Fine line peony tattoo in pink and green with a thin script word running down the stem, on the outside of a person's ankle above a white sneaker.

Pink peony with script stem on ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Colour · Photo

A small pink peony sits at the top of a thin, fine line stem, with two green leaves beside the bloom. A delicate script word is drawn along the length of the stem in green and red. The tattoo is centred on the outer ankle against a plain, softly lit background, with jeans cuffed above and white sneakers below.

Fine line Botanical Ankle Peony Flower Leaves Stem 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

The oven timer has been ticking for four minutes before you notice it, because your hands are already busy with the piping bag. Flour dust sits on the steel like frost. Outside Halloran's the street lamps are still lit and the bin lorry has not yet come grinding down Mill Row. Tomorrow's wedding order is pinned above the proving drawer: four tiers, sixty peonies, pink fading to red at the edges, and beneath it Dee's handwriting that says DON'T LET THEM GO FLAT.

Keep reading

The first batch slumped in the heat. You scraped them into the bin with the side of your palm and started again, counting under your breath the way your gran counted stitches. Petal, petal, curl. Dee always said to stop chasing perfection and let the edges wander. By four the shop smells of butter and the rosewater you have been warned about twice. A van driver knocks on the back door early, takes one look at your face, and wisely says nothing.

The bride's order had one request in the margin: a green stem with her grandmother's name running up it, in the looping hand from her birthday cards. Your first attempt looked like a tangled fishing line. The second you did with the finest nozzle, slow, the way you would write a letter you meant to keep. Just the stem, a single peony at its head, two leaves folded like hands.

At ten past five the light changes in the window, grey going to pearl. You stand back. The cake holds. Dee comes through the door with her coat half on, stops, and says nothing for a long moment. Then she touches the corner of a leaf with one floury finger and says, "Her gran would have liked that." You wipe the nozzle clean and realise you have written the name slightly backwards on the last stem, and decide, after a moment, that it is exactly right.