Woman seen from behind with small black fine line tattoos on both upper arms and forearms, and a tiny cross on one hand.

Small black tattoos on a woman's arms

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long wavy hair, seen from behind, wears a white vest top and jeans with her hands behind her back. Several small tattoos in thin black linework sit on both upper arms and forearms, including a few short script-like marks and a tiny cross on one hand. The ink is black only, and the soft, sunlit background keeps the focus on the arms.

Fine line Upper arm Forearm Hand Cross Script Small 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

The wire went dead again at half past four, so Ada put the kettle on before she touched the key. Up at Nethergill Station nobody trusted a line that had not been swearing at them since breakfast. The cable ran over the tops for nine miles, and every wind off the fell found a way to sing in it.

Keep reading

Her brother Tom had taught her the sending the winter before he went to the Somme. He had written the alphabet on the inside of her wrist with a stub of pencil, dots and dashes in small dark marks, so she would not forget it when her fingers were numb. By the time the War Office returned his effects the pencil had worn away, so she went over the marks again with a steel nib and a bottle of ink, the way you copy a hymn you already know by heart. She added a little cross beside them, a station mark for the men who had to find her in the snow.

On the Thursday the signal came through faint and broken, and she wrote it down letter by letter: KEEP THE LAMP LIT STOP NOTHING CHANGED STOP. She knew it could not be from Tom, and she read it anyway. The pass was empty of traffic that week, the snow was coming, and she sat with the paper on her knee until the lamp in the window burned down to a blue bead.

The last thing she sent that night was her own name, tapped out in the old fashion, so that whoever was listening at the far end would know a woman was still at the key.