Colour tattoo of Hello Kitty dressed as Link from Zelda, standing beside the Master Sword on a pedestal, in a bold neo-trad style on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hello Kitty as Link beside the Master Sword

Neo-trad · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a chibi Hello Kitty character wearing Link's green hat and tunic, with golden-blonde hair, brown boots and a gold necklace. Beside her stands the Master Sword on a dark stone pedestal marked with a triangle emblem. Thick black outlines and flat areas of green, orange, brown and grey colour make up the design, set against plain skin.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The road out of Sand Hollow has no shade worth the name, and by noon the tarmac has gone soft enough to take a bootprint. You have walked it since the last well, cap pulled low, the golden fringe stuck flat with heat. The lorry driver who gave you a lift said nobody walks this road unless they are running from something or towards something daft. You told him you were going to fetch a sword, and he laughed so hard he nearly missed the cattle grid.

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It stands where the old signpost used to be, on a plinth of dark stone with a triangle cut into its face, three points gone pale as a sun-bleached sticker. The blade shimmers in the mirage like something breathing. You wrap both hands round the grip, which is warm as a kettle handle, and pull with everything you have. Nothing gives. A lizard watches from the plinth's shadow with the weary patience of something that has seen better heroes come and go.

Eventually you sit on the step, prise open a dented tin of peaches with your own small knife, and eat them slowly, syrup running down your wrist. You tell the sword you are not going to pull it after all. You have a bus to catch, a flat in a town with a leaking tap, and no plan for dragons. The sword says nothing, which is fair. The peaches are very good.

When you stand to go, the metal sighs and the sword slides out of the stone as easily as a drawer on oiled runners. It weighs nothing at all. The lizard bows its head, or possibly it is sleeping. You walk back up the soft road with the blade over one shoulder, the empty tin clinking in your pocket, and the heat behaves itself for once.

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