Traditional Scythe Tattoo Novels & Stories

I let the towel drop down my back, exposing the large gashes. Skye works quickly and quietly on my back. Her touch is much more gentle than Osiris's. The medicine still stings when it hits the wounds, though. I feel Skye's finger pause as they move over the runes on my back, and I prepare for the questions that always follow when someone sees them. "These are interesting tattoos," she says. Her voice is tight, almost like she is struggling to bring them up. "Thanks, I think?" I don't know if that is a compliment or not.

For the second time, they immersed themselves in the experience of the Scorpio constellation tattoo, two similar designs but representing different signs. With the tattoo freshly finished on the man's hip, the tattoo artist was paid and they left the studio. Athena, overwhelmed by emotion, was experiencing the best day of her life with that mysterious individual who was fulfilling all her desires. Upon getting into the car, the Italian, impatient with the time lost on the young woman's whims, placed her astride his legs again, stealing her breath with another of his passionate kisses, taking her completely by surprise. "It's time to claim what belongs to me, little one," he growled against h

His face contorts with pure rage as his mouth mumbles, "This track isn't over! Stiles and Derek, my claws will make sure you both pay dearly for this!" The next morning dawns bright and clear over the mountains. I am practicing my ancient Shadow Fang Warrior movements in a private courtyard atop the Moonlit Sanctuary, with my upper body bare to the wind. My tall, lean frame displays perfectly proportioned muscles across my chest, arms, and abdomen from years of intense physical training. An intricately detailed black wolf head tattoo sprawls across my chest, looking fierce and majestic in the sunlight. Unlike typical pack tattoos, this one is a deep, vivid black with blood-red eyes that seem

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

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.”

Rei took a few steps closer to Troy and Briar. Putting his hand on Rei’s arm he whispered in his ear and Rei visibly calmed down. “You realize there are 3 wolves right outside her window, and the big guys are right downstairs waiting my signal. He’s not getting anywhere with Briar. I promise.” Scythe told Rei. “Fine. It’s your show. Go get her. I’ll hold back for now.” Rei replied. “Good, now Rei, please back up, you don’t want any this.” Scythe pushed Rei behind him as he started to release his aura. A low to the ground mist started curling around Scythe until it manifested a scythe like weapon with incredible reach.

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.

But I could see their judgement in how their eyes were dancing around him, from head to toe. Black leather jacket, worn soft at the elbows and shoulders, stretched tight across a chest that looked carved from granite. Faded black jeans hugged long legs, heavy motorcycle boots scuffed from real miles, not fashion. Silver rings glinted on nearly every finger, skulls, serpents, a wicked-looking crescent blade. A thin silver chain disappeared beneath the open collar of his black Henley, hinting at more ink hidden underneath. Tattoos crawled up the side of his neck: black ravens with spread wings, thorny vines, the faint outline of a scythe curling behind his ear. His hair was jet-black and

Our parents are used to our banter. “I see Mom gave you your gift. Well, let me give you my gift.” Dad says with a grin as he waves his hand, and shadows swarm around his hand. When the shadows disappear, there is a war scythe in his hands. It’s almost identical to his. Except where his has black details, mine has dark purple. The top part of the blade has jimpings as the blade curves toward where it meets the staff; it has dark purple bone-like fragments sticking from it. On the bottom of the staff, there is a badass-looking skull with purple jeweled eyes. “It’s time you had your own war scythe for reaping souls.”

As long as it wouldn't hurt anyone. I got Max's call after a few minutes. Walking away from the men who were mopping the floor, I took the call. “Any news?” “Yes, my alpha. The tattoo belonged to the men of the Scorpion Syndicate. That's their symbol mark. It's of a skull being pierced by an axe and an arrow prodding from its left eye. I can't be wrong about that.” “I see.”