Two black ink script tattoos with rising sun designs sit on a pair of wrists, reading You are my Sunshine and My only Sunshine, shown in a phone screenshot.

Matching sunshine script tattoos on wrists

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two arms are shown with matching black script lettering. The left forearm reads You are my Sunshine and the right wrist reads My only Sunshine, each with a rising sun with radiating rays beside the words. The linework is bold and the sun on the right has soft grey shading, set against a plain light background and framed by a social media app screenshot.

Lettering Forearm Sun Sunshine Script Quote Ray

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 dispatcher's radio crackles at ten to four, and you are the only one in the Hallam Street office who answers it. Outside, the rain has stopped but the gutters still run, carrying orange light from the chippy down towards the canal. Your sister's message is on the back of a parking ticket, folded into the pocket where you keep your keys: Ring me when the sun's up, you daft thing.

Keep reading

She left for Aberdeen in March with a rucksack and a borrowed van. Since then you have kept a habit that embarrasses you. At dawn, when the cabs thin out and the sky over the gasworks turns the colour of weak tea, you walk to the end of the towpath and wait for the first light to find the water. It never looks like much. A gull, a shopping trolley, a man in a hi-vis vest asleep on a bench.

Tonight a fare comes through for a flat near the old docks, a woman with a cello case and a hand that won't stop shaking. You drive her slowly. She tells you the cello was her grandfather's and she is taking it to a funeral in the morning, that she hasn't played since the hospital. At the lights she hums a line you half know, something about the sun coming round again.

When you drop her off, the sky has started to pale behind the cranes. You pull the parking ticket from your pocket, turn it over, and write under her message in biro: Sun's up. Ring me. You push it through the letterbox of your sister's empty flat on the way home, knowing she won't see it until Sunday, and you whistle the whole way back.