Teal floral anchor tattoo with dark outlines on the side of a person's torso, built from vines, leaves and small blossoms.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Floral anchor tattoo on the side

Botanical · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A large anchor made of teal and turquoise floral motifs, with vines, leaves and small blossoms forming the ring, shank and curved flukes. Dark outlines define the shapes, and lighter teal fills and shading give the flowers some depth. The anchor sits across pale skin with a dark garment visible at the left edge of the frame.

Botanical Ribs Anchor Flower Vine Leaves Scroll Blossom

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Maud sat on an upturned crate behind the helter-skelter, stitching teal thread through a split in the big top's awning while the fair waited in a wet field outside Ashby. The lorry axle had cracked on the A14, and the whole show had lost three days. Her father's sea chest sat under the caravan steps where it had sat since the funeral, its brass corners gone green.

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Tom Keady, who ran the coconut shy and had an opinion on everything, leaned over the tailboard with two teas. He asked why she kept sewing flowers onto canvas that would only be packed away in a month. Maud bit off the thread. Her father had worked the mooring lines at Weymouth for forty years, and every Sunday he had carried a jam jar of wild campion down to the harbour and tied a sprig to the rusted ring of the old anchor on the quay. His own mother had told him an anchor held better when it was dressed for the sea. Nobody believed him, and he never once missed a Sunday.

The fair limped on to the coast the following week and pitched on the cliff car park at Swanage, where the wind came off the Channel hard enough to lift the stall flaps like wings. The gale got under the big top on the Friday night. Maud went out in her oilskin with a torch in her teeth and found the old canvas straining against its guy ropes, the seams groaning. She had sewn an anchor into the centre panel that morning, a ring of blossom, a shank of vines, flukes curling like fern heads. It was the strongest stitching she had ever done, and when she laid her palm against it, the tent stopped moving.