Colour tattoo of a gold crown with purple jewels and the words Mommy's Princess in script, with pink swirls above, on the top of a foot.

Crown and script tattoo on a foot

Traditional · Other · Mixed · Photo

A gold crown with purple accents and blue jewelled dots sits at the centre, with the words Mommy's Princess in black script above and below it. Pink swirling flourishes frame the top and bottom of the design. The bold black outlines and solid fills of the crown contrast with the softer, lighter linework of the script and swirls, against a plain skin background and dark leather seat.

Traditional Lettering Other Crown Script Swirl Jewel

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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, the fire only warms the knee. You want the crown first, because that is where the trouble began, and in my experience trouble always starts with a crown.

Keep reading

Old Hanne the tinker had a tin box of brass buttons and one cracked garnet, and she traded the lot to the blacksmith's wife for a promise. The promise was a crown for the miller's girl, who had been told by the whole village that she was a plain child with ink on her fingers. The blacksmith's wife beat the band out of an old pan, set blue glass beads around its rim, and painted the lilies in purple bramble juice. It was a poor crown. It was also the only one in three valleys.

The girl wore it to the edge of the wood each morning, where pink bindweed curled up the birches like smoke that had decided to stay. Her mother cut the words into the bark of the oldest birch with a penknife, MOMMY'S PRINCESS, in loops that wandered the way a river does. Every evening the mother walked out to fetch her, and every evening the girl came home a little taller, which the village took for mischief.

One dusk the mother did not come. The girl waited under the birch until the bindweed folded shut, then went looking with the crown knocking against her brow. She found her mother sitting among the roots, laughing at a fox that had stolen one of her boots, and the fox was wearing a crown of its own, though nobody ever learned where it had got it. The girl took the boot back, set her own crown on the moss, and the two of them walked home by the light of the beads. In the morning the crown was still on the moss, rain gathering in its purple lilies, and the birch was still telling anyone who passed the same thing it always had.