Black and grey realism full sleeve tattoo on an upper arm and forearm, showing a large red-tinged moon, bats, bare trees and a grinning pumpkin-style figure.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Full sleeve with moon and night scene

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A full sleeve tattoo runs from the upper arm to the forearm, showing a large moon above bare trees with bats in the sky, a grinning pumpkin-style face, and a skull-like figure lower down. The shading is smooth and realistic, with deep blacks and soft grey gradients across the clouds and figures. The moon carries a warm pink-red tone, the only notable colour against the otherwise dark composition.

Realism Upper arm Forearm Moon Bat Bare tree Pumpkin Skull Spiral Night sky Cloud

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 last Friday train before the line closed for engineering works was never going to be full, which was why Maud Pelling had agreed to stay late in the lost property office at Haverleigh. At twenty past eleven the platform lamps buzzed like trapped wasps, and the only thing on the bench outside her window was a pumpkin, carved with a grin so wide its candle threw light across the tiles.

Keep reading

She had logged eleven umbrellas, a prosthetic leg nobody had claimed, and a tin of shortbread shaped like a violin since September. Nothing had ever been left on a bench at midnight and kept burning. She went out in her cardigan, lifted the pumpkin by its stalk, and felt the warmth of the candle through the flesh of it. Behind her the signal bell rang once, though no train was due. Across the track, bare hawthorn stood black against a moon the colour of a boiled sweet, and two bats wheeled over the footbridge as if they had been paid to.

A man in a grey coat was waiting at the far end of the platform, hands in his pockets, looking up at the moon rather than at her. 'Lost property?' he asked. 'Yes,' she said, and realised she was holding it out before she had decided to. He took it with both hands, the way you might take a sleeping child's head, and the grin flickered and settled. 'Forty years I've been left on this bench,' he said. 'Nobody ever asks what I'm for.'

She looked at the claim form on her clipboard, then at the empty rails. 'Name?' she said, because it was the only question she knew. He smiled and stepped down onto the track, and the moon slid lower until the cutting seemed to turn with him like a slow spiral of smoke. When the dawn engineers arrived there was only a candle stub on the sleepers and a clipboard with one line filled in, in a careful hand: Returned to owner.