Tattoo Science Fiction Novels & Stories

I just shrugged and looked around the shop. I left Luke there and looked around at the walls where their designs were displayed. I will admit, their proposed samples for tattoos are great. There's Tribal or Polynesian tattoos that's inspired by the numbers of indigenous communities' beliefs and culture. There's Japanese that I believe is very rare these days, as well as the American traditional. I was also amazed with the samples of their Realism tattoos. Along with them are the New School and Watercolor which I think has something in common, they just look a little bit alike but you'll see the difference if you'll look at it closely.

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.”

Katherine pov For me, the sexiest spot a tattoo can be found is on a man’s rib and of course his fingers. I’ve heard a number of time how painful getting one on those spots can be, maybe that’s why I find it sexy. But is that why I can’t tear my eyes off this hot dude across this counter as well?

She asks and I cringe at the memory of what they had to do. "You watch Teen Wolf?" I ask and she nods. "While most of it is total bullshit, they got the tattoo part right, kinda. Instead of a torch, they use a silver rod. The silver needs to burn our skin for a certain amount of time before the tattoo is seen. Our skin is basically just a protective layer between the tattoo and the atmosphere." I tell her and she slowly nods. "So what you're telling me is that this isn't your skin?" She says and I laugh.

It was my name! My cheeks flushed red as my toes curled. That tattoo wasn't new. Then my eyes dropped to the others. It felt like his skin was a story I wasn't allowed to read. It started at his throat, black ink. Sharp, spiked lines that dragged down the column of his neck, split over his collarbone, and bloomed. The tattoo. It wasn't flowers or tribal...it was sigils, interlocking. Quite ancient like someone carved a spell into him with a blade instead of a needle.

And as she stared into his icy eyes, Scar knew that whatever it was would be a torment unlike anything she'd ever known. Stanley extended a hand to her, showing off the green tattoo on his hand and wrist that was identical to Scar's. The only difference was that parts of it were black, others an angry red. She hadn't realized that Stanley had a mark, too. Shit. That must have been how he tracked her. Scar whimpered, feeling the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She had nowhere left to run. The goblins who held her were merciless and hateful, full of lust for violence and blood.

Lacey said shaking her head. “You’re so full of shit, a tattoo just doesn’t appear,” Minet said with a scowl. “It is not a tattoo, not in a conventional sense” a voice wafted in from the darkness, Azulthaël appearing shortly after, one of his eyebrows raised, “I have never heard of two appearing at the same time.” “If it isn’t a tattoo, what the f**k is it then?” Minet asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Such a vulgar mouth, do you wish to be hung again?” Azulthaël said, scowling in disgust.

Seems having a tattoo was an essential part of their body. Once again all the tattoed men present at the party just proved me wrong pointed their finger directly into my eyes, Orion wasn't the abnormal one in the aspect of tattooing his brow at all. There are more insane people than him. I shrugged and focused on the interior design that was too artistic for my concept. There's a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The marble ground I was walking on to my horror - is so shiny and clean that I could see my reflection under my feet.

“That’s insane.” “Sometimes,” Martin said, “the boss refuses the finger.” Kai turned slowly. “Why?” “Because he wants something worse.” The light turned green. Martin drove on. “Tattoos,” he continued. “Those full-body ones? They’re not decoration. They’re a contract. Done by hand. Takes years. Agony every session.” Kai thought of Jaden’s wrist. The way the ink vanished under his sleeve like a secret. “In some circles,” Martin said, “tattoos are forced. Ownership. Or they mark traitors before they disappear. You strip someone just to read what they’ve done in ink.”

Artists have called me their muse and painted and sculpted my images on several streets, several galleries across the world. But nothing brought me the amount of satisfaction as I felt while Sanaya’s eyes travelled up and down my body. She eyed the tattoo of the phoenix I had in my left forearm. Her cheeks turned pink as she watched the water droplets dripping down to my skin and down my abdomen. However, I didn’t like it when her eyes glued on the bullet scar on my chest.