Small fine line tattoo of a cartoon bear in yellow and tan with grey outlines, plus a tiny red mark, on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small bear tattoo on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A small cartoon bear in soft yellow and tan with thin grey outlines sits on the inner wrist, with a tiny red mark beside it. The linework is delicate and the shading is light, with the bear's features and limbs kept simple. The colour is limited to muted yellows and tans with touches of red against the pale skin, and the tattoo is placed centrally on the wrist with plenty of empty skin around it.

Fine line Forearm Bear Cartoon character Wrist tattoo

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

Dunmore had been told the hive-ship's archive held nothing but manuals, so when the crawler's lamp caught a soft yellow shape wedged behind a coolant pipe, he stopped and climbed down to look. It was a bear. Its stuffing had gone the colour of weak tea, one ear was stitched twice, and a pale thread ran across its belly where somebody had once mended it with more hope than skill.

Keep reading

He carried it up to the galley, where the cook, Oriel, was boiling the last of the cress. She turned it over with a ladle. "Honey," she said, tapping the faded jar stitched beside its paw. "They put honey in everything, back when the bees still flew." Dunmore hadn't known bees had ever flown. He knew only the hum of the hydroponic racks, the clicking of the air scrubbers, and the long shifts with nothing to listen to. A tiny red mark sat low on the bear's flank, either a stitch of thread or a bee, and nobody could say which.

That night he sat in the cold corridor with the bear on his knee and read the label stamped under its foot: a name, a date four centuries old, and a line of smaller print that said *for the one who keeps the light on*. He thought of his sister on the lower decks, who had not asked him to come home in eleven years. Without quite deciding to, he mended the torn seam with a magnet and a strand of spare cable, badly, the way someone else had once done it for the bear.

In the morning he clipped the bear to the crawler's frame, where the crew could see it from the galley hatch. Oriel saw it and said nothing. The crawler took the first shift with its small yellow passenger, and nobody on the ship thought to call it a machine.