Close crop of a woman in a black strappy dress wearing a gold dreamcatcher necklace, with a small green script tattoo on her upper chest near the shoulder strap.

Script tattoo near collarbone, dreamcatcher necklace

Lettering · Chest · Colour · Photo

A close crop of a woman's upper torso from the neck to the waist, wearing a black strappy dress and a long gold chain with a dreamcatcher pendant that has a small turquoise stone and three feather charms. A small single-colour script tattoo sits on the upper chest near the right shoulder strap, and only its opening letters are visible. The composition is centred on the necklace, with the tattoo as a secondary detail.

Lettering Chest Script Dreamcatcher Necklace Feather Chain

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

Dear Tom, the gull that came through the scullery window last Tuesday has been sitting on the rail above the mangle ever since, looking at me as if I owed it money. Mrs Pryce says it is a sign of a death, but Mrs Pryce says that about kippers too, so I have stopped listening.

Keep reading

The feathers you sent came in a flat tin with the tide-line still stuck to the lid. I have strung them on a hoop of willow Dad cut before he went under the pier roof for the winter boats, and bound it with the blue wire from the chandler's. The little green stone in the middle is the bit of glass you found on the beach at Porthcawl, the one you said looked like a drop of the sea that had decided to stay. I hung it over the bed where the draught comes under the sash, because the nights are long now and you have been away eleven weeks.

The three feathers swing when the door opens, and I have started counting them in the mornings the way you counted the lighthouse flashes. One for the boat, one for the weather, one for you. Yesterday the middle one caught on the lamp hook and tore, and I sat on the stairs for ten minutes with it in my lap before I could think of a reason to get up.

Come home before the herring run. I will not ask what you saw out past the breakwater. Just come up the lane with the sack on your shoulder and let the hoop catch the light, and I will know the net came back full. Bless the boat, and bless the water, and bless your hands on the tiller.