Fine line black tattoo of an outlined heart pierced by an arrow, with script reading your name here and three crosses, on a forearm.

Heart and arrow with script on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a forearm showing a small outlined heart with an arrow passing through it from upper left to lower right. The script reads your name here across the heart's centre, with three small crosses beneath. The linework is thin and even in black ink, with no shading, and the tattoo sits against plain skin on a light background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Heart Arrow Script Lettering Crosses Outline

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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 flash man came up from Ferryhill on the Thursday bus with a suitcase of stencils and a machine that buzzed like a trapped wasp. He set up in the back room of the Welfare with a bedsheet pinned over the snooker table, and Dad said I was daft. Mam said nothing, which was worse.

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He had a sheet of hearts pinned to the wall, a dozen of them, each with an arrow through it at a different angle. I picked the one that ran from top left to bottom right, because the ponies at the colliery had taught me that anything going down will come back up if you give it time. He asked for a name. I said I'd tell him after. He said they all say after, love, and tapped the lettering already printed in pencil across the middle: your name here. I told him to leave it as it was.

Nell worked the till at the Co-op and her hands always smelled of carbolic soap. She had promised me three kisses, one for each shift I'd be underground before the summer was out, so I asked him to mark those small beneath the words. He did them in a straight line, neat as stitching. The room smelled of methylated spirits and Woodbines, and the buzzing went on far longer than I'd thought it would.

When Nell saw it she laughed until she had to sit down on the step. She said the arrow was pointing the wrong way, that she'd been hit from the other side. I said it was pointing at the Co-op. She said that was the only sensible thing I'd said all week, and that she'd never need to write her name on anything again, since everyone in the village already knew whose it was.