Samantha Bebber

My last tattoo—a skull—was born from a collision of morality and rebellion. It’s a reminder that life is short, death is certain, and the rules we follow are often written by those too afraid to truly live. The skull doesn’t symbolize fear—it celebrates defiance. It’s my way of staring down mortality and choosing to live unapologetically, on my terms. It’s not about glorifying death, but about honoring the fire that burns before it.

If my ink could speak, it would roar, whisper, and howl all at once. It would tell stories of battles fought, rules broken, and loyalty earned. It would say, “I’m not decoration—I’m declaration.” Every line screams freedom, every shade speaks truth. From the wolves to the quotes, the claw to the skull, it would say, “This skin is a canvas of rebellion, memory, and meaning.” My ink would laugh at fear and dare the world to look closer.

With $25,000, I’d plant seeds for both legacy and self-expression. First, I’d start a savings for my son—to give him security, opportunity, and a future built on love and intention. The rest, I’d invest in ink—to continue turning my body into a living canvas that tells my truth, my battles, and my story. It’s not just art—it’s identity. One part for his tomorrow, one part for the fire that keeps me alive today.