the front parlor

La Belle et la Bête

(if this is your fault you know who you are, i’m using previously established au rules @megan-mayhem and i came up with and no one is allowed to judge me)

Wayne Manor was even more empty than usual, and the emptiness made it feel haunted. Diana found it horribly unsettling.

“Bruce?” she called, and it echoed through the empty halls. She opened the curtains in the front parlor to let the sunshine in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was in Italy.” She’d come as quickly as she could once she’d gotten his message, but he’d sent it in the dead of night.

Something’s happened. It’s not life-threatening, but I’m not myself. I sent everyone away to minimize the incident, but I think you’re the only one who can help. Come alone if you come at all.

“Bruce?” she called again. Perhaps he was downstairs. She listened carefully. There was the distant muffled clicking of a mechanical keyboard, intermittent and slow. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone in this house ever type so slow. Not even Alfred.

Her phone chimed. She checked it. A message from Bruce. In my office. She looked toward the stairs. The clicking had stopped.

Her walk up the stairs was cautious. What could possibly have happened to him?

In the hall, one of the side tables had tipped sideways. Its former contents had been neatly arranged into a stack beside it on the floor.

“… Bruce…?” She peered into his office.

She shrieked, then put her hands over her mouth to try to muffle her shrieking. It lessened to a high-pitched squeal.

“Tiny baby!”

“I am a grown man, Diana.”

He was a black Pomeranian of less than five pounds, standing on his computer desk.

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A Good Little Girl: Marked (Part 9)

The Winchesters. The only two people who know what you need. The only two people who can give it to you. The only two people you will ever belong to.

Prequel Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary of Marked: You decide to get a tattoo to protect you from possession.

Word Count: 3000

Warning: smut, dom/sub dynamics, polyamory, a bit of tattoo!kink (sort of?)

A/N: Enjoy a polyamorous relationship with the boys (no Wincest). Let me know what you think!

Originally posted by themegalosaurus

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Chapter 4: Not everyone gets what they want


Shit was popping off on the corners. Niggas was getting caught being reckless and some Gangs was losing money. I needed to ensure that I stayed on top and that my money came consistently.

I pulled up to the tattoo parlor to meet up with Paul Beckon. He was the Chiefs of police in L.A. The reason I chose him was because police was heavy in L.A, and I needed to form a straight alliance. I just needed to make a deal with him. Just one deal. I knew this nigga could run the plan throughout Cali, he had mad connections. I just needed to be in his circle.

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if you see this, post an excerpt from your wip

saw this from @hattalove and figured I’d jump on the bandwagon - here’s a teensy bit from the larry soulmate au I’ve been working on! (which will probably not be completed for so long after this that no one will remember I even posted it)

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Amtrak Dome Observation 9310 by Chuck Zeiler
Via Flickr:
Amtrak 9310 crossing Bubbly Creek in Chicago, Illinois on May 18, 1980, Kodachrome by Chuck Zeiler. Number 9310 was built by Budd in 1950 for the Wabash as number 1601 assigned to the Blue Bird ( in 1966 it was leased to N&W as 1601 ), and had 14 revolving seats in the rear parlor, 9 movable chairs in the front parlor, 6 chairs in the observation end, 24 chairs in the Vista-Dome, and 5 seats in the state room. It became AMTK 9310 in 1971, and In 1981 it may have been converted to a “Disco-Pub” lounge. In the May 1980 issue of Trains Magazine, the following was listed under the Running Extra section (pages 62-63) which explains this photo: May 17-18, 1980: Railfair 80 includes operation of special Vista-Dome Mississippi Zephyr Chicago/Dubuque, Iowa on Sunday. The Twentieth Century RR Club pays tribute to the disappearing dome with this special Amtrak train. Consist of E-units, Vista-Domes, Lounge car and coaches will feature all-reserved seats. Train leaves Chicago at 10:00 a.m. and returns about 9:00 p.m., operating via ICG. Photo stops and a stop in historic Galena. A special buffet dinner is available in Dubuque, only by advance reservation. Send for your tickets now: Mississippi Zephyr $65; Sunday dinner in Dubuque $7.50.

Mitchell was settled comfortable in his front parlor, a soft float of music mixing with the crackle of wood from the fireplace.  It was in perfect contrast to the small flakes of snow wafting silently outside.  The bottle of Burgundy sat on the coffee table, a glass half full and dangling from his hands with nonchalant grace. Saturday nights during the busy season, the room would hold more than just him as guests relaxed and returned from dinner.  He had no one staying currently, which made the sound of the little bell over the door chiming all the more interesting.  He didn’t bother to stand, but slowly turned his gaze to lock on the entrance.  “My, I hardly expected to see you this evening.  Do sit down.  Warm up.  May I offer you a glass of something as you tell me how you ended up so far afield?”

It’s Headcanon Time Again.

It seems that there are more than a few folks on here who share my belief that Seto Kaiba isn’t just a paragon of card games and general snobbery, but also a deft hand at the piano. 

He just kind of has that look.

But see, I’m starting to expand this belief. I think he learned because it was at least mildly cathartic, and also so that he wouldn’t completely forget his childhood. See, I think his mother played an instrument, too. Violin, specifically, but that’s not the point.

I think Seto learned to play her favorite pieces first, and then just kind of slowly expanded his repertoire.

I see him practicing every so often, after he gets home. I think there’s a nice grand piano in their front parlor. And sure, he’ll play your Moonlight Sonatas and your Für Elises and whatnot. Obviously. Maybe even an adaptation of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor because he’s dramatic that-a-way.

But then, just to see if anyone’s actually paying attention, he’ll belt out something a little more upbeat, and the Kaiba Estate’s house staff will just stare at each other, trying to figure out where the hell that came from. And then they hear Mokuba, up in his room, just start giggling fit to rupture something delicate.

Because he’s literally playing the Nyan Cat (A.K.A. Pop-Tart Cat) song.

In the front parlor of the house she now shared with her daughter, Eliza Hamilton had crammed the faded memorabilia of her now distant marriage. When visitors called, the tiny, erect, white-haired lady would grab her cane, rise gamely from a black sofa embroidered with a floral pattern of her own design, and escort them to a Gilbert Stuart painting of George Washington. She mentioned with pride to a silver wine cooler, tucked discreetly beneath the center table, that had been given to the Hamiltons by Washington himself. This treasured gift retained a secret meaning for Eliza, for it had been a tacit gesture of solidarity from Washington when her husband was ensnared in the first major sex scandal in American history. The tour’s highlight stood enshrined in the corner: a marble bust of her dead hero, carved by an Italian sculptor, Giuseppe Ceracchi, during Hamilton’s heyday as the first treasury secretary. Portrayed in the classical style of a noble Roman senator, a toga draped across one shoulder, Hamilton exuded a brisk energy and a massive intelligence in his wide brow, his face illuminated by the half smile that often played about his features. This was how Eliza wished to recall him: ardent, hopeful, and eternally young. “That bust I can never forget,” one young visitor remembered, “for the old lady always paused before it in her tour of the rooms and, learning on her cane, gazed and gazed, as if she could never be satisfied.”

Alexander Hamilton, Ron Chernow.

It’s only the second page of this 818-page monster of a book and I’m already emotional.

Getting a job(fourgaymuses)


Matthew took a deep breath as he stood in front of the tattoo parlor. He needed a job, and this was the only place he could find that didn’t need any major experience. He was nervous, sure. But he needed a job so he could have some money. Even if it wasn’t enough for a place to stay… He needed something.

He took another deep breath and pushed the door open and entered the parlor and looked around a bit.



Thought i’d show you guys some lil details I noticed while watching!

On the left, holy shit is that Roxy?

The other two seem to be Joey and Jude, leading me to believe that Joey is older than Jude. 

Looks way too much like B1 Jane and Jake with Becquerel 

Get this humanimal out of my goddamn face hussie


Possibly a reference to the musical ‘Bat Boy’?

Some of Grandpa harley’s sun-bleached photographs of women stolen from the front windows of beauty parlors?

if you spotted anything else please tell me!

“Cool” (Luke Hemmings Imagine)  - Requested

Requested // hahtru on instagram

You didn’t know what part of you gave you the crazy ideas to do things, but you did know you never had control of it. I mean you had just turned 18 last week. How was this a time to think about getting a tattoo. I mean you’ve thought about getting one before, but the idea of having a needle in your arm over a period of time.. kinda made the idea go away. Your mind fought with itself as you sat in front of a tattoo parlor down the road from your house. Your head leaning against the steering wheel as you sighed to yourself. The part of your brain nagging at you to turn the keys and pull out of the parking lot was soon pushed away with a slight knock to your window. You jumped a little, not expecting any human contact at the moment. You looked up to see a surprisingly handsome face. You rolled your window down, trying to get a better look of the person who had just done the interaction.

“Deciding wether you should go in or not?” A blonde haired boy with a lip piercing chuckled, pointing to the shop in front of the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you sighed once again, studying his face.

“Tattoo or piercing?” He asked, looking back at you.

“Tattoo,” You replied blankly.

He nodded his, looking up at the shop again, “I could take you in. I mean it might look intimidating from the outside, but promise me. The big bad guys in there are more like oversized teddy bears.”

The younger guy’s sentence made you laugh as you looked up at him once more, “Alright…” You sighed, glancing at him for an answer.

“Luke, my name is Luke,” he chuckled.

“Y/n,” you said, grabbing your purse and pushing open the car door. Luke motioned for you to follow him and you did, trailing along as he threw open the door and walked into the shop.

“Ray!” You watched the blonde haired boy throw his bag behind the front desk before leaning against it, “Ray, you here?”

“Of course, when’s the last time I took a sick day?” you heard a voice reply before seeing a man, mid 30’s, walk from the back of the parlor. He had tattoos covering the skin you could see and a beard that had turned grey as he got older, you assumed.

Luke chuckled to himself before looking up to see the man had reached you two, “You brought a girl?” The older man smiled, looking between you guys.

Luke looked over at you, ready to open his mouth before he was cut off, “I’m Ray, owner of this shop and this little shit’s uncle,” he snorted looking at the teenage boy.

You chuckled along as the two guys looked at each other, messing around even though the age difference was rather big.

“So what did you drop in for?” Ray asked, cracking a smile and pushing his nephew off of him.

“I was on my way here and I saw her sitting in her car,” Luke chuckled, “I think she’s probably scared.

You rolled your eyes at the teenager, blushing a little. Yes, you may have been a tad scared, but it was nothing to tease you about. You were getting a tattoo for crying out loud, it’s a permanent life choice!

“Well, do you want me to get you ready?” Ray asked, looking at you.

You nodded your head slightly. You wanted this. It may hurt, but you were sure you did. Luke followed your lead to the back of the building. You walked into a room and Ray motioned for you to sit in the black chair in the middle of the room. You did as you were told, laying down as Luke took a seat next to you.

“Nervous?” he asked, chuckling at your slightly scared face.

You nodded your head as you turned it from side to side, your eyes widening as you looked at Luke then back towards his uncle who had turned on the needle, warming it up and testing it slightly. Luke looked at you, the fear coming off of you was probably noticeable from a mile away.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly, taking your hand in his, “It’s not that bad, no need to get yourself worked up.” The young boy pulled your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the top of it slightly.

Ray turned around, looking at the two of you, “Ready?”


“Thank you so much, it’s so pretty!” you smiled, bouncing around the lobby of the tattoo shop.

“It’s no problem really, and it’s on the house. Luke never brings girls into my shop so I trust that you must be special,” he chuckled, patting his nephew on the back.

You looked over at Luke, a blush placed on his cheeks as he stared at his shoes intently.

“Well, I guess I should go. It’s getting late and I haven’t even eaten dinner yet. Thanks again Ray, It means a lot,” you smiled, turning on your heel to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” you heard behind you, you looked over your shoulder to see Luke walking towards you.

You walked over to your car, leaning against it, and looking up at the body in front of you. You watched as Luke shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his head hanging low but a smile playing on his lips.

“Your uncle is really cool you know,” You smirked as Luke’s head shot up to look at you.

“Really i- uh- I mean he can be a little strange sometimes but yeah, I think so to,” The two of you chuckled and Luke looked into your eyes, “You think maybe you’d wanna do this again sometime, I mean without my uncle and somewhere a little nicer then a rusty tattoo shop?”

A blush formed on your cheeks, this time being your turn to stare at your shoes, “Yeah, I think that would be great.”

“Cool,” Luke said, grinning at you now.


You didn’t know a thing about the blonde haired boy with a pierced lip and crazy uncle, but you knew you really wanted to find out more about him., preferably sooner than later you might add.

tattoo artist!cal leaning himself onto the counter of the tattoo parlors front desk on his strong, tattooed arms while smiling so hard at you that his eyes crinkle, making his eyebrow piercing more noticeable, while you laugh at one of his corny jokes or flirts that he threw at you. he’d love to see that girl with the pretty smile that works at the front desk and hear her laugh before going to the back to clean his needles.

you would work across the street from tattooartist!luke and you’d catch a glimpse of him every morning when he showed up for work. you were a college student, in need of a job, so you got hired at a small café across from the tattoo parlor that luke worked at. you learned his name over the course of two months, smile and wave at him as he walked through the front door of the parlor. during his breaks he would normally come over and have a cup of coffee and talk to you about how your day went so far. you’d still have to wait on other customers, but his breaks are what always made your day seem a little better. one day, during his break, he would come over in a beanie and a leather jacket because it was cold out, to ask if you wanted to have a cup of coffee with him; maybe not at the café that you worked at though, because he thought the coffee here was shit.

Confusing Fluff

A new town, another stop.

Victor stopped walking and looked up from his map, glancing around the area before looking back down at the paper in his hands, trying to decide which direction to go. He looked over the many images of places to go, and finally settled on the shop he wanted to stop at.

A nice little tattoo parlor, just a simple two blocks away from where he stood. A small smile made it’s way onto his face for a brief moment, the idea of getting another one of his best works permanently inked onto his skin making him excited.

His cold blue eyes set in his desired direction, he started off at a leisure pace. A couple minutes later, Victor was standing in front of the tattoo parlor. He reached back and pulled his backpack off his back, stuffing the map into the mess of supplies in one of the pouches before pulling out a black leather bound sketchbook.

Once book was in hand he pulled open the door and walked into the building, ready for anything.