Tattoo Science Fiction Novels & Stories

Scars crisscrossed his torso, each one a story of violence I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But it was the tattoo over his heart that drew my attention. Dark ink etched into his skin, forming words I couldn't quite make out. I squinted, trying to decipher the script. "Bound by blood, sealed in blood." The words sent a chill down my spine, a stark reminder of the dangerous world I had been thrust into.

he said. “I was excited.” He held the door open. “Come in.” Inside, the shop smelled like ink, leather, and something smoky. The walls were covered in flash designs—dragons, skulls, tribal patterns—but the back room was darker. Deeper. The art there was hand-drawn and brutal. Sacred geometry. Erotic symbols. Spines being tattooed down spines. He nodded toward the chair. “Where’s the tattoo going?” “My spine,” she said. “From the base of my neck down to—”

“Wow. Everything feels like it’s so… high-def. Like everything is clearer. It’s not like with the telepathy where things get noisy so quickly, but instead it’s like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it.” Rhett laughed and wrapped his arms around her so that the water ran over them both and puddled where their bodies met. “What’s that got to do with art?” “It’s just… Don’t you think that your tattoos will be better? More detail, better concentration, steadier hands…” “I guess,” his voice softened, and it was accompanied by a wave of nostalgia. He missed his tattoo parlour, missed the simple days where the biggest problems weren’t life and death, and where he achieved something that he could be

Luke's awe was clear as Clay finished my tattoo, his skilled hands bringing to life the intricate design we'd agreed upon. It was more than ink on skin; it was a symbol of our intertwined lives, our shared journey. The art was so quintessentially us, capturing the essence of our bond in bold, swirling lines and shaded crescents.

I whisper more towards myself. The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it. Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful.

Its body was coiled around the dove, not constricting, but rather embracing it. The stake that pierced the dove's heart was adorned with a delicate filigree, resembling the threads of a DNA helix. As you gazed closer, the tattoo revealed more nuances. The dove's wings seemed to morph into tendrils, while the cobra's scales appeared to shift into molecular structures.

His eyes, an intense shade of dark gray, sparkled with the intensity of distant constellations, promising a journey into uncharted territories. Caleb's figure moved with a feral grace, a reflection of the untamed spirit that resided within him. His every step echoed the dance of shadows beneath the moon, a testament to a life unbound by conventional constraints. Tattoos adorned his arms, celestial patterns that seemed to echo the cosmic symphony that accompanied his every movement.

"Drink." I drank. It burned. My eyes watered. "Oh my God." "You'll survive." He finally sat down. One stool away. Close enough that I could see the tattoos on his forearms properly now – a date inked in delicate script on the inside of his wrist, a constellation I didn't recognize on his inner forearm, something that looked like a woman's handwriting curling up toward his elbow. Stories written on skin. I wanted to read every single one.

It was one of my best quality, I would say. If it wasn't for that, these fucking flea-ridden bastards would have ended me way before I had started to live. The tattoo artist had done a very good job covering the scars up, but I knew what was there underneath the ink, underneath the pretty flowers, moons, dream birds, daggers and swords. I knew the stories of each and every one of them.

Giovanni turned his back on me, my eyes were on the giant snake coloured tattoo that covered his whole back, I was still staring at the tattoo before he disappeared into a closed door. I settled back, eyes closed, palms resting on the table, and let my mind wander to Giovanni's canvas of tattoos. The intricate snake on his left neck caught my attention first – its delicate scales seeming to slither across his skin. My gaze, though imaginary, traced the vibrant, full-back serpent, its red and black hues dancing in mesmerizing harmony. Next, my mental focus shifted to the cobwebs delicately etched onto his broad neck, their subtle complexity a testament to the artist's skill. The bold, cursive