Black line tattoos on the inner forearm: a geometric egg-shaped sun motif, a semicircle with rays and a small mark, and a sun with an arrow, heart and banner in fine line style.

Three geometric line tattoos on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Three black linework tattoos are stacked down the inner forearm. The top design is an egg-shaped outline enclosing a triangle in a circle with radiating rays, the middle is a semicircular arch with a horizontal divider and a small mark, and the lowest shows a rayed sun over a banner with an arrow, a heart and a sunburst. The lines are even and uniform, with no shading or colour, and the designs are spaced evenly on a plain, lightly lit background.

Geometric Fine line Forearm Sun Ray Triangle Circle Arrow Heart Banner Sunburst Geometric shape

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

Sit yourself down, love, before the soup goes to glue. You want the story of Ada Pell and the egg, and everybody in Scarrow Bay tells it wrong, so you'll have it right from me. I had it from my mother, who had it from the woman who ran this house before her, and she never once got the weather right.

Keep reading

Ada was the lamplighter's girl up at Ness Point, and in the spring of the big gale she found a gull's egg on the shingle, speckled grey like wet slate. Her father told her to leave it, for a thing that cold had no business hatching. She carried it up the cliff path in her apron pocket anyway and kept it in a biscuit tin on the sill, where the sun came round each morning, half over the grey water and half over the chimney pots.

Every dawn she watched the sun lift out of the sea like a yolk being poured, the rays fanning across the water like the spokes of a cartwheel, and she swore the egg warmed with it. Then one morning in May the tin was empty. In its place lay a red silk ribbon folded into an arrow, pinned to a paper banner with a heart inked in the middle, the ink run to blue. Her father said it was a jackdaw. Ada said it was the sun sending word, and she went down to the harbour to wait.

The fleet came in at noon, every boat of it, and the last to tie up was a tar-black cutter with a sunburst painted on her bow, though nobody had seen her leave. Ada found the man at the wheel holding her egg in his cupped hands, warm as bread. He said the sea had lent it to him for a season and he'd brought it back with interest. Ada took it and handed him the tin. That's why the lamp at Ness Point still burns a little brighter when the boats are out, and why nobody in this house eats a boiled egg before sunrise.