Black cursive script lettering tattoo running down the inner forearm of a person with the hand held open, against a green background.

Cursive script lettering on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A person stands with one arm folded across the body and the other forearm extended, showing a tattoo of cursive script in black ink running from the wrist towards the elbow. The thin, flowing strokes have a fine, handwritten look, and the ink appears dark grey to black on light skin. The background is blurred foliage and a grey jumper, with the belt and jeans visible at the lower edge.

Lettering Forearm Script Cursive Handwriting

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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

Mrs Pardoe had written letters for the whole of Lower Stennet for thirty years, and she never once let a customer see the words before they were ready. The ink was iron gall, mixed fresh on Mondays, and it dried the colour of wet slate. Men came to her with their caps in their hands and said what they could not say, and she turned it into something a mother in Plymouth could read aloud at the kitchen table.

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On a Thursday in November a boy from the lifeboat house came in with a sheet of paper folded four times and no envelope. He had been trying to write to his sister for a week. Every draft, he said, made him sound like a stranger. Mrs Pardoe read the first line and set it down. "You're not a stranger," she said. "You're only tired of being brave on paper."

They worked until the lamp needed trimming. She wrote slowly, letting the loops run long and the capitals lean, and he watched her hand the way other boys watched a cricket bat. When it was finished he asked what it said. She told him to read it himself, and he did, and his mouth moved on the last line without sound.

He left it on the counter with a shilling under the inkwell. She kept the spare sheet, the one with three failed openings crossed through, and pinned it above the stove. Some mornings the light off the harbour came through the glass and made those crossings look like the tracks of a small bird across the page.