Colour neo-traditional tattoo on a thigh of a scroll banner reading I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, with purple flowers, green leaves, footprints and a triangle and circle symbol.

Quote banner with flowers on a thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A colour tattoo on the outer thigh shows a scroll banner with the words I solemnly swear that I am up to no good in black lettering across three ribbon sections. Purple flowers with yellow-green leaves, dark foliage, a row of beads, black footprints and a triangle and circle symbol surround the banner. Bold black outlines and green and purple shading give it a classic bold finish, and the design is framed closely around the leg.

Neo-trad Lettering Thigh Banner Quote Lettering Flower Leaves Footprint Bead Triangle Circle Ribbon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mab Tolliver swore the oath on the orchard gate the way her grandmother had, thumb pressed to the damp wood, promising to be up to no good before the first frost. The apples were coming down heavy that August, and the old women said a bad apple always falls before a good one, which was how you knew the mischief had started.

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Her brother Ansel went along the path to the mill with a stick of charcoal, drawing footprints on the stones so the miller's boy would think a fox had been walking his barrows. Dew hung in beads on the wire strung between the plum trees, and Mab counted them each morning, taking one for every print she made. Purple asters grew at the wall where the old cider press leaned, and the bees would settle on nothing else.

The miller's boy caught them at the gap in the hedge. He did not shout. He asked to see their map instead. They had drawn it on the back of a flour sack: every lane, every loose stone, every gap in every hedge for three parishes, and in one corner a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through the middle. Ansel said it was the sign for a door the fairies had forgotten to shut. Mab said it was only his sums. The miller's boy laughed and said he would keep the map if they let him come along.

At first frost the three of them walked the orchard together, leaving prints in the grey grass that the sun could not quite melt, and the apples kept dropping one by one into the wet. Nobody swore to behave.