Black ink tattoo of the word lumos in script lettering with five small stars around it, on an ankle.

Lumos lettering with stars on ankle

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo reads the word lumos in a joined, slanted script, with five small five-pointed stars scattered above, below and beside it. The linework is solid black with no shading, and the lettering is slightly bolder than the stars. Only black ink is visible against pale skin, with a green fabric edge in the top right corner of the frame.

Lettering Ankle Star Script Word

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

Sit closer, and mind the fire, because the word I'm going to tell you about is the sort that wants a little respect. Out past the last cottage at Hollin Edge, where the beeches give way to bracken and nobody goes after dark, there lived a lamp-maker's widow called Edith Marl. Her father had given her a word he got from a tinker, who got it from nobody knew where. The word was lumos, and she said it the way you'd say the name of someone you were fond of.

Keep reading

Every winter the lanes flooded and the sheep wandered into the bog, and every winter Edith walked out with a clay lamp that had no wick. She stood at the edge of the reeds and said lumos into the dark, and the lamp lit. Not bright. Just enough that a lost man could see the next stone. The village called it fog-trickery. The children called it magic, which it was, though the magic lived in the saying and not in the clay.

The year the miller's boy went through the ice, Edith said the word until her voice cracked and nothing answered. She sat down in the bracken and wept, and when she looked up, the sky above the alders had gone strange. Five stars hung low over the water, scattered like someone had flicked ink across the dark to mark the way home.

She never told anyone what she did next. But the boy walked into the square at first light, soaked to the bone and furious at the world, and pointed back at the trees. Ask him what the stars said and he'll only shrug. Ask Edith's granddaughter, who still keeps the lamp on the windowsill, and she'll tell you the stars spelled nothing at all. They just pointed.