Black and grey realism tattoo of a roaring lion with a full mane, covering the upper arm and part of the shoulder.

Roaring lion on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large realistic lion with its mouth open in a snarl, shown in profile and angled towards the viewer. The fur and mane are built from soft, layered greyscale shading and fine dark strokes, with strong contrast in the open mouth and teeth. The tattoo fills the frame against a grey top and a plain pale background.

Realism Upper arm Shoulder Lion Mane Roar Teeth Animal

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

Dear Nell, the lion went over the side at Freetown, not into the sea but into a lighter, and I have not stopped thinking about the noise he made. Captain Pryor had bought him off a Liverpool dock man on a wager, and nobody aboard the Calliope thought to ask what a lion eats at sea. I'd been galley boy twelve years and cook for four, so the job fell to me, and I fed him salt beef and biscuit soaked in stewed tea until he would take nothing else.

Keep reading

He hated the engine noise worst. Every time the boilers coughed he'd lift that great head out of the straw in the hold and open his mouth, and the sound would come up through the decking like a second storm. The crew swore it was a ghost. Mr Dacey, the second mate, claimed the beast was calling for a mate. I told him the animal was only announcing that the ship was his, which is more than the rest of us could claim.

On the ninth night the seas came up green over the bow and the hatch cover went. I found the lion standing in the galley doorway, mane heavy with spray, teeth bared at the water. He didn't roar then. He just stared at me, quiet as a chapel, and I understood he had been frightened all along and had chosen to be loud about it. I shut the door on the weather and sat with him until dawn, both of us dripping.

We made Cape Town with everyone alive, and the lion went ashore in a crate with a brass plate that said his name was Admiral. I don't think he minded the name. I've kept a broken slat from that crate in my kit bag, because it remembers the noise. Write back soon and tell me the kettle's still on. Your loving brother, Tom.