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SERPENT TONGUE
A face like an open act of defiance.
Black as scorched earth, the tangle of thorns tears through the contours—no ornament, but a crown of defiance. The spikes coil around the head like forbidden thoughts made flesh, as if they’ve sworn to draw blood from any hand that dares to reach in. And above it all: horns. Not a mark of submission, but of provocation. They don’t rise from myth—they rise from resistance.
The mocking grin isn’t a mood. It’s a declaration of war. Lips twisted into an expression that doesn’t fear authority—it ridicules it. That smile says: I know your rules—and I’ll rip them apart. It’s the grin of someone who has counted the cost of punishment and decided it’s worth it.
The eye—half veiled by chaotic lines—feels like a crack in a mask of defiance. Every stroke cuts across the face like a blade, each one a scar earned in battle against orders and obedience. This design doesn’t whisper. It screams. Raw. Unrestrained. A full-throated cry against anything that claims control.
The horns frame the head like a victory mark of the untamed. They don’t cast the figure as a victim—they crown it as a symbol. You look at them and you know: nothing here kneels. Nothing here begs. Everything here resists.
“Serpent Tongue” isn’t an accessory. It’s the word no one wants to hear. It’s the sound that slices through false authority. Where power demands obedience, this face answers with contempt. Where systems preach order, it answers with a crooked, triumphant grin.
This design isn’t about harmony. It’s a banner for those who would rather clash than conform. For those who grow horns instead of bowing their heads.
SERPENT TONGUE—
a scream in black ink.
A mocking laugh in the face of any power that believes it stands above the will of the self.