Two matching small outline cloud tattoos in a fine line style on the inner wrists, with both hands raised and fingers together.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching cloud tattoos on wrists

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two small, matching cloud tattoos are shown on the inner wrists of two people, with their hands raised and fingertips touching. Each cloud is a single thin black outline with no shading or fill. The skin is pale and the background is plain, so the tattoos are the clear focal point.

Fine line Other Cloud

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

Thalia had the bone needle ready before the ship's bell stopped ringing, its tip blackened in the lamp smoke from the galley. "Hold still, Lydia, or your cloud will come out like a goat." I held out my wrist and felt the first prick, then a second, then a small warm tug as she finished the outline and blew on it. It was no bigger than a fig leaf, and I thought it looked rather like a sheep that had lost its way.

Keep reading

She was sailing east with her uncle's grain factors, bound for Antioch, while I stayed in Ostia to keep my father's bakery accounts. We made one rule while the sailors shouted over the rigging: whenever a cloud passed over one of us, the other must look up and find it too. "Then we will never be out of the same weather," she said, and laughed, because she always laughed when she believed she had won an argument.

Her letters came each season, rolled tight and smelling of cedar oil. She wrote about a storm that sat on the Orontes for three days, a dog that followed her into the baths, and a cloud over the mountains that looked exactly like my mark. I wrote back about the salt wind off the harbour, and how the ink had spread in the second winter until my little cloud became a smudge, like a thumbprint. I kept meaning to have it traced again. I never did.

The autumn her last letter failed to arrive, I climbed onto the breakwater at dusk. A single cloud came in low from the sea, grey at its edges and slow as a ferry. I lifted my arm against the sky and laid my wrist beside it until the two shapes overlapped, then waited for the shadow to slide over the stones and carry on towards the east, where it would find her, or someone standing where she used to stand.