Clouds Forearm Tattoo Novels & Stories

When I pull away I notice a tattoo on his left upper arm. “When did you get a tattoo?” “What are you talking about?” I point at his arm where the tattoo is at. It looks like a tribal tattoo symbol for water that wraps all the way around his arm. “That wasn’t there yesterday. Did you do something?” “What do you mean?” “Well a second ago your eyes glowed blue like you were going to control water but then it disappeared.” “I did? I didn’t mean to do anything.”

My arms burned and I winced, sitting up to look at my arms. The new black marks seemed to scratch across my inner arms like claws from a beast. On my left forearm was now a thin, vertical line that met at my elbow joint, another horizontal line was drawn, the strange swirls stretching to make a shape triangle as the peak of it reached the horizontal line on my wrist. My right elbow joint had a similar horizontal line being drawn, but instead of stopping after reaching three inches, it continued until it circled my whole upper forearm. The line grew thicker, the black ink spreading. Another line at my wrist circled around before the vertical line was drawn between the two horizontal lines. A

It all blends together. A hand is stretched out towards her. No it's reaching out to her. He's mostly wearing a white shirt and the veins on his arms indicate the amount of strength used to reach out to her. The female is gentle and ethereal while his hand crashes into the water like a storm. " It must be from the same painter." I think out loud. I step closer when I notice small writing on his arms. It looks incomplete. A tattoo? " Little M....." What does the rest say?

The Veins and Blood tattoo, like a river of life, traced mesmerizing paths within the knot work, creating a network of labyrinthine patterns. Turning her attention to his right, his muscular arm played host to the Serpentine Coil, slithering with an otherworldly grace. Her eyes followed the serpentine coil with a sense of fascination as it elegantly wound its way across his upper arm, elegantly descending to the forearm.

The ones on his arms seemed to be tribal designs of some sort. Stilling his left hand with her own, she turned it over to look at the underside of his forearm. The ink continued and shifted as he moved like a living extension of his skin. It was beautiful up close. She'd only seen glimpses before. Caught up in the pattern, she traced the black lines with her fingertips from his inner elbow to his wrist and back again.

Paul added, obviously uncomfortable with the tears. I covered my whole face as I hunched over slightly, sobbing into them. A sign of an elite warrior, one that had been trained and passed their tests, was a tattoo. It spread from shoulder, across the back and to the other shoulder. Each one was slightly different, tailored to the warrior but within a pack, there was always a specific design. It meant the world to me that they would gift me this. “Skylar.” Someone took my hands and held them. Carl was on one knee in front of me. He was smiling as reached up and brushed tears from my cheek.

The eyes of the wolf glow with white ink, glowing faintly under the overhead light. Scars…deep, long and old–slash through parts of it, like he earned both the ink and the pain layered underneath. I am staring too much and I force myself to look away. And immediately regret it. Because my eyes land on Nico. He's lifting weight, tattoos on full display, biceps bulging with each curl. His sweatpants ride low on his hips, teasing the dangerous V-line. His tattoo is sprawled across the left side of his chest, creeping down his ribs and disappearing into his pants. And another, a burning rose, thorns curling into flames that occupied his left arm and hand is rendered in dark, smoky ink.

“The smell of wet earth is welcoming.” "It's relaxing." She repeats, lowering her shoulders and I get a better look at his tattoo. I want to touch it. I want to redraw it. I see that the clouds are gray and heavy, they will soon lighten, some are deformed, but I see others in shape. I laughed. “That cloud over there” I point with my index finger to the happy cloud, I hope he locates it, he narrows his vision; I assume he found it, “It looks like a gorilla playing guitar.”

They rippled slightly as the tattoo gun continued it's work. Deft gloved hands drew and colored the skin. A quick swipe removed excess ink. Heavily tattooed arms moved with each stroke, the artwork colorful and bright with splotches of pinks, blues, purples, and greens. She marveled at those arms, strong, tight, and remarkably hairless. The artist wore a black sleeveless shirt, cut to resemble a tank top with wide cut underarms. A faded yellow batman logo was printed on the front. The artist wore tight blue jeans, revealing wide hips and a round ass. Grey boxes poked out of the back as she hunched over her work.

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.