Black and grey shaded seahorse tattoo with a curled tail, placed on the ankle of a bare leg above a white shoe.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Seahorse tattoo on an ankle

Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A small seahorse is shown in profile, with a long snout, a ridged curled tail and a finned body. The design uses soft grey shading with darker lines along the body and fins. It sits centrally on the ankle against plain skin, with a dark garment at the top of the frame and a white shoe at the bottom.

Ankle Seahorse Sea creature Animal Fish

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

By the time the generator coughs into life behind the dodgems, you have counted the float twice and it still comes up four pounds short. The fair has pitched on the edge of a Suffolk harbour, and the only game on the front row that nobody has won since Easter is the bottle-stopper stall, where a rope ring must land on a glass jar. Inside the jar, folded into the water like a stray comma, sits a seahorse of painted tin with a curled tail and a snout like a pen nib.

Keep reading

Old Dilys, who has run the rifle range since before you were born, leans over the counter and says the seahorse was never meant to be a prize. "It came off a Blackpool pier in nineteen fifty-one," she says, "and it swims whichever way the wind is blowing." You laugh, then notice the jar sits slightly off level, and the little fish has turned its snout toward the sea beyond the caravans.

A boy with sunburnt shoulders and two pound coins slaps the counter. You take his money, hand him three rings and watch him miss twice. On the third throw the ring slides down the glass and settles over the tail, wrapped tight, the way a seahorse clings to weed so the tide cannot carry it off.

He holds the tin fish up to the lamps, grinning. You expect him to keep it, but he presses it into your palm and says he has nowhere to put a thing that wants to go home. When you close the tin box that night, the float is still four pounds short, and the seahorse sits on the shelf above the change, facing the harbour.