Black fine line cursive script tattoo running diagonally along a forearm against a dark background, in black and grey.

Fine line script on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black fine line cursive script runs diagonally along a pale forearm, with a long looping tail extending from the lower left to the upper right. The linework is thin and even, with the lettering set in a flowing, connected hand. The image is black and white, with a plain dark background that keeps focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Lettering Cursive Word

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 band at the Pavilion had packed up by half eleven, but Mrs Okafor still let me sweep the sprung floor on my own, and that was where I found the card. It was tucked under the radiator by the cloakroom, a little pasteboard dance card with the pencil gone grey, and across the back someone had written a line in a hand that ran on and on without lifting, the letters leaning into each other like couples at the last waltz.

Keep reading

I could make out only pieces of it under the stage lamp. A word that might have been great, something that looked like fairy, and a tail of loop that swung up toward the rafters and stopped as though the writer had been called away. I asked Mrs Okafor who it belonged to. She said it had been there since the Coronation dance, that a girl called Vera had left it, and that Vera had gone to Leeds with a fitter from the gasworks and never sent so much as a postcard.

So I spent three Saturdays trying to finish the sentence. I tried it with the ballroom lights on and off, I tried it in the cold of the bus shelter, and once I traced the loop in chalk on the pavement outside until the rain came and took it. In the end I wrote my own answer underneath in biro, the first words I could think of that matched the slope of her tail, and pinned the card back under the radiator for whoever came next.

The following Saturday there was a second line beneath mine, in the same unbroken hand, and it said only: yes, but dance it first. I still don't know if Vera wrote it or if Mrs Okafor was having me on, but I went to the hall that night and danced until the lamps went out.