Black fine line geometric stag head tattoo on the forearm, built from angular facets with branching antlers.

Geometric stag head on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A geometric stag head is drawn in thin black linework on a forearm, with the antlers branching upward and the lower facets breaking into separate triangles. The design uses single-weight outlines and no shading, so the shapes are defined by line alone. The photo is black and white and shows the tattoo centred against a plain light skin background.

Geometric Fine line Forearm Stag Deer Antler Geometric shape

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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

Sit yourself down on the bench, love, the 4.12 is running forty minutes behind, which is the only thing about this line that has never changed. You'll want to hear about the stag, because everyone who waits here long enough does. Old Walter told me first, and he had it from the signalman, who had it from the stag itself, or so the signalman swore.

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It came down off the fell on the night the junction lamps failed, a beast drawn in nothing but straight edges, every facet sharp as a cut ticket. Its antlers branched like the points on a switch diagram, and when the lamplight caught it you could see right through the lines to the dark behind. It stood on the far platform watching the single track as though waiting to be told which way to go. A girl called Nell Harrow, sixteen and bound for Leeds with her wages sewn into her coat, sat down beside it because nobody else would sit near it.

She asked it nothing. It asked her, in a voice like fence wire humming in the wind, whether she had ever wanted to be counted as one whole thing rather than a sum of edges. She said she supposed so. The train came in, lamp-bright and late, and as Nell stood up the stag began to come apart at its feet, the lower facets breaking loose into small hard triangles that skittered across the platform and settled in the cracks between the sleepers.

Nell got on the train and never came back, and the stag never walked again. But every spring Walter swept the ballast and found a sliver of bright line in the gravel, and he kept them in a biscuit tin. If you ask nicely, he might still show you one. Mind the gap.