Fine line black tattoo of a dandelion whose seeds turn into musical notes across the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dandelion seeds becoming music notes on ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A dandelion head on the left breaks apart into drifting seeds that turn into musical notes sweeping up towards the right. The linework is thin and solid black with little or no shading. The tattoo sits on pale skin, with leopard print fabric visible at the lower right edge.

Fine line Botanical Ribs Dandelion Music note Seed

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

Tamsin Okereke had been told the seed vault was the coldest room on the Halcyon Reach, and she believed it until the inventory droid stopped counting and started humming. She knelt beside the drawer marked DANDELION, Taraxacum, hydroponic stock, and found the labels had been reprinted by hand. Someone had stamped a fine stave beneath each cultivar code.

Keep reading

Her grandfather had sung to these seeds in the greenhouse decks, he used to say, because plants grew faster when they heard a tune. Nobody believed him. Tamsin opened a packet and tipped the pale parachutes into her palm. Each one carried a tiny dark mark beneath its feathery crown, a quaver, a crotchet, a rest. Under the magnifier they were notes, a whole score lifting off the slender stalks of their stems.

She carried the packet to the observation blister, where the planet Verdance turned below them, green and wrong-coloured, a world with no native song. She released the seeds into the airlock draught, and the vent drew them out in a long rising line, catching the light and arranging themselves against the dark like a page of notation she had never learned to read.

The ship's pilot came in asking why she had vented the stock. Tamsin pointed. Out past the glass the seeds were still climbing the thermal, and she could swear the last few turned sideways, as if waiting for a bar line. "They're not lost," she said. "They're playing."