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Tattoo Pricing - Why are tattoos expensive?
Hey friend!
Something that can be super confronting and confusing when getting tattooed, is the price. Pricing can be determined by a number of factors, which is why they can range quite a lot!
So lets run through some basics, that can help you understand pricing, your budget and how you’ll start your collection.
Why do artists need to charge so much?
Where is all the money going when a tattoo artist takes a payment?
Generally a tattoo artist, when working for a studio runs on a percentage cut or a rental booth rate. Percentage cut, means from the total price charged for a tattoo, a percentage is given to the shop to maintain what they provide. Percentage cuts can range from 30%-50%. Where as a rental booth rate, may be based on a daily charge, weekly charge or determined by the specific amount of days an artist works, this could range from $120 daily and more.
Provisions a studio can provide include, the space itself, cleanliness of the space, the bed/arm rests, some supplies (depending on the studio - stencil paper, sterilisation room/equipment, inks, needles, barrier plastics) and other resources. On top of that depending on location and legislation, a studio may have to hold a licence to operate, pay rent for the building, provide work insurance or pay other staff (reception, assistants, social media etc).
I am not Mr Worldwide, so PLEASE, this is just information relevant to the locations I’ve worked in.
For an artist there are benefits to both systems. If an artist is consistently busy weekly, paying a rental booth rate may work out cheaper than having a percentage taken from each tattoo done during their work week. But when work may be slow, or weeks are impacted by cancellations/no shows, the rental booth rate may mean they have to pay out of pocket when profit benchmarks aren’t met to cover the rate.
So lets do some real simple maths (because I really shouldn’t be doing maths), if an artist charges you $100 for a tattoo, and the shop cut is 40%, they earn $60, from the $100 you paid.
Your artists work as sole traders, they’re self employed so that means they are trading on their own in the studio space. In which they give part of their earnings, in exchange for the space/resources provided.
So, what may happen to that $60?
Where’s the $60 going?
As sole traders, this means artists are not employee of the studio, but self employed, so what does that mean?
This means, your artists don’t have payroll tax, or are a part of compulsory employee superannuation contributions. Generally they are responsible for any tax payable by their business, and providing their own super contributions.
What does this all mean? It can be pretty confusing, if you’ve never had to worry about it at with your job.
Basically, when you’re an employee of a business, part of your wage is deducted for tax by your employer. So at the end of a financial year, you lodge a tax return in which you could receive a tax refund or owe tax, based on your earnings, deductions or offsets. As an employee of a business, your employer must pay super guarantee at least everything 3 months, about 11% of an employee’s ordinary time earnings. Super, is paid to workers to provide for their retirement.
So, after that hopefully explanatory (it was probably still confusing) explanation, the simple formula is - self employed = pay the money yourself (tax + super)
From that $60, your artist may (should) put aside some money for tax time and into their super. The amount they put aside for both is up to their discretion, there’s no right or wrong amount, but generally there’s probably a guide (which I will not get into because this is not business advice, I’m just a gal lol).
So let’s say your artist, from that $60 decides to put at least $20 for tax, and $20 to their super.
That leaves $20.
Alright, the $20, where might that go?
So there’s $20, surely that just gets pocketed? Maybe not.
As we previously established, a studio may provide some supplies but not all. Generally, tattoo studios provide the basics, like razors, tongue depressors, Vaseline, barrier plastics, cups, cling film, paper towel, and if they’re super lucky maybe some basic needles and inks.
But some studios don’t provide ink and needles, and other products that might use during/for the tattoo (ie second skin, numbing spray etc). This means your artist purchases these supplies from their own earnings put aside.
Depending on the type and brand of needles, a box of 20 can range from $30-$60 (sometimes there are boxes of less that range in price too). Inks can range from $20-$60 (depending on the size/type/brand). Same goes for second skin, they can range from $20-$40 for a roll of varying sizes and lengths.
So let’s say, you received a super simple line work piece in black, they may have used one needle (at $30, that’s roughly $1.5 per needle), some black ink (let’s just guess about $1 worth, which sounds goofy and weird to calculate), and a but of second skin was provided for you (let’s also say $1 worth). That’s $3.50. Leaving us with $16.5 profit.
Enough for a meal (in this economy?? Maybe even not, big bummer).
Alrightyyy, after all those math problem scenario calculations that have haunted us since schooling, that’s a very very basic break down of basic expenses that contribute to your artist’s charging.
Why are they charging this? But somebody else charges this?
Let’s point out some more stuff that’ll determine pricing:
Experience + skill: contribute to the quality of work they provide.
Style: style of work can range, and the complexity of them ranges too (ie high effort = more time needed)
Out of range: some styles/placements may not be preferential for your artist’s range, which they can charge more for, or not accept as a project they’ll take on.
Specialty: some artists have a limited range they like to specialise in, this means they are more experienced/skilled with those styles which can determine their charging.
Placement: hand in hand with style, certain placements can be more challenging to tattoo/stencil.
Some studios have a rough hourly rate, or minimum charge to cover at least all those costs we previous outlined. Hourly rates can vastly vary depending on the area, the reputation and the experience of the artist you go see. Hourly rates can also simply be determined by your artist, and not their studio.
Hourly rates can be a good way for an artist to at least charge on the bare minimum of time used, to make sure they are charging their worth. This can also be a good way for clients to budget for pieces ranging from small to large scale, it give you a determining factor that can help you budget and schedule out your visits. Also most of us have worked a job that pays hourly! So it can help every contextualise the amount charged.
But some artists charge by piece? What does that mean? This means, an artist will quote a piece at a set or range of prices for a piece. Sometimes this is preferential because the amount of time used is not always reflective of an artists ability. An experienced artists might tattoo very quickly, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have acquired skills or knowledge that shouldn’t be reflected in their increasing potential too.
So, somebody has quoted you this, and somebody has quoted that. How do you determine who to book in with?
I always tell clients to make this decision by looking that the artists they’re approaching.
Do you consistently enjoy the work they provide?
Do you think they are providing you with efficient service leading up the appointment? - (Communicating, booking you in, working with you on the design/with your references)
Easy to contact?
Helpful with any questions you had?
Provide enough information about appointment (location, quote, length of appointment, dates available)
Cheaper is not always better, and it’s not bad if an artists quotes lower, as well. More expensive is not always better too, it doesn’t always equate to quality of the piece or service.
Some artist may also charge for drawing time, rates for custom pieces, more for certain days of the week (weekends). There’s nothing wrong with an artist who charge for these extra things, they’re just things of value an artist determines should also be paid for, and is part of the service.
At the end of the day, tattooing is a luxury service. They are an investment for yourself, so happy decision making! (I know you’re all indecisive, I hear it all the time 🫶🏼) Hopefully this provides a bit of extra info to help you make some decisions, and answer some questions!
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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology
MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)
Part Ten: Permission
A/N: We're SO back!
You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.
Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.
Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.
Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.
The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.
“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.
You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.
“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.
“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.
Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.
You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”
“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.
“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“
”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.
“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.
“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.
“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.
“Gonnae tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Might help.”
You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”
“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.
He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.
John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.
You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.
You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.
“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.
“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.
“I want a piercing.”
He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”
“If you have time.”
“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.
You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.
The only answer is to quit, right?
That’s your only option.
“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.
You shrug. “What’d you think?”
He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.
“How about a navel?”
“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.
Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.
You’ll have to quit.
That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.
Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”
“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.
Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”
You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.
“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.
“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.
You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”
“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”
Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“
“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”
You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.
“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.
“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.
Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.
“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.
Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…
“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.
His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”
“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.
“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”
Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”
“Still want tae get peirced?”
You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”
Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.
“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”
“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”
You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”
There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.
“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.
You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.
He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.
Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.
“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.
You have permission.
You don’t need permission.
You have it, though.
“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.
“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”
“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.
“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”
For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”
Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.
“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.
“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.
His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”
You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.
You have permission.
“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.
Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.
“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”
“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.
It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.
“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.
“Ah, wha-“
“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.
“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.
“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.
You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.
“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.
If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.
Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.
You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.
There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.
“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.
“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”
You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”
He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.
He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”
You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.
A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)
Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse
#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#john soap mctavish#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap x reader#soap x reader#fem reader#plus size reader#tattoo au#tattoo shop au#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#captain john price x reader#cod smut#reader insert smut
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Nik sure does love their weekly "meetings" 🤭
#nikprice#myart#digitalart#artists on tumblr#call of duty#cod#john price#nikolai cod#i always forge#t to draw price's tattoos
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Captain Price with tattoos ✍️
#can’t believe hes finally dooooneee#also I didn’t plan to draw him in underwear#he waw wearing jeans in the beginning#but then i realized#that he MUST have a thight tattoo#so I had to undress him#captain price#captain john price#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#john price#call of duty modern warfare#john price x reader#task force 141#call of duty mw2#barry sloane#barry#love him#modern warfare#call of duty fanart#captain price fanart
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me when the bay was ass.
part of a birthday gift for @maria-tries 🤌
#pricefield#life is strange#max caulfield#chloe price#mayaart#i have a true lovehate situationship with this game#i know the tattoo is on the wrong arm but i flipped the drawing before signing it lol
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happy pride month
#i didnt forget the tattoos idk what ur talking about#chloe price#max caufield#pricefield#life is strange
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Soap Tattoo Artist AU
Next
I hope you enjoy this AU I came up with. Heheh. I just posted part 3 on Patreon
#aussiepineapple1st#au#ghoap#call of duty#cod#modern warfare#ghost#simon ghost riley#soap#john soap mactavish#john price#soapghost#ghostsoap#fluff#STA AU#soap tattoo artist au
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Whenever any of the 141 wants to guarantee that they won’t be put on a water op for at least a month, they go get a new tattoo. Every time Price mentions an operation anywhere near water, all three of them go get matching tattoos and say they can’t do it because of the risk of infection
They think they’re pissing off Price by doing it, but Laswell’s the one that gets really mad because now she has to find different, less reliable morons to go diving in the name of world peace 🙄
#honestly tho… the 141 with matching tattoos?? 👀#tombstone’s silly hcs#call of duty#cod#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#john price#kyle gaz garrick#kate laswell#the 141#tombstone's epitaphs
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hello and welcome back to Owlie using phillip graves as its own personal barbie doll. but this one is a bit more than the usual rating of Owlie's main blog, SO it goes into the spice cabinet :> this post was the inspiration
@cod-dump @worldseer @totally-not-baron @midnight193 i have been busy lol
#good for him :)#i do the doodles#digital illustration#digital art#cod mwii#cod mwiii#phillip graves#john price#cod nikolai#nikpricegraves#i had to pause working on this while my grandma was visiting and then the adhd said 'actually we have other ideas to work on first'#hence why this took me. longer than usual#i was basically done with this last night but then my traitorous brain realized he would have tattoos 100%#anyway i fully accept that this will definitely not reach many people but. i made it anyway :]
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Vincent Price interview circa 1984 --
Love his dead pan humor!
Classy, as always.
Still, I do understand he chose the $20,000 instead of record sales, but according to Vincent, it was like hell getting paid.
#vincent price#michael jackson#thriller#hes so classy#interview#classic horror#horror classics#i understand vinnys point of view.#im a fan of mj and have a tattoo of him on my left shoulderblade#but again...i understand vincents point of view#not to mention hes still hot#i mean...id let this old man do anything to me#just sayin#hot#bicon#bisexual#god#horror#old horror movies#vintage#movie#actor#handsome#gif#gifs made by me#gifs#my gifs
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I'll be doing a new tattoo design sheet, so if anyone would like to see anything in particular comment here ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_
#i want to make bugs...and silly looking guys#also someone mentionned love core and I want to do that too#tattoo flashes#also some from my last sheet are still available#and cool prices because they are old babies
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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology
MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist
Part 3: Bubble Tea
“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.
“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.
“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.
“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”
“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.
You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.
“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.
You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”
He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”
As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.
God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.
The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.
“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.
Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.
Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”
“You want some?” Kyle grins.
You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.
Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.
“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“
“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”
“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“
He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?
Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.
Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.
One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.
“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.
Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“
“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.
He eyes you. “Really?”
You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”
“I don’t know…”
“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.
“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.
You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”
A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”
You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”
There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.
You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.
“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.
“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.
#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#cod#gaz x reader#tattoo au#call of duty#cod x reader#plus size reader#fat reader#fem reader#captain john price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader
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Barry getting some tattoos for his character in "Jerusalem the play".
#barry sloane#cod mw2#call of duty#captain price#john price#tattoos#no shirt#he is perfect#this man is gorgeous
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Thinking abt Price tattooing you
But like literally holding you on your stomach and straddling the back of your thighs as he tattoos ‘Price’ or ‘property of John Price’ onto you as a tramp stamp.
#is he a tattoo artist? did he buy the materials and tools off Amazon and watch 5 seconds of a YouTube video?#who knows!#its 6am and I gotta go to work but I woke up with that in my head so g’mornin#this might make no sense bc I’m half awake#john price#john price x reader
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tattoo artist/influencer in a tiktok video: *listing increasingly niche theories on why tattooers aren't making as much money as ten years ago*
Me yelling at the screen Dora the Explorer-style: PEOPLE CAN'T AFFORD GROCERIES.
#You can't eat your tattoos I mean you can but that's autocannibalism and generally not a sign of good times#tattooing#daily life#anyways the boring answer to all of this with every art/craft is the same: support artists where you can and in turn artists have to keep#their prices a bit realistic so people are able to support them in the first place#it's not ideal but the cost of living is not ideal so we have to move the little bills around as much as possible
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When I’m writing my Modern AU but then try to figure out and calculate how the life I gave the Batch is financially possible:
#I’ll be writing#and then I’ll be like wait how do they own a house in the suburbs in this economy?#so then I’ll be like ok 99 was the homeowner so maybe he already paid it off and now they only worry about property tax and bills#but it doesn’t stop there#now I’m looking up the prices of homes in the 80s#then I start looking up details on VA loans#then I’m calculating ok this sibling has this job so this would be what they make in a year after taxes#then I add them up#but wait#Crosshair and tech are in college how are they affording that?#then I remember the GI bill#but then I’m like ok but what if they go on vacation?#so then I’m like ok they give off the vibes that they would choose to drive everywhere they could within reason#BUT THEN I’m like hold up what if they brought Omega to Disney World#so now I’m looking at ticket hotel and airfare costs#and seeing what military and veterans discounts are#meanwhile this fic hasn’t even been fully written I’m just brainstorming and writing all these details in a brainstorming document#I’ll apply suspension of disbelief and ‘don’t worry about it’ to other things like face tattoos in the suburbs and timeline and ages#but for the financial aspect I’m like ‘how can I make this as true to reality as possible’?#star wars tbb#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch#bad batch modern au#sw bad batch
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