Colour tattoo of a rearing unicorn filled with a galaxy pattern, its legs and tail breaking into geometric triangles, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Galaxy unicorn with geometric triangles

Geometric · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A rearing unicorn silhouette is filled with a starry galaxy pattern in blues, purples and pinks, with small white stars and glowing spots scattered across the body. The lower legs and tail break apart into flat, angular triangles in teal, blue, magenta and violet that drift away from the outline. The tattoo sits centrally on pale skin against a dark background, with the full figure clearly shown.

Geometric Upper arm Unicorn Galaxy Star Nebula Triangle Horse

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 unicorn came down out of Hollin Wood the winter my father stopped speaking to the miller. Nobody in Aldcombe believed me, but my brother Tom saw it too, rearing against the sky above the beech line, its mane full of the same pale specks you get on a clear night when the frost is hard. We had been told the wood belonged to foxes and old charcoal burners.

Keep reading

It did not come into the village. It stood at the edge of the trees where the last stile is, on its hind legs with its forelegs hooked over nothing, as if it were climbing a ladder only it could see. Wherever it moved, it left pieces of itself behind. Flat shards of blue and teal and violet broke off its flanks and tail and went spinning down into the bracken, where they lay on the wet leaves like coloured glass. Tom gathered them in his cap. He said they were warm.

By February the whole stile was littered with them, and the miller's wife complained that her hens would not lay for the glitter. My father, who had not spoken to anyone since his brother's funeral, walked out one morning and knelt in the frost, lifting the triangles one by one and fitting them together on the flat stone beside the stile. He worked until the light failed. When he finished, the shape was a horse's head with a horn, and the horn was the only part still whole.

The unicorn did not return that spring. My father kept the stone, and in April he spoke to the miller again, which was how I knew the wood had given him something back. Some nights I still hear the faint chime of a falling piece in the bracken, and I take a lantern out to look, but I never find one. The sky above the beeches is only sky. I think it is up there still, climbing, and sending down whatever it can spare.