Two matching bat emblem tattoos in black and yellow with a figure silhouette inside, one on each forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching bat emblem tattoos on forearms

Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two matching tattoos sit on the inner forearms, each a bat-wing emblem in solid black with yellow fill and a black silhouette figure inside. The shapes are bold and flat, with clean edges and no shading, and the two designs are mirrored and placed side by side against a plain light background.

Forearm Silhouette Figure Matching tattoo

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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

Come closer, you lot, and mind the rope, because the last man who leaned on it ended up in the duck pond with his teeth in his hat. Now. Did I ever tell you about the Mulligan twins and the night the big top caught fire over Ashby? No? Then sit on that crate, Dora, and stop picking at your candyfloss. Their father ran the Gallows Brothers Wonder Show, two wagons, one camel that hated Tuesdays, and a tent painted the colour of a wasp's back. Every girl on the lot wanted to be a catcher on the high wire. The Mulligan twins wanted to be bats.

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Not the rodents. The sign. Ellen and Mae had seen a yellow oval on a handbill their uncle sent home from Chicago, black wings spread across it like a cut-out, and they swore it was a promise. So in winter quarters they talked Sol Pritchard, who could ink a horseshoe on a fence post in one stroke, into doing the same on their forearms with lamp black and a sewing needle. Mirror images, side by side, so when they stood back to back the wings met at the spine and a little black man of paper stood in the middle with his cape bellied out. Their mother did not speak to Sol for a week.

Then came the fire. Canvas goes up like a struck match, the crowd was screaming for the gate, and the high wire swayed with nobody on it because the riggers had run. Ellen was already up the pole. Mae, stubborn as a mule, was dragging the lion cub out by the scruff. I saw the pair of them against that orange sky, both arms out wide, the yellow ovals catching the glow, and I swear the crowd went quiet for half a breath. Then the whole lot of us got out, and the twins walked out last, arm in arm.

Sol never charged them a penny for the ink. Ask him, he'll show you the bill: one tent, one wire, two girls, paid in full.