Two wrists side by side, each with a matching black infinity symbol tattoo containing the word friends in fine script, placed on the inner wrist.

Matching friends infinity wrist tattoos

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two people's inner wrists show matching tattoos of an infinity symbol with the word friends written in cursive script inside the loop. The linework is clean and fine with some softer shading along the strokes, and the ink is solid black. The two tattoos are shown at similar scale, with one wrist in the left foreground and the other on the right, against a plain pale background.

Lettering Forearm Infinity Friend Script

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

The night 41 terminated at the hospital gates at twenty to three, so for four years Dee and I had the last twenty minutes of every shift to ourselves. That was how a conductor and a dispatcher ended up talking about everything and nothing. One night she drew the route on the back of a fare sheet: a figure of eight through the city, the depot sitting at the crossing, both loops feeding back into it. "Look," she said, "it never ends, it just keeps coming round to the same place." I said that sounded like a timetable, and she threw a ten pence piece at my head.

Keep reading

When the council cut the 41 in the spring, the last run fell on a Thursday with rain blowing sideways off the Aire. We sat on the bottom deck with the lights humming and I told her I'd probably sit at home and feel nothing for a while. She pulled a biro from her hair, took my wrist and wrote a word on the inside of it in capitals. Then she made me copy it onto her own arm. Friends, in joined-up letters that wobbled because the driver was taking the corner at Holbeck far too fast.

Three weeks later we sat in a studio off Briggate with the shutter half down. A lad with steady hands traced the loop over our veins while the taxis slid past outside. It stung less than I expected. Dee watched her arm the whole time, grinning like she'd won something.

The last thing she said before she got off at Beeston was that the route had never really been a loop, only two people going round the same stretch of road until the timetable gave out. I still catch a late bus some nights, just to ride to the final stop. The ink has softened at the edges, but when the driver swings round the bend at the depot, I hold my wrist to the window and the streetlights run through the letters.