Two matching fine line black heart tattoos with looped swirls on the top of a pair of feet, placed near the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching looped heart tattoos on two feet

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two feet are pressed together with the little fingers hooked, and each foot carries the same black outlined design: a heart made of looping, curled lines with a small dot inside. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the ink is solid black against the skin. The tattoos sit on the top of each foot near the ankle, with a beige carpet filling the background.

Fine line Other Heart Swirl Loop Matching tattoo Feet

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

Gutta-percha was cold in the mornings, and Nell kept her hands tucked under her arms until the kettle on the splicing bench began to tick. Across the hold, Ada Lusk was already winding copper strands into a loop, the way she did when she was thinking about something she would not say. The cable ship Mercy Lark had been out of Dover for nine days, and the seabed between here and Denmark was a field of soft grey mud broken by sudden rock.

Keep reading

Ada had shown Nell the knot her mother used to tie into dock lines: a heart drawn with one unbroken line, curled back on itself twice, with a single turn left open at the centre so the rope could pass through and not slip. "So the line knows where it started," Ada said, and Nell laughed, because nothing about a cable knew anything at all. Then the needle on the testing board fell dead, and they went down the ladder into the tank with the lamp swinging between them.

They worked with their fingers pressed together under the bench, Ada's little finger hooked around Nell's for steadiness whenever the hull lifted and dropped. Hours went by in the smell of hot wax and brine. The break was not in the sea at all. Nell had cut the sheath a finger's width too short the night before, and it was her own mistake they were mending, quietly, with nobody above deck asking questions.

When the joint was sealed, Ada wrapped it in tape and looped the spare end through the gap, leaving a dot of bare copper at the centre. The needle trembled, climbed, and steadied. Up through the deck came the first clean signal from Denmark, one short tick and then another, and Ada said nothing about who had spliced it, which was the kindest thing anyone had done for Nell in a year.