Black and grey realism tattoo of a snarling lion's head with a full mane, spanning the upper chest and top of the shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Snarling lion head on upper chest

Realism · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A detailed lion's head snarls to the left, with bared teeth, a wide open mouth and a shaded mane that fades into the skin across the top of the shoulder. The tattoo is built from fine shading and soft gradients, with strong contrast in the eye, nose and teeth. Only black ink and grey tones are used, and the photo is taken close up against a dark background with a light patch of skin at the edge.

Realism Chest Shoulder Lion Mane Snarl Teeth

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

The lamps had gone out in the far tents an hour since, and still Samson would not let Tom near the water trough. The big cat stood square in the straw with his mane gone dark and matted, lip peeled back over teeth the colour of old piano keys, and the sound he made rolled across the showground and rattled the hitch chains on the wagons.

Keep reading

"Don't take it personal," said Uncle Walter from his upturned crate, not bothering to look up from his tin of tobacco. "He's been on the road since Easter. Every town looks the same to him. A field, a crowd, some lad poking a stick through the bars."

Tom had no stick. He had a bucket of water in each hand and a wet sleeve that clung to his arm in the cold. He set one bucket down on the boards, far enough out that it was no bother to anyone, and backed off until his heels found the wagon step. For a long while the lion did nothing but breathe. Then his head came round, not toward Tom at all but toward the dark gap in the canvas where the town's last streetlamp shone on the wet grass, and the snarl slackened into something that was almost a yawn.

"There," Walter said quietly. "He's only ever minding the door."

By first light the wagons were rolling out for Louth, and Tom rode up on the tailboard with the canvas snapping overhead. Through the slatted side of the cage he could just make out the great head turned to the road behind them, the mane going from black to grey as the sky came up pale over the fens.