Two hands with colourful unicorn head tattoos on the fingers, plus a small black skull and crossbones on a third finger.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Unicorn head tattoos on two fingers

Neo-trad · Hand · Mixed · Photo

Two hands rest together, each showing a unicorn head tattoo on a finger, with pink, blue and yellow shading and a horn in the centre. A small black skull and crossbones sits on another finger, and a tiny black circular design appears lower down. The composition is close and angled, with bold outlines on the unicorns and painted nail art on the fingertips.

Neo-trad Hand Unicorn Skull Crossbones Circle Finger

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ballroom on Clevedon pier had been painted the colour of weak lemonade in 1953, and Maisie Crane swore on her mother's life she would never dance under it again. "Just the one turn," said Joan, pinning her fringe flat with a grip she had nicked from the cloakroom. "Eddie's been watching you since the tea urn."

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Maisie had spent the afternoon at the booth on the landing stage, inking little beasts onto the backs of postcards for a penny each. Unicorns mostly, because the children asked for them and they were easy with a steady hand and a pot of pink. She had drawn one for Eddie that morning on the back of a ferry ticket, a horn like a barley twist, a mane of rose and sky blue. He had folded it into his breast pocket without a word, and she had decided that was either very rude or very good.

The band struck up the Mermaid Waltz. Eddie crossed the floor in a suit too big across the shoulders, held out his hand, and on his middle finger sat a tin ring she recognised at once: a skull and crossbones she had bought from the bloke with the bent crown who sold oddments under the pier. "Found it in the sand," Eddie said. "Thought you'd want it back."

Maisie looked at the ring, then at the corner of the ticket poking from his pocket, and understood that somebody had been told a lie about luck. "Dance with me, then," she said, and stepped in close enough to smell the sea on his collar. They turned under the lemon light, the tin skull winking, and Joan watched from the cloakroom as two pink horns went round and round like a pair of compasses that had finally agreed on north.