Psychic Tattoo Novels & Stories

Austin When I’m inking her skin, I enter another zone where the normal world is dreamlike. My entire focus centers on the flesh beneath my fingers. Tattooing has always been my escape. With her, it’s different in so many ways—the softness of her skin, the shiver that occasionally passes along her back and shoulders, and the timbre of her voice. The dark swirls of my past infiltrate her skin just like the ink. But unlike the ink, she absorbs the darkness and turns it light. She’s playing havoc with my thoughts and this isn’t a good thing. She isn’t as malleable as she lets on.

I have my own loved one to worry about. I put my forehead in my hands and close my eyes. “Milo, please, Babe. Please answer me. I can’t take it anymore. Just tell me you’re safe. Tell me you’re alive in one of the ambulances or something.” A sooty hand rests on my knee. My breath catches in my chest when I see it. There’s a tattoo of a wolf covered in a floral bed sheet on top of his wrist. The wolf’s tail is sticking out from under the sheet and there are holes for his nose and steel-gray eyes. He got the tattoo because we were drunk one night and thought the idea of Ghost being terrible at being an actual ghost was hilarious. The next morning, we woke up naked in the meadow. He had the tat

"Yeah. I'm ready," Seira nodded. She moved back. "Okay. First, before I ask about the lady downstairs. I want to know why my tattoo feels itchy," With her words, she stretched her hand out and Hunter looked down at the lotus flower tattoo, concealing the half-moon mark on her wrist. "Itchy?" Seira nodded. "Yes. It glowed too, a couple of times then it got itchy, so bad I nearly scratched off my wrist," Hunter stared blankly, trying to come up with the best explanation, and when he did. He sighed. "Seem like you are really the half of the Marshall. Tell me, have you felt linked with anyone, an Omega? Did you feel connected somehow?"

While Felix was a powerful warrior who did not fear the consequences, he worried about ordinary people who might be affected. Billy clarified, "Not at all! Only tattoos done by someone with Southern Xilona witch status have that power. Otherwise, it's just a design. When a witch tattoos a woman with this design, the first man to see it becomes bound to her, which explains your situation." This revelation meant that both the tattoo customers and Queenie were victims, as they could not have known their tattoo artist secretly held Southern Xilona witch status. "Will the effects spread?" Felix asked with concern.

she commented. He looked up at her. “What?” “The tattoo,” she smiled. “Do you still remember what it stands for?” he asked. “I’m your nymph, which you got from the Greek Mythology nymph Calypso. You got it in that colour because it’s the colour of my eyes, which are your favourite thing about me. You made them loop the y to make a heart because I’m the only one who holds your heart. The paw signifies the pact we made that we would never let any wolf truly rule over us...” she trailed off.

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

"Y—You actually possess such immense, divine power!" My lips curl into a mocking smirk as the completely shredded remains of my shirt fall away from my upper body, revealing my heavily muscled, bare physique to the entire room. A dark, terrifyingly majestic tattoo of a black dragon with glowing red eyes is coiled tightly across my chest, its primal design incredibly vivid and lifelike against my skin.

A familiar ache tightened my chest. But I refused to cry. Tears were a luxury I couldn't afford. I collected every shard and sealed them in a velvet pouch. The last of my illusions about Miles, now just broken pieces. The next morning, I walked into the best tattoo parlor in Chicago. "I need a cover-up," I told the artist, a man known for his dark, gothic style. He glanced at the small 'M' on my lower back. "Covering up a name?" "It was a mistake," I said, my voice flat. "I want a black phoenix. Rising from ashes."

“I plan to tattoo a Koru on you. It’s a sort of spiral that’s part of Māori culture, and in New Zealand, it means new life, growth, strength, and peace. They made bone sculptures with this symbol that were used as pendants for necklaces. The bone, when worn, changes color. And for the Māori, it meant that a part of a person's spirit entered the pendant. Sometimes it was given to another person, as if to transmit a part of one's happiness.” James takes off his shirt and shows me his right shoulder. “I had it done by Sky last week. Mine is a way to transmit my happiness and love to you.” He puts his shirt back on—what a shame—and turns back to me. “And also a bit of bad luck, since you manage

“I speak to that which created me almost all the time now. It’s not like English though. It’s more images and concepts or whole downloads of information. Your soul doesn’t speak like you and I do. It cannot. It speaks through images or allegory, and when I was there, it was telepathy. We are so limited by our bodies, but we don’t have to be. Take my hair that is now almost to my shoulders. It had to come off because your hair stores everything you’ve eaten, drunk, thought, said and done within it. I needed a fresh slate to work with. It’s different now too. Can you tell?” “Yes,” Winona said. “It glows.” Isabella smiled. “Yes, it does. I don’t see that all the time, but it glows more now beca