Small black scorpion tattoo on a person's hip beside a teal skirt, with a navel piercing visible above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small scorpion tattoo on a hip

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small black scorpion with curled tail and pincers sits on the side of a bare midriff, just above the waistband of a teal skirt with beaded fringing. The design is solid black ink with simple, clean outlines and no shading. The background is a blurred teal wall, with a hand resting at the right edge of the frame.

Other Scorpion Navel piercing

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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

Dear Mabel, the crate came off the Sallow Star on Tuesday and I have not slept properly since. Father swore the bananas were clean, that Captain Idris had checked every hand of them himself. Then Mrs Quayle lifted the lid in the harbour shed and something black stepped out from under a bunch, curled its tail over its back like a question mark and looked straight at her.

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Nobody on Corran Isle had ever seen one. Tobias caught it in a jam jar with a square of card for a lid, and by supper the whole schoolroom had been to look at it. Dr Ansell said the sting would be bad for a small child but seldom worse than a wasp, and Mrs Quayle said that was no comfort at all. Tobias named it Admiral. He has been feeding it crumbs of cheese and pretending it knows its name.

This morning I opened the jar to tip it out at the bottom of the quay, as Father wanted. It would not go. It sat on my thumb with its pincers open and its tail raised, perfectly still, the way the old sailors' ink used to sit flat against their skin. I thought of the ship far out on the water, and of how far a small thing can travel when nobody is looking.

I have put it on the warm wall by the fish cellar instead, with a saucer of seawater and a stone to climb. It was there at dusk, curled into a neat black knot in the last of the sun. Tobias says it has decided to stay. I think it has only found the one warm place on the island nobody thinks to sweep. Write soon, and tell me whether Aunt Ruth still has the blue shutters.

Love, Ada