Black and grey photograph of a rose and leaf tattoo with dotted line trailing down to small droplet dots on the ankle.

Rose and dotted line tattoo on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo of a large rose with leaves and a smaller rose bud sits on the ankle and foot, with fine dotted lines trailing downward and ending in small dots. The linework is clean with solid black petals and leaves, and soft shading gives the roses depth. The black and white photograph is taken from a low angle, with the foot resting on a dark shoe against a pale stone step.

Fine line Botanical Ankle Rose Rose bud Leaves Dotted line Dot

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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

Now mind, I'm only telling it the way my gran told it to me, so if I get the order wrong, you can blame the coal dust in my throat. Sit down by the range. No, the other chair, that one's got a spring out.

Keep reading

Up behind the Mardy Pit there was a heap of grey shale that nothing would grow on. The men called it the Bald. Then one spring a wild rose came up out of a crack in it, pale as a tooth, and the whole street went up to look at it like it was a bishop come to visit.

Every morning the cage took the men down at half five, and every morning a little bud came loose from that rose and dropped. Not onto the heap, mind. It went down the shaft itself, the way a thread goes through the eye of a needle. Old Tom Ridley swore he saw one fall past his lamp at four hundred feet and land on his cap brim like a kiss. He never wore that cap again.

When the roof came in on the Low Seam that winter, they brought up eleven men by lamplight and not one of them was marked. Mrs Ridley went up the Bald with a bucket of water and found the rose had put out a line of new buds down the slope, each one heavier than the last, with a drop of rain hanging from every thorn. She counted them twice, nodded, and said that was the way they'd come home, one at a time, like lamps going out in the right order. Then she went down and put the kettle on.

Well. The rose is still there. Go on and look, if your legs are up to it. Mind the shale.