Fine line black tattoo of a hand holding a bunch of wildflowers with the words hold on beneath, on the side of a ribcage.

Hand holding wildflowers with hold on script

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line tattoo of a hand gripping a small bouquet of wildflowers, with several daisy-like blooms, bud-tipped stems and thin leaves. Beneath the hand, the words hold on are written in a handwritten script. The linework is delicate and even, in black ink with no shading, and the design sits centrally on smooth skin against a plain grey background.

Fine line Botanical Lettering Ribs Hand Wildflower Flower Bouquet Stem Leaves Script Text

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

Margaret had picked the flowers from the verge behind the Co-op, too late in the evening for anyone to ask why she was carrying a bunch of ragged daisies into the Corn Exchange. The stems had already gone limp in her fist by the time the band struck up the last waltz of the night, and she pushed through the crowd near the bar with the bouquet held out in front of her like a lantern.

Keep reading

Frank was by the radiator, pretending he hadn't been watching the door. He had a bruise coming up under one eye from a scrap outside the Railway Arms, and he looked at the flowers and then at her with the expression of a man who had decided not to ask questions. "Those are weeds," he said. "Weeds, Maggie."

"They're wildflowers. My nan had a name for every one of them." She pressed the bunch into his palm and folded his fingers round the stems. "Hold on to those for me."

He laughed, then stopped laughing, because the bandleader had leaned into the microphone and called out that this one was for anyone who'd been waiting all night to be asked. The floor cleared and filled again. Somebody's mother was crying quietly by the coat rack. Maggie crossed the boards in her good shoes, the ones she'd been saving since the spring, and held out her hand.

Frank took it. Neither of them said anything about the bruise, or the letter that had come from the council about the hall closing, or the stems still clutched in his other fist. They turned slowly under the paper lanterns, and when the song finally ended and the room went quiet, he was still holding on, and so was she.