Colour feather and floral tattoo with swirling linework across a woman's abdomen and ribs, with teal, blue and pink shading.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Feather and floral tattoo across abdomen and ribs

Botanical · Other · Mixed · Photo

A large tattoo of a feather with swirling scrollwork and flower shapes covers the abdomen and extends up the side of the ribs. Dark grey and black linework and shading give depth, with teal and blue on the feather and small pink accents among the flowers. The design wraps around the torso and fills most of the frame, with a navel piercing and the top of a pair of denim shorts visible below.

Botanical Other Feather Swirl Flower Floral Scrollwork Navel piercing

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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

Ada Pryce had catalogued the lost property at Halden Road for nineteen years, and she knew the difference between something forgotten and something left on purpose. The box that arrived on Thursday held eleven umbrellas, a cricket bat, two odd gloves and a hatbox with no hat. Beneath the gloves lay a long feather, teal shading to ink at the quill, its edges furred with a grey so fine it looked drawn rather than grown.

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Pressed between its barbs was a flower, pink gone to brown, and folded around the shaft was a paper ticket for the 4:55 to Ashby, dated three years back. On the reverse someone had written in pencil, "Keep the swirls for when the rain stops." Ada turned it over twice. She logged it as miscellaneous, item 212, and set it on the shelf above the kettle, where the things nobody claimed gathered like birds on a wire.

Weeks passed and the feather stayed put. Each morning the platform clock ticked over and she heard the trains sigh into the bay, and each evening she passed the shelf and felt it watching her with that dark, patient eye. On the third Friday of October the rain finally stopped, and the light came low and gold over the sidings. Ada lifted the feather down, carried it out past the ticket barrier, and stood at the edge of the platform where the wind was coming off the fields.

The 4:55 hissed in, doors sliding open with a bright chime. Ada held the feather out, not quite letting go. The draught caught it, turned it once in the carriage light, and carried it down the length of the train, teal against the wet windows, until it was only a flicker at the far end of the platform and then nothing at all.