Black script lettering reading Your heart beats no matter how much pain you are in, across the hip in a lettering style.

Script quote along the hip

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows a block of black cursive script set in three lines across the skin of the hip, partly under the edge of dark lace underwear and a grey top. The lettering uses fine, even linework with a slight shadow for depth, and the words are slightly curved to follow the body. The photograph is warm-toned with a dim, low-light background, and the tattoo is the clear focus.

Lettering Other Script Quote Heart Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are the only one still chiselling when the rain comes sideways over the ridge, and the old steward has given up calling you down. The lintel above the postern gate has split along its middle, and the replacement stone is pale Portland, paid for with the last of the garrison's silver. Your mallet handle is bound in copper wire where it cracked. Each blow sends a shiver up your forearm and into your teeth.

Keep reading

Lady Elspeth has asked for words, not arms. She sends a boy up the stairs with a slate: something that will still be read when the walls have gone to moss. You can cut a name and a date, but never a sentence longer than that. So you draw the letters first in chalk, then in charcoal, the way your father taught you, bending each line so it follows the curve of the arch as though it was always meant to sit there.

At dusk she comes down the stairs with a lantern, one hand bound in linen. She reads the chalk for a long time and says nothing. Then she asks whether it is true, whether a heart keeps knocking through anything at all. You tell her about the men you saw at Stirling who lost a leg and still woke asking for water. She sets the lantern on the step and asks you to cut it deeper than the rest, so the rain cannot wear it away.

In the morning the frost lifts and the new line catches the sun. Below it, where the iron portcullis rusted into the grass, a thrush works at a worm. You press your palm flat against the cold grain and count your own pulse until the light reaches the last word.