Solid black pixel art tattoo of a blocky rounded figure with a small trailing shape on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pixel art figure on a forearm

Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A solid black tattoo built from square pixels forms a rounded figure with a small stepped shape trailing off to the right. The ink is sharp and fully saturated with no shading, and the figure sits near the centre of the frame. Dappled sunlight falls across the pale skin and a blurred background.

Blackwork Geometric Forearm Pixel art Tail

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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

The cabinet at the end of the Sallowmouth arcade had been dying since the August storms, its screen gone the colour of weak tea, and the only one who seemed to mind was Dilys Haskett, who kept the boarding house key on a shoelace and came in every morning to wipe the glass. The creature on the screen was a blocky thing, round as a dumpling, with a spike on its crown and a stepped tail that stuttered behind it whenever it turned. It ate dots. It had eaten the same dots for thirty-one years.

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On the Tuesday the rain came sideways off the bay and the power dipped twice. When Dilys lifted the back panel she found the board warm and a scatter of black squares lying in the dust, each one the size of a sugar lump. She swept them into her apron pocket without thinking, the way she once pocketed buttons from a dead man's coat. That night, at the kitchen table in the boarding house, she laid them out in rows and counted, and understood that the creature had been losing its edges one square at a time.

She spent the week with a soldering iron and a tin of fine glue, rebuilding its shoulder and then its belly, and her lodgers began to drift in to watch. Mr Oddie from room four brought tea in a chipped mug. The boy in room two wanted to know whether it could hear him. On the Friday she plugged the cabinet in and the creature turned, blinked, and ran off the right edge of the screen with a few loose squares trailing behind it.

Dilys went down to the sea wall at dusk. The tide was out and the sand was grey and flat, and across it ran a line of small black squares, stepping down towards the water, each one a little further apart than the last. She followed them until the light failed, and when she turned back the wall was empty except for her own footprints, and beside them, neat as a signature, the tail.