Black and grey drawing of a fairy with large tattered wings and striped stockings, seated on a mushroom, shown as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fairy seated on a mushroom

Black and grey · Flash

A seated fairy with long, tattered wings and curled hair sits on a mushroom with a scalloped cap and textured stem. The drawing uses fine hatched linework and soft grey shading to model the wings, hair and striped stockings. The image is entirely black and grey on a pale background, with the figure centred and filling most of the frame.

Fairy Mushroom Wing Hair

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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

Mind the fire, and don't let that log roll out, because the snow has found the chimney again and I'll not have you choking on it. This is about Tansy Gallow, who lived on a mushroom at the edge of Hobb's Wood. Her wings were torn at the edges like old lace left out in the rain, and her hair curled up round her head as if every wind that ever crossed the moor had knotted it. Nobody in Thornbury ever saw her come down, though plenty saw her sit there with her legs crossed, her stockings striped black and white like birch bark in winter.

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The village left her crusts on the stone wall, and she left them untouched until the frost came down hard. That January the miller's boy, Eli Marsh, went up the wood path with a loaf under his coat, because his mother had been coughing since Advent and the apothecary had run out of honey. He found Tansy with her hands tucked into her sleeves and her breath making small grey clouds. He asked her what a fairy needed with a mushroom. She said the cap was the only thing in the wood that held warmth after dark, and she had been keeping it going a long time.

Eli sat with her until the lanterns were lit in the village below. He came back every evening after that with a tin cup of broth, and by February his mother was up and singing again. When the thaw finally came, he climbed the path with nothing in his hands and found the mushroom cold, its scalloped cap bare, and Tansy gone. Only a faint line of frost lay on the stem, drawn in fine hatched strokes, the shape of a pair of wings. Lay your palm on it in the morning, child, and you'll feel it still warm.