Kurt Vonnegut Tattoo Novels & Stories

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

He also told me where he buried her. “Why are you telling me about this story?” I asked curious more than being afraid of him. “Because you are going to be my twenty-second Daisy.” “But you can’t kill me.” He looked surprised that I read between the lines of his story. “Yes, I can’t kill you. You see my therapist told me to get someone to talk to and I met your grandfather. He—” “What did you feel when you kill them?” “Why?” The man chuckled, “You know what, let me tell you about the story of my tattoo!” He removed his shirt revealing a tattoo of a huge dragon on his arm. “This is Vrtra. He’s the dragon that caused drought to many nations on old—’

The love of my life. Silvy The day after Goof proposed and claimed me he took me to Tank's tattoo shop to get my mark. Was I nervous? Hell yes. I was nervous about the entire process. Tank, bless the gentle giant, let me bring Ant in with us. Ant was a hit at the shop. I was a little worried the receptionist might not give him back. It took Tank forty five minutes to finish the work on my shoulder. According to Goof that is the least sexy part of my body. Did it burn? Sure. But not as bad as I thought it would be. I wanted to see what it looked like. Tank stood me in front of his mirror. It was amazing. It looked my the Renegades emblem with a motorcycle driving through the middle of it. A

I approach the covered painting board and try to look under it. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Shouts a male voice. His voice invades in me chills, warm chills and when I turn to look at the person who shouted of anger, I realize it is still him. Zack Torneur, with a tower attached around his waist, living his naked well-sculptured chest seen with his wings tattoo. When I analyze him more deeply, apart from his curly hair and his light brown eyes, he has a light stubble beard. On his forarm the word GO in very big capital letters had been tattooed, on his biceps a big moon tattoo and on his thorax a rose surrounded by thorns. All this tattoo? What for? It seems he has other tattoos, but right n

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

A tattoo showed on the side of his neck, low and almost hidden under his collar. "Any Avilov would be marked. Just like the Antonovs are marked." "That's stupid." I didn't protest when he got us walking again. "Getting inked to be identified as one of the cult?" "Not a cult. A family." "Sounds close enough." "Like you should talk. You've got a lot of ink." I shrugged. "It's not to identify myself. It's... an expression of art." "I didn't ask for an explanation." I shot him a dirty glare.

V GOD! His chest is a-fucking-mazing! I won't be mad if he never wears another shirt. GASPS! O.M.G! Did he really..? "You got my name tattooed on you?!" I excitedly shriek. He has 'MY KEYA' tattooed on his abs in Old English font. Curved kinda like how Tupac has 'Thug Life' tattooed on his abs! Wow he must be really crazy about me! I am starting to fall for this guy, hard!

“Bunch of obnoxious, inhumanly attractive, muscled up cavemen.” Seriously, Knight looked like some kind of Playboy fallen angel with his sculpted ass and body stacked with hard muscle. I scanned his numerous tattoos. There was a pack of hungry wolves on one of his arms, surrounded by trees and vines full of thorns. Across his chest was the night sky and aurora borealis, and wrapping around his stomach were wisps of smoke, or shadow, that trailed upwards until they blended into the darker ink.

He patted my shoulder with his tattooed hand. I stared at it, his body was so beautiful, it was like a display of art. Various inks and pictures went up his arms, to his neck and his back. It was truly beautiful, there was a wolf, a symbol, a date, a quote, a picture of some guy and my favorite tattoo was on the back of his hand. It was, 'Fuck you. It's my life' written in italic letters. "Someday you will have something meaningful enough kid." He wound his arm around my neck and practically dragged me to the back of the shop where most of the piercings were done. "Now, wait here while I get the equipments ready."

He said, stripping his clothes off. Mark started laughing, the moment Josiah tool his shirt off. “What?” Josiah asked. “When did you get a tattoo?” He asked. “I didn’t” Josiah answered. “Someone tattooed a masked man riding a unicorn on your back right in the center. It looks like the Unicorn is farting glitter and rainbow stars.” “Those clever bastards. They must have tattooed the rune on me in my sleep. You will have to cut the tattoo off of me.” He said to Mark.