Realism-style tattoo of two jigsaw puzzle pieces on the top of a foot, one shaded blue with fish scale pattern and one in grey, designed to look three-dimensional.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Jigsaw pieces on the top of a foot

Realism · Other · Mixed · Photo

Two jigsaw puzzle pieces appear to lift out of the skin on the top of a bare foot. One piece is filled with blue and teal fish scale pattern, and the other is shaded in greys and beige to suggest a raised, solid surface. Soft shading and highlights give the piece a three-dimensional look against the plain skin tone, with a textured metal floor visible in the background.

Realism Other Puzzle piece Fish scale

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

Mrs Ostler kept the puzzle shop on Fenwick Pier, wedged between the bait cutter and the shuttered tea rooms, and she never sold a jigsaw without first turning the box over to count what was inside. Eleven hundred and four pieces, the lid promised. Her daughter Pell had once counted eleven hundred and three and sworn the last one had walked off on its own.

Keep reading

The picture was a harbour at dusk, a fishing smack riding low in the water, and a sea painted in so many greens and blues that nobody ever finished it. Every Saturday the tide left one piece on the wrack line below the slipway, and every Saturday Pell fitted it in, until only a single patch of water was missing, a square no bigger than a thumbnail, with scales pressed into it as fine as a mackerel's back.

On the last day of the autumn fair, a boy came in with a carrier bag and asked whether she bought back jigsaws. He had a loose piece in his palm, cool and faintly salty. He said he had found it caught in his grandfather's net, and his grandfather had said it belonged to a girl who rowed out past the breakwater one foggy morning and was never seen again.

Pell took the piece, turned it under the shop lamp and found the notch that matched the sea. She pressed it home. The harbour was whole at last. When she lifted the board to lean it against the wall, something slid from behind the frame and clicked onto the floorboards: a grey piece cut like a gull's wing, and on its back, in pencil, in her mother's handwriting, the words *not yet*.