Shirtless man with a colourful traditional-style tattoo of a galaxy, planets and a crescent moon on his chest, with roses and an eye on both arms.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Full colour galaxy chest and arm sleeves

Traditional · Chest · Colour · Photo

A shirtless man with arms crossed shows full colour tattoos covering his chest and both arms, with his face cropped out of frame. The chest features a night sky of purple and blue clouds, a glowing blue orb with a crescent moon and star, planets, and a heart with radiating sun rays below. The arms are filled with roses, flowers, an eye and ornamental patterns in bold, saturated ink with heavy outlines.

Traditional Neo-trad Chest Upper arm Forearm Shoulder Galaxy Planet Crescent moon Star Heart Sun Rose Flower Eye Sleeve

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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

Mind the third step, it's loose, and sit where the lamp can't dazzle you. Right. Now, the keeper's wife on Scarrow Head, Mrs Ada Pell, had a brass globe her husband bought off a Hull pawnbroker, a thing the size of a cabbage with a crescent moon riveted to its crown. She hung it in the lamp room because the beam made her dizzy, and she said the globe needed something to look at besides the sea.

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Every night she carried up a lantern and named the planets aloud, Saturn with his ring, Mars like a coal someone forgot to snuff. Pell grumbled that ships needed a light to steer by, not astronomy. Then the winter fog came down thick as wet wool, and the Clara Bell went out past the reef with her lamps dark. Ada stood at the rail with her eyes shut, naming every star she could still feel through the cloud, and shouted the bearings down to the men in the boat. They came in at dawn, all eleven of them, and not one had seen the rocks.

Pell found her the next morning on the lamp room floor, her palm flat against the cold brass, the sun coming up red through the glass and laying a bright fan across her hands. The frost on the window had melted in a ring where her breath had been, and inside it someone had drawn a heart with rays spilling out from it, though she swore she never touched the pane.

Pell kept the lamp going another twenty years, and when the new keeper came he was told to kneel by the brass globe at first light, where the sun still lands in the shape of a hand. Mind your knees on the cold boards. That's all there is to it.