Upper Shoulder Tattoo Quotes

A horn sounded in the distance and as Stella turned towards the sea to look at the enormous ship that had produced the sound, her gaze was locked on a scene so beautiful that the picturesque beach paled in comparison. A lifeguard was emerging from the water, his orange trunks stuck to his legs and water dripping from all over him. He shook his head to get rid of some of the water in his hair and Stella felt as if everything started developing in slow motion – tiny drops of water slid from his neck down his broad chest and muscular arms, along a weaving tattoo design on his right shoulder, and continued downwards towards his chest and washboard stomach, finally getting lost in his trunks' waist. A part of another tattoo was peeking over his trunks on his left hip, the other part hidden under them. His golden, tanned skin glistened in the sun and he moved with such grace that a panther would be deemed clumsy next to him. It was a total Baywatch moment. ~ Teodora Kostova

Eric Steele utilized the Mark XI's voice command function by saying, "Nav," and a map appeared in the upper-right quadrant
of the visor. The yellow blinking arrow told him that he needed to come left, so he lowered his shoulder and banked gently
until he was locked on the correct glide path.


This thing is legit.

Steele had grown up on James Bond and thought being a spy was all about the gadgets. But in the real world batteries failed
and an operator lived and died by making a plan and sticking to it. One of the main reasons Steele was still alive while so
many of his friends were dead was because he didn't leave anything to chance.


He carefully brought his left arm up to eye level and double-checked the Mark XI's readings with the GPS/altimeter combo strapped
to his forearm. Once he was sure that he knew exactly where he was, he snapped his arms tight and accelerated to 200 miles
per hour. ~ Sean Parnell

He shoved up his sleeves, displaying several thin leather bracelets and the red-and-black tip of a dragon tail just above his right elbow. I've never actually seen the head. It's on Daniel's back, Frankie told us once, between his shoulder blades. "So,my children, what is up?"
"We're trying to figure out how to get a soul-sucking, male lower life-form out of Ella's head," Frankie explained.
"Kill him," Daniel said casually. "Unless there's a symbiotic thing going on and Ella would have to die, too. That would be a shame."
Here's the thing about Daniel. He has always scared me a little. I don't bother going through the scar-hiding motions; I'm convined he can see right through clothing. Not that he leers. He's not a leerer. He has two facial expressions: cold and amused. He also has a second tattoo, on the inside of his left wrist, that looks exactly like how I would expect a gang mark to look. Frankie has never said a word about that tat. Or much about his brother's friends.Who have names like Ax and spend time in police custody. ~ Melissa Jensen

I had a tattoo once," said Kaidan. "Last year, just before we left England."
"What do you mean, you had one 'once'?"
"Bloody thing was gone by the morning!" His voice was indignant. "Sheets were black with ink. I put myself through all of that for hours, and my body just pushed it back out!"
And once again we were both in a fit of hysterics, sharing the world's best inside joke. We were doubled over, unable to breathe, and I accidentally snorted. Kaidan pointed at me and laughed harder, clutching his stomach.
"What was your tattoo?" I managed to push the words out.
"You had to ask. It was a deadly-looking pair of black wings on my shoulder blades."
Kaidan and I started roaring again, muscles clenching from the exertion.
We had no way of knowing it would be our last reason to laugh for a very long time. ~ Wendy Higgins

Wait a minute," said Gabriel. "Someone knows what the secret tattoo says?"
Hunter gave him a look. "It´s not a secret. It´s on my arm."
"Enough with the suspense already. What does it say?"
"Nothing important," said Hunter.
The nurse smiled and released the pressure in the cuff. "It says ,
The first day you meet, you are friends. The next day, you are brothers."
Gabriel lost the smile. Then he clapped Hunter on the shoulder.
Hunter frowned at him. "What was that for?"
"Brotherhood," he said. "Welcome to the family. ~ Brigid Kemmerer

After deliberating my options for a split second, I rolled my chair over to watch him tattoo the guy he had hunched over, working on an old pirate ship right smack on the middle of the man's brawny shoulder.

I didn't say a word as I watched him, not wanting to distract him from the man who had been all too excited to request Slim's work an hour before.

But my friend Slim had other thoughts. His green eyes flashed up at me. "What was that about?"

"Huh?" I played stupid.

Slim pulled the gun off the customer's skin, dabbing at the beaded blood before continuing with a shake of his head. "Since when are you guys BFFs?"

I'd learned over the last month how chatty all the guys were, well, specifically Slim and Blake. If I answered his question just remotely weird, I'd bet my first born Slim would jump to some kind of crazy conclusion that I wanted no part of. So I went with the truth. "I heard him fart last night. It kind of broke the ice."

The little whistle he let out told me that was good enough. He snorted and raised an eyebrow before getting back to work. "That'll do it. ~ Mariana Zapata

He lay stretched full length along his glorified cot, and while his bandage masked his shoulder, plenty of bare skin remained for her gaze to lap up. Bare, musclely skin. Skin that was somehow otherworldly in the soft glow of the flickering candlelight. Skin that made her want to touch, feel, and…and…lick. Until her gaze snagged on the scar-tattoo combo, and ice again crystallized in her gut. ~ Angela Quarles

He nodded slowly. "Okay." He squeezed her shoulder gently, then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching her ear. "But for what it's worth...I'm not sorry." And then he turned his head and kissed her. It was a dirty trick, right in the middle of the break room, where anyone could walk in. But she couldn't help kissing him back, smelling his scent, familiar as always, but now somehow new - it made her shiver. But when she finally leaned into him, to steady herself, to let him steady her, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and moved her back, just an inch. Then he placed one final, close-mouthed kiss on her primed lips. "Have a nice class, Emma." Then he turned and walked away. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened and closed it again. Giving up, she crossed her arms, rubbing the skin that Noah had just touched. And she was ten minutes late for class. ~ Claire Matthews

And what do you know, John's hands flew through the positions
of ASL in various l-got-this combinations.
"Is he deaf" the guy behind the cash register asked in a stage
whisper. As if someone using American Sign Language was some kind
of freak.
"No. Blind."
"Oh."
As the man kept staring, Qhuinn wanted to pop him. "You going
to help us out here or what?"
"Oh ... yeah. Hey, you got a tattoo on your face." Mr. Observant
moved slowly, like the bar codes on those bags were creating some kind of wind resistance under his laser reader. "Did you know that?"
Really. "I wouldn't know."
'Are you blind, too?"
No filter on this guy. None. "Yeah, I am."
"Oh, so that's why your eyes are all weird."
"Yeah. That's right."
Qhuinn took out a twenty and didn't wait for change-murder
was just a liiiiiittle too tempting. Nodding to John, who was also measuring the dear boy for a shroud, Qhuinn went to walk off.
"What about your change ?" the man called out.
"I'm deaf, too. I can't hear you."
The guy yelled more loudly, "I'll just keep it then, yeah?"
"Sounds good," Qhuinn shouted over his shoulder.
Idiot was stage-five stupid. Straight up. ~ J.R. Ward

A good hard fuck later, she stared at me in a sleepy way. Raven needed more rest after all our fun. I know I sure as hell did.
"My dick needs a nap," I told her while brushing hair away from her face.
"I should go."
Resting on my back, I sighed. "I need a nap too."
"After we sleep, you'll drive me to my car, so I can go home?" she muttered with her eyes half closed.
"No, we'll get something to eat then I'll take you to Jodi's for your car."
"Getting something to eat sounds like a date and I'm not dating anyone," she said, forcing her eyes open.
"It's not a date, crabapple. We're friends with benefits. We've done the benefits. Now, let's do the friend crap."
"I don't want to be your friend," she said, cuddling up against my arm.
Smirking, I pulled a sheet over us. "Of course, you do. I'm awesome."
"I don't want to eat with you."
"You need to keep your strength up, Raven, because I'm really looking forward to fucking you at your place. Doing a chick in more than one location is my thing."
A grinning Raven nuzzled the "Hungry Like a Wolf" tattoo on my shoulder. "You're an idiot."
"Fuck you, darling. I'm the Einstein of the Reapers. Now, shut up and go to sleep. ~ Bijou Hunter

The night following the reading, Gansey woke up to a completely unfamiliar sound and fumbled for his glasses. It sounded a little like one of his roommates was being killed by a possum, or possibly the final moments of a fatal cat fight. He wasn't certain of the specifics, but he was sure death was involved.
Noah stood in the doorway to his room, his face pathetic and long-suffering. "Make it stop," he said.
Ronan's room was sacred, and yet here Gansey was, twice in the same weak, pushing the door open. He found the lamp on and Ronan hunched on the bed, wearing only boxers. Six months before, Ronan had gotten the intricate black tattoo that covered most of his back and snaked up his neck, and now the monochromatic lines of it were stark in the claustrophobic lamplight, more real than anything else in the room. It was a peculiar tattoo, both vicious and lovely, and every time Gansey saw it, he saw something different in the pattern. Tonight, nestled in an inked glen of wicked, beautiful flowers, was a beak where before he'd seen a scythe.
The ragged sound cut through the apartment again.
"What fresh hell is this?" Gansey asked pleasantly. Ronan was wearing headphones as usual, so Gansey stretched forward far enough to tug them down around his neck. Music wailed faintly into the air.
Ronan lifted his head. As he did, the wicked flowers on his back shifted and hid behind his sharp shoulder blades. In his lap was the half-formed raven, its head tilted bac ~ Maggie Stiefvater

A hand landed on his shoulder like an anvil. "How'd you like to stay for dinner?"
Butch looked up. The guy was wearing a baseball cap and had some kind of marking - was that a tattoo, on his face?
"How'd you like to be dinner?" said another one, who looked like some kind of model. ~ J.R. Ward

Business colleagues who have not seen each other for a long time but who have a good relationship can always shake hands warmly and grab each other's right upper arm or shoulder with their free left hand. Men and women executives should not kiss each other in public. ~ Letitia Baldrige

Will it fade? The tattoo?"
"No."
"Why would you want it on your shoulder like that, something that will
forever be there?"
"As I recall, I was quite drunk at the time and thought it a good idea."
"Why a dragon?"
"Symbolic. We all face dragons in one way or another, at one time or
another."
"So it's not a good thing."
"Depends whether or not we slay them. It all made perfect sense
when I was drunk."
"Did you slay yours?"
"I thought so at the time. ~ Lorraine Heath

The appendicular skeleton (ap0en-dik9u-lar) consists of the
bones of the upper and lower limbs and the girdles (shoulder
bones and hip bones) that attach the limbs to the axial skeleton
(colored gold in Figure 6.1). Bones of the limbs help us move from
place to place (locomotion) and manipulate our environment. ~ Elaine N. Marieb

You were right, you know," Ty whispered.
"About what?"
Ty swallowed hard. "I sold my soul a long time ago."
Ty gripped Zane's shoulder and pressed him down,
laying him out again, then stretched out over Zane, his hand
dragging down Zane's body to push at his boxers.
"Ty," Zane gasped.
Ty kissed him. Zane trailed the tips of his fingers down
Ty's arm, sliding over the tattoo and the scars and the muscles.
"Do you really believe that?" Zane asked.
"I know it. I will never be the man you think I am."
Zane's breaths came harder. "We've both been trying so
hard to be worthy of each other. ~ Abigail Roux

Fillette." He twisted his upper body toward her, so he could put both arms around her, press her back against the pillows and blot out the lamplight with his shoulder. "I only ever want to love you because it's you, and it's me, and I can't help myself." He whispered against her neck in French and she felt herself melting. ~ Lauren Gilley

Without warning, he fingered the small, black tattoo on her lower back. "What does this script mean?"
She did gasp then, as much from the shock of his touch as from her visceral reaction to it. She wanted to arch up to his hand and couldn't understand why. She snapped, "Are you done groping me?"
"Canna say. Tell me what the marking means."
Mari had no idea. She'd had it ever since she could remember. All she knew was that her mother used to write out that mysterious lettering in all of her correspondence. Or, at least her mother had before she'd abandoned Mari in New Orleans to go on her two-hundred-year-long druid sabbatical -
He tapped her there, impatiently awaiting an answer.
"It means 'drunk and lost a bet.' Now keep your hands to yourself unless you want to be an amphibian." When the opening emerged ahead, she crawled heedlessly for it and scrambled out with her lantern swinging wildly. She'd taken only three steps into the new chamber before he'd caught her wrist, spinning her around.
As his gaze raked over her, he reached forward and pulled a lock of her long hair over her shoulder. He seemed unaware that he was languidly rubbing his thumb over the curl. "Why hide this face behind a cloak?" he murmured, cocking his head to the side as he studied her. "No' a damn thing's wrong with you that I can tell. But you look fey. Explains the name."
"How can I resist these suave compliments?" He was right about the name though. Many of the fey ~ Kresley Cole

Suddenly I realized she was asleep. Exhausted by her flight she had fallen asleep against my shoulder as so many times, in taxis, in buses, on a park-seat. I sat still and let her be. There was nothing to disturb her in the dark church. The candles napped around the virgin, and there was nobody else there. The slowly growing pain in my upper arm where her weight lay was the greatest pleasure I had ever known. ~ Graham Greene

The bed was swathed in black cotton; turning her head, Danika saw that she was draped by a half-clothed man. He possessed skin of chocolate and honey, taut muscle and ripped sinew. No hair marred his chest, but there was a menacing butterfly tattoo that stretched from one shoulder to the other and up his neck. Menacing butterfly - two words that could be used together to describe only one man. Reyes. "Oh, ~ Gena Showalter

The young lady then placed her hands on Kode's shoulder, letting her cheek rest on top of the pile. The smile on her face was more than a victory smile. It was a happy sign of contentment. Eena wondered.

"When do you suppose those two will get married?" She whispered the question to Kira who still had a firm grip on her arm.

"Kode get married?" The incredulity on Kira's face matched her brother's strong outburst.

"Who the hell says I'm gettin' hitched?"

Niki pushed herself away from her boyfriend's shoulder; her upper lip curled into a resentful scowl at the negative way he had voiced his query.

Eena had never meant for them to overhear. She stumbled over a justification for the question. "It's just that you've been together for a while, you know, like a couple. Close. I mean, you're always together so…I just figured…" she let the notion trail off.

Kode looked queasy. "We're always together 'cause she bloody follows me around everywhere I go like I'm some freakin' tour guide!"

"Fine!" Niki exclaimed, holding her palms like a defensive wall in front of her. "I'll leave if that's what you want. I don't need you! There's plenty of other guys who'd love to get their lips on me!" With that outburst, the pretty Mishmorat twirled her body around, setting off on foot with both fists seared into her hips. Kode let her take about four steps before he darted over and dragged her back. She didn't put up much o ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

...She froze in the doorway of her kitchen.
And nearly swallowed her tongue.
Ivan leaned against the counter, wearing nothing but dark jogging pants and holding a cup of coffee. His blond hair was spiked adorably, as if he hadn't combed it yet. the sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders stood out as he raised the cup to his mouth, a bright tattoo of intricate artwork wrapping around one shoulder and over one pec.
What she'd imagined he might look like was nothing compared to the reality of the Viking god in her kitchen. Her gaze trained on that ridiculously muscular chest and it was like she'd lost the ability to speak. Or breathe. Or, you know, think. ~ Katie Reus

I dreamt I saw a shadow with a burning heart butchering a golden stag, aye. I dreamt of a man without a face, waiting on a bridge that swayed and swung. On his shoulder perched a drowned crow with seaweed hanging from his wings. I dreamt of a roaring river and a woman that was a fish. Dead she drifted, with red tears on her cheeks, but when her eyes did open, oh, I woke from terror. All this I dreamt, and more. ~ George R R Martin

It's no accident that I'm not married and don't have kids yet. Because, despite what I've achieved in my career, I'm always wondering when somebody's gonna tap me on the shoulder and say, 'OK, the gig is up.' ~ Shemar Moore

[The tamed squirrels] made jolly companions but became very annoyed with her if she read too long; one would climb onto her shoulder, down her arm and sit on the page of her book 'with bushy tail outspread'. ~ Mary Allsebrook

A heavenly female with long, russet tresses that drifted over her right shoulder in undulating waves stepped toward him. A bright blue ribbon held her unruly mass of hair. She wore a light blue, snugly fitted shirt that matched the ribbon. It clung to full breasts tapering to a narrow waist. Skin like polished stone with a light kiss from the sun gleamed in the gathering light. Large, round, azure eyes the shade of sea shoals under a noonday summer sun and blanketed with thick lashes assessed him and left him speechless. ~ Aleigha Siron

Any Christianity that rests upon a dichotomy - some sort of platonic concept - simply does not have an answer to nature, and we must say with tears that much orthodoxy, much evangelical Christianity, is rooted in a platonic concept, wherein the only interest is in the "upper story", in the heavenly things - only in "saving the soul" and getting it to heaven. In this platonic concept, even though orthodox and evangelical terminology is used, there is little or no interest in the proper pleasures of the body or the proper uses of the intellect. In such a Christianity there is a strong tendency to see nothing in nature beyond its use as one of the classic proofs of God's existence. "Look at nature," we are told; "Look at the Alps. God must have made them." And that is the end. Nature has become merely an academic proof of the existence of the Creator, with little value in itself. Christians of this outlook do not show an interest in nature itself. They use it simply as an apologetic weapon, rather than thinking or talking about the real value of nature. ~ Francis A. Schaeffer

I reassessed the map and my timing. I had to come up with a plan to get myself out of this mess, and fast.
I turned 90 degrees and started to climb back up onto the high ground that I had just come off. This was way off-route, I should be heading down, but I just knew that the high ground would be better than fighting a losing battle in the bog. I had done that before--and lost.
The wind was blowing hard now, down from the plateau, as if trying to deter me. I put my head down, ignored the shoulder straps that pulled and heaved against my lower neck muscles, and went for it. I had to take control.
I was refusing to fail Selection again in this godforsaken armpit of a place.
Once on the ridge, I started to run. And running anywhere in that moon grass, with the weight of a small person on your back, was a task. But I was on fire. I kept running. And I kept clawing back the time and miles.
I ran all the way into the last checkpoint and then collapsed. The DS looked at me strangely and chuckled to himself.
"Good effort," he commented, having watched me cover the last mile or so of rough ground. I had made it within time.
Demons dead. Adrenaline firing. ~ Bear Grylls

It is going to be too easy for things to start feeling normal - especially if you are someone who is not directly impacted by his actions.
So keep reminding yourself:
This is not normal.
Write it on a Post-It note and stick it on your refrigerator, hire a skywriter once a month, tattoo it on your ass.
Because a Klan-backed misogynist internet troll is going to be delivering the next State of the Union address.
And that is not normal.
It is fucked up. ~ John Oliver

It's an extreme to go from an artist like myself to a commercial artist with art directors looking over your shoulder, or any other knucklehead telling you what your art should look like. ~ Raymond Pettibon

No hay problema," Orlando agreed. "But you haven't said where?" His eyes grazed over the rumpled tux, Aiden not having thought about where the tattoo might go. Isabel had an answer.
"His neck."
"My neck?"
"Tiene cojones," Orlando said slyly grinning.
"Yes, your neck. It'll be your thing, you know, when you're famous
like an insigna. It's sexy and dangerous. Aidan's going to be a famous rock star, Orlando."
Aidan admired her confidence. "From her lips ... "
"I surely hope, mis amigos, because putting that thing on your neck does not say nine-to-five employment. ~ Laura Spinella