Black and white photo of a small dark rose tattoo on the forearm near the wrist, with a raised hand and a black t-shirt printed with white slogan text.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small rose tattoo near the wrist, black slogan tee

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A person wearing a black t-shirt with white slogan text, which reads personally victimized by the breakup of my chemical romance, raises one hand at the top left of the frame. A small dark rose tattoo with simple linework sits on the wrist and lower forearm, though its fine detail is hard to make out at this size. The photo is black and white, so the tattoo appears in black and grey tones with a close crop on the torso and shirt.

Forearm Rose T-shirt Slogan Hand

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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 tape deck in Nell's hatchback had chewed through the last side of The Gallows Sweetheart twice before the petrol needle slid under the red. Outside, the road ran straight as a ruled line through creosote and heat-shimmer, and the only sign of life for miles was a single rose bush, scarlet and absurd, growing out of a cracked oil drum beside a shut service station.

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Her brother Danny had made her promise, at the band's final gig with his shirt soaked through, that she would drive his mixtape out to Bernard Oakes, the bassist who had quit by fax. She had argued with him about it, called the errand ridiculous, said nobody drove four hundred miles to hand a man a cassette. Now the tape sat in her lap in its cracked case, and the sun was dropping behind her like a coin going down a well.

The attendant at the pumps said Bernard had a trailer out back, and that he didn't come out much anymore. Nell didn't ask what that meant. She walked over to the rose instead, found one bloom still open, dark and cupped like a fist, and cut it with the pocketknife from her glovebox. The stem bled a little sap onto her thumb.

She knocked on the trailer door until a grey-bearded man opened it on a chain. She held out the cassette and the rose together. He looked at the flower for a long time before he took the tape. Then she walked back to the car without waiting for him to say anything, and drove on into the dusk with the windows down and the radio silent.