Traditional Scythe Tattoo Novels & Stories

I tried so hard not to flush when I saw his naked torso; it was a sight to behold. Broad wide shoulders with lots of muscles, defined strong abs and on his left pectoral, there was a scary tattoo of a three-headed vicious dog, surrounded by flames. And a lot of scars were all over his abdomen. On his back, there was a full back length tattoo of some sort of grim reaper, angel! His grunts again brought me back from dreamland. I shook my head, clearing it; I gently touched the wounded area on his right, trying to understand what I was dealing with.

Sage traced the V of the tall, thin trees and then touched the eclipsed moon, holding their hand before looking at me. “You dreamed of this scene and decided to get it as a tattoo in 1920? Did they even do tattoos like this back then? It looks… pristine.” Sage asked. “It wasn’t the usual asked, that’s for sure. Back then, it was usually sailors and the like who got tattoos. And then they were things like anchors or lady faces.” I admitted. “So, going to a shop on the sketchy side of town to ask for this got me a few weird looks. But, as they say, money talks. Brice Rimbaut didn’t have strong convictions about anything and liked the challenge of something not his usual.” I shrugged.

Aleister wondered out loud, clearly impressed by the witch's armory. Ruby pressed a certain button on the wall and the shelf lined with knives separated like a sliding door presenting a variety of scythes. There was a scythe entirely made out of fishbone, there was an ill-proportioned one with a heart-shaped ruby and thorns, he saw another scythe where the blade is completely made out of ice making him wonder how it hadn't melted yet, one impressive scythe had a golden handle styled as a dragon and from its mouth protrudes a crimson metal. The weapon bore great power and he can feel it merely by looking at its blade. Aleister then noticed a black scythe that made shivers run up his spine. Th

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

But as I am about to punch, he speaks up “I was a knight in my time, the knighthood of Yora.“ He says, showing me his wrist that is engraved with a tattoo that I don’t recognize. Two swords are guarding a circular object that has a braided design on its circumference. “I will not be torn to pieces, like a dog. I will be beheaded like a warrior.“ I put both my hands on his neck, look him in the eyes one last time before I rip his head off his neck, barely giving him a chance to scream. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahh“ That scream that I just heard, is so not Taho‘s. Fuck!

It's simple, yet, captivating. It features the Italian flag in colour, a black and white rose, rosary beads entwine with the stem and thorns, and the Esposito name is carved into the rose's shaded knuckle busters that rest beneath the rose with a single petal beside it. "I'm going to cut this from your body," I tap the scalpel against his tattoo, "And I'm going to keep it as a souvenir in my husband's family home." I sneer with a wicked smile playing on my lips.

He was ripped and it was clearly seen this time as he wore white sand. There were numerous tattoos on his body despite the flying dove. One on his left arm which was a circular design, written in Sanskrit. The other one was visible when he took off the sando to replace it with another one, it was on his upper back that ran down towards his mid-back, an ancient sword. Revealing his front was his buffed chest and sizzling abs, that looked hotter than the global warming. On his right chest was another one, numerous bullets were scattered as one tattoo.

The other two didn't fare better, and in a few seconds, they fell to their death. Another two rushed at me, holding a black dagger in their hands. I slashed at the wrist of one of them, and that was when I saw an odd tattoo on the man's wrist. The tattoo was painted in black ink, showing two black blades on top of a howling wolf. The image was familiar, but I could not remember where I had seen it before. I realized that the other person also had the same tattoo on his wrist, and so concluded that it was an identification method for their pack or clan.

His sleeve rides up, revealing the edge of a mantis tattoo. “-Fuck”

Saint was about to look away grudgingly when Nicholas's towel lowered itself and then fell to the floor, revealing a tattoo. His gaze snagged on it before he could even stop himself. The tattoo rested low on Nicholas's back, directly above his waist. The design climbed the base of his spine in elegant black lines. Sharp points and sweeping curves intertwined around a narrow central shape that resembled a watchful eye. Thorn-like flourishes stretched outward before curling back in on themselves, giving the impression of something dangerous held barely under control.