Close-up of a small fine line script tattoo reading warrior in blue ink on a woman's inner forearm, while she holds an open book wrapped in a teal knit sweater.

Warrior script on inner forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A thin, cursive word reading warrior is inked in dark blue along the inner forearm, just above the wrist. The linework is fine and even, with no shading, and the ink looks slightly softened with age. The soft focus background shows an open book held in one hand and a teal knitted sweater in the lower part of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Warrior Script Word

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 6.14 to Carlisle is nineteen minutes late, and the departure board at Preston has stopped pretending otherwise. You sit on the cold bench with the paperback open across your knees, reading the same page for the third time. Someone has left a teal knitted jumper folded at the far end of the bench, and you have already decided it is lost property you are allowed to keep for the length of the delay.

Keep reading

Your grandmother's old fountain pen is in your coat pocket, the one she used for birthday cards that always ended with the same single word: warrior. She never explained it. She simply wrote it in slanting script beneath the printed sentiments, as if it were a diagnosis you were expected to grow into. You are thirty-one now, and the word still makes you sit up straighter, which annoys you.

A boy of about nine wanders over with a paper bag of sherbet lemons and asks what the book is about. You tell him it follows a farmer's son who walks to the coast to bury his father's boots. He considers this and asks whether the son wins. You say you have not got there yet. He says that is what everyone says, and runs back to his mum before you can reply.

The train rattles in, doors sighing open. You fold the jumper over your arm, though it is not yours, and find the guard to ask whose it is. Then, on the back of your platform ticket, you write the word in your grandmother's slant and press it flat between pages 81 and 82, where the farmer's son is still lacing his boots.