Two matching watercolour-style tattoos on the inner wrists, a pink and orange fairy holding a wand on the left and a green figure with blue splatter on the right.

Matching fairy and green figure wrist tattoos

Other · Colour · Photo

Two palms face up, showing a matching pair of tattoos on the inner wrists. The left wrist has a pink, orange and purple silhouette of a fairy holding a wand, while the right wrist has a green silhouette of a flying figure with blue and black speckles. Both designs use soft, bled colour edges and scattered paint-like splatter, with no heavy black outlines, against a plain white background.

Other Fairy Wand Silhouette Splatter Matching pair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit down, the lot of you, and mind the foxgloves, because I'm only telling this once before the kettle boils. Down past the old greenhouse, where the rain butt sits under the drainpipe, there lived a fairy called Wren who carried a wand cut from a single dogwood twig. She was pink at the edges, like the sky after the sun has gone behind the hill, and every time she waved that wand the air went soft and dusty with colour. Folk thought it was pollen. It wasn't. It was Wren, spilling herself out.

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Her friend was Tam, green as a pear leaf and never once still. He flew the way a swift does, low over the beans and up into the apple tree, shaking the dew off the cabbages with his heels. Some evenings he'd dip down to the rain butt for a drink and find Wren waiting, dripping wet from some fool trick she'd tried on the weather.

Then came the dry August, when the butt shrank to a skin of mud and the cabbages went grey. Wren tapped her wand on the cracked stone and nothing came out but a few flecks of gold. Tam dived after them, scattering blue and black across the flagstones as he went, and that's where the marks still are, if you look under the bench. The garden never forgave him the mess, but it kept the gold.

So when the rain finally came and Tam returned wet to the wings, Wren only shook her head and laughed. She said the speckles would wash off in a week. They didn't, not quite. Go on, look at the path. See the blue? That's his.