Black and white flash sheet of nine tattoo designs, including a flaming skull, a dragon, a wolf head, a tribal motif and a biohazard symbol.

Black ink flash sheet of skulls, dragons and tribal designs

Black and grey · Flash

A sheet of nine black and white tattoo designs arranged in a grid, with the words Call of Duty Ghosts at the top left. The designs include a flaming skull, a coiled dragon, a pair of twin dragons above a winged caduceus-like emblem, a wolf head, a tribal motif, a shuriken-style blade, a skull with a central bar and a biohazard symbol. The linework is bold and solid, with no shading or greys, and the designs are spaced evenly on a plain white background.

Skull Dragon Wolf Tribal Wing

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming sideways off the car park since seven, and by ten my flash sheets were curling like wet pastry under the gazebo. I pinned the good ones high where the drip couldn't reach and left the rest to fend for themselves. Nine designs on the sheet nobody had asked for in a year: the blade that looked like a star, the wolf with his mane swept back as if he'd been caught in a gale, and the twin dragons locked above their winged staff.

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Dessie from the bootlace stall leaned under my canopy with his hood dripping onto his nose. He wanted the skull with the flames, then the skull with the bar across its face, then the skull without a jaw, which he said looked like it had been told a secret it didn't like. I told him the flaming one was the bestseller, though it wasn't. Nobody buys the flaming one any more. They buy the grim little one with the white eyes, because it looks like it's been in a fight and won.

Then the gust came off the Co-op roof and took the sheet clean off its pins. It slapped across the aisle, folded itself round a fishmonger's crate, and stuck flat to the wet tarpaulin like a poster on a bus shelter. Dessie and I went after it through the puddles, shouting at each other about who had pinned what. By the time we had it, the biohazard had a leaf stuck in its middle ring and the dragons were still staring at each other with the same grudge.

I peeled it off the tarp and shook the water out. The ink hadn't run at all. Solid black, no grey, the way I'd always said it should be. I folded it into my coat and told Dessie that anything surviving a gale on a market floor had earned its place on the wall.