Hunter X Hunter Spider Tattoo Novels & Stories

Alex said. Alex turned to look at Uncle Drake. “Uncle Drake, this thing is venomous. You were poisoned earlier. Let me tend to your wound.” Shura Spiderwoman’s poison was much easier to deal with than the poison that afflicted Jade Benmore. Besides, Uncle Drake’s shoulder was only affected a little, and it wasn’t a big deal. Alex placed two Zharvakko Talismans on Uncle Drake’s shoulder before channeling the toxins out. Clara’s mother finally calmed down. “What… what is Shura Spiderwoman?” she asked with a stutter.

At first, they felt that Arnold was a werewolf and they stood there ready to attack if they needed to, but I took off my jacket so they could see the mark of my shadow hunter, my scarred tattoo. At an early age, all shadow hunters receive a mark to identify them as fully trained shadow hunters. It was very painful then. To be an accepted shadow hunter they need to peel a tattoo on your skin. I have them work on the back of my right shoulder. I chose to take the outline of an angel wing in the shape of feathers. The cool thing about this mark is it turns black after a week you receive it because shadow hunters use a particular knife to change the color of your skin. So now it looks like a bla

Eight Years ago, he had been the one who had drawn that tattoo for Royalty. In the past, Royalty despised tattoos. Despite his arrogance, he wasn't wild. No matter how hard he had tried convincing him, the big devil was obsessed with his charming looks. He had stubbornly kept his body clean, and free from Inklings. But suddenly, he wanted a tattoo. A tattoo for a little girl. He had called her Pompom. The big devil wanted the tattoo a secret, and had secretly gone to Spider. That night, Spider was a blind Animal. He kept choosing bizarre paintings whilst greatly teasing the handsome big devil.

Is he naturally built like this? Asher steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it’s a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It’s lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. “Layla told me about the tattoos in the Bratva,” I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. “What do these all mean?”

Carlo Salvatore was a man of contradictions, a monster whom many mistook for a saint, a killer. Standing at 6'4", he carried himself like the beast he was. His skin was a drawing board of violence, marked by knife scars from knife fights and gunshot wounds. A black spiderweb tattoo crawled up the left side of his neck, with which an inscription of a faded barcode LF-117, was covered. The barcode and the spiderweb tattoo were the only remnants of a past he’d burned to the ground.

The light traveled over the line of his shoulders and the slope of his spine I noticed a tattoo on his back close to his shoulders I hadn’t picked up before: a spider inked over what looked like the faded outline of a skull. Faint shadows of the old design showed beneath the new one. I considered asking, but some things felt private, like bookmarks in someone else’s book. I let it be.

As long as it wouldn't hurt anyone. I got Max's call after a few minutes. Walking away from the men who were mopping the floor, I took the call. “Any news?” “Yes, my alpha. The tattoo belonged to the men of the Scorpion Syndicate. That's their symbol mark. It's of a skull being pierced by an axe and an arrow prodding from its left eye. I can't be wrong about that.” “I see.”

We fell asleep soon after and it seemed that sleep came a lot easier for me than it had the previous nights. I woke up in the morning before Max, and snuck out of bed, careful not to wake him so I could go look at my new mark. It was a Vampire Ankh symbol in a beautiful shade of cobalt blue, and just below it off to one side was a small dagger in black. I assumed it meant the Vampire and the Vampire Hunter. “It suits us.”

Jeff scanned their faces. “Jeff.” Kevin made his way to his son’s side and viewed the lifeless bodies. “What have you done?” While his father spoke from what seemed like miles away, Jeff replayed Mr. Drake’s final word. He hadn’t understood at first but was now transported back to the teacher’s lecture: ‘Many spiders have spinnerets that aid in putting out silk for their webs.’ Everything came into focus like someone adjusted the ring on a pair of binoculars. He met his father’s eyes. “You should run.”