Black and grey feather tattoo on the side of a woman's neck beneath a loose updo, photographed from behind in soft, dim light.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Feather tattoo on the side of the neck

Neck · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the back and side of a woman's neck and shoulder, with her face turned away from the camera and her hair gathered into a loose, messy updo. A shaded feather tattoo sits on the neck just below the hairline, its quill and barbs rendered in soft grey and black tones. The image is dark and moody, with muted background tones and the tattoo as the main point of focus.

Neck Feather Neck Hair Updo Shoulder

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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

The gull came aboard somewhere off the Azores and would not leave, so the cook named it Tuesday and the mate pretended not to feed it. By the third week of the crossing it rode the mainsail boom as if it had paid for its passage. Nobody thought much of it until the squall off the Grand Banks, when the wind came round the stern and the bird went over the rail in a grey smear, and Nell Garrow stood at the wheel with one hand still lifted.

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Next morning she found a single feather wedged in the scupper grating, long and barred with grey, its quill still wet with salt. She dried it on the chart table and slid it between the pages of the log, at the entry for the seventeenth, where Captain Ashby wrote the weather in copperplate and never once wrote anything else. The feather kept the ink from smudging when the fo'c'sle leaked, or so she told herself.

The ship docked at Liverpool in October. Ashby paid the crew off at the Pier Head, and Nell walked up through the rain with her sea bag on one shoulder and the log under her arm, meaning to post it to the owners. She stopped instead at a shop with a brass bell over the door, where a man with ink on his knuckles looked at the feather for a long time before he spoke.

He asked where she wanted it. She told him to draw it exactly as it lay in the grating, barbs, split quill and all. When he held the mirror up, she saw the bird on the boom, the wheel in her hand, and the wide grey water that had taken the gull, and she thought the log could wait another week.