Three tattoo photos: a galaxy-filled crescent moon, a black line moon with stars and a rocket on the hand and fingers, and a galaxy-filled diamond outline on the calf.

Galaxy moon, rocket and diamond tattoos

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

This collage shows three tattoos. The top panel has a crescent moon filled with blue, teal, pink and purple galaxy shading with small speckled stars. The middle panel shows black linework on the hand: a small crescent moon with a dot and two four-point stars, plus a tiny rocket on a finger. The bottom panel shows an outlined diamond with a purple and blue nebula fill and small blue accents at the corners, set against a plain, lightly lit background.

Fine line Forearm Hand Calf Moon Galaxy Star Rocket Diamond Nebula Hand Calf

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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

Sit nearer, child, the peat won't hold much longer and my knees have opinions about the damp. You want the moon story. Everyone on Inishcarra thinks it's about the fisherman, but it's really about Nessa Coll, who kept the lamp at the top of the headland when the old keeper went blind.

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Every night she climbed the stair and trimmed the wick, and every night the moon sat over the water like a bite taken out of a biscuit. Then one night in the autumn gales the cloud tore open and a piece of the moon came down. Not all of it, mind. A horn of it, a crescent as wide as a boat, snapped off and dropped into the bay with a noise like a dropped bell.

Nessa rowed out in her father's currach with a lantern and a gaff. The horn was still warm, and it was no stone at all. Inside it the sea glowed from beneath, teal and blue, with pink clouds turning slowly like smoke in a jar and small white stars caught in the middle that blinked when she breathed on them. She couldn't lift it, so she sat in the boat until the tide turned and talked to it the way you'd talk to a sick animal. She told it about her brother at sea and the price of paraffin.

Morning found the horn gone from the bay and a new crescent hanging over the headland, dark at the edges and shot through with colour. The islanders still say that if you hold a shell to your ear on the night of the gales, you can hear her humming the price of paraffin. Mind the stair on your way out.