Colour tattoo of a phoenix with a flowing peacock feather tail across the side of a stomach, in a neo-traditional style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Phoenix and peacock feather on the torso

Neo-trad · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A phoenix rises across the right side of the abdomen, with its wings spread and a long, curling tail that trails down towards the hip and merges into a large peacock feather. The work uses bold dark outlines with soft shading in browns, oranges, greens and teals, giving the feathers and wings a layered, stained-glass look. The design wraps around the torso, with the navel piercing and the wearer's midriff visible at the centre of the frame.

Neo-trad Ribs Other Phoenix Bird Peacock feather Feather Swirl Flame

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom,

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The Mary Ann burned at her mooring last Tuesday, the whole length of her, and you'd have laughed at how Father stood on the quay in his good coat as if the fire had been rude to him. Nobody was aboard, thank God. The paraffin drum went first. By the time the lifeboat came round the point there was nothing left of the wheelhouse but a black shape with its ribs showing, and a smell of tar that got into the chapel hymn books.

Something odd happened after. Mrs Pascoe from the net loft swore she saw a bird lift out of the smoke above the harbour wall, all rust and gold, its tail trailing behind it like oil spilled on water. It climbed past the lighthouse and didn't come down. I told her she'd been at the sherry. But the next morning, sorting through the wreck of the nets, I found a peacock feather tangled in the mesh, untouched by the heat, its eye still bright green and teal as if someone had painted it that morning.

I've kept it on the windowsill by the kettle. I don't know what to make of it. Father says it's a sign the boat wanted rebuilding, and he's already been down to the yard asking after oak. I'd rather believe he's wrong about that and right about the fire being rude.

Come home at Christmas if you can. Bring the girl if she'll come. There's room on the settle, and the feather's yours if you want it, though I suspect you'll only ask me to pass it back.

Your sister, Nell