General Grievous Tattoo Novels & Stories

He also loves showing off his tattoos – he has tribal tattoos all over his chest and arms. Tattoos aren’t fun at the best of times, but they’re more painful for us wolves. We heal too fast and don’t scar easily so the only way to get tattoos is to use a tattoo gun made with pure silver because any injury caused by silver once healed leaves a scar. Gamma James’ tattoos are basically a giant warning sign screaming ‘I’m dangerous and pain means nothing to me.’ “Just once I wish my old man would wear a shirt,” whispers a voice beside me and I have to stifle a chuckle.

Kevin turned around and he was still holding onto her soft body. “At first it would appear after heavy exercise! When we were young, we took fighting very seriously! We got tattoos because we were rebellious boys. Although our household was strict and there was no need to worry about anything in life, we still longed for a life that was free and out on the streets like those gangs! Perhaps we were influenced by the movies and thought that it was cool and manly! Getting a tattoo was very trendy and manly, but our identities do not allow us to appear as rebellious or dark. Therefore, we went to do an invisible one, to please ourselves in secret. Of course, we are no longer that childish! A man

Something unusual. She frowned and looked him in the eye, asking “Why do you not have any tats?” * * * Bingo! There it was, thought Ash resignedly. He hadn't wanted Jo to see him without his shirt on, because he knew she was going to ask him why he had no tats. Anyone and everyone in Ganghaven knew that gangsters, no matter their ranks had tattoos. In fact, the more important one became, the more tattoos he was expected to have.

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

"Don't call her. She won't come, so just give me the forms that need signing. I can pay the fees myself." I wasn't mentally prepared to face her and lay everything out just yet. Looking at me, the nurses hesitated. "Well... Everything else is fine, but your arm is too severely injured. You might need a skin graft. There's a chance you can't keep the tattoo on your arm." That tattoo was something we'd gotten together when we were dating. Looking at it, I smiled wryly and said with a heavy heart, "It's meaningless now. I don't mind cutting that piece of flesh away. Just go ahead with the skin graft."

Grace nearly dropped the soap. Scars, large and small, crossed his torso. She'd seen bullet scars before. There were two right next to each other under his left arm. She was so focused on the terrible scars that she barely noticed the black, abstract, curvilinear tattoos on his chest and shoulders. They were fierce, with what looked like stylized talons interwoven with curving, concentric whiplash curves. He was bruised almost black on his right side. More tattoos covered his wrists and elbows in precise, flowing patterns made up of repeating geometric shapes. The burn scar on his left hand was part of a larger burn that marred the tattoo right up to his elbow.

2) He was nervous, which I thought was normal given the situation. “Are you Gavin Astor?” he politely whispered. “Yes,” I replied, crossing my legs. “And you want to have this meeting?” “Again, yes.” “Do we know one another?” he asked, starching his head. The tattoo under his sleeves peeked at me. Even though he was in a formal state with his clothing, his tattoos were helping a lot to ruin that image. There wasn’t a part of his body where you could find a little space. Under the shirt, it probably painted his entire torso with random inks. The red and black on his neck, perhaps, was just a brief glimpse of the movie.

Said the girl on the other end of the phone, who is one of my trustees in Japan. "Pavi, I need you to find all information about this person and this Logo, and when I say all, you know what I mean." I told her as I emailed her all the details. "Yeah, I know, hmmm about Argon Socherberg? Who exactly is this man? He also has a tattoo on his face, is this the new trend? This logo, it’s the same with your tattoo right?" she wondered. "Is there any pending mission there?" I asked lazily as I sat in my swivel chair, ignoring her questions.

he shyly looks down. "He asked them to get him to his wife," another junior says, "It was all so quick. We could tell they trained better. Everything was smooth," Grayson crosses his arms and sighs, "Was there anything particular about them? An outfit? Any symbol?" "They were wearing casual outfits," they reply, "If you see them, you can't even tell they're bodyguards," "They had the same tattoo," the youngest of them informs, catching everyone's attention. "A tattoo?" Grayson leans closer to the table and joins his hands, "Where?"

Darius shot his brother a scathing look, but Draven didn't flinch. “What tattoo?” Darius pressed, his voice cold. I wiped off the tears hastily and cleared my throat as I forced myself to speak. I needed to save him. “They normally have a red bird tattoo. The man I saw had it, if he's one of them he would have the tattoo behind his ears,” I answered. Darius frowned and stared at his guards, giving them a curt nod. I watched as they searched my father, yanking his head to the side and pulling at his collar for any sign of a tattoo but there was nothing.