Colour neo-traditional tattoo of a blue eye inside an orange bolt-shaped panel with teal outlines, on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Eye within an orange bolt on a wrist

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a stylised blue eye with white highlights and a pink blush beside it, set inside a jagged orange shape edged with teal and black outlines. The orange area has a fine stippled texture, and the bold outlines give the design a graphic, cartoon-like look. It sits on the inner wrist against a dark background, with the shape angled diagonally across the skin.

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 bell in Ostrey Hold had stopped again, and the whole town stood in the square with its face tipped up, waiting for you to climb the tower and open the eye. Nobody else was allowed to touch the shutter. Your grandmother had carried the key on a cord around her neck for forty years, and now it hung on yours, warm from the sun and heavier than it looked.

Keep reading

The eye was older than the kingdom's charter. Painters had set it into the tower's face after the first storm-bolt split the old oak on the ridge, and they had ringed it in teal so that sailors coming up the Sallow River could find it from the ferry bar. Its lid was iron, its lashes were copper wire, and the faded rose beside it was meant to tell the hour: pink at dusk, when the bolts came in low from the west.

You climbed past the bell, past the swallows nesting in the stair, and reached the ledge as the first orange fork tore the clouds over the marshes. The sky was the colour of a struck match. You turned the key. The lid rolled back with a sound like a held breath let go, and the eye opened on the storm. For once the storm seemed to look back at it, then bent its course toward the empty moor.

Below, someone cheered. Your grandmother had never told you the eye did anything but watch. Standing there with the wind pulling at your collar, you understood that watching was its whole magic: a thing that is seen can be argued with, and a storm, like a king, will not strike where it is observed. You locked the shutter and came down the stair with the key against your chest, and you said nothing to the crowd, because a kingdom that believes its eye sees everything sleeps easier, and you had learned that sleep was the first thing storms took.

More like this

From the plentytattoo archive, uploaded by a user. Is this your work? Ask for credit or removal.