Small black fine line tattoo of round glasses with a lightning bolt above, placed on the back of a woman's neck.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Round glasses and lightning bolt on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows two open circles joined by a short bridge, with a small lightning bolt above them, all in black ink. The left lens is drawn in a clean single line, while the right lens is built from stippled dots that give it a lighter texture. The design sits centrally on the nape of the neck against plain pale skin, with dark hair and a light background around it.

Fine line Dotwork Neck Glasses Lightning bolt Circle

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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

Sit closer, you, and mind the flour on the bench. Before the first cart rattled past the church, the ovens in Aldgate Lane were already breathing, and old Mrs Pelling would sit by the firebox with her wire spectacles pushed up on her forehead, counting loaves by feel. She had a boy called Tobias who could not see past his own elbow without those round rims, and he had broken them twice on the flour sacks.

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The third winter, the bolt came. Not from the sky, mind, though the neighbours said so. A stray spark jumped the grate one night in a gale and left a black zigzag scorched across the brass latch of the oven door. The boy, squinting at it through his mended lenses, swore it was the mark a storm would leave if it had a signature. He traced it with a floury thumb every morning before he lit the kindling.

One dawn in February the snow came down so thick the lamplighter gave up. Tobias could not find the bread paddle, nor the road, nor his own boots, and the bakehouse had gone blind white around him. He stood still, as Mrs Pelling had taught him, and listened for the one thing that never lied, the roar of the ovens. He walked towards it with his arms out, and when his fingers found that brass latch and its black bolt, he knew he was home.

When the snow thinned, the loaves were cooling on the sill, every one split clean along the top. Mrs Pelling counted them twice, then pressed the spectacles back onto the boy's nose and said nothing at all, which from her was the highest praise there was.