Small lightsaber tattoo on the side of a finger, with a black hilt and a green blade drawn in simple linework.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lightsaber tattoo on a finger

Hand · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a finger, held against a crinkled plastic backdrop, showing a small lightsaber design. The black hilt has outlined rings and fine shading, and the blade is a solid green fill with a slightly uneven edge. The image is in colour, with the black hilt and green blade set against the pale skin.

Hand Lightsaber Hilt Blade Finger

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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 closer, the lot of you, and mind the step, for the old stair has eaten better men than you. Now. You want the tale of the green light in the north cloister, and I will tell it once, so hold your tongues. Brother Oswy was the chandler's boy here before he was a brother. He had hands like a heron's feet and no patience at all, and when the abbot ordered new lamps for the night office, Oswy said he would make a light that did not need a wick.

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He took a length of copper rod from the bell-founder, turned it on the lathe until it had rings like the stacked discs of a sundial, and cut a hilt no longer than a man's thumb. Then he went to the infirmary and begged the broken base of a green glass phial the apothecary had thrown out. He ground the glass thin, set it in the hilt, and filled the hollow with oil he had cooked down with bruised yarrow, so the thing would glow when the flame was lit beneath it.

The first night it burned, the whole choir stopped mid-psalm. The light was thin and green and it trembled, as if something inside wanted out. Oswy held it to the window, and the snow beyond turned the colour of pond weed. The abbot wept and called it a sin. Oswy said it was only a candle with ambition, and walked out into the frost with it. Some say he is still out there, crossing the water meadows with that green blade raised, showing lost sheep the way home.

But I have seen the lamp itself. It hangs now in the refectory, cracked and cold, and the glass has a seam where it was mended. Mind that seam when you pass beneath it. Pray with your eyes open, lads, and when the dark gets close, look for a little green edge in it.