Black script lettering reading Stay Gold runs diagonally down the back of a person's neck, with their hair up in a bun.

Stay Gold script on the back of the neck

Lettering · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph from behind shows a person with their hair tied up, revealing the back of the neck. The words Stay Gold are written in black, flowing cursive script that runs diagonally down the neck towards the shoulder. The ink is a single dark tone on a light skin background, and the neutral backdrop keeps the focus on the lettering.

Lettering Neck Script Word Cursive

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

The col was closed by noon, and Teodor had been sitting in the refuge doorway since before the mules were loaded, watching cloud climb the valley like wet wool. His brother Emil was somewhere on the far side with the last of the salt, and all Teodor could do was keep the stove going and count the hours on the notched beam by the door.

Keep reading

At first light the cloud tore open. The east ridge caught the sun and went gold from the top down, a slow pour that reached the snowfields and then the scree, and for a few minutes the whole pass looked like somewhere a person could walk into and not come out the same. Madame Roux, who had kept the refuge for thirty winters, came out with coffee in a tin cup and waited until the colour began to drain away. "It never lasts," she said. "That's why the words are over the lintel."

The lintel did carry writing, in paint so faded it had gone the colour of old teeth. Teodor had never bothered to read it properly. He read it now, the loops and long tails of it, and thought of the drovers who used to say it to a horse that wouldn't go up the last switchback. Then he took the rag from the stove rail, breathed on the frosted window until it ran, and wrote the same words in the wet glass, big enough to see from the far slope.

The sun went behind the ridge and the grey came back in over the rock. Teodor stood in the doorway with the rag in his fist. A dark speck moved on the white beyond the switchbacks, slow and stubborn, and he left the words where they were for it to read.