Two wrists showing matching black script tattoos that read Every atom of me and & Every atom of you, in a lettering style on the inner forearms.

Matching script wrist tattoos

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two inner wrists are shown side by side, each carrying a line of black cursive script. The left wrist reads Every atom of me and the right reads & Every atom of you, with the lines set at slightly different heights to follow each wrist. The lettering is in black ink with fine, even strokes against a plain background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crucible cracked on the third pour, so Hesper Vane poured the last of the bronze into two moulds and hoped for the best. The duke of Calder Reach had ordered a matched pair for the twin towers of his new chapel, one on the north bank and one on the south, and he did not care that a bell poured from half a crucible was a bell poured from a worry.

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When the moulds cooled and the clappers were hung, the first bell rang flat and sour, and the second rang clear as rain on slate. Hesper filed at the lip of the sour one for nine nights. On the tenth she sat with her back to the furnace and thought about the ferrywoman who had taken her across the river the day her father died, who had told her that a thing broken in two still keeps the shape of its break. She cut the words into the iron of each yoke with a cold chisel, one line apiece, so the carters would know which was which. On the north yoke she wrote Every atom of me. On the south she wrote & Every atom of you.

The duke's men hung the bells on the Sunday after the feast. Hesper climbed the north tower herself with a lantern. When the rope went taut and the north bell swung, the south bell across the water answered before anyone touched it, a low hum that set the ferry chains singing and knocked the ferrywoman's hat off into the reeds.

Nobody in Calder Reach could explain it, and the duke, who had paid for silence, did not ask. The bells still ring together on feast days. Hesper's yokes hang in the chapel vestry, and if you hold one up to the window you can still read the lines, worn and backwards, the two halves of one sentence running from bank to bank.

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