Close view of both hands with small fine line tattoos of crosses, dots, arrows and chevrons on the fingers, alongside several rings.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line finger tattoos on both hands

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two mirrored hands with dark nail polish are shown against a dark background. Small black fine line tattoos of crosses, dots, arrows, chevrons and simple marks sit across several fingers, and a few rings are worn on the same fingers. The image is mostly monochrome with soft lighting and a reflective, symmetrical composition.

Fine line Hand Cross Dot Arrow Chevron Symbol Finger tattoo Ring

Find an artist for this

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 boats were due in before the tide turned, and Maud Pell had not yet made the marks for the Vigilance. She sat on an upturned crab pot at the end of the quay with a stub of pencil and the tally book open on her knee, though she no longer needed the book. Each returning hull got a sign. An arrow meant a boat had come home lighter than it left. A cross meant one had not come home at all. A chevron meant the crew had sung on the way in. Her grandmother had taught her the system, and her grandmother's grandmother had sworn it began with a woman who could not write her name.

Keep reading

The fleet came round the breakwater in ragged order, six hulls, then five. Maud counted them twice and wrote a dot beside the Brightwater, which had limped in with a split mast and a skipper who would not say what he had seen off the Skerry. Nobody in Scarrow Haven liked to be the one who asked whether a dot meant hope or only a stubborn wait. The gulls went on screaming over the fish market as if nothing were owed to anyone.

At the turn of the tide, Tam Garrow came up the slipway with his cap in his fist. He said the Vigilance had put into Foula to ride out the weather, and that her skipper had sent word by the ferry, a handwritten note tucked into a jar of salt. Maud read it twice, then rubbed out the cross she had drawn beside the Vigilance's name with the side of her thumb.

She drew an arrow in its place, pointing north past the breakwater, and the damp in the air softened the lead until the point of it bled out into the paper like a wake spreading across open water.