Realistic red rose tattoo with black lace-style filigree and a dotted gem drop design across a person's lower abdomen, below the navel.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic rose with black lace on the stomach

Realism · Other · Mixed · Photo

A large, realistic red rose sits on the lower abdomen, with shaded petals and dark green leaves. Black ornamental filigree with a honeycomb mesh pattern curls around the rose and extends across the skin, with a dotted chain and a red gem pendant hanging below. The rose uses soft shading and red and pink ink, while the lace and scrollwork are solid black, and the design is centred on the midsection.

Realism Botanical Other Rose Lace Filigree Gem Leaves Chain Scrollwork Honeycomb

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fair packs up on a wet Sunday, and by the time the lorries reach the A17 you have already decided to stay behind. Mrs Ferrier at the hook-a-duck stall says the lace on the carousel canopy won't survive another winter, and she is right. You have spent six summers sewing its honeycomb netting back together with black thread and a bent needle. You know every hole in it, and which scroll the wind always tears first.

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Harry the rigger leaves you the spare caravan, a pink tin of enamel and a note that says only: the rose is yours, don't let the damp have it. The rose is the one painted on the side of the waltzer seat, the one the children climb on, shaded darker at the edges where the lamps have scorched it over the years. You prise the lid off and the smell of linseed rises up at you. Someone has to finish the petals before the frost gets into the wood.

At the bottom of the tin, wrapped in a handkerchief, you find the red gem pendant that used to hang from the canopy for luck. Harry never sold it. He never meant to leave, you realise, only to make sure somebody would stay.

You sew the pendant back onto the lace at dawn, while the field is still silver with dew. When the sun comes over the hedge, the rose on the seat catches the light, and the black filigree throws its little shadows across the grass, and the whole empty fairground looks, for once, like it is waiting for you to open it.