Morning Glory Tattoo Outline Novels & Stories

The light scattering of hair on his lower abdomen disappeared into the towel and the only thing marring the beauty of his skin was the angry red mark on his chest, just a few inches away from his heart where he had been shot yesterday. Now that he was finally unclothed, I was able to see the tattoo on his left arm. It was a picture of a phoenix in flight and it was magnificent. The artist had focused on every tiny detail down to the red eye of the phoenix and somehow, it suited him. He was just as majestic as the bird.

It’s like a really faint tattoo without the ink. I shut the water off so I can look at it closely. It’s an infinity mark with a single vertical band running around the middle, and two dots on both ends of the band.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

His hair damp and dark against his forehead, skin still flushed and sheened from exertion, catching the pale morning light in a way that turned it golden. The tattoo I had only ever seen in pieces revealed itself fully for the first time. Dark geometric lines beginning at his wrist, winding up his forearm with the patience of something that knew exactly where it was going, curling over the swell of his bicep, continuing across his shoulder and unfurling onto his chest in patterns that were precise and deliberate and entirely unhurried. A private language written in ink that he had never offered to translate.

I hesitantly accepted and dropped it after one hurried shake of our arms. He immediately turned his back to me and began heading to the center of the sparring ring. When he pivoted around I momentarily caught a glimpse of the back of his neck. I was taken aback when I spotted not one, but a plethora of Molnija marks, small tattoos shaped like lightning bolts coming together in an X. Each tattoo signified a Strigoi kill and was usually accompanied by our Guardian insignia upon entry of service. Many Guardians kept their hair shorter or pulled back to show them proudly. I supposed I had only seen him with his hair down up until that point, but for a moment I couldn't believe my eyes. I started

It was stunning. I looked to my collarbone and saw the abstract swirls of sunrise that slowly faded into sunset. In the sunrise portion of the colours I could see the shape of his wolf, it curved and fit the shape of my breast, the swirls and strokes of colour covering the side of my breast. Where the colours darkened into sunset there was the form of his dragon in flight, the swirls and strokes of colour stopping at my hip. It was a large mark and it was absolutely stunning. It perfectly matched him and I was so proud to have it on my skin.

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

Morning fell in all it's glory, bronze and violet pastels mixed with the happy orange poured through the pellucid looking clouds wandering fecklessly in the new born sky. Golden threads of morning light peeked through the blinds filling the ambient space with warmth and positivity. It caressed the tear stained face of a girl crouched in a corner of a small chamber, stress lines prominent on her forehead contrast to her once baby like tranquil moon face reflecting a fresh bloom rose in the mist of the woodland.

How I wished Mark wouldn't hang around with that jerk. As I finished my drink I put the glass down and looking in the mirror across from me admired where half of that $500 had gone. I was wearing a sleeveless low cut red blouse and from the tip of my shoulder all the way down to my elbow was an enormous tattoo of the Greek gorgon Medusa. The tattoo had been done in black and emerald green and the coils of her serpentine body wrapped around the inside of my arm as well. I smiled at my reflection; Medusa had taken almost five hours but had been worth every minute and every penny. It goes without saying that my parents were not happy. Mom simply gave me a disgusted head shake and said that I wa

MOONMARK INK is etched in bold, faded letters next to it. A blue neon OPEN sign flickers in the large glass window. And because I can’t see through the glass, I have no idea how many people might be inside. I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself before pulling a handful of papers from my bag that have different sizes of the same tattoo design etched on them. A bleeding heart. Just enough detail to mask the faint red tint of the mark without drawing attention. Squaring my shoulders, I walk toward the shop and push open the door.