Two small fine line tattoos in black ink, a ringed planet and a rocket, on the side of two adjacent fingers of a hand with orange nails.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Saturn and rocket on fingers

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands rest on a dark surface, with a small ringed planet resembling Saturn on one finger and a simple rocket on the neighbouring finger. The linework is thin and even, in black ink with no shading. The close crop keeps the tattoos central, with the orange nail polish adding the only colour to the frame.

Fine line Hand Saturn Planet Rocket Space 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

The last tram had gone by the time Marisol climbed through the skylight onto the roof of the Corn Exchange, a flask of tea under one arm and her late uncle's brass telescope knocking against her hip. Leeds at two in the morning was all sodium orange and wet slate, and I told her the sky would be too bright to show anything. She said that was exactly why she needed the roof, because the bright was what kept people from looking up.

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We took turns at the eyepiece. Through the haze over the bus station the planet came up small and tilted, a pale bead with a thin ring slung round its middle like a hoop on a stick. She made me look twice before I agreed it was there. Her uncle had taught her the rings were mostly ice and rubble, the leftovers of something that never quite finished becoming a moon. She thought that was the most hopeful thing she had ever heard, and she was not a hopeful person.

Before she left for the coast she had drawn two small things on the back of my hand with a biro that kept skipping: a ringed planet and, beside it, a rocket with a pointed nose and one fin bent by the ink. "You go up," she said, "and I'll stay where I can see you." I had laughed at her then, and I was still laughing when the first grey came over the Headrow.

She screwed the lens cap back on and tucked the telescope under her coat. "Still time," she said, pointing at the rocket on her own finger, then at the faint ring I could no longer see. We climbed down through the skylight as the street lamps clicked off one by one, and the city below us went quiet, as if it had been listening.