, something about seeing a ravaging monster and cooing over it and wanting to pet it. Which is nonsense, Tony doesn’t want to pet anything. Except maybe the guy’s hair, once it’s been properly cleaned. And that’s not his fault, it looks like it could be fluffy.

“I’m listening,” he drawls, almost like he’s humouring Tony. The joke’s on him though, because Tony is used to being humoured.

“Do you know Stark Tower? What a stupid question, of course you do, but just in case you don’t, it’s the best tattoo studio in the entire country, trust me on that, and it happens to also belong to me. You’d look great with a couple of tattoos by the way, really help round off that assassin-gone-rough vibe you’ve got there, and I’d totally do them for free or maybe not free. Pepper says I’m not supposed to give people things all the time, but you wouldn’t tell on me, right?”

“Anyways, I saw this,” Tony lifts the crumbled paper he’s rescued from the garbage at the café he’s first noticed Mr Tall, Dark and Knifey—and hadn’t that led to a fun conversation with the waitress—and waves it around as if to stress his point, “and you’ve got some real talent with the abstract design there, because this is amazing and I’d want it as a tattoo, wich says something, my taste is fantastic. Also I’m missing a designer because that asshole Wade keeps running off to do one thing or another and I’m not allowed to hire Peter until he’s legal.”

The guy stares at him in bemusement while Tony tries to catch his breath. Admittedly not an uncommon reaction.

“You’re offering me a job?” he asks after a moment in disbelief—and damn, this guy is catching on to Tony-speak real quick, he’s the right choice all right.

“Yup,” Tony nods. He’s thought he’s been fairly obvious.

“You’ve been following me for two subway stations, three bus stops and a couple of dozen street corners to offer me a job because you saw something I’d scribbled down at a café,” the man repeats incredulous.

Tony shrugs. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. Clint says I come on too strong usually.”

“And you thought stalking me would make me feel more at ease?”

“Well, no.” Tony frowns. “Maybe? I wasn’t—but doesn’t prolonged exposure get you used to someone?”

“Prolonged- never mind,” the guy shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”

A pause, then, “I don’t need a job.”

Tony scoffs. “Have you looked at yourself lately?” he asks, mulls over his words for a moment when the man tenses. “Alright, that might have come across as offensive but seriously. I don’t care if you need a job or not, it’s yours if you want it. Just show up sometime next week and tell Natty I hired you and if Clint is there please throw your knife at him, he’s an ass and screams like a banshee.” Tony searches his pockets for a moment before he finds one of his, admittedly worse for wear, business cards and offers it to Mr Death By Blade.

“You’re crazy,” the man states again, but he takes the card.

“Get used to it,” Tony smiles is sunniest smile because take that Clint, he can hire new staff without getting anyone killed.


“Have you ever even held a tattoo gun in your life? It’s not a real gun, for fuck’s sake! Tony!” Clint is heard screaming in exasperation through the studio a couple of days later. “What the fuck where you thinking when you hired Bucky?!”

Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully drawing the worlds’ prettiest butterfly onto a young woman’s shoulder when he yells back, “Who the hell is Bucky?!”


[Bonus: “You’re taking all this surprisingly well,” Bucky comments at one point.

Clint shrugs. Takes a look at one of the designs over the newbie’s shoulder.

“Tony’s as fucked in the head as they come, but he’s a freaking genius at finding the best. If he’s hired you than that’s what you are. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

A moment of thoughtful silence follows, before.

“In three weeks, I’m gonna tell you how he hired Tasha.”

“Why in three weeks?”

“Studio rule. If you’ve made it three weeks without killing anyone, you’re part of the team.”

“Inside the studio or in general?”

“…you’re gonna fit right in.”]

I think I’m having way too much fun with this…

If Horimiya ends without them explaining why/how Miyamura-kun got them tattoos and piercings i’m going to be so mad, like they just never addressed his tattoos and piercings after like ch 20?? Ive been curious about them since the SECOND CHAPTER!! 

UPDATE: Ok i just re-read and they explain the piercings in chapter 10!! Except the tattoos, still very curious. 

Did i miss it or something bc i read like all the chapters and not once have they went into full detail about Miyamura’s past. 

Also, it was recently announced that NeNeNe, who is written by the same author, is turning into a full series! They originally planned to keep it at 3 chapters but they announced recently that it’s going to start getting new chapters around the end of February. 

anonymous asked:

How would you feel about someone getting a bright sessions tattoo?? Like the logo or the phrase "I need you to keep me green" or anything from the show really ???? Would you be comfortable with that???

Oh boy, what a question! I am very much of the mind that people’s bodies are their own and no one has any business telling them what to do with it. So if you’re a sober adult, you tattoo whatever you want on your body. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. 

On a broader, philosophical level, the thought of someone getting words that I wrote permanently put on their body is incredibly weird and surreal and also super flattering? If anyone does get a TBS tattoo, pls send pics because I literally cannot even conceptualize how I would react to that. Like: really? A thing from my brain???? On your body???? Forever???? Wild. 

Soulmate AU where soulmates have matching tattoos and when you meet your soultmate you can form a special emotional/telepathic bond with them. But you can choose whether or not to accept the bond. If you accept the bond, the tattoo gets darker and darker until it turns black (or silver or sparkly or something) and you form the special bond. But if you reject your soulmate (because you don’t like them or w/e) the tattoo starts to fade away until it completely disappears. The other person’s tattoo will also get lighter or darker at the same time.

Imagine the possibilities:

  • Person A meets Person B and takes an immediate dislike to them. When they get home they notice their soulmark is noticeably paler and they think… oh NO.
  • Person A falls first and desperately tries to get Person B to accept the bond by wooing them and doing nice things for them.
  • Person A rejects the bond on principle before they even meet their soulmate, and Person B is left wondering why their soulmark is so pale.
  • Person A and Person B know they’re soulmates but they both mutually hate each other, except the tattoo keeps getting darker who is doing this it’s not me I swear I hate you I don’t know why this is getting darker DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU BECAUSE I DON’T.
Starstruck || M

►Character: Vixx’s Leo || You

►Summary: Working at a secluded, confidential, military base,Of course, you would see different weird things,But you didn’t expect to see a hot alien,Demanding for you to follow him back home.

►Genre: Smut; Alien!au

►Word Count: 7 434

► Here is the long awaited alien!vixx for Leo. For new readers, I used his stage name to suit the storyline. Also read the other member version too if you’re intrested. 

► Btw, if you guys have any suggestion on how what kind of plot you want to see for other member, feel free to drop it in my inbox. I have some ideas but I’m not sure about it though lol.

You watched. Stared. Or glared. Through the thick layers of glasses, you watched him. A tall, built figure was strapped on a chair, different wires attached to his body, connected to different monitors around you. His torso was flawless. On his temple there’s a black pattern, decorating them. Hidden from your vision, you knew that there’s the same pattern that ran down his spine. You catch a glimpse of them when the assistants strap him on that chair, stripping off his top to stick the wires on his chest. You were glad that his eyes were closed. But he wouldn’t see you even if they were open since you’re in the observation room protected by thick layers of one-way glass. The man you were glaring holes into, who called himself as Leo, is an alien. The reason you were glaring at him is because he had attempted to kidnap you earlier. You didn’t know how he managed to get in your lab. The first second you heard the blaring siren rang through the base, lights went out leaving you in the soft hue of the emergency lights and the next thing that you know he was standing in front of you, dressed in a black bodysuit and soft blue light glowing from his body. 

Keep reading

I don’t know why, but I kept thinking about Harry’s first tattoo this morning.

It happens a few years out of Hogwarts, after Auror training when Harry has enough experience to lead some missions or go onto the field on his own without an older supervisor.

He, Ron, Hermione, and a smattering of others from their lines of work gather every other Friday at their favorite bar tucked into the edge of Diagon Alley. It’s how they unwind after a long week at work, catch up when life becomes too hectic to know what everyone’s up to. And it’s not too popular which allows them to relax without worrying about press or excited citizens. 

It’s late, and mostly everyone has decided to head home, but Harry is just tipsy enough that he knows he may get sick after floo-ing home and he can’t concentrate enough for what’s required to apparate. So he exits the bar and wanders down the darkened streets of Diagon Alley to clear his head, thankful that everyone is too wrapped up in their own business to care that Harry Potter is in their vicinity. A few people gasp, nod, and wave at him, which he tries to minimize and keep moving.

He stumbles upon the tattoo shop by accident, ducking into the nearest door when he hears a sharp “Oh! Wait! Is that–?” from behind. 

The shop is empty save for a light coming from a back room, and Harry considers leaving again before whoever works here comes out to see him in their shop, but then movement against the wall catches his eye and he’s mesmerized into stillness. The walls are covered with prints, various small designs and occasionally larger pieces scattered all over in a similar aesthetic common in muggle tattoo shops, except these tattoos move. They twirl and interact like the paintings in Hogwarts, though they’re silent while doing so. He sees tiny broomsticks zooming across the walls, butterflies, birds, owls, and even dementors flying alongside them. There are hearts that actually beat, flames that flicker, typewriter text that repeatedly appears and disappears. There’s a whole section of ladies who giggle together, waving and winking when they notice him noticing them. One of the mermaids whispers to her friend and Harry finds himself blushing at artwork, wondering if they can actually gossip in whatever plane of existence these things exist in.

“Sorry mate, we’re closed,” a gruff voice announces behind him and it takes all of Harry’s training to prevent him from flinching or looking like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. The man from the back is dressed very casually for Diagon Alley, in a sweater with rolled up sleeves and dark jeans. Before Harry can even register his face, however, his eyes zero in on the moving images on his forearms. He’s not close enough to see details, but he thinks he catches sight of a rose blooming and wilting in a continuous loop. An actual moving tattoo.

“You hear me?” the man asks again, his tone making it clear that Harry isn’t welcome at this time. 

“S-sorry,” Harry stutters, still feeling the after affects the drinks. His brain feels slow and clumsy, like he can’t keep up with this new process of information.

He knows he’s recognized as soon as the man’s eyes flicker to the scar on his forehead. Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to care all that much about who he is. “Boy savior or not, we’re closed. I know I didn’t lock up yet but we aren’t open until 11 tomorrow. If you want a tat I suggest you come back then.” There’s a pregnant pause and the man’s eyes seem to see through him. “When you’re sober.”

“I wasn’t looking to get a tattoo,” Harry tries to explain.

“Then you’re really in the wrong place.” He gestures to the door and Harry turns to leave, not wanting to get on this guy’s wrong side or continue invading a closed shop. 

Right as he’s about to open the door, a flash of gold jerks away from the handle and Harry’s eyes (tipsy or not) are fixed on the familiar movement. He follows the shiny blur as it streaks across the walls, avoiding all of the other designs with ease before settling in the back corner, nearly disappearing within a pot of gold at the bottom of a rainbow. A snitch. He hasn’t played quidditch in so long…

“If you change your mind you can come back tomorrow, kid. Closed means no more customers.” Harry considers making a comment about not being a kid anymore but decides against it, leaving the shop and walking out onto the thankfully empty street.

Harry returns to the bar and uses their floo to make it back home. He thankfully doesn’t throw up but he lays awake in bed that night thinking about that tattoo shop, imagining all the different pieces of art people could have moving on their bodies.

He can’t stop thinking about the shop. It’s been a month and he’s still thinking about it. His brain has started to imagine different moving pieces on his own body and he spends a much longer time shirtless in front of the mirror considering what it might look like. He asks around, and not many people seem to have these sorts of tattoos. “I’ve heard about it,” Auror Johnson tells him, “But I think it’s new. Tattoos have always been more popular with muggles.” 

Hermione tells him that tattoos, permanent markers, have always been something wizards are cautious of. Something about ancient runes and the connection between artist and canvas. 

Ron scoffs loudly and explains the story of Bill and Charlie’s little adventure to get tattoos years back. How his mom had been furious and forbade any of the rest of them from even thinking about doing the same. “She’s popped in on us in the shower before, just to make sure.” Harry doesn’t have to ask to know that Charlie probably has a wicked dragon tattoo somewhere on his person. 

The more he thinks about it, the more anxious he is to return to the tattoo shop.

He goes back three months after the accidental entry. He’s walked past the outside numerous times, always passing it when he’s in the area getting drinks. The bright neon TATTOO sign out front is magical, the winding neon strands changing fonts and colors as it hovers in front of the shop. It’s calling out to him, literally and metaphorically.

He makes an appointment that night, right before closing, and the shop owner warns him against drinking beforehand. Because 1) he won’t do a tattoo Harry will change his mind about and 2) it doesn’t actually help you ignore the pain like people think it will. Magical tattoos don’t hurt any less than muggle ones.

Harry figures if he can die and come back to life that a tattoo won’t be so bad. 

He’s right.

That night he goes home and immediately strips off his t-shirt, standing in front of the mirror, smiling at the reddened flesh on his ribs that’s wrapped up and in a still position until it’s healed enough. It should be ready within a few days, the shop owner had said. Harry stares at the design in the mirror, giddy with excitement at his reckless decision for the first time in too long.

It becomes a game of sorts for Harry to play a Seeker’s game in the mirror after a shower or when he’s brushing his teeth. The golden snitch flits around his body with speed that’s startlingly accurate, wings fluttering at a pace that’s nearly invisible to the naked eye. It disappears behind his back, around his arms, hides itself in his hair. His hand jerks out to catch it right as it ducks down his neck, chest, under his pants. Harry laughs, feeling comfortable in this skin with it’s new companion.

He wakes up the next morning with the sunlight streaming into his bedroom through the light colored curtains. His vision is blurry without his glasses, but he sees the snitch tucked in his right palm, wings folded inside almost as if it too is sleeping. Harry curls his fingers, mouth twitched into a sleepy grin, and falls back asleep.

Lightning Bolt Soulmate! Barry Allen x Reader Part One

Fandom: The Flash

Characters: Barry Allen, Reader

Word Count: 529

A/N: So this is my very first Barry Allen series and I was inspired by the song i hate you i love you by gnash. This is a Soulmate! Barry Allen fic where the first words you hear your soulmate say and a symbol that is related to them is written on your wrist. Enjoy!

Part OnePart Two | Part Three | Part Four

Originally posted by claraoswan

Feeling used, but I’m still missing you, and I can’t see the end of this, just wanna feel your kiss against my lips, and now all this time is passing by, but i still can’t seem to tell you why, it hurts me every time I see you, realize how much I need you.

Barry has always thought that the whole soulmates thing was absolute idiocy. The fact that someone who you have never met was suddenly tied to you at all times was stupid. Everyone he knew had gotten their soulmate tattoo. Except for him. He was bitter about it, so to deal with the pain, he drowned himself in his work, thinking that the more he distracted himself, the more the pain would go away. But it never did. So when he woke up from the 9 month coma that he was put into by the lightning strike, he knew that something was immediately wrong. He felt different. Other than the obviousness of his newfound power, there was something else wrong with him. A tug in his chest, an acute awareness of emotions that weren’t his. His soulmate’s. If there was now anything he desired more than helping people, it was finding his new soulmate. The new words and lightning bolt symbol imprinted in small font on his wrist were powerful and deep.

I hate you, I love you, I hate that I love you.

He stared at those words written neatly on his skin every night, tracing over them lightly. The words were powerful and deep, and terrified Barry. Why were the words so depressing? And every night, Barry fell asleep, with his lips tracing the soft cursive of the words, whispering them over and over again.

Y/N wasn’t born with a soulmate tattoo. She knew that sometimes there needed to be a trigger for the soulmate mark to show up. The explosion of the particle accelerator at STAR labs happened to just be that trigger. Not long after the shock wave traveled throughout the city, she was struck by lightning, sending her into a coma. The hospital was shocked at the news of the strange coincidence, that two people were both struck by lightning in the same night. There was nothing that anyone could do except wait for her to either die, or wake up.

Shockingly, after 13 months of no improvement and in a constant, hypnotic sleep, Y/N shot upright in her hospital bed. Awake and very much aware of her surroundings. And something was different about her when she woke up. Emotions that weren’t her’s occasionally protruded from the back of her mind. Intense emotions, like fear, anger, and love overwhelmed her brain and senses. And her soulmate mark and symbol had suddenly appeared on her wrist. A lightning bolt followed by bolded, cursive words.

It’s you, It’s always been you.

She stared at those words written neatly on her skin every night, tracing over them lightly. And every night, Y/N fell asleep, with his lips tracing the soft cursive of the words, whispering them over and over again.

Part Two

tagging: @marvelatmytrash,  @team-barry, @mingare123, @hero-fix, @flas, @hopefullybarry, @flashfanfics, @grantgustinimagines, @sexy-speedster, @imaginesoftheflash, @barryallen4ever, @superhumanspeedsandnetflix, @all-about-that-fandoms, @hoeimaginethis, @multifandomwatson, @pumpkinboom, @dcnerd98, @imaginesnthings, @marvel-dc-hybrid, @icat8, @fandom-what-ifs, @intheheartoftomholland

if you would like to be tagged in future fics, PLEASE let me know, i love it when people ask me to tag me in their stuff

The Only Exception
The Only Exception
Red Square - Chapter 2 (Olicity AU Bratva Fic)

Thank you equally for your patience and enthusiasm about this story. It’s getting a little bigger/longer than I had planned. I really hope you enjoy it. 

You can thank @tinaday3w for inspiring me to complete this chapter this week. She has been encouraging me so much and then she had a birthday yesterday, so I beavered through to complete it. Many thanks again to @mel-loves-all for the lovely artwork she made for this story. And hugs to @scu11y22 for awesomeness. 

In this chapter, we get some backstory. We get some Diggle. We get some nice things, actually. And there are some intriguing developments. 

You can read the first chapter here

Ao3 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

The sound filled the main room of the apartment. It was the buzz of a tattoo machine, except the machine wasn’t actually there. It was in the bathroom, where Felicity was branding Oliver. The noise in the main room emanated from Felicity’s tablet - a clever ruse to distract listening devices while carrying on a secure conversation in private.

It had been Felicity’s idea to unblock the bug in Oliver’s sitting room. Disabling it for too long at a stretch might call attention and, perhaps, send someone to replace it. For now, occasional outages would be in keeping with the poor quality of Anatoly’s aging tech and easily dismissed. And all it would pick up was the noise of a mechanism doing its job.

Felicity preferred to work in the bathroom for a number of reasons. First, the lighting was better – and while the tattoo she was tasked to execute was not complicated, she always preferred to see where she was placing her needles. The bathroom also had the potential to be the most sanitary space in the apartment if properly cleaned first. She had brought disinfectant with her and carefully wiped down the area before beginning. Oliver looked grateful that germs would be kept to a minimum. Moscow was not a place where he wanted to be seriously ill with an infection. The third reason, the one Felicity would not speak aloud, was that the bathroom was quite easily the least dangerous room in the apartment. And by dangerous, she was referring (internally, of course) to the lack of soft horizontal surfaces. The thought of working on Oliver Queen, shirtless no less, on a couch or, god forbid, his bed, was more than she could handle right now.

Keep reading

Don’t Forget (Part Two)

Originally posted by jeonilys

Part One / Part Two

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: tattoo artist au, fluff, light angst
Contains: mentions of alcohol
Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: This chapter is through Jungkook’s perspective.

“It’s a long story… I don’t think you’d want to hear it…”

“I’m willing to listen,” she put her hand on my knee. Her voice was as soft as her touch. She had a genuine look of concern on her face that I couldn’t say no to.

I gripped onto the sleeve of her uncle’s shirt, irritated at the tainted skin hidden underneath. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched away.

Keep reading