Magic Shop Tattoo Novels & Stories

Sao from his crouched position looks back at the other three and shrugs before duck walking in. The rest follow wordlessly . The Hut is not so small as they must have assumed from outside. And it is brightly lit. Quite full too. Then there is this obviously older than twenty one guy with funny unusual hair style sitting at the center of it facing the door. "Hello ,youngsters. Welcome to my tattoo shop. Anything you desire, I'll draw it on you. Dreams come true here. Let me in your mind and together we'll find the perfect image you want. Are the ladies going first? " The man speaks licking his teeth occasionally.

even with my capped sleeve she can see my shoulder is sans tattoo. “I was told to get a discreet one, so it’s disguised on my back.” She looks confused. “What do you mean?” “Apparently, they can work the runes into any pattern or shape, or hide them. Sage designed an amazing phoenix and worked the runes into it. I’ll show you later.” “What?” Her eyes widen. “I just got the boring Task Force circle. You’re telling me I could’ve gotten something nice instead?” I laugh. “Yep. Sorry.” “Man.” She huffs. “That’s unfair.”

A familiar ache tightened my chest. But I refused to cry. Tears were a luxury I couldn't afford. I collected every shard and sealed them in a velvet pouch. The last of my illusions about Miles, now just broken pieces. The next morning, I walked into the best tattoo parlor in Chicago. "I need a cover-up," I told the artist, a man known for his dark, gothic style. He glanced at the small 'M' on my lower back. "Covering up a name?" "It was a mistake," I said, my voice flat. "I want a black phoenix. Rising from ashes."

Tabitha said. “We also wanted to ask you if you were willing to have a protection and blocking spell tattooed on your body.” another witch asked. “It will only block dark magic.” I nodded, I always wanted a tattoo anyway. I would do anything that could help me right now. They started with the tattoo, one of the witches used an old tattoo method of hammering the tattoo into my skin which was painful, but not too bad. It would heal. They were too little runes tattooed on the top of my back, near my neck.

The bell above the tattoo shop door jingled as I pushed it open, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d been thinking about this for months — finally getting ink on my breasts, something delicate and feminine to reclaim my body after a shitty breakup. The shop was called Ink & Skin, tucked into a quiet corner of the city with blacked-out windows and neon signs that hummed faintly. It was late afternoon, and the place was empty except for the artist behind the counter.

"Listen, I don't care about the gum you stepped on or your menstru-what's. That picture was my favorite and quite expensive, given that the frame was gold. So, I offer you two options: either you repay the damages immediately, or you start working at the shop temporarily, and each month, part of your salary will be withheld to repay the picture." I take a deep breath. "You're looking at your new employee, absolutely thrilled about this job. Even though technically I didn't make the picture fall. It was probably possessed." The man sighs and leads me out of the shop. I go home, cursing my bad luck. Well, today I learned one thing. Never go to a tattoo artist if bad luck is chasing you. And no

, I look around the shop, it's decorated in a child's art, I think I'm in a wr-- "Ciao!" I looked back to see a young lady smiling at me "Hi" I said to her "You wanna get a tattoo?" She asked "Uh, Yes" "Where?" She questioned, her hands on her hips "Here. This is a tattoo shop, right?" I said "Stupido." She giggled, Did she just call me stupid? "I meant where do you want it" She asked smiling, her dimples showing making her look younger than she seem "Here" I placed my hand in between my breasts

JD's POV: The steady buzz of the tattoo machine was the only sound I trusted anymore. It was my rhythm, my mantra. Like a heartbeat I could control, unlike the erratic, fucked-up one inside my chest. I leaned over the client’s arm, eyes locked in, needle dancing into skin with practiced ease. The design was custom—a serpentine dragon wrapped around a shattered sword. “Almost done,” I murmured to the client, wiping down the linework. “Don’t squirm, or your dragon’s gonna end up lookin’ like a lizard on crack.”

Xander snarls, rejecting her explanation, too angry to see beyond it. “The Order of Three, but those that know about it call it the order.” She unzips her jacket, and her friends match her movements, moving in unison. Together, they pull their collar away from their necks, revealing a tattoo where a mate mark should sit. A triple moon is etched into the skin with black ink. The center moon has a key and arrow crossed with a paw sitting in the center, holding the components in place.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.