Chest tattoo of two shaded pink roses, a white rabbit and a top-hatted figure around an ornate cameo portrait, in neo-traditional style with dotted linework.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wonderland roses and cameo across chest

Neo-trad · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A chest tattoo centres on an ornate cameo frame holding a portrait of a girl with long hair, flanked below by a white rabbit and a figure in a top hat. Two large pink roses sit on either side of the chest, with dotted flourishes and swirling lines linking the motifs. The rendering combines bold outlines with soft blue, brown and pink shading, and the composition is symmetrical across the collarbones.

Neo-trad Dotwork Chest Rose Cameo Portrait Top hat Figure Frame Dot Swirl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hold the torch steady, Danny, the lift's been dead since Tuesday and the rabbit always comes up the shaft when the cables go quiet. Don't laugh at me. Your mum laughed too, and she still ended up with a cup of his tea. He had a waistcoat the colour of old custard and a watch on a chain, and he was always late, always, muttering about the time as if the time had done him a personal wrong.

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Flat fourteen had the cameo on the wall back then, a little oval frame with curly gold edges, and inside it a girl with hair down her back like a river. Every night she sat at the window looking at the car park lights, and every night the rabbit scratched at the bottom of the shaft and she went down after him. Nobody on the estate ever believed that part, but the lift doors were open that morning, weren't they, and nobody could say why.

Down on the walkway the man in the top hat kept his trolley by the bins. He poured tea into cups with no bottoms, so you had to drink it fast or it ran through your fingers and you'd be stuck counting bricks till morning. The roses in the planters were the only things that ever grew on that walkway, big pink ones the size of dinner plates, and he'd tell you they were the only honest thing on the whole block.

So when the lift finally came back to life, she went down in it with her plait done up and a ticket to nowhere in her pocket, and the rabbit never once looked round. That's the trouble with rabbits, love. You follow them and the stairs just keep going. Now shine that light on the lock for me, and let's see whether the door's still there.