Malcolm X Tattoo Ideas Novels & Stories

“What if I told you I want to get a tattoo?” An image of a massive bearded guy sticking needles into Mabel’s body popped into my mind. I didn’t like it. Not at all. “Where do you want it?” I asked. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe…” “Aww…” Tanisha swooned. “You can get matching tattoos! Trevon and I are planning to get some. I already checked, there are some decent tattoo parlors in your area.” I saw the way Mabel’s eyes lit up at the idea. I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t. Not to her.

Malachi said and smiled at me. Marcus came toward me and we shook hands. The other man, Steve, stood next to James and he took out his rotary machine and laid his equipment neatly on the table next to the portable bed. When they finished with their equipment, they told us to lie down. The rotary machine made a soft whirring sound and Marcus started below my neck, in the middle of my spine. Each wolf pack had their own symbology and designs they used and tradition played a big role. The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

She couldn't deny it--Mark was now asserting his dominance over her, and she was loving it. Mark sensed his plan was headed toward a successful end. He continued to smoke the cigar as he rolled up his right shirt sleeve, revealing the tattoo he had inked on his arm two days earlier. It was the word "DADDY" with a smoldering cigar underneath it. Mark thought he'd lost his mind when he had this permanent display put on his body. Now that he believed he was going to get what he wanted so desperately, he felt like a genius.

It was the first time I saw the tattoo that covered his entire back. I’d never seen it before. It was a highly detailed skull that was realistic and somewhat menacing, with deep, dark eye sockets and a wide, toothy grin. The shading and depth gave it a three-dimensional effect, making it appear almost lifelike. The design extended from his lower back up to his shoulders, creating a striking and impactful visual. It was certainly a work of art and my favorite tattoo of his. My second favorite were the words written on his fingers. They spelt out ‘il migliore’ which was Italian for his nickname ‘The Beast’, a title he wore with pride.

He beckoned me over. I walked to the corpse of the assassin, the one with the poison spear. Drax was holding the rogue's arm up. He had ripped the tattered sleeve away to reveal the forearm. There, branded into the greyish skin, was a tattoo. It was a black circle with a jagged red lightning bolt cutting through it. "I know this mark," Drax said, his voice grim. "It’s the sigil of the Iron Hounds. Malakar’s elite guard from the old wars."

Something about the adrenalin of the tattoo gun I guess. I did get a tattoo added for Roxie in the end. It took me a while to think about what I wanted but in the end I had a twisting, mixed up lightning bolt. Not a cheesy, pointy outline, but the crackling, thin shards that splinter across a dark sky. It is on the side of my ribs, surrounded by the constellations of the Fyrestone compound.

I said as he took the bowl before wolfing it down. “Woah there tiger,” I giggled as he set the bowl aside, “Where do you want this tattoo?” He asked as I bite my lip, “On my back,” I replied as he raised his eyebrows, “Okay, and what have you decided on getting?” He asked, causing a smile to appear on my lips, “I was thinking of getting a blossom branch with the word rebirth in Chinese on my side,” I explained causing his eyebrows to raise once again.

“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.”

I nod my head, filled with determination as I sit up straight. “I’m choosing to trust you. Even though I’m scared. Even though there’s a voice in my head telling me this is too good to be true.” I wipe my eyes. “I’m choosing this. Choosing us. Even if it terrifies me.” “That’s all we’re asking,” Malachi says softly. “Just choose us. We’ll handle the rest.” “You’re really not going to hide me?” I need to hear it one more time. “We’re planning to be obnoxiously public about it,” Jaxon says, and there’s that cocky grin. “Thinking about getting matching tattoos. You know, to kinda really lean into it.”