Fine line peacock feather tattoo in teal, blue and green on the upper chest near the collarbone.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Peacock feather on the collarbone

Fine line · Chest · Colour · Photo

A small peacock feather is tattooed on the upper chest, angled diagonally from the collarbone towards the black strap of a top. The feather uses delicate, thin linework for its shaft and barbs, with soft shading on the blue and green fronds. The eye at the tip is filled with blue, orange and gold tones, and the rest of the image is softly lit with a plain pale background.

Fine line Chest Peacock feather Feather Eye Collarbone

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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

Don't reach for the lamp yet, Tom, the wick's not trimmed and the oil's gone cold. Sit where the draught can't get at you and I'll tell you about Ada Pengelly, who kept the light on Gull Rock the winter the Mary Ann went onto the skerries. She was fourteen and could not abide the sea, which is a poor thing to be when you're a keeper's girl.

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The ship had come in from Bombay with silks and a crate of curiosities for a merchant in Bristol, and the crate split on the rocks. Ada found the first feather in the wrack next morning, long as her arm, green as the weed, with one great eye at its tip. The eye was blue at the heart, ringed in gold like the sun coming through a bottle. She hid it under her shawl. Her father would have made her throw it back. The sea takes a thing, he always said, and gives it back in its own time. You don't get to keep what isn't yours.

She kept it anyway, pressed flat inside the Bible where the shipping lists were. Each night when the great lamp swept round, she held the feather up to the glass and watched the eye catch the light and throw it out over the water, one small colour after another, until she was sure some sailor in the dark would see it and steer clear. Nobody did. The Mary Ann was already gone with her crew. But the feather turned that light out to sea every night of the winter, and Ada slept better for it.

Come spring she sent it back to the merchant with a note saying where it had been found. He wrote one line in reply: keep it, the sea has already been paid. So she did. Whatever you're thinking, Tom, it isn't the feather that's the treasure. Now, the lamp.