Small black star tattoos run along the side of a middle finger on a hand with red nails and a silver ring.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cluster of stars along a finger

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand is held up with the side of one finger tattooed with a diagonal cluster of about a dozen small solid black stars, varying slightly in size. The stars are simple filled shapes with no shading, and they sit against natural skin tone. The background is a soft, blurred pale tone, with red nail polish, a silver ring and a wristwatch with a chain bracelet also visible.

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 lamp failed on the third night of the fog, and Tomas Reeve had gone down to the cellar with a spanner and a bad temper. I stayed up top with the logbook and the brass clock, because someone had to write down the hours. Through the glass the sky was a grey lid until a little after two, when the cloud tore along its seam and the stars came through in a rough slant, as if somebody had flicked a brush across the dark.

Keep reading

I knew that slant. My father had called it the Sieve, and he taught me to find north from it when I was small enough to sit on the chart table. Twelve bright specks, one a little bigger than the rest, falling away toward the horizon like crumbs from a loaf. He said the old pilots used it to set a course when the coast was only a rumour. I wrote the bearing in pencil, because ink thickens in the cold room.

Tomas came up at half past two with his sleeves black to the elbow and said the wick would hold until dawn. "You've been staring at the sky again," he said. I showed him the bearing. He squinted, then laughed and said the stars had never once in forty years moved to suit anyone, which was why we trusted them.

By four the cloud had closed over and the beam swung round blind across the water. I found I could not stop counting the stars though I could no longer see them. I drew them in the margin of the log, twelve dots slanting down the page. Tomas signed the entry beneath in his square hand and asked what the dots were for. I told him they were so I would remember where the sky had been.

More like this

From the plentytattoo archive, uploaded by a user. Is this your work? Ask for credit or removal.