Set of traditional-style tattoo flash designs printed as stickers, showing a teacup, aeroplane, microphone, cigarette hand, globe, ship wheel and carousel horse, all with lettering on banners, on a

Traditional flash designs printed as stickers

Traditional · Colour · Flash

The image shows a group of printed sticker designs that mirror traditional tattoo flash, each with a single central motif and lettering on a banner. Motifs include a teacup, an aeroplane, a hand holding a microphone, a hand holding a cigarette, a globe, a ship's wheel, and a carousel horse, with small flowers in some designs. The linework is bold and outlined, with flat colour fills in blues, reds, yellows and greens and some grey shading, set against a dark grey background.

Traditional Teacup Aeroplane Microphone Hand Cigarette Globe Ship wheel Banner Lettering Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cup had slid to the lip of the chart table for the third time since midnight, and Nell caught it without looking up from her pencil marks. Forty days out of Avonmouth and the Halcyon had never once been still. The mate called the weather a tempest in a teacup, which he thought was funny, because the teacup was hers: a chipped galley mug with a blue wave painted on its side. She had carried it to every watch since Biscay.

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At two bells the captain sent for her. Old Haskins stood at the wheel himself, his hands on the spokes and his knuckles pale against the worn brass. The glass was falling. He told her to take the wheel for the next hour, that a helmsman who only steers in fair weather has learnt nothing, and she stepped up into the wet dark with the spokes cold and alive under her palms. The ship wanted to fall off to starboard every time a swell lifted her stern. She corrected, and corrected again, feeling the rudder answer through her arms like a conversation she had not known she could hold.

When the watch changed, the sea had gone long and grey and almost gentle. Haskins poured the last of his tea into her cup without asking, though it had gone cold, and handed it back. 'Still a tempest,' he said, nodding at the wave painted on the side. She drank it anyway, bitter and tasting of salt, and felt the deck settle beneath her boots. Somewhere below, a tin of biscuits went skidding across the pantry floor, and nobody bothered to chase it.