Two matching fine line grey mountain tattoos on the inner wrists of hands held palms up in front of mossy rock.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching mountain tattoos on the wrists

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are held palms up, each showing a matching mountain range outline on the inner wrist. The linework is thin and sketchy, with soft grey shading inside the peaks to suggest depth. The tattoos are shown in close, even focus against a mossy rock and green foliage, with a silver bangle on one wrist.

Fine line Other Mountain Matching tattoo Wrist Rock

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 chart had been folded so many times that the ridge line had worn to a grey fuzz, and Aunt Ida still wouldn't let anyone open it past the second crease. She kept it on the kitchen table between the teapot and the tin of sugar lumps, and when the boys came in from the rain she would tap the peaks with one finger as if they might rise. Thirty years on the Hollin Fell survey had taught her that every range was really a question of which side of the sky you stood on.

Keep reading

The summer Tom was twelve and Alfie was nine, she tore the sheet down its middle. She did it carefully, along a line she had already pencilled in, so that each half kept the shape of the mountains it had been drawn from. Tom got the western slope with its sharp, stubborn summit. Alfie got the eastern shoulder, softer, shaded where the light fell away. She made them promise to keep their halves dry and to bring them back to the table when they were grown.

Tom went to sea at seventeen and came home with salt in his beard and no sense of distance. Alfie stayed inland, took a job mending drystone walls, and wrote letters that were mostly about weather. Neither of them unfolded the paper for years. Then Ida died in March, and at the wake they found themselves standing by the window with their sleeves pushed up, comparing the faint grey peaks on the insides of their wrists the way they had once compared their halves of the chart.

Alfie pressed his wrist against Tom's, palm to palm, and the ridge ran straight across the gap without a break. The summit Tom had carried for so long met the shoulder Alfie had kept, and for a moment the whole range was whole again, though neither of them could have said which side of the sky they were standing on.