Black and grey realism tattoo of a raven perched in front of a moon, with a ribbon and an ornate pocket watch, on an upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Raven and pocket watch on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large black and grey tattoo of a raven perched on a ledge, with a pale moon behind it and a ribbon band curling across the arm. An ornate pocket watch with a visible clock face hangs at the lower edge of the design. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft grey gradients on the moon and feathers and sharp highlights on the bird's beak and eye.

Realism Upper arm Raven Crow Moon Pocket watch Ribbon Banner Clock

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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

Mind the step, the cobbles are slick, and sit where the lamp can reach you. Right, the bird on the harbour wall. Every boat in Porthaven knew that raven, black as a wet hat, and every boat knew it kept its own time. Old Mags Trelawney used to say it could tell the tide to the minute, but she also said the gulls were Methodists, so you take her word with salt.

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The clock was Eli Pascoe's. He mended watches above the chandlery, and in the winter of the big moon he was asked to fix a silver pocket watch that belonged to a fisherman called Tom Ruddock. Tom's boat had gone out on the flood and not come back on the ebb. Eli said the watch had stopped at a quarter past four, and he wouldn't wind it. He just kept it on the sill, face to the moon, so the light fell on the hands.

The raven came every night after that and sat on the ledge beside the sill, watching the glass. On the seventh night Eli opened the window and found the watch ticking again, though nobody had touched it. The bird took the chain in its beak and dropped the watch over the wall into the harbour, bold as you like, and the ring of it went out across the water.

Next morning Tom's boat came round the point with the sails in ribbons and the crew hollering, and Tom himself stood at the bow with his hat in his hand, looking up at the chandlery window as if he'd been counting the hours too.