Black and grey floral sleeve tattoo of roses, a large flower and daffodil-like blooms with leaves, covering an arm from the upper arm to the wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black and grey floral sleeve on a forearm and upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The arm is covered in a dense floral sleeve featuring two large roses, a five-petalled flower with a central dot, and a trumpet-shaped bloom, all surrounded by leaves and foliage. The linework is bold and dark, with soft grey shading and dotted texture building volume in the petals and leaves. The design wraps around the limb diagonally across a white surface, with a pinkish fabric in the upper corner.

Traditional Botanical Upper arm Forearm Rose Flower Leaves Foliage Daffodil Sleeve Floral

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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

The roses had to be drawn before the frost, Ada told the boy from the carrier's cart, because by Thursday the petals would have gone the colour of wet newspaper and no amount of stippling would bring them back. He nodded as if he understood, then asked whether she would be done before the trumpet bulbs were unpacked. She said the trumpets could wait, they had waited long enough in Cornwall.

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Mr Pryce wanted the autumn plate for the Hartley and Sons seed catalogue finished by the end of the month. She had pinned the five-petalled bloom to the drawing board the day before, its pale star lit from behind by the glasshouse glass, and had spent an hour on the dark dot at its centre, building it up with tiny strokes of nib until it looked less like a mark and more like a hole a person might fall into. The leaves she left loose and heavy, because the buyers liked a leaf they could feel the weight of.

On Wednesday Pryce came in with his hat still on and set a letter on the board. Hartley had bought the trumpet bulbs outright from the Penhallow farm, and the agreement forbade any likeness of them in print before spring. "Draw the roses twice as large," he said, "and the rest will look like padding." Ada said nothing. That night she went back to the trumpet and, in the shadow beneath its lip, drew a small crooked sprig of salt-marsh grass, the only thing from the Cornish crate she had kept.

The plate ran in February with its two great roses and its stiff green foliage, and nobody at Hartley's asked about the grass. Ada's own copy hangs in the back room above the sink. When the light comes in low she can just make out the blade where the trumpet's shadow should have been.