Colourful pansy tattoo with purple, yellow and orange petals and grey leaves on the ankle, beside a small black lizard tattoo on the top of the foot.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pansy tattoo on the ankle

Botanical · Ankle · Colour · Photo

Two legs rest on a white sheet, with a full-colour pansy tattoo on the outer ankle showing purple, yellow and orange petals and dark grey leaves on a single stem. The petals are shaded with soft gradients and bold colour blocks, and a printed reference drawing of the same pansy sits at the top left. A black line tattoo of a lizard runs down the top of the other foot, and a small crescent moon is inked on the back of one hand.

Botanical Ankle Hand Pansy Flower Leaves Lizard Crescent moon

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

The mule stopped at the third cairn, as mules do when they have decided the weather is none of their business, and you were left to work out the rest of the path alone. Mist lay in the col like milk in a saucer. Somewhere below, a stream was talking to itself over stones. You crouched to check the map, which was soaked through, and saw the flowers before you saw anything else: a clump of pansies pushed up between two slabs of grey slate, purple faces turned toward the thin sun, yellow and orange hearts gone rust at the edges.

Keep reading

Your grandmother used to say pansies were thoughts, that the French had named them for memory. She had also said the high passes were no place for a sensible woman, and she had been wrong about that too, so you did not take her word for the flowers. You picked one, pressed it between the pages of the guidebook, and felt foolish for doing it. A lizard, grey as the rock, watched you from a warm stone and did not move when you rose.

The pass opened by late afternoon. The village lay in the valley below with its one lit window, and the moon was already up, a thin pale crescent over the ridge as though someone had left it there to mark your place. You walked down slowly, counting cairns, and at the bottom a woman in a doorway took the wet map from your hands without asking where you had been.

Inside, you opened the guidebook. The pansy had left a faint purple shadow on the page, its petals flattened but still pointing the way you had come.