A person in a black fedora and white tee shows tattoos on both forearms, with colour work on the left arm and grey work on the right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tattooed forearms under a black fedora

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A person stands against a textured cream wall, face hidden by a wide black felt fedora, wearing a loose white sheer top and a long beaded necklace with medallions and a tassel. The left forearm and upper arm carry tattoos with red and other colour tones, while the right forearm and upper arm show greyscale designs and a small mark near the wrist. The composition is centred and softly lit, with the hands placed at the waist and the tattoos clearly visible.

Forearm Upper arm Necklace Bead Medallion Tassel 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 tassel was the only part still knotted properly, which is why Dilys kept it in the tray while she worked on everything else. Eleven wooden beads had split along their drill holes, and the leather cord had gone the colour of weak tea. Someone had strung the thing by hand, alternating dark beads with two brass medallions: one stamped with a spiral, one with a small star pricked round its rim.

Keep reading

The man who had left it came back on a Tuesday in October, wearing a coat too heavy for the weather, and asked whether it was still there. Dilys said it was. He didn't reach for it. He stood at the counter looking at the spiral as if it were a clock he had been told to wind, then said his mother had always called it the snail, and that he had never once asked what the star was for.

She rebuilt the cord over two evenings with waxed linen bought from a sail-maker in Ramsgate, restringing each bead and tying a double hitch between them so none could slide. The brass she polished with a rag and a little vinegar until the stamped lines stood out sharp. She left the tassel longer than it had been, because she didn't want to pretend the years hadn't happened.

When he came back she laid it on the counter and turned the spiral to face him. He lifted it, weighed it in his palm, and found the star with his thumb. "It's lighter," he said. "Only because the cord is new," Dilys told him. He paid the four pounds he owed, pocketed the necklace without putting it on, and walked out into the wind with the tassel swinging against his coat like a plumb line.