Fine line jellyfish tattoo in dark blue ink with dotted, trailing tentacles on the upper arm of a person in a white t-shirt.

Jellyfish tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A small jellyfish with a rounded bell and long, wispy tentacles is inked in dark blue on the outer upper arm. The tentacles fade into scattered stipple dots that drift down the arm, giving a sense of movement. The plain pale background keeps the focus on the single-tone design.

Fine line Dotwork Upper arm Jellyfish Tentacle Dot Sea creature

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

Rain had been coming sideways off the harbour since five, and Marion Tate had given up on the trestle table and was selling cod from the back of the van instead. The market at Fenwick Quay was half shuttered. Gulls stood on the gutters with their feathers flattened, watching the crates as if they had money riding on them.

Keep reading

At the far end, by the bait tubs, a boy in a school blazer was crouching over a galvanised bucket. He had found a jellyfish stranded on the slipway when the tide went out, and he wanted to know whether it would live if he filled the bucket from the standpipe. Marion told him it would not, that the sea was the only thing that kept them in one shape. Then she watched him tip the creature back into the harbour anyway, bell first, while she pretended to count change.

It sank slowly, then found its footing in the grey water, or rather its trailing threads, and hung there like ink dropped into milk. The rain pocked the surface into a thousand small craters, and every crater seemed to shake loose a speck of the thing's darkness that drifted down the wet stone.

She packed up at noon with forty pounds short of her target and the van smelling of brine. Before she pulled the shutter down she walked to the slipway. The boy had gone home. The sea had taken the jellyfish, but on the lowest step a scatter of tiny dark dots still clung to the stone, drying in the thin light, as if someone had tried to write a message and thought better of it.