Foolish Tattoo Novels & Stories

She nods thoughtfully. " Okay so this is what I want you to do to her. I need you to tattoo something across her neck." he must have asked her something because she hums. " I need you to make it as bold as possible. Make it draw as much attention as powerful. I need you to tattoo the phrase, ' I suck it cause it's delicious but like every delicious thing, it has to belong to someone else' and draw a nazi symbol on where her neck meets her chin." I stop on my tracks and digest, well in this case I'm also processing, that she is saying that. Not that it's mean but it's not humiliating enough for that skank. I need to add something to that list. Like maybe cutting off a pinky toe.

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."

A task she had neglected this past week, until today. She’d been at the library for a few hours searching for anything remotely about “self-appearing tattoos” and “burning tattoos.” The worst article stated that a person who had a tattoo suddenly appear was marked by the devil and was an instrument of evil. She discounted it, even though it still bothered her. She had never been one to think mean or evil thoughts, nor she had never done anything evil or mean to another person in her life. So, she reasoned, the description didn’t fit her situation.

"There's not one that doesn't have a memory to go along with it. I sure as fuck don't go to a tattoo artist with some trendy ass Chinese lettering that I don't even understand." He seems offended by the notion, almost as if it's personal. "Someone you know has done that?" "You could say that. Some dumbass kid who doesn't know how the world is yet, and now he's got some symbols on his arm that probably mean eat shit and die." I can't help it, I laugh. He's so thoroughly disgusted.

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

It began to pound on that realization. Mustering up either courage or stupidity, I said casually, "That is an interesting tattoo. What does it mean?" "Oh, that little thing?" Misty purred. "It's a vampire thing. Nothing to worry about, Lorelei! You may have heard silly rumors about it or something. That's what they are, though. Just rumors." Her voice was sickly sweet, reassuring me as though a hawk was promising a rabbit to not rip it to shreds. I shuddered, but then felt a cold stare fix on me.

I said as he took the bowl before wolfing it down. “Woah there tiger,” I giggled as he set the bowl aside, “Where do you want this tattoo?” He asked as I bite my lip, “On my back,” I replied as he raised his eyebrows, “Okay, and what have you decided on getting?” He asked, causing a smile to appear on my lips, “I was thinking of getting a blossom branch with the word rebirth in Chinese on my side,” I explained causing his eyebrows to raise once again.

I clipped, pushing the door to the coffee shop open. "I never claimed not to be one, baby." "Yeah well, you should at least give people a warning. A tattoo on your forehead saying 'Beware of the asshole' should do the trick," I snickered at my stupid idea. Although, a tramp stamp would suit him. "Let's be honest, half the women that I've fucked would have never fucked me if I weren't an asshole. It makes fucking a lot more fun," he grinned cheekily, shooting me a playful wink.

he said softly. I pushed the plate of my second cake to him but he politely declined, "I think I already have my full," he tapped his stomach lightly. I noticed a tattoo peeking out from his cloth but couldn't really see what it was, "oh, what's that," I pointed at it. "Oh this..." he opened the shirt properly for me, I tried my best to maintain a calm reaction, it was that same tattoo from earlier. It couldn't be him? Can it? "Just a stupid mistake from my rebellious days, I was in a crazy group that drew the same tattoo as a sign of manhood... gosh I wish I could go back to those days and punch myself."

The love of my life. Silvy The day after Goof proposed and claimed me he took me to Tank's tattoo shop to get my mark. Was I nervous? Hell yes. I was nervous about the entire process. Tank, bless the gentle giant, let me bring Ant in with us. Ant was a hit at the shop. I was a little worried the receptionist might not give him back. It took Tank forty five minutes to finish the work on my shoulder. According to Goof that is the least sexy part of my body. Did it burn? Sure. But not as bad as I thought it would be. I wanted to see what it looked like. Tank stood me in front of his mirror. It was amazing. It looked my the Renegades emblem with a motorcycle driving through the middle of it. A