Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ringed planet tattoo on the wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small solid black ringed planet sits on the inner wrist, with a filled circle for the body and a flattened ellipse for the ring. The arm extends diagonally across the frame with the open palm raised against a dark, weathered wooden surface. The photograph is greyscale, so the ink reads as black and the composition is minimal and centred on the tattoo.

Forearm Planet

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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 timber on the Corinth Reach had been grown in tanks under the lower decks, and it split the way living wood does when it is asked to be something else. Nobody aboard had cut a plank in eleven years. So when Maren Oyelaran found the orrery wedged behind the seed locker, she carried it to the workshop like a dead bird and set it on the bench under the work lamp.

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It was a school model, the kind the first crew had packed for children who would never see a sky. The sun was a brass knob the size of a fist. Four small worlds rode on wires, and the last of them was a ringed planet with its hoop of enamel gone the colour of weak tea. Someone had glued the ring back once, badly, and the glue had yellowed into a seam.

I spent three nights on it. I learned the gearing, cleaned the pivots with spirit from the medical stores, and cut a replacement ring from a strip of the oak floor we were meant to be saving for the chapel. Nobody objected. The chapel had never been finished anyway.

On the fourth morning the model turned without catching. I sat back and watched the little planet swing its slow circle over the bench, the ring tilted at exactly the angle it had kept for a hundred and forty years, on a world none of us would live to see. I laid my palm flat on the workbench beside it, feeling the grain take up the warmth, and let the wood hold still.