Fine line script tattoo of the word serendipity on a woman's upper arm near the shoulder, with more thin script running along her inner forearm.

Script word tattoos on shoulder and forearm

Fine line · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long hair covering her face holds her hand to her head, showing a thin black script tattoo of the word serendipity on the upper arm near the shoulder. A second line of fine script runs down the inner forearm, partly cropped and not fully legible. The ink is black on skin with a soft, indoor background and natural lighting.

Fine line Lettering Shoulder Forearm Script Word Handwriting

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

Mind the third stair, it has opinions, and don't let the kettle hear you cursing it. Now. The snow had shut the high pass for nine days when the carrier's mule came stumbling up the lane with one passenger on its back, a clockmaker's widow called Hester Vane, who had been told by three different men that the road was open.

Keep reading

Maud Pellow, who kept this inn then, had only the attic over the bread oven to give her. Hester unpacked a tin box wrapped in flannel and set out forty pocket watches on the table, every one stopped at the same minute, a quarter past four. She said her husband had made them all and never once let one run true, because he believed a true watch was a lonely thing. Across the room sat Tobias Quill, a surveyor who had lost his way hunting a bridge the spring floods had taken. He had been drawing the valley for a week, and he would not stop drawing it even to eat.

They mended nothing and argued about everything. Each night he tried to show her on his map where the road really ran, and each night she set a watch beside his candle and asked him which of them was wrong. By the ninth morning the thaw had started dripping from the eaves, and the map had a new line of ink along the lane that he swore he had never drawn. Hester only smiled and wound the nearest watch. Down the valley, one by one, the forty clocks began to tick together, and Maud, sweeping the stairs, heard them from below and said the house had never sounded so loud.