Juggalo Face Tattoo Novels & Stories

Maya waggled her brow at Jared as he stepped out of the dressing room, looking like a stereotyped bad boy and ticking off all the boxes with his denim jacket which was opened showing off chiseled muscleks and surprisingly a tattoo, though it was an inscription that puzzled her: I want to be your everything except but one thing, Your past. It was very poetic and in all the tats did do Justice to the whole bad boy imagery that was being projected. "Howdy," she taunted, adding a wave and stifling giggle for good measures. He groaned and she chuckled.

“It’s – well. Some of it’s really bad. But you must know that, right?” Ace thought about the beatings that had gone on for hours; the crunch of lower leg bone; the knife carving out his left eye; the razors cutting the skin off his chest. Joker had insisted on removing his Fallen Angels tattoo personally, claiming that a cock-sucking traitor had no right to have it on his body any longer, and Ace still wasn’t sure if Joker had been more outraged by his disloyalty to the club, or his homosexuality.

Turning off the faucet, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Taking a deep breath, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror and run a hand across my jaw. The light of the bathroom casts shadows over my shoulders as if spotlighting my tattoos. Like some Confradia Assassins, I have a tattoo that represents my status in the organization. Mine is a human male’s face hidden in the shadows, half of the face is complete with the crimson light of vengeance in one eye and the other half is the skeletal face of the male with an empty eye socket.

“I will be sending off for a DNA test in our lab within the hour. We will regroup then; Joker will take you to Queenie and Winnie. Soon as he said his name there, Joker walked into the room; the scar that ran down his face was prominent. He looked like a modern-day Viking; his head was shaved to the sides with dark tattoos his long dark blonde hair was pulled back into a man bun. Dressed in dark, naturally distressed jeans and a grey t-shirt, his hardened eyes access me with something that I couldn’t interpret. Silently, I walk to the door, wondering to myself what the fuck just happened. I looked at Joker, wondering if he was just the strong silent type or what his deal was. “So lovely weat

I sat closer to Jedrick, not wanting to be left alone in this ungodly place. His face had a long scar that starts from his left eyebrow and ran down to his jaw. He was bald and his entire body was covered with tattoos except for his face. He was so buff. He looked like a real-life hulk, except for the green skin. I gulped with anticipation.

I approached their weak-ass leader and pulled him by the collar. "Remember my face and this tattoo you dummy, cause this day forward I will be your master. You and your useless gangmates will be my slave. You understand?" I said, looking hard at him. I grabbed his jaw and took a dagger that I always hid inside my boots. I carved a letter 'V' on his face. It stands for Violet. I tap the wound I made. "Aarrgghh!" He cried out in pain. Oh, my, my. Music to my ears.

” He grabbed my hands and led me to the carnival shooting booths handing me the small arrows to arm at the water ball. He goes first, and with five arrows he misses like a toddler losing a game. That motivates me to aim, win and give him the puppy plushie. If I didn't know Machado was a feared Mafia Boss, I'd argue with anyone who told me —-- because right now, he is jumping with excitement like a kid getting a prize. His joy disarms me like a toy gun shooting real bullets. His tattoos peak from his knuckles and arm—- two rings on his fingers, the index and pinkie, probably making his family rank. Skulls and bullets inked on his knuckles.

“To get something like that the regular way would take hours and a world of pain.” Juke chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to face Kirk. “It’s not a tattoo as you know it,” he said, an amused grin pulling at his lips. “It’s my mark, a seal of our union.” Dale reached for Juke’s arm, his fingers tracing the intricate lines of the full-sleeve tattoo. “And is mine just a smaller version of yours?” he asked, a note of wonder in his voice. Juke nodded, his expression proud. “I was born with mine. All the men in my family are.”

This raucous eruptive energy won't fall still until I exert it. "What?" The prick who spoke earlier begins to step closer to me, tilting his head about as if it's finding it hard to remain fixed to his neck. I fasten my trembling fists and steel the venomous hate distorting my face with eyes monitoring his every swaggering advancement. He points a finger at me and stops just a little distance away. Shaking that finger, he begins to laugh as he looks behind at the rest of the gang who begin to join him. The lanky thing with a thin pale face and dull eyes, yellow teeth, and a smoky breath, in cargo pants and a leather jacket; leaving his torso in the open, painted here and there with tattoos.

For a moment, Gu Mocheng thought his eyes had been mistaken, but the truth stared him right in the face: a tattoo on the back left side of her waist. It was not odd for girls to have tattoos, especially girls with strong personalities like her. However, the tattoo’s design was one he really did not wish to see. A red crane flower bloomed enchantingly at her waist. It glowed especially brightly--vivid and dazzling. Gu Mocheng was not unfamiliar with this tattoo. It could be said that he was very familiar with it. That was because people with these tattoos were his arch enemies.