Black line drawing of a tattoo flash design with ornamental snowflakes, flowers and swirls arranged in a diagonal sweep on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ornamental snowflake and flower flash design

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

The image is a black linework drawing of a tattoo design combining snowflake motifs, a central flower-like rosette, and scrolling swirls. Fine, even outlines define the shapes, with small dots and curls filling the open areas. The design is shown in black on white with no shading or colour, and the elements flow diagonally from the upper left down to the lower centre.

Fine line Geometric Snowflake Flower Rosette Swirl Ornament Mandala Star Scroll

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

Sit closer to the grate, for the frost is coming down off Hallow Wood tonight and it always walks the same path to our door. My grandmother said the first snowflake of the year is never a flake at all but a little ticket the frost-folk stitch in the dark, and they sew one for every family who leaves them a bowl of milk at the wood's edge.

Keep reading

Old Maud Pellow did not leave milk. She was a lacemaker who sold her bobbins to the rich folk in Weyford, and when her hands went stiff she began trading pattern for wood. Each winter she scratched a rosette with six curling arms into the frozen pane of her cottage window, then hung little paper stars from the eaves so the cold would know where it was welcome. The village laughed at her until the spring the river stopped and the bridge went under the ice.

Her grandson Tobias was seven and reckoned frost was only frost. He crept out one night with a candle and a tin of water, and found the wood full of snowflakes hanging from the branches like pinned lace, each one turning slowly, each with a tiny curled tail that unspooled into the drifts. He pressed one between his palms and it did not melt. It folded itself into a star and sat there, waiting for a hand to take it home.

When the thaw came the bridge stood whole again, and the window kept its rosette long after the glass had cleared. Tobias never told anyone what he had carried back from the wood in his cupped hands. Each December, though, a new frost flower bloomed on that pane without anyone drawing it, and the grown-ups pretended not to notice the small wet footprints leading back to the trees.