Blue and black lace-style tattoo with a faceted blue gem at its centre, sitting on the chest below the bust.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Blue gem and lace ornament on the chest

Neo-trad · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A large ornamental tattoo of a faceted blue gemstone framed by lace-like scrollwork, with a fan of openwork curls on each side and small dotted drops hanging below. The linework is dark and fine, with soft blue shading that gives the gem and the scrolls depth. The design is centred across the chest and fills the width of the torso, with the top edge of a dark garment visible above it.

Neo-trad Chest Gem Gemstone Lace Ornament Scroll Drop Chain Dotwork

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and mind the wasps in the windfalls. This orchard was thirty trees when my mother's father planted it, and by the year of the long drought only nine still bore. The rest had gone to canker. The men from the town came up the lane with their lorries and their offers, and my grandfather sent every one of them back down it.

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Late August, that year, the damsons hung so heavy the branches touched the grass. Early one morning he went out with his basket and found the whole orchard strung with lace. Spiders had worked through the night, webs across every bough, beaded with dew, and the sun coming up over the hedge set each drop alight. He stood there and did not pick a single plum. He said afterwards it was the only time he ever felt rich.

Now here is the part your mothers never believed. A traveller stopped at the gate that noon, a woman with a cart of glass bottles, and asked for water. She looked at the lace, then at the damsons, and said the blue bloom on the fruit was the very blue of a stone she had once sold to a king who had no use for it. She offered it to him for the orchard. My grandfather gave her water and nothing else.

She left a stone on the gatepost anyway, cut like a fruit with a hundred faces. When the light goes behind the hill you can still see it there, holding the last of the day. Nobody has ever moved it, and the damsons still bear.