Two matching fine line tattoos on the inner wrists, one showing a row of dots with a ringed planet and the other a scatter of small dots, in black ink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Planet and star dot tattoos on wrists

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two wrists are shown side by side. The left wrist has a horizontal row of black dots of varying sizes, with one larger dot marked by a ringed planet, and the right wrist has a loose scatter of small black dots resembling a star pattern. The linework is fine and the ink is solid black on pale skin, with a plain background of a blue fabric and a tiled floor.

Dotwork Forearm Planet Saturn Dot Star Constellation Space

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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

The lamp-room at St Ebba's smelled of tallow and cold brass, and Brother Osric had been waiting for you since matins with his sleeves pushed back. He held out his left wrist as though it were a page. 'Saturn first,' he said. 'Then the small ones, the moons, in their proper order, or the Prior will know I have been lying to him about the heavens.'

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You had been copying the abbey's star tables for three winters, and your hand was steadier than it had been. You dipped the fine pen in the ink, held his thin wrist flat against the sill, and set down the great dot first, round and dark as a bead of pitch. Saturn you ringed with a single stroke. Around it the moons went out in a line, each smaller than the last, until the final mark was barely a speck of soot. He flinched only once, when you pressed the ring closed.

Then it was your turn. He wanted the stars you had found on the night you came up the fen road with a sack of your mother's linen and nothing else. He did not say why. He only traced a shape on your wrist with a dry fingertip: a loose scatter of points, five close together and one set apart, where the bell rope would have hung. You made each dot without thinking, the way you once made the letters of your own name.

When you were done he lowered his sleeve over his work and looked out at the window. Beyond the glass the sky above the fen was clear enough to see the real planets burning in their row. 'Now we keep the same count,' he said, and went down the stairs without a lantern.