Black ink tattoo of a sun with an outlined oval centre and twisted, leaf-shaped rays, shown on the skin of a lower body part.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black sun tattoo on skin

Blackwork · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A solid black sun design sits on skin, with a plain outlined oval at the centre surrounded by a ring of pointed, leaf-like rays. The rays are filled with a twisted, interlaced pattern in black ink, giving a bold, graphic look. The design is centred in a close, straight-on photo against a plain skin background.

Blackwork Other Sun Ray Leaves Oval Circle

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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

Now sit yourself down on that low wall, because the sun won't wait for us and neither will the slugs. You want to know why Harriet Vane dug a ring of holly leaves round the old stone bird bath? I'll tell you, though you'll not like the ending much.

Keep reading

Harriet had a garden at the top of Coldharbour Lane, forty yards of beans and onions and one bare patch by the gate where nothing would grow. The soil there was grey as a dishcloth. Every spring she sowed, and every summer she watched the seedlings go yellow and lie down. Her husband Tom said the ground was tired. Her mother said it was cursed. Harriet said nothing, just went out at dusk with a trowel and a jug of rainwater and knelt there till her knees complained.

One October, a stranger came up the lane with a barrow of cut stems and a pocket full of seed. He had a plaited cord round his wrist, twisted tight like rope, and he asked for a cup of water and nothing else. He looked at the bare patch a long while. Then he drew a circle in the dirt with his heel, a wide ring, and inside it an oval the shape of an egg. "Sun's got to sit in the middle of something," he said, "or it wanders off."

Harriet planted his seed round that ring, pointed and green and fierce, and wove the stems over and under until they held each other like a basket. Come spring, the bed burned gold. Nothing grew in the centre, mind, and that's the point of it. Tom never did ask what the stranger was owed.