Colour realism style tattoo of a peacock feather in teal, blue, pink and orange across the top of a foot and ankle.

Peacock feather on the foot

Realism · Ankle · Colour · Photo

A peacock feather with teal and blue barbs curves diagonally from the ankle across the top of the foot, with its eye in pink, orange and purple. The linework is dark and defined, and the eye is shaded with smooth gradients that give it depth. The bare foot sits on a dark marble-effect floor, and the tattoo is the clear focus of the frame.

Realism Ankle Peacock feather Feather Foot

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

Eleven weeks it sat in the lost property tin at Halden Cross, wedged between a single glove and a paperback about lighthouses, and nobody came asking. I turned it over most afternoons while the 14.10 idled on the far platform. There was no ticket stub tucked in the quill, no name on a luggage label, only the long pale spine and that eye, which caught the shelf light and seemed to watch the whole concourse without much enthusiasm.

Keep reading

On the Thursday a woman came up the stairs in a wet mac, breathing hard, and described the feather before I had the tin open. Teal at the tip, she said, and the eye gone the colour of a sunset going wrong behind the gasworks. She thought she had left it on the 17.42 to Leeds, in the seat pocket beside her ticket. I asked her why a feather on a train mattered enough to climb two flights of steps in the rain. She looked out at the platform, where water was running off the canopy in long silver ropes, and said that every journey she checked the window seat for something she had lost years ago. She never found it, but she always came away with something else, a stranger's newspaper or a child's mitten. The feather was the only thing she had kept on purpose.

I wrapped it in tissue, the way my mother used to wrap a good plate, and handed it over. She held it up to the lamp so the eye flared pink and gold, then tucked it inside her coat and walked out into the rain without looking back, which I took as the only thanks I was going to get.

The tin is empty now. I kept the glove, though. Somebody will come for that.