Full body Japanese style tattoo across a torso, arms and thighs, showing a scowling figure with a blade among red flames and a tiger on the arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Full body Japanese tattoo with a fierce figure

Japanese · Chest · Colour · Photo

A man's torso, arms and thighs are covered in a full body tattoo, with a large scowling figure holding a long blade at the centre of the chest. Red flame patterns and swirling clouds fill the background, and a tiger with an open mouth wraps around one upper arm. The shading on the figure is grey and ochre with bold outlines, while the flames, tiger and leaves use strong reds, oranges, yellows and greens.

Japanese Chest Upper arm Forearm Thigh Figure Sword Flame Tiger Cloud Leaves

Find an artist for this

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 off the harbour roofs since before the auction bell, and by the time the lamps went out along Tanner's Row the cobbles ran like the gutters of a bad dream. I was the one who had to lock the gate. Nobody else would, not after the year the Quayside boys tried to take the ice house, so every night I stood under the carved sword-bearer my grandmother had painted above the arch and waited for the last barrow to pass.

Keep reading

Tonight it was a barrow of eels. The man pushing it had a cough that rattled like a loose shutter, and he kept glancing back up the lane, the way people do when they owe money. I told him the gate was shut. He said he only wanted to leave the barrow in the lee of the wall until morning. I said the wall belonged to the saint who sat above it, and the saint was not in a generous mood.

He laughed at that, then stopped laughing when the lantern above the arch flared without any wind to feed it. Red light poured down the stone. The flames painted around the arch seemed to stand up off the plaster, orange and gold, and the old figure's scowl softened into something close to pity. He let go of the handles and ran, eels sliding across the cobbles behind him like dropped rope.

In the morning the fishmongers found the barrow untouched, the eels gathered in a single wet heap at the foot of the gate. My grandmother would have called it a warning. I called it a wage. I took the two best and left them on the step where the cough had gone, and nobody ever asked me why the rain stopped the moment I did.