Black and grey photo of two inner forearms with blackletter lettering tattoos reading Remind me that we'll always have each other and When everything else is gone, placed on the forearm.

Matching quote tattoos on inner forearms

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photo shows two arms placed one above the other, each carrying a line of black blackletter-style lettering. The upper line reads Remind me that we'll always have each other across two lines, and the lower line reads When everything else is gone. The ink is solid black with crisp edges, and the black and white photograph has soft lighting with the skin tones reduced to greys.

Lettering Forearm Quote Word Pair Couple

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell had the carpenter's pencil between her teeth when the hooter went for the last time at Hollinsgate, and she spat it into her palm because Tom was already holding out his arm. "Go on, then," he said. "Before the cage comes up." She wrote the first line slowly, the way Mam had taught them to form capitals on the back of the rent book, and the pencil snagged on the fine hair at his wrist.

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The pit had been the one thing in the valley everyone trusted to still be there in the morning. Men had gone down it since their grandfathers, and when the notices came in the spring the chapel ladies took a collection and the Miners' Welfare put a card in the window that said Closing Is Not Stopping. Tom did not believe the card. He took the train south to the shipyards and came home with a leaflet from a parlour in Doncaster, and a fortnight later he had the words inked over the pencil marks in a black hand that looked as if it had been cut into a headstone.

Nell left it three weeks. Then she caught the same train with a folded note for the man at the counter, asking him to copy the lines exactly, every serif, the second line set lower so it sat under the first like a sentence waiting for its answer. He asked if she was sure. She said her brother had told her the ink would not wash off, and she wanted something that would not wash off.

That night she sat on the back step with her sleeve pushed up. Rain was falling on the headgear at the top of the hill, on the wheel that would never turn again. She held her arm beside a photograph of his, the two lines the same width, the same black, and read them to the empty yard until the light went.