Fine line and dotwork tattoo of a moon with stars, small clouds and wavy sea lines on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Moon, clouds and waves on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A dotwork moon with stippled crater shading sits above two small outlined clouds and a row of wavy lines representing water, with tiny star marks scattered around it. The linework is thin and black, with the moon's shading built from dots and a few grey tones. The tattoo is centred on the outer upper arm against a plain white sleeve and a blurred background.

Fine line Dotwork Upper arm Moon Star Cloud Wave Sea Night sky

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tide tables were still pinned inside the wheelhouse when Ada remembered them, two minutes after the gangway should have lifted. Across the water the lights of Hull's docks smeared on the wet glass, and her brother Sam was already waving a torch from the far slipway, the way he had waved from every slipway since they were children.

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Her father had taught her to read the sky before she could read the river. He drew the moon for her on the back of an old fish invoice, dotting the craters with the point of a biro until the paper looked like frost. "Shade it in dots," he said, "and it'll never look flat." She had thought it was a trick for children. Now, with the engine thrumming up through her boots and the cloud bank sliding off the moon like a sheet pulled from a bed, she saw what he meant. The surface was not grey. It was full of small, patient holes.

Sam climbed aboard as the last rope came in, out of breath and holding a paper bag of chips he had clearly bought for the crossing. He said nothing about the tide. He leaned against the rail beside her and looked up, and for a while the only sounds were the water slapping the hull and gulls complaining somewhere behind the breakwater.

"Dad would have docked us for that," he said. "Late and lovely." Ada took a chip and steered out past the light, where the waves broke into the same small dashes her father used for the sea, and the stars came out one by one like the tips of a pen touching paper.