Small black fine line diamond tattoo on the inner wrist and forearm of a person with light skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small diamond outline on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small, single-line outline of a faceted diamond sits on the inner wrist, with the top facets and central lines drawn in thin black strokes. The linework is clean and even, with no shading, and the ink is solid black against pale skin. The tattoo is placed at the centre of the frame against a plain dark background and a wooden floor.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Diamond Gem Outline Wrist

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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 net came up heavy at four in the morning, and you knew from the way the boom groaned that it was not fish. Skipper Dunn swore at the winch while the Marigold Rose rolled in the swell off Skerrow Head. Among the cod and a cracked crab pot, something flashed under the deck lamp, and you stooped to pick it from the slimed mesh: a stone no bigger than a lentil, cut into facets so sharp they seemed to hold the lamp inside them.

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Dunn wanted it thrown back. The old men on the quay said the Cutter Bank had swallowed a trawler's cargo of wedding rings during the war, and you had heard every version of that story. You kept the stone in the biscuit tin where you kept the tide tables, wrapped in a strip of oilskin, and for three weeks you took it out each dawn before the gulls woke and turned it until the light broke into little white lines across the wall.

In the end you carried it up to Mrs Oddie's pawnshop on Bridge Street. She studied it under her glass for a long time, then said it was paste, some tourist's trinket dropped off the pier, worth tuppence at most. You thanked her and meant it. Walking back along the harbour wall, you understood that the price had never been the point. You had wanted something that would keep its shine in the dark, and the sea had handed it over and reclaimed it in the same breath.

On the next trip you tipped the stone off the breakwater and watched it sink through the green water, a single spark going down until the murk closed over it. When the net came up that morning it held nothing but fish, and for once you were glad of the weight of it.