Black and grey dotwork tattoo on a forearm showing a UFO beaming down over clouds, with a small floating figure above pine trees and mountains inside a triangle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

UFO and mountain scene in stacked triangles

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The design sits within two stacked triangles, with a flying saucer at the top above a cloud bank and a dotted beam running down to a small floating figure. The lower triangle shows a mountain range and pine trees, with fine lines marking the beam and the outline of the saucer. The piece uses black ink and grey dotwork shading throughout, with no colour, on a light skin tone.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Ufo Flying saucer Figure Cloud Mountain Pine tree Triangle

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

The beam found me halfway up the scree, just as my boot went out from under me. It was not cold, as the wardens had promised. It was warm, like the inside of a sleeve, and it lifted me without any fuss, the way my grandmother used to lift a sleeping child from a car seat. I remember thinking, quite clearly, that I had left the kettle on in the hab.

Keep reading

Up in the saucer there were no grey-eyed monsters, only a long white corridor and a woman called Ilse Varga, who had been mapping the pines below for thirty years and had never once looked up from her clipboard. She coughed into her elbow. She asked me my name, then my tree species, then whether the cloud bank over the valley had been that shape last spring. I told her no. She wrote something down anyway.

They set me down twenty minutes later, a few metres from where I'd started, with the slate still wet under my palms. The saucer was already rising, folding itself smaller until it was only a dark seam above the cloud. In my pocket I found a card the size of a fingernail, with a triangle printed on it and a row of tiny dots. Underneath, in the same neat hand: Tree count, valley, eleven hundred. Please confirm.

I walked down to the hab in the grey light, counting pines under my breath. There were four hundred and twelve in the first stand alone, and I had never counted a single one before. I put the kettle on. Then I went back out with a notebook, because somebody, somewhere above the clouds, wanted the number, and for the first time in my life I wanted to know it too.