Black line drawing of a crown above an ornate looped letter M with scrollwork and a small dot below, shown as a flash design with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crowned monogram design

Black and grey · Flash

A black linework design of a crown sitting above a large, stylised letter M formed from pointed, arrow-tipped strokes. Curled scrolls and small leaf or teardrop shapes fill the space around the central letter, and a single dot sits beneath it. The image is a plain black-on-white drawing with no shading or colour, centred on the page.

Crown Monogram Scrollwork Leaf Dot

Find an artist for this

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

Mind the sawdust, the lot of you, and sit down before the tent poles decide to sit down for you. You want the story of the Marvell crown? Then hush. Adela Vane stitched it the winter of the flood, from a dead bandleader's velvet and a bolt of gold braid she'd nicked from a Leeds cinema. Her big M was for the family name painted on the canvas, though nobody under that canopy called it anything but the Monarch.

Keep reading

Every night the Monarch hung over the ring, and every night the tigers in their painted wagons paced a little slower. The show was failing. The bill for the big top was owed to a man in Hull who wrote his letters in green ink, and the act that once filled the stands, the flying Sorrentos, had gone off to sell insurance in Hull's better suburbs.

Then in the last week of September a boy came up the lane with a suitcase tied shut with string and asked to see the lady who made the crown. Adela had been dead eleven years. Her sewing box still sat under the ticket booth, and inside it, folded flat, was a second M, smaller, worked in black thread with arrow-tipped strokes and a single dot of ink beneath. The boy opened his mouth to say he was her grandson, the wind dropped, and every lamp on the pole went out at once.

In the dark, old Pim, who had mended that canvas for forty years, began to laugh until he coughed. Read the thread, he said. Adela never sewed a letter without a stop at the end. The dot is where the show finishes, and you're standing in it. So we sold the tent that winter, kept the crown, and stitched the boy into the act. Mind your feet on the way out.