Lettering Soul Tattoo Novels & Stories

When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo of a barn owl on his left bicep, and he’d had them weave in the letter S on its wing. Leaning in closer, I slide the sleeve of his t-shirt up so I can see it, making him laugh around his forkful of casserole. Every time I see it, it makes my heart skip a beat. The muscled bicep certainly doesn’t hurt. I trace my finger along the S and feel his body still next to mine.

He asks, ever so the man of few words. I’m about to pick one in italics, but then I remember how nice his handwriting is, I love the way he writes his letter ‘Y’ and I want that tattooed on me. “Can you write it instead?” I ask, “I like your handwriting a lot, and add a little heart after the Y.” He closes the book, staring down at me with confusion, but he doesn’t say no. “Keep your legs spread and your knees up.”

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

Just packed his tray and disappeared like smoke. A few minutes later, a new artist appeared—a woman with short pink hair, arms covered in gorgeous inked flowers, and a smile that instantly made me relax. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said warmly. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” I smiled back, some of the tension melting. Grant, however, was still all business. “I already picked the font,” he told her. “Just Daddy’s, italicized. Red ink.” The woman nodded as she started prepping her station. My pulse fluttered in my throat when I realized what the tattoo would say and what it meant.

My mouth began going down from kissing his neck to that strong broad chest, my eyes were closed but then I looked up to catch his expression after he held back a groan in his throat, but my eyes landed on his chest who welcome me with a new tattoo, I brushed my fingers on the ink, This tattoo was a combination of words which I knew was Spanish, those words were completing a circle and huge deadly snake was printed between them, starting from Amor (Love), Escapar (Escape), Desamor (Heartbreak), Venganza (Revenge), Misión (Mission), I could few words of it. “What is this, Armando,” I examined the details of that horrific tattoo, my eyes couldn’t move from it, It was obvious from some words tha

"This ritual involves the binding of your spirit to the pack. It’s a sacred tradition that signifies your commitment and connection to everyone here. You will receive a mark, a tattoo that symbolizes your bond with us." She produced a small vial of ink and a delicate, ornate needle. "This tattoo will be placed on your left wrist. It’s a representation of our pack’s symbol—a crescent moon intertwined with a wolf’s head. The ink is mixed with the essence of our ancestors, binding you to our lineage. But it won't be visible to anyone who is not a part of our pack." I held out my wrist, feeling a mixture of anticipation and reverence. As Sophia began to work, I winced slightly at the sting of th

"And you wore your school uniform?" "Yeah, he got me an outfit, but I didn't wear it." "Why not?" "I refused. That dress revealed my shoulders and my back!" Dorothy chuckled. "What's wrong with that? The birthmark on your back is beautiful. It looks like a butterfly." "I'm thinking about getting a butterfly tattooed on it one day." "The old folks say that your soulmate will have a matching birthmark. That's how two souls will reunite." Sophia couldn't help but laugh. "So, who am I looking for?"

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”

Holding it there for ten seconds before peeling it back slowly. I smile as the letters in Latin sit perfectly on his skin. “That’s permanent, Still time to panic if you’re having second thoughts” I say to him giving him an out. “I won’t.”He grunts and Our eyes lock again and he watches me in silence. I smile as I turn to wheel my machine over. Today I’m using a rotary pen machine, it’s Smooth, consistent with Less vibration than a coil. I load the 5RL cartridge round liner, with its tight grouping since it’s perfect for script tattoos like this.

“Do…do you want to see it?” “Only if you want to show it to me,” I say, my voice quiet. “I do.” She pulls her fingers out of mine and turns around. Chloe lifts her shirt, slowly revealing her back to me. There, covering her entire back, is a watercolor tattoo of a black bird in mid-flight. Its body is curved in a “c” shape, its wings spread overhead. The background is filled with splashes of color: teal, green, and purple. And the words “Take these broken wings and learn to fly” are inked between the bird’s wings.