Teal watercolour-style flower tattoo on the inner wrist and forearm, with soft blended petals and darker centre shading.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Teal watercolour flower on a wrist

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A photograph of a single flower tattoo on the inner wrist, shown from a slight angle against pale skin and a wooden floor. The flower has loose, soft-edged petals built from blended teal and dark blue wash, with heavier navy shading toward the centre. The colour is limited to blue-green tones, and the petals fade into lighter patches at the edges.

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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

Tuesday, and the rain has come in off the harbour mouth again, so nothing in the workshop will dry properly. I have been trying to lift the same wash off the back of a tide chart for an hour. Mr Pell would have told me to leave it alone. He always said a wash wants to be trusted, not fussed over, and then he would drop a fat bead of blue onto the paper and watch it bloom.

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The colour is his mix, the one he kept in a brown jar on the top shelf and never let me touch. Prussian blue, a thumbprint of sap green, and water poured from the cistern before the gulls have woken. He called it 'the cold teal' and said it was the colour the sea goes an hour before anyone lands a catch. I used it on Thursday for a flower he asked me to copy from a seed packet, and the petals ran into each other the way he said they should, pale at the rim where the paper drank the water and nearly black where the brush had lingered.

When I showed him, he held the sheet up to the window and was quiet for so long that the kettle boiled and went cold again. Then he said the flower was wrong in exactly the right places. The centre was too dark, the top petal had gone off to nothing, and that was the best thing on the page.

I have pinned it above the sink, where the light comes in green off the water. Tomorrow the tide tables go out to the boats, and the flower goes with them, folded once and tucked in my brother's oilskin pocket. He will not know what he is carrying. Good.

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