Ignorant Tattoos Novels & Stories

How does he. The question leaves my lips before I can ask it to myself. "How the Hell do you know anything about tattoos?" God, my tongue is getting the best of me; I can't think without talking. I shouldn't have asked that- now he knows about tattoo traditions. I should have told him I had no idea what he was talking about. Stupid me. "Moron, you're a moron, Enya."

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”

Don't make me feel jealous again," I looked at him in confusion when he said the next sentence. Did he just compliment me? Seems he did this to lighten the tensed up situation between us. and I must admit this worked. I couldn't take my gaze away from him. Why he is so weirdly cute?! The foreign feelings returning to the pit of my core make me fall for him once again. "What?" He asked me while I noticed the flushness made it's way to his face. Yet his face was blank enough for me not to comprehend what was going on in his mind. The question arose in my mind when I saw the tattoo peeking through the collar of his shirt. "Is having tattoos necessary to be into mafia?" I queried being curious.

And I nodded. "Well, If you're pointing towards this Half moon tattoo that's on my neck, I don't know about it." He air quotes the tattoo with his hand. How was it possible that someone doesn't know about the tattoo they have on their skin? "That's impossible… you know… to have the tattoo on the sensitive part of your body and you don't know how'd you get that… I mean that's hard to swallow…" I pointed. "No. It's possible. To have the tattoo and you don't know about it… because it wasn't me who asked the artist to ink it on me. I could never have a tattoo without my consent." He said.

“Paper and that would be the picture of your tattoo.” His jaw dropped. “Wait, why so complicated?” “That’s the rule number 3.” “Can we just put in a normal font and stating hashtag rule number three?” "No." "But!" “You have an objection?” I asked. “I can walk to Wisdom’s house from here.” “That’s not it but…” “Are you afraid?” He stood up straight. “Who’s afraid? Come on, where are we going to get my tattoo?” he said with confidence. “We? We don’t have we, okay? One more thing, you’re the only one who will get a tattoo. It’s clear that your name is the only one that is written in the paper isn’t it? Wolframite. Who’s Wolframite?”

A second masked man had appeared and had succinctly sneaked up to deliver the blow. Fuck it! Fuck being weak! Before my consciousness went off, I caught sight of the tattoo mark on the shoulder of the second man. His sleeveless arm featured the tattoo of a tiger, a snake and a crown. That insignia was very familiar. But my brain couldn't conjure where I had seen it before. I kept staring at it as my eyes shuttered to a close, just then an image popped up in my mind's eye. Wait….what the actual hell?

Harken just narrows his eyes, fed up with the night’s events as is, but lifts his shirt to rip it over his head, revealing the large mixed tribal and Celtic style tattoo that runs from his left wrist up his arm and to his chest, the intricate symbol of the Lewis tribe crest in the middle of his breast, and the large head of a wolf covering his shoulder, winding and thick brushed tribal designs covering the skin around them. “Guess again, asshole. If you’re so familiar with their markings, you probably know what my ink means.” Harken glares down at Karl, watching as the kids’ wide eyes wander over the tattoo, his fingers gripping his forearms. “Well, w-what’s that one then?” Karl asks and poi

He was going to have sex with me and record it to send to Nikolai. I suddenly didn't want to live anymore, I wanted to die. I wanted to die. Ignacio stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless and freshly showered. He also had tattoos all over his body but his tattoos were mostly of snakes. They look horrible and scary just like him. A devilish smirk pulled on his lips. "Not bad. You can leave us, Xiomara" Xiomara nodded and walked out of the room. I flinched as I heard the clicking of the lock.

Giovanni turned his back on me, my eyes were on the giant snake coloured tattoo that covered his whole back, I was still staring at the tattoo before he disappeared into a closed door. I settled back, eyes closed, palms resting on the table, and let my mind wander to Giovanni's canvas of tattoos. The intricate snake on his left neck caught my attention first – its delicate scales seeming to slither across his skin. My gaze, though imaginary, traced the vibrant, full-back serpent, its red and black hues dancing in mesmerizing harmony. Next, my mental focus shifted to the cobwebs delicately etched onto his broad neck, their subtle complexity a testament to the artist's skill. The bold, cursive

You'd be nothing but a tomfool if you underestimate him because he has all of the most hidden information about the underworld in his cryptic brain. Don't judge a book by its cover, right? "Then you tell me." I raise my eyebrow and take a sip from my drink. "The tattoo is a sign of the Bratva and it indicates their loyalty to the mafia family. When they assign as a member of the mafia, they cosign their life to the Devil and get the tattoo. Only exclusive members, who have seen him, get the tattoo on the neck. But the others get it on their wrist." He murmurs and keeps serving the drinks to the people.