Black line drawing of a spider web with a small outlined heart at the centre and a spider hanging from a thread, shown as a flash design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Spider web with heart and hanging spider

Black and grey · Flash

A spider hangs from a single thread beneath a radial spider web with a small outlined heart at its centre. The design uses clean, even black outlines with no shading or fill. It is drawn in black on white with a simple, balanced composition.

Spider web Spider Heart Thread

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 Ridley Wells filling station is the last light before the salt flats, and by the time you've counted your change twice, the man behind the counter has decided to tell you about the web. You're not in a hurry. The tarmac outside has bleached to the colour of tin, and the heat coming off it bends the horizon into a wobble that looks almost like water.

Keep reading

He says it was strung between the water tank and the old radio mast, a perfect radial thing, its spokes as even as a compass drawn by someone with steady hands. Every morning for a month it was there, clean as a diagram. At its centre someone, or something, had left a small outlined heart, so neat you'd swear it had been inked on. Then, in the third week, a spider appeared on a single thread beneath the web, turning slowly over the gravel as if it was waiting for the next car to pull in.

You tell him spiders are only doing their job. He nods the way people nod at a joke they've heard too often. The last driver said that too, a lorry man who stood where you're standing and laughed, then drove off without paying for his diesel. Nobody has touched the thread since. Every dawn the sun catches it and the whole structure lights up like wire, and nobody on this road has been brave enough to cut it down.

You step outside anyway, because the air-conditioning hum is making your ears ache and the road east is long. The spider turns on its line. You don't reach up. You get in the car, wind the window down, and in the mirror the web hangs between the mast and the tank, its small heart holding every thread in place.