Black and grey dragon tattoo wrapping around the outer ear, its body following the rim and its long tail trailing down towards the lobe.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dragon tattoo curling around the ear

Other · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a horned dragon with raised forelegs and a long, segmented tail that curls along the rim of the ear towards the lobe. Dark outlines and grey shading give the body and spiked ridge along its back a sense of depth. The ear fills most of the frame against a soft, blurred background of hair, with the tattoo as the clear focal point.

Other Dragon Ear

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

Margaret Tully had worked the night shift on Ward Seven for eleven years and had never once heard the dragon move. Old Frank, who had carried patients up from the basement since before the new wing went up, swore it shifted its tail when the boiler ran hot. Margaret thought he was making it up to keep the trainees awake, but she kept a flask of tea for the thing on the windowsill above the lift anyway, the little iron dragon a Sheffield foundry had given the ward in 1952, which nobody had the heart to throw out.

Keep reading

Tonight the lift was stuck between floors, and a boy of nine in bed four was asking for his mother in a voice that kept cracking. Margaret pressed her palm to the cold brass of the call panel and listened. Somewhere under the hum of the strip lights, something knocked twice, slow as a heartbeat, from behind the wall where the old ducting ran.

She went to the window and set the flask down beside the dragon. Its horns were worn smooth from a century of thumbs, and its raised forelegs gripped nothing but cold air. The long tail curled along the sill and dropped over the edge towards the car park. "Go on, then," she said, not sure whom she was talking to. "Fetch the lift."

Down in the dark shaft, metal groaned, and the doors juddered open a hand's width. The boy in bed four stopped crying mid-breath and asked if the dragon was real. Margaret looked at the iron curl of the tail, bright where the cleaners had polished it for luck, and told him it had always been listening.