Black line drawing of a cluster of stars with ink splatter and dripping lines on a white background, shown as a tattoo design with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stars with ink drips flash design

Black and grey · Flash

The design shows a cluster of five stars of varying sizes, including one large outlined star, a solid star with inner lines, and smaller stars. Bold black outlines and solid fills are combined with splatter dots and speckled shading around the stars. The image is black ink on a white background, with the composition rising diagonally and long drips running down from the lower stars.

Star Splatter Drip Ink

Find an artist for this

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

Every April the caretaker of Halsey House took a tin of white gloss up the back stairs and painted over whatever had appeared on the stairwell walls over the winter. His name was Dennis Okafor, and he had been doing it for nineteen years. The paint never held. By the first warm week there would be stars again, five points each, climbing the brick as if they had somewhere to be, with long black runs trailing from them to the floor.

Keep reading

Nobody ever saw who made them. Mrs Pryce on the fourth floor said they came up out of the drains when it rained, and the young ones laughed at her until the lift broke down for a month and the stairs were all anybody had. Then they stopped laughing, because the stars got bolder. They started appearing on the landings where people waited, and on the doors of flats where somebody had been poorly.

Tamsin Reid was the first to follow one. She was nine, sent up to the eleventh floor with a carrier bag of oranges, and at the seventh a single star slid down the wall ahead of her, dripping as it went. She climbed after it, past the bins and the broken lift, until it stopped at the roof door, which had been locked since before she was born. The door was open. On the parapet a large star had been painted in one unbroken line, and its drips ran down the arm and over the edge into the dark.

Dennis found her there at dusk, sitting cross-legged with the oranges in her lap. He looked at the star for a long time and did not reach for the tin. In the morning the drips had reached the car park, and a small star lay in the wet tarmac where the ink had pooled, perfectly round, as though someone had waited for the rain to finish before starting.