Tattoos Are Cliche Novels & Stories

“I knew it was just for fun, but she made it sound quite convincing. We had a nice conversation about it.” Gildeon could only shake his head at Arah advertising the Clover Wish tattoo, oblivious to its real effect. It was a good thing she’d stopped using it lately, saying it just reminded her of Plumber Paul. But with eleven people already inked, and a few of them dead, that tattoo was just putting a target on the backs of those still alive. “Did it work?” Gildeon asked casually, his gaze drifting to the inns and shops lining the road. “Your wish.”

So, he gives up the idea of chasing after Steve and walks back to his room, texting her back. OF: Really? Ash: Yes, I do like tattoos OF: Would you like to see mine one day? OF: Not all because some are personal but a few Ash: Yes OF: People usually don't like them Ash: Your tattoos? OF: Yes WG: Why not? MC: Because they are different than what you would expect on her, I guess? MC: It's idiotic, really MC: Plus, she has a lot of them, which feeds into stupid stereotypes Ash: Different, how?

I don’t know why I was being bashful like that. Clay’s seen me naked twice. So what was the big deal now? Maybe it’s because he touched the tattoo. I shouldn’t be so weird about it. Of course, he’d be interested in the tattoo. Tattoos typically have a meaning to a person, and mine is no different. I still feel like we aren’t close enough to tell him the purpose of my tattoo.

He says nonchalantly while eating, making my eyes go wide. “A few times!? Where else?” I ask him but I shut up because I didn’t know if I should continue with my questions. “Most of them are not glaringly visible now because of my tattoos. That’s actually the reason behind my tattoos. I didn’t like looking at the gunshot wounds.” He tells me and I just nod. He spoke like these things weren’t such a big deal. If I go through such things, I would be mentally unstable. Yeah, because you’re so stable now. My conscious mocked me.

Blessings, on the other hand, come with an expiry date; if you can’t perspire and get what you want within the expiry period, or else blessings too, turn into clichés… …well, see, how philosophical I’ve become as I tell you about the first triple ride on our brand-new bike in a chilly winter morning up on a hilltop temple. That’s what clichés do. They make a philosopher of you when you don’t really want to be one. The temple wasn’t open for morning rituals yet and so our idea of sitting inside the hall and warm ourselves up for a while was of no use. We went to the backyard from where we could have a view of the city. All we could see was a thick layer of white mist shrouding everything in f

"That was before I've seen Kasey's." "Your tattoos are so cool!" I shouted to Kasey and gave him a thumbs up. "Really?" he said, coming closer. "See this," he said pulling his shirt down and pointing to the tattoo on his collarbone. "These were made by the monks, like in a ritual. They’re really painful." "That's even cooler!" I said and he beamed at me. He looks like a child after the teacher praised him. "How about you, Cassie? Do you have any tattoos?" Clark asked.

He exhaled deeply and declared, "I need to verify the authenticity of the photo first!" "Well, this is not the only photo you need to verify. I got a whole lot of other photos..." Jessica smiled, holding her phone tight. "You have a very distinctive fetish, Mr. Morrison. You like to have your sweethearts' names tattooed on your body, but you know, there are some names you can't afford to toy with. If, by any chance, those who are not supposed to see those names see them, the consequences would... Well, I know you're well built, Neil, but you have limited pectorals and abs. How many names could you put on them? Tattooing them and effacing the tattoos repeatedly will take a heavy toll on you..

Luke's awe was clear as Clay finished my tattoo, his skilled hands bringing to life the intricate design we'd agreed upon. It was more than ink on skin; it was a symbol of our intertwined lives, our shared journey. The art was so quintessentially us, capturing the essence of our bond in bold, swirling lines and shaded crescents.

she corrected with a smirk. "I hate you smirking," Nester whined. "I don't really like you either. So, the feeling is mutual," Linda said and smirked again. "You're crazy, you know? Why didn't you tell me you have tattoos all over your body?" Linda looked away as she lay down on the sofa. "I didn't think it was a big deal. People get tattoos. It's not as if it's a taboo or something," she said, hoping she would not get mad at her. Thankfully, she didn't.