Fine line black tattoo of a constellation with a crescent moon and small stars on the side of the lower torso.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Constellation and crescent moon on the side

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small constellation tattoo sits on the side of a person's lower torso, above the hip and below a patterned top that is pulled up. It shows a crescent moon and several small star points joined by thin dotted connecting lines. The linework is fine and the ink is dark, with no colour, set against plain pale skin on a white background.

Fine line Other Constellation Crescent moon Star

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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 pass closed on the third day of your stay, and Mrs Ashdown at the Fell Gate Inn said it would stay shut until the thaw, which around here meant March. She gave you the room under the eaves with the skylight, the one the drovers called the cold eye, and left you a candle, a jug of mulled cider and a sextant that belonged to her late husband. You were meant to be surveying the valley for the county. Instead you sat under the glass with the sextant in your lap and watched the frost grow across the pane like fern.

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On the fourth night the sky cleared hard and bright. Tobias, the ostler who had wintered at the inn for fifty years, came up with a bucket of coal and stood beside you, pointing. There, by the crescent moon, were the Lantern Hands, seven stars that the shepherds said had once been a lamp carried by a girl who got lost on the fell. Tobias said nobody had ever seen the lines between them, only the stars, so the old shepherds had drawn dotted threads from point to point, because a line was only a guess and they wanted you to know it.

You took the chalk from your coat and drew the threads on the slate sill, dot by dot, until the Hands sat there in white on grey. In the morning the ploughs had cut through the drift to the cattle grid. When you came down, Mrs Ashdown was on a ladder by the gate, painting the inn sign. She had copied your dotted lines onto the board, a crescent and seven stars joined by threads, and under them she was lettering the words Follow the Lamp. The first cart was already rolling out past it.