Close-up of a fine line black script tattoo reading letitbe across the forearm.

Fine line script word on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A thin black script word, written as a single run-on phrase, sits across the forearm and rises slightly towards the right. The linework is delicate and even, with a flowing, handwritten character and no shading. The black ink stands out against a plain skin tone, with a dark background and a blue sleeve at the edge of the frame.

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

Mrs Ada Pringle had been writing the same two words on the backs of parcel slips for thirty-one years, and the village had stopped asking what they meant. The postmaster's boy, Owen, asked anyway, the summer the flood took the footbridge at Carrow and nobody could agree who should pay for the new one.

Keep reading

She was sorting letters at the counter with her spectacles pushed up into grey hair. She slid a brown envelope across to him. It was addressed to the parish council in a hand so careful it looked like wire. "Take that to Haddon's farm, not the council," she said. "He'll read it and say nothing, which is the same as a yes."

Owen rode out along the flooded lane with the envelope buttoned inside his coat. Old Tom Haddon read it standing by the range, then turned it over and read the back. Inside was a single sheet with a list of names, the families who had stopped speaking after the ferry was sold, and beside each name a neat line through it. At the bottom, in the same wire hand, was one more line: a cheque for the bridge, made out to nobody.

Haddon folded the cheque into his shirt pocket and said nothing, as predicted. When Owen got back to the post office that evening, Mrs Pringle had already put the kettle on and was tying the ledger shut with string. Across the top of the ledger, written in pencil, were the words again, smaller now, as if she had grown tired of saying them. In April the first lorry crossed the new bridge, and nobody in Carrow asked her why.

More like this

From the plentytattoo archive, uploaded by a user. Is this your work? Ask for credit or removal.