Klaus Hargreeves Tattoos Novels & Stories

Parker gasped as the realization of something dawned on him. "Jamie, you aren't in some... Some." Parker stuttered. "In some what man?" Jamie laughed. "Hold on a minute. Man, you aren't in some kind of cult group are you?" Parker asked. In stead of replying, Jamie pulled up his short to show Parker a tattoo. The tat was a rising eagle, it's eyes set on something in a distance. Upon seeing it, Parker's fears and thoughts were confirmed. His friend really did belong to a secret cult.

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

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

"Not everyone looking for me is as careless as Julian Vane. There are people out there who don't understand the concept of 'surrender.'" He approached me, and even though he walked with a slight limp, his presence was still overwhelming. He stopped in front of the stove, and the light from the fire illuminated the tattoos on his back once more. I was mesmerized by one in particular on his left shoulder blade: an ancient shield intertwined with thorns and an iron crown. It didn't look like the design of a common tattoo parlor; it had the symmetry of an official seal, of a coat of arms that demanded respect.

He gave me a nod and lifted his hands to adjust his hat and it was then I noticed the tattoo on his wrist. A crescent blood moon. I tired not to overthink as I made my way through the hospital wards untill I came across a man dressed in all black sitting in the waiting area. He had his sleeve rolled up to his elbow ,the tattoo clearly visible on his wrist. Why the fuck are Raves in the hospital? I haven't seen Javan and didn't bother looking for him but news got out that Vale had extended the company to other parts of Europe. As long as they aren't back in the organ trade then it's cool.

Her face concealed behind a white yashmak with a little trinket around her neck and the letter ‘J’ emblem on her right shoulder as she folded her arms under her copious chest. “It’s a pleasure to see not just two great Humanes but four of them; one of each is enough to fully annihilate a thousands ordinary beast beings. All at once. I’m honored.“ Hailed a bald dark skinned male with the letter ‘H’ tattooed on his lower chin looking more like a traditional lower Ichin tattoo. Dressed in a long, flowing white robe with long sleeves decorated with golden embroidery around his neck-line down to his chest and both the tips of his sleeves while holding a cap closer to his chest area.

He’s jittery. He tries to reach out for his cup of coffee, but then his big sleeve gets in the way and makes it spill all over the table. However, that’s not the worst thing that happened. His sleeve rolls back, revealing a very vivid tattoo—a tattoo that I have too. The phases of the moon. The insignia of Sangria Amori, the mark of Royals, known by everyone. Morgan glares at the tattoo. Then he slowly looks up at us. At me.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

But the way Knives looked at me, you would think he just won the jackpot. “Sweetheart,” he groaned, his whiskey voice making me shiver in delight. “Your wish is my command...” He stood and, without hesitating, he took off his T-shirt. And for once, I didn’t look away, but instead, I took in everything he had to offer. His tattoos were gorgeous. Most of them were skulls, knives, and motorcycles, but I also liked the angles and the roses. They all melted together and perfectly led from one act to the next, telling the story of a boy who became an MC VP. And of course, the centerpiece was the snarling wolf and the moon, with the name of his club.

“Geez, you look like you’re about to murder someone. You have to relax, bro. I know you have a crush on him and all, but he’s not stripping for the class. He’s just existing. Violently existing.” The guy sitting two seats over leaned across the aisle like they were all in on the same conspiracy. “That’s actually not normal tattoos, guys. That’s mafia ink,” he said, his voice slow and smug. “I’ve seen those before. A dagger-and-rosary combo is classic mafia. The guy’s probably got a rap sheet and a body count. I bet he’s got a private plane parked somewhere with blood money in the cargo hold.” Archer snorted. “You watch too much N*****x, bro.”