Colourful neo-traditional tattoo of translucent pink and teal hearts and bubbles with a crescent moon and leaves on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hearts and bubbles on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Translucent pink hearts and teal bubbles float up the forearm, scattered with small coloured specks. Beside them sit a crescent moon, green leaves and a patterned cone-shaped panel with a yellow, wavy-haired figure above it. Bold dark outlines contrast with soft, blended shading and bright colour across the whole piece.

Neo-trad Forearm Heart Bubble Moon Crescent moon Leaves Sparkle Hair

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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

Sit closer, you lot, and mind the lamp, it's the last of the whale oil and I'm not made of money. My grandmother told this one about the year the sea came up over Hastings pier and kept on coming. Every child in the dome had a jar of soap, because soap was worth more than bread that winter, and they blew bubbles from the high windows just to watch them go.

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There was a girl called Marisol Penhallow who kept her bubbles in a tin under the stairs. She blew them through a reed with a mouthful of sweet water her mother boiled from the rainfall. The bubbles wouldn't pop, you see. Each one carried a little heart of dried rose petal inside, and when they touched the cold glass of the dome they bloomed pink and went up instead of down. Nobody could say why. The engineers said it was the pressure. The priests said it was the moon wanting its share.

On the night the last tide turned, Marisol climbed to the observatory with her tin on her hip and blew every bubble she had. Teal ones, pale ones, one with a hundred specks of gold glittering in it like a bad idea. They rose through the cracked roof, past the old lighthouse cone, past the crescent moon her brother had chalked on the ceiling, and out into the dark. The city below heard nothing but a small sound, like someone setting a cup down gently.

In the morning the sea had stopped. Marisol says the moon looked closer, and there were hearts hanging in the sky with a bit of gold on them. That's the story. No, I don't know what became of the girl. Go to bed.