Close-up of a fine line handwritten script tattoo reading "We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?" with a small blue TARDIS, on the upper chest.

Handwritten quote and TARDIS on the chest

Lettering · Chest · Colour · Photo

The tattoo is a handwritten-style quote in two lines of thin, dark blue-black script, with a small blue TARDIS drawn to the right of the text. The linework is fine and even, with little shading, and the ink is a single blue tone. The text fills the upper part of the frame against pale skin, with the TARDIS as a compact focal point at the right edge.

Lettering Fine line Chest Quote Handwriting Script Tardis Text

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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

The third shower of the morning found its way under the tarpaulin before Nell had finished counting change for the man with the cracked fountain pen. She wiped the trestle with her sleeve, wrote tomorrow's prices on a cardboard sign in capitals that leaned towards the wet, and tried not to look across the aisle at the blue box.

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It had turned up at seven, wedged between a crate of mismatched teaspoons and a stack of Reader's Digest annuals. A lad in a yellow cagoule had dragged it out of a van and said it had been his nan's, though nobody on Saltwell Market believed he had a nan. The panels were painted with squares that had faded to the colour of old jeans, and a small lamp on top gave a stubborn flicker whenever the wind rattled the stalls. Nobody had bid. Nell had told him it was a storage cabinet. He had only smiled and said that every cabinet was a door if you knew which handle to pull.

At half past twelve the rain thickened into something that rattled the awnings like gravel. Nell found herself beside the box, her hand flat against its cold side, reading the scrap of paper tacked to the door in her grandfather's handwriting. It said: We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?

She had never seen that note before. She stood in the drumming wet for a long moment, then turned back to her trestle, picked up a marker and added a new line beneath the prices: Sold, to whoever keeps the lamp lit.