Marvin Martian Tattoo Novels & Stories

He replied. "Our first time wasn't so easy". Mario said. "Yeah...we were given a mark". Mateo said and adjusted the hand of his sleeve to show her a red crossed mark. "What does it mean???". Jessica asked, staring intensely at the tattooed mark on his wrist. "It is not about what it means, it's about what it signifies". Mario respond. "Then what does it signify". Jessica lifted her head and gazed at Mario. "That we're not rapid wolves". Mario responded.

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.

"I'll be enjoying every moment of it." My cheeks are steaming red and glancing over at Galina, she is also blushing with her gaze downcast. She proffers me her hand and I wordlessly take it as I'm burning with fury inside over the dastard. My eyes catch sight of the tattoo on his muscled upper arm. The black ink of the Christian Cross encircled by a fierce Dragon, made a dramatic striking contrast against his fair skin. Some girls would think it was bad of a guy, however, to me it was bad news about a guy.

He thought again, "sinuous, dangerous and supremely sexual." One tattoo in particular was prominent and drew the eye; it was a bright red "slut stamp" very low on her lower back that was repeated low on her belly, just above the pubic mound. It said, in both locations, "Candy Slut to Paulo Zero." The words of the tattoo were in a pre-Columbian language that Barnes would never have a hint of. In addition, like a Bay area poster from the psychedelic era the tat's lettering was very stylized, even if it was in English it would be near impossible to read. Some English word fragments were visible in the edging and lines of the distorted shapes. Incorporated into the tat were sexual images and tri

"You did what you had to do. You survived." "Look at his wrist," she said, pointing toward the corpse. "The tattoo." I moved closer to examine the body, and my blood turned to ice. The intricate design wrapped around his forearm was unmistakable, Marco's signature mark. Every man who worked directly for him wore it like a badge of honor. "Marco sent him," I said, my voice coming out as a growl. "They knew I'd bring you here. They knew exactly where to find you." "Vin, there's something else." Marianna's voice was barely audible. "I've seen that tattoo before."

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

Her eyes were on the rest of him, male perfection from shoulder to narrow hips. Mariana, stared like a starstruck girl. She had seen male models in magazines before but none of them had so much beauty like Marcello did. She moved closer until she stood beside the king-size bed. His face was turned from her, his breathing steady. The entirety of his back was covered with tattoos just like she had seen that day in the kitchen, from a dragon with wings, to Bible scriptures, and some words in Italian. Mariana found it strange to actually see him in his vulnerable state. Suddenly something reddish caught her sight.

I lay in his arms, eyes half-closed but not quite asleep. Marco's hand was on my back, and I had my arm over his chest. We were covered with just the duvet, too tired to care about clothes. "What’s your tattoo mean?" I asked, noticing his Roman numeral v-line tattoo on his chest. "II XXIX? Like 2 and 29? Does it mean something?" I looked up at him, hoping he’d tell me. Marco’s eyes opened, and I waited for him to explain, but after staring at me for a while, he grinned. I sat up, eager to hear him, and reached up to touch his cheek. But when I looked at him again, the grin was gone.

Hatch, who came every Tuesday with three garbage bags of laundry and always fell asleep in the plastic chair had one eye open. "Fine," Sera said. "Muscle cramp." He closed his eye again. She waited until his breathing went slow and even. Then she pulled the collar of her long-sleeve shirt aside and looked. The mark was already there. Fully formed, like it had always been under her skin and the burning had just been it waking up. A rune … angular at the edges but curved at the center, like all the others. It sat directly below her collarbone and glowed faintly silver in the bad fluorescent light.

She spun, knife up, searching the dark. “The next one won’t be,” she warned. “I hope not,” I murmured, stepping easily over her trap. “I’d hate to be disappointed in my future mate.” Her knife flashed through the air. I caught it by the handle, the blade halting inches from my cheek. The silence let me enjoy the weight of it in my hand... well-balanced, sharp, wrapped in weathered leather. Mara’s mark was carved near the base: a crescent moon and three lines. Old rebellion. Old blood. She’d likely never told Maeve what it meant.