Black outline tattoo on a forearm showing a crown, a heart shape, radiating rays, a sunburst arc and a flower-like sun.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crown, heart and sun outline tattoo

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black outline tattoo shows a crown above a heart shape, with a set of curved rays sweeping up to the left and a flower-like sun at the lower left. A semicircular arc of short radiating lines sits beneath the crown and heart, and the linework is uniform in weight. The design is in black ink only, shown in a close, slightly angled photo against a pale skin tone and a blue tiled background.

Forearm Crown Heart Sun Flower Ray Arc Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cutting bell had gone at four, and by half five Dot Halloran had three trays of dough breathing under linen and no idea where the sugar crown had gone. She checked the cooling rack, then the flour bin, then her apron pocket, where it turned up folded in greaseproof paper like something smuggled. The christening order was due on Saltmarsh Road at eight, and the cake would look foolish without its crown.

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The bakery was still dark except for the oven's glow through the door glass. Her proving baskets sat along the bench in a shallow curve, each one pressed with a thumb-shaped dent, and she moved down the row checking for skins that had dried too far. Kit came through the back at twenty past, hair flattened on one side, and asked why anyone would put a crown on a baby's cake. Dot said the baby's grandmother had asked for it, and that was the end of the argument.

She piped the heart last, a small wobbling shape in royal icing, and set it beneath the crown. It sat a fraction off-centre. She went to take it off and stopped with her hand in the air, because at that moment the shutter gaps lit grey and then gold, and the light came through in long thin bars across the cake and the sugar crown, as if something had been lifted up over the chimney pots.

"Leave it," Kit said. "It looks like it's rising."

Dot left it. Her mother had always said the first batch never sits straight, and you bake it anyway. She wrapped the cake box in tissue, tucked the crown's spare in her coat, and went out into the cold street with the sun already on the rooftops.