Tim Henson Tattoos Novels & Stories

He avoided the topic, like always. I didn’t push him. Instead, I reached for his hand, running my fingers over his wrist, and my breath caught. There, inked just below the veins of his wrist, was my name. Cheryl Cho-Sunhee Han. He got a tattoo? Mr. Han hated tattoos. "That’s my name," I murmured, tracing the letters. "Yeah," he said, watching me carefully. "Got it done about a week ago." A lump formed in my throat. "I didn’t even notice," I whispered. "Thank you."

Sera said. Dessa looked at her over the rim of her cup. "Honestly?" "Yes." "Half of them are afraid. A quarter of them are angry. The rest are watching to see which way it goes." She set down her cup. "Nobody knows what to do with a Tattooed Luna. The last one was three hundred years ago. It's not exactly in the current handbook." "Tattooed Luna," Sera said. "Is that not what they've been calling you?" "Nobody's been calling me anything to my face."

The light scattering of hair on his lower abdomen disappeared into the towel and the only thing marring the beauty of his skin was the angry red mark on his chest, just a few inches away from his heart where he had been shot yesterday. Now that he was finally unclothed, I was able to see the tattoo on his left arm. It was a picture of a phoenix in flight and it was magnificent. The artist had focused on every tiny detail down to the red eye of the phoenix and somehow, it suited him. He was just as majestic as the bird.

The tattoo took almost an hour to be done and then, I got a chance to see it, it was a drawing of my messy hair that I haven't been able to clean up and stretch at the hair salon. "I'm finally convinced. You're crazy to put this on your body, Hunter. I thought tattoos should mean something to you not just ordinary things you see sometimes." I bluntly called him out. "You're so mean, Sheldon. You know this is permanent. You can't expect me to clean it up right now. What's done is done. All you gotta do is just love it as it is." He grumbled. "Fine, it's not so bad for an artist who paints about his sexual fantasies in nightclubs and then paints about love and harmony at the mall. Not bad at a

A succinct sombre chuckle escapes her before she lowly orders, "Go back to the cottage." Relieved, I stood and bowed, then sped out of the office. Phew! I live to see another day. Over my heart, an illuminated wolf paw flashed, with the initials HHC.T on the metacarpal. It will continue to blink in this manner until Heron completes the mating process, much like an ornament on a Christmas tree. After that, the imprint's emblem becomes a tattoo. It stood for Heron Hudson Carter.Tyr. His wolf branded me like a cow on a cattle farm.

Azrael and Hunter have the same matching tattoos. It is just an inscription in Greek. I begged my dad and after persuading him for months he allowed me have it. I replied the message. Guess I have a date this Saturday.

I asked him while eating my burger. “It is a Chinese character of hope. I decided to tattoo this to remind me that there’s hope for everything,” He said while looking at his tattoo. “And how about that tattoo?” I asked him while pointing to his right tattoo and gave him a mean look “No, it is not what you think. I don’t have a wife and a kid,” He defensively answered. “This is my mom and me. It is my tribute tattoo for my mom. I want her to know that she’s always remembered”, He added.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

"It's just an old one, sweetheart. From a long time ago." Noé nodded solemnly. "Papa has tattoos too. Lots of them. He says they are stories he carries so he doesn't forget important things. Maybe yours is a story too. Maybe it's about being strong. Or about vanilla. Or dinosaurs." He grinned at his own idea. "I think it's about dinosaurs. Because you always remember mine are the best." A small laugh escaped me despite everything. "Maybe it is." He beamed, pleased with himself for making me smile. "So you will come on Thursday? And show off your pretty flower tattoo?."

“Enjoy your stay. But hey, word of advice? Steer clear of the Red Zone if you’re really just here for the sauna. Unless you want more than a quiet night, of course. In that case, the Red Zone’s your best bet.” “The Red Zone?” “It’s on the far end. Trust me, you’ll know it when you see it.” With a wink, he turns and walks off, flip-flops slapping against the tile. That’s when I catch the enormous tattoo spanning his entire back—a bird, wings spread wide, talons out. A hawk.