Colour traditional tattoo of a black cat with yellow eyes, a crown and a third eye on the back of a hand, with LADY lettered across the fingers.

Black cat with third eye on hand

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A black cat's head sits on the back of the hand, with yellow eyes, pink ears and a gold crown with spiked points above a moon-shaped third eye. Bold black outlines and solid black shading are filled with pink, yellow, gold and pale blue, with a blue halo and dotted drips beneath the chin. The letters L, A, D and Y are tattooed across the knuckles, and part of an older-looking forearm tattoo is visible at the top of the frame.

Traditional Hand Forearm Black cat Third eye Crown Moon Whiskers Lettering Word

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 black cat came down the pass the week the snow closed the road, and she did not ask the innkeeper for milk. She sat beneath the lantern at the bridge with her crown of candle-points burning, and when you came out with the slate under your arm she turned the yellow eyes on you and then the third one, the pale moon sitting in its gold setting like a coin in a collection plate. Nobody in the valley had ever seen that eye open. Your grandmother said it opened only for a debt.

Keep reading

"Four stones," the cat said, though her mouth never moved. "Carry them to the saddle, set them in the cairn in order, and do not look back to see who is following." You knelt in the slush and read the letters scratched into the slate by a hand you didn't know: L, A, D, Y. Around her head the frost hung in dotted drops that rang like small bells whenever the wind touched them, and the wind touched them often.

The climb took the whole of the short day. Somewhere above the tree line you felt the footsteps behind you stop and start, stop and start, always keeping the same distance, and you did not look back. At the saddle the cairn was already built, four empty hollows waiting in the snow, and when you set each stone down the wind stopped as if someone had closed a door.

When you started down, the candles on her crown began to go out one at a time. By the time you reached the bridge there was only one flame left, and it sat on the moon itself. The innkeeper said nobody had come over the pass that week. Then he looked at the slate in your hands, now blank, and asked who had taught you to write your own name so neatly.