Gambit Tattoo Ideas Novels & Stories

She was still contemplating the answer in her head when she heard a door open and feet shuffling into the room; her head immediately turned to the direction of the sound and at that moment she wondered why the ground didn't open and let her fall in. Liam had a towel tied around his waists as he stepped out of the bathroom; his hair was wet, and a bunch fell over his face; his torso was bare, thus exposing a good amount of his chiseled abs, there was a phoenix tattoo. A mythical firebird with roots in both Greek and Egyptian lore, it rises from the ashes to signify rebirth. The tattoo started from his left chest and on his ribs inching downwards to his waist line which was incredibly sexy; If

"You want another life so you can be with Theresa? Keep dreaming! You and I will be trapped here forever—watching each other suffer, over and over again. Hahaha!" The next morning, I woke up from that dream feeling a strange sense of relief like a blockage in my chest had completely cleared. I have always believed— What goes around comes around. Karma never fails.

No one suspected Josh had stolen Caleb's identity. After crying for a while, I wiped my eyes and said, "We can't leave the body out for long. We should hurry and have it cremated. May his soul rest in peace." Josh agreed instantly—so eager that it was as if he couldn't wait to destroy the evidence. As he moved the body, I saw the narrow, thin scar between his thumb and forefinger. In my previous life, that very scar confirmed that the one still breathing was Josh. This time, I pretended I hadn't seen a thing.

I was still catching my breath when I heard a loud rumble of an engine cutting through the silence. A motorbike slowed before me, the headlights flashed into my eyes. I had to turn my face so I wouldn't go blind. The rider killed the engine. I turned to take a proper look at him. He slipped out of the bike, his helmet under one arm. I couldn't see his face, he was standing under the shadows. He moved closer. His arms slowly came into view. Tattoos? I recognized them. And when I finally saw his face, I wanted to punch a rock. I gulped hard.

The natural waist dropped into a sheer fabric with flowers stitched into it. The scars have relaxed and really created a pretty chain-link pattern. Although our wolves really worked on healing me, they are just now calming down and looking like regular scars. I have grown accustom to them to the point that I want to get them tattooed. As a symbol of my strength and determination to not let evil win. Soft music was playing as I paced around this tent. The only thing I knew about this event was the smell of lilacs. “Ready?” Colt lifted the side and stepped in.

Em looked at Mickey as she spoke. “Helll to the yeahhh!” Mickey shouted. She jumped out the of the car then turned and looked at the girls. “Y’all comin or what?” An hour later the friends emerged from the tattoo place, Em sporting a bandage on her rib cage right under her previous tattoo, and another one on her wrist… which matched the ones on her three best friends. They’d all decided to get matching ones. Nothing big.. just a little Roman number IV. Symbolizing the four of them and how much they meant to each other. And then the one on Em’s rib cage, under her hummingbird which read: ‘Made to Endure’.

Why the wind decided to seek me out now was just a poetic justice. Taking off his shirt I finally saw those muscles in full. For the last day I had seen hints of them. His arms were the most striking to me at the time but those abs. They crawled up his stomach with two black tattoos on each of his pecks. Paw prints? “What are those about?” I pointed to my own chest then to him. Looking down he twitched slightly before shrugging, “Just something my brothers and I do when we start training. Conrad chose lines, Alfred chose stars. It’s like a a symbol that we have completed training.”

He stares at my arm, at where the sleeve of the jumper I’m wearing is rolled up enough and his eyes focus right in on where the tattoo is. I paid a small fortune for that tattoo. It’s a phoenix. It felt almost poetic at the time although I’d admit now it’s a bit cheesy. Its wings are inked into flames. It stretches over my forearm, not too big, but it covers what he’d done. How he’d marked me.

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

I grumble, though secretly I am grateful for her staying with me. We move through the woods until Harriet alerts me to a scent she has picked up. She points down a ledge and through bushes and I see it. The gray flag dancing in a small breeze that floats through the trees. Bill’s team’s fucking flag. The thought of swiping it becomes intoxicating. Just imagining the look of Gamma Dickwad’s face is enough to make me forget how useless everyone thinks I am. I scan the forest floor finding some green moss and point to it. Harriet gives me a confused look as I roll my eyes and move over to it. I drop to my knees and gather two fistfuls before smearing them all over my clothing and hair.