Fine line black script tattoo reading be your own kind of beautiful, set diagonally on the inner forearm.

Be your own kind of beautiful script on forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a pale inner forearm with the words "be your own kind of beautiful" written in thin, handwritten script, stacked on a diagonal. The linework is delicate and even, in black ink with no colour or shading. A dark wooden plank wall sits behind the arm, with a blurred pair of dark trousers and slides in the lower background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Quote Script Handwriting Word

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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 ink in your cartridge has thickened again, and the archivist on Lower Ring says it will not clear until the station heaters are fixed, so you write with the stub of a graphite pencil instead, sharpened with a knife you were told not to keep. The task is simple on paper. Copy the last legible phrase from the salvaged slate of the Harrow Freight Registry into the new ledger, letter by letter, so the cataloguers in the upper ring can index it before the slate crumbles to grit. Most of the slate is tallies and manifests. One line sits alone near the bottom, pressed so hard into the stone that your fingers find it before your eyes do.

Keep reading

The line reads: "be your own kind of beautiful." Whoever cut it leaned the words over at an angle, as though the sentence were trying to keep up with itself. You copy it once, then again, slower, because the loops on the b and the k are shapes you have never seen anyone make. Nobody on the station writes like that anymore. The printers hum out identical block letters, and the children learn to recognise each other by index number long before they learn their own names.

You carry the page up to the ledger room, where a supervisor named Oyelaran reads it with her thumb pressed to her mouth. She says it is a shipping motto, nothing more, and that the Registry used to paint such things on hulls. You tell her you think it was meant for someone to read alone. She does not argue. She tears out your copy, files it under decorative, and slides the original back across the desk. You keep it folded in your breast pocket for the rest of the shift, where it stays warm.