Black and grey tattoos of Disney princess faces sit on the fingers of a hand, with pale nude nail polish.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Disney princess portraits on fingers

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Small portraits of several Disney princesses are tattooed one per finger across both rows of a hand, with each face shown in profile or three-quarter view. The linework is fine and the faces are shaded in soft greys, with some areas left light. The photograph is black and white, with the nails in a pale nude polish and the hand filling most of the frame.

Hand Princess Portrait Face Finger

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Before the carter's horse had found its way up Tanner Row, Hester Quill had her hands in the dough and seven paper faces pinned along the shelf above the proving drawer. They had been cut from an old almanac, each one a girl with a different hairstyle and a different way of turning from the viewer. Hester had long ago stopped asking herself why she kept them. The bread came out better when they watched.

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Her mother had taught her the rule of it. Press a finger into the dough and the mark it leaves is a face, and a face in the crumb keeps the loaf from going stale until someone breaks it open. A baker who named her fingers would never be short of custom. Hester had her own names for them, the thumb being the stern one who would not be hurried and the little finger being the youngest, always first to be eaten through by the morning.

Tomas, the lad from the workhouse, came in on the third Tuesday of the frost and asked her why her fingers had faces. She told him the old tale plainly, the way it had been told to her: seven sisters who lost their father's mill, and who each sold one finger to a travelling sorcerer for a single warm loaf to keep their mother alive through the winter. The sorcerer took the fingers and gave back faces, and the faces were all the sisters had left to remember themselves by.

Tomas went quiet, then pressed his own thumb hard into a ball of dough. It came away with a smudge of a boy's chin. Hester laughed, and the first grey light came over the chimney pots and found the seven faces on her shelf, all looking at the door as if they expected someone to come in and buy the bread.