Colour tattoo of a peace symbol filled with rainbow gradients, framed by white-outlined blue and purple swirls on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rainbow peace symbol with swirls

Colour · Photo

A peace symbol sits at the centre of the design, outlined in white and filled with a soft gradient of green, yellow, orange and pink. Curling white-edged swirls and wave shapes in blue, teal and purple surround it on one side and above. The background is blurred skin with a dark vignette around the edges.

Peace symbol Swirl Wave Rainbow

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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

Now sit down, the pair of you, and mind the kettle, because this is the one about Dolly Marsh and the eleven o'clock to Carlisle, and I'll not tell it twice. It was the summer of 1971, the year the waiting room at Haddow Junction got painted every colour the council had left over. Nobody asked for rainbows. The paint was cheap and the porters were bored, and Dolly, who sold tea from a trolley and had opinions about everything, painted a peace sign on the signal box door in white gloss. Not satisfied, she went round it with a sponge dipped in whatever was left in the tins.

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Stationmaster Hollis came out with his cap in his fist and shouted that the railway was no place for protest. Dolly told him the railway was nothing but a place for people to protest from, sitting on their suitcases waiting for trains that never came. The sponge had left green in one corner and orange in another, and where the colours met they ran together like a sunset caught in a puddle. A boy from the goods yard came past with a bucket and washed a curl of blue off the ironwork, and that curl turned out to be the wave that ran all the way down the steps.

The trouble started when the eleven o'clock was late, and then later still. A fog had come up off the reservoir and lay on the line like wet wool. Dolly lit the lamp in the signal box and held it to the painted glass, so the white ring glowed through the colours and the driver could see where the rails bent. She stood there three hours. When the train finally crawled in, the driver leaned out of his cab and said he'd followed that white circle the whole way, the only thing in the murk he could read.

Hollis had the door repainted the next spring, but the new man never got the colours right, so it's still green at one corner and gold at the other, and the swirls still curl off the frame like something breathing. Now, who wants the last of the biscuits? They're going soft, same as the tea.