Painted-style colour tattoo of Batman with a glowing bat emblem on the chest, beside red and black quote lettering, across the left ribs.

Batman and quote tattoo on the ribs

Ribs · Colour · Photo

A Batman figure with yellow eyes and a glowing bat emblem on the chest is shown in the centre, with a dark cowl, shoulders and cape edges. Loose, sketchy linework and soft blended purple, blue and teal shading give it a painted, watercolour-like finish. Red and black splattered script runs down the left side of the design, and the whole piece wraps across the ribs of bare skin.

Ribs Batman Superhero Cape Lettering Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wash-house wall at Pantglas was the only blank thing left in Glynhafod, so my uncle Idris filled it with the night. He came off the face black to the eyes, sat on an upturned bucket with a stub of red chalk, and drew until the lamp-room bell rang for the next shift. Nobody asked what it was meant to be. Everybody knew: a man in a pointed hood, shoulders like a slag heap, eyes lit the yellow of a safety lamp.

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I was nine when I started bringing him tea in a jam jar, because my mother said a man who works in the dark needs something warm to hold. He let me paint the emblem on the chest. Mine came out lopsided, more moth than bat, and he laughed until he coughed up coal dust and had to lean on the bricks. He said the best heroes were the ones who didn't look like they'd won anything. Then he went back to shading the cape with his thumb, smudging purple into the grey until the wall looked like it was breathing.

The council sent a man with a pressure washer the spring after the strike ended. Idris stood in the yard with his arms folded and watched the water take the colour off, the red first, then the blue, until only the outline of the cowl was left, ghostly and wet. He didn't argue. He just said, to nobody, that the brickwork had been holding up the bit of the wall that mattered anyway.

I went back the next morning with my jam jar and a fresh tin of chalk. Rain had run the old marks into long streaks down the bricks, like something had bled out slowly. I drew one small crooked moth on the stonework where his shoulder had been, and sat on the bucket until the bell rang, and waited for the lamps to come up the hill.