Colour realism tattoo of an astronaut drifting by a tether beside a large blue Earth and a red planet, placed on the side of the torso.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Astronaut floating above Earth on a side panel

Realism · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A realistic space scene showing an astronaut in a helmet and suit floating on a loose orange tether, with a large blue and white Earth and a reddish planet behind. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft gradients across the planet and suit and fine highlights on the visor and tether. Deep blues and purples dominate the background, and the scene wraps around the curve of the body.

Realism Ribs Astronaut Space Earth Planet Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rope was the third that Ysolde had spun since midwinter, and the first her father trusted. She had dyed it with madder and waxed it until it shone the colour of a fox in October, then knotted it three times at the collar of Tobiah Renn, the bellows-mender who had come up from the salt flats with a brass helmet and a wife who had stopped speaking to him.

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The old rule in the kingdom of Caddon Vale was that no one climbed above the highest kite. But Tobiah had been counting his steps up the sky-well for a year, and on the morning of the thaw he buckled the glass visor, tied the line round his ribs, and let go of the last rung. Ysolde paid the rope out hand over hand while the village watched the sun turn it to a thread of flame, and the line went up and up until it was only a shimmer over the church roof.

Above the clouds, Tobiah wrote on the slate strapped to his wrist, the world was a blue marble turning slowly, and beside it hung a red moon like a coal someone had forgotten to bank. The sea was no wider than a thumbnail. The mountains were creases in a bedsheet. He wrote that the rope was orange and it was the only warm thing he could see, and that he had never once in his life been so far from the bellows.

When the line finally went slack, Ysolde kept winding anyway, because her father said a rope left slack was a rope waiting to be lost. The slate came down first, wiped clean. Caught in the last coil was a single star, still warm, and she carried it home in her apron pocket for the wife, who had started speaking again the moment she saw it.