Black lettering tattoo reading darling you'll be okay with a small solid heart, on the inner wrist, in a black and white photograph.

Script quote and heart on wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a handwritten script quote reading darling you'll be okay across the inner wrist, with a small solid black heart below the final word. The lines are fine and even, with a monoline quality and little variation in weight. The photograph is black and white, so the ink appears as dark grey to black against pale skin, and the image is taken from a close angle with the hand visible at the top right.

Lettering Forearm Quote Script Heart Wrist Word

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 tide table said the last boat would leave Scarra at ten past six, and Ruth had folded it twice before she found the pencil. Her son was stacking tins of peaches into a holdall that had been his grandfather's, swearing softly at the zip. The wind came under the kitchen door and lifted the corner of the oilcloth.

Keep reading

She wrote on the back of the tide table, in the careful hand the schoolmistress had beaten into her sixty years ago, pressing hard so the words would show through the paper. Darling, you'll be okay. Then she stopped, because the pencil had gone blunt, and because the word after okay seemed to want something, and she was not a woman who drew hearts. She drew one anyway, small and black, the way you'd press a thumb into wet clay.

Owen read it standing by the door with his boots in his hand. He did not say anything clever. He folded the paper into the inside pocket of his coat, where he kept the ferry ticket and the letters from the mainland hospital, and buttoned the pocket shut.

When the horn sounded across the bay, she walked him down to the slip with her hand flat against the small of his back, the way she had when he was learning to balance on the wet stones. He stepped aboard, lifted one hand, and the boat pulled out into the grey chop. She watched until it was a smudge against the headland, then climbed back up to the cottage. The next morning the harbour master's notice was pinned to the post office door: the six o'clock crossing had been cancelled, the boat stranded on the far side of the sound, and Ruth buttoned her coat to the chin and went down to the slip again.