Fine line black script reading Sisters, joined to an infinity symbol and outlined heart, on the inner forearm.

Sisters script with infinity and heart

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line tattoo of the word Sisters in cursive script, with a looping infinity symbol running from the final letters and an open heart outline at the top left. The linework is even and single weight, in a dark blue-black ink with no shading. The tattoo is centred on plain skin, with the surrounding area softly lit and slightly out of focus.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Sister Script Infinity Heart

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

Mabel had spoiled four sheets of the good notepaper before the kettle began to tick on the range, and when she finally pushed the fifth across the table, Ruth read only the last line. Come home before the frost gets into the orchard. Ruth folded it twice and put it in her apron pocket, where it stayed until the bus into Hexham.

Keep reading

The wire fence along the top field had been strung by their father, who believed a boundary was a promise you could touch. Ruth walked it every morning in her boots, counting posts, and found herself counting the stiles too. She had gone to the city in March and Mabel had not come to the station. There had been a note under the boarding house door instead, two words in pencil and a loop that ran off the edge of the paper and came back again.

By November the loop had become a habit. Each of them wrote a line on Sunday, folded it into a cross and posted it, so a letter always had its reply waiting in the next envelope. Mabel's replies grew shorter, then longer again. Ruth's grew careful. Neither of them ever wrote the word that the heart at the top of Mabel's notes had been drawn around.

The bus came up the valley on a Thursday with its lamps already lit. Ruth got off at the crossroads and saw Mabel at the gate, one hand on the post, the other holding a sheet she had clearly been reading for hours. It was the fifth draft; Ruth could tell from the creases. She took it and read it through, and the last line, in Mabel's looping hand, ran straight off the edge of the page and back again: we were never going to be finished with each other.