Evil Nun Tattoo Drawings Novels & Stories

They were covered in tattoos, chains, and piercings—the kind of people you generally want to avoid. Two of them started shoving each other, shouting about money and cigarettes, until a third man pushed them aside. He headed straight for Ethan. My heart sank. This was bad. Ethan wasn’t in the mood for idiots. I wanted to intervene, but I was terrified to go near them. “You’re a smoker. Give me your lighter,” the man demanded. He had a massive skull tattooed on his temple. Ethan didn’t say a word. He just slowly turned his gaze toward the man.

But his step froze for a while and he went numb catching a glimpse of the girl's tattoo on her nape. Flashback... "I kind of hate this word, Gil," said Eva scrunching her nose. "Come on, it is a word we get when our names are combined," Gil said pinching her cheeks. Eva gripped Gil's hand tight because of the pain she was enduring getting the tattoo. When it was done she immediately turned her back towards Gil and asked, "How is it?" *EVIL* "Outstanding!" replied Gil. The flashback ended. The girl had the same tattoo *EVIL* on her back. For one second he thought it was Eva but soon he, himself pulled him back from his reveries and resumed walking towards them.

I bent over the dead soldier, my heart heavy as I realized that the same tattoo adorned his neck as well. he design was unlike anything I had seen before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity about it, a memory tugging at the edges of my mind. The tattoo depicted a flying demon, its wings outstretched, eyes aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. The level of detail was astonishing, every line and curve capturing the essence of the creature in a way that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. The artistry was undeniable, but there was an underlying malevolence that sent shivers down my spine.

But the fairies did not succeed in cutting Venenata Negra. The other fairies died, but the subsequent drawings made me nervous. The dead faeries were resurrected and came back from the dead. But the drawing is different, you can tell they are faeries, but they have horns and long nails. It has a demonic symbol that represents these faeries are no longer good. No, I missed something. I went back to the drawings I had passed and there I saw that they had come to life because of Venenata Negra, but they were not the same as before.

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.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

EVANGELINE. My gaze snaps back to the tattoo on his torso, realising it’s not just any snake but the symbolic sea serpent of Hades… The symbol of the Night Shade Pack, how did I not realise! I look up at him, grasping onto the fact that I had gone straight from the wolf’s den into the monster’s lair…

I didn't look up, only down. The hands. They were huge, the knuckles thick, the skin taut over corded muscle. They were framed by the immaculate cuff of an expensive dark suit jacket and they were covered in ink. My gaze locked onto the back of the hand pressed just inches from my temple. I saw the complex, swirling blackwork, the design stretching over the knuckles. And then I saw the detail that made the air freeze in my lungs, the detail that had haunted my nightmares. Right on the back of his hand was a small, grinning face, the evil jester tattoo. The tattoo of a man who played games with pain.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

She was upset that I didn't recognize her, and seemed deeply upset when I pushed her arms away and stared at her. Despite the simple black dress, the neckline was deep enough for the tattoo of his capital sin to be quite significant and easy to decipher. In the center of the small trunk was the image of a fat badger with his mouth wide open, where a small man fell into it. Around the animal, crosses, tombstones and flames spiralled over the woman's pale skin. The rest of the drawing was not noticeable enough for me to lose more than a few seconds staring, so I looked away when she also looked.