Black fine line tattoo on a shoulder and upper arm, with a lotus motif, crescent moon, dotted chains and hanging drops, shown in three close-up photos.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line lotus and crescent shoulder tattoo

Fine line · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A three-panel collage of a black ink tattoo on a shoulder and upper arm. It combines a small lotus-like motif, a crescent moon, a curving feather or swag line, dotted chains and hanging drop shapes, with a larger drop ornament at the lower end on the arm. The linework is thin and precise, with dotwork used for the beads and some shading, and the composition follows the curve of the shoulder.

Fine line Dotwork Shoulder Upper arm Lotus Crescent moon Feather Dotted chain Drop Ornament

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 snow had shut the pass for nine days, and the Hollin Inn had burned through its candles before its stories. Dorrit, who kept the bar, set the last lamp on the sill and said the moon had gone missing again, the way it did when someone in the valley forgot to hang its chain back on the nail.

Keep reading

Nobody believed her, but nobody argued either. The chain was real enough. It hung in the back room, old silver strung like a bride's swag: a thin curve of links, a row of dotted beads, and three small drops that rang when the door opened. Dorrit's grandmother had taken it from a stranger who came down out of the high pass one autumn with nothing but a tin lotus on a cord and a crescent pinned to her coat. The grandmother had melted the tin, kept the silver, and promised the stranger's sister that the chain would hold the moon in its place.

That night the wind dropped and the clouds tore open. Dorrit lifted the chain from its nail, carried it out to the step, and shook it once. The drops rang across the yard. Above the roofs a thin crescent slid out from behind the cloud and settled on the highest link, pale as a fish hook, exactly where the silver curved.

Inside, the travellers pulled their chairs closer to the fire and said nothing about it. By morning the road was open, and the carter who had been stuck with them took the valley road with a fresh horse and a warm loaf. Dorrit hung the chain back on its nail, a little heavier for the frost, and went to find the sugar.