Black and grey shaded rose tattoo with leaves on the inner forearm near the wrist, in a realism style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Shaded rose on a wrist

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A large rose in bloom is the central subject, with its petals drawn in soft grey gradients and pale highlights. Shaded leaves sit at the lower left and a leaf edge appears near the top of the design. The tattoo is photographed on pale skin against a dark background, with the hand visible at the top of the frame.

Realism Botanical Forearm Rose Leaves Flower

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

The frost had got into the water butt again, so Ada broke the skin of ice with the heel of the hoe before she carried the pails across to the pigs. Snow lay thin on the yard and blue in the lantern light, and the wind came off the top field with nothing in it but cold.

Keep reading

Past the granary, where the old rose had climbed the wall for forty years, there was only grey wood. Her father had cut it back to the stump the summer the barn burned, and he had not looked at that corner of the yard since. Ada went to see it anyway. Under a fold of snow, low on the bark, a bloom sat closed and pale, its petals wound tight as a fist, with two dark leaves crouched beneath it like hands held out for coins.

She brought the bloom in against all sense, wrapped in her shawl and set in a jug on the kitchen table. Her father came down at dawn, saw it, and stopped in the doorway with the coal scuttle still in his hand. The petals had not opened, but when he touched the outer curl with one blackened thumb it gave a little, the way a new loaf gives under the knuckle.

He sat down slowly. Ada waited for him to say the rose was a mistake, that roses did not bloom in January, that it would be gone by noon. Instead he filled the kettle and set it on the range, and they both watched the bloom through the steam as if it might be deciding something. By the time the light reached the table, the outer petals had come loose from one another, grey and soft as ash that has forgotten it was fire.