Two people seen from behind with matching fine line shoulder tattoos in black ink: a sun with script reading You see all my light, and a crescent moon with script reading You accept all my dark.

Matching sun and moon shoulder tattoos

Fine line · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

Two people are photographed from behind, each with a matching fine line tattoo on the shoulder. One shows an outlined sun with a filigree centre and the script 'You see all my light', and the other shows an outlined crescent moon with swirled detail and the script 'You accept all my dark'. The ink is black only, with clean single-weight linework against plain skin and a dark background.

Fine line Shoulder Sun Moon Script Lettering Couple Matching tattoo Filigree

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fair came onto Thornley Common the week the big wheel's bearing seized, and Mab sent me up it anyway with a spanner, a flask of stewed tea and no sense of the height. From the top gondola you could see the whole field: the dodgems flashing red and blue, the candyfloss van, and at the far edge our two caravans parked nose to nose as if they'd been argued into it. Mab's was painted yellow with gold leaf rays along the door. Mine was grey, with a crescent moon on the panel that forty winters of rain had nearly rubbed away.

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We hadn't spoken properly since the spring, when the Mayor's show cancelled and she blamed me for the weather. I knew she'd been watching my lamp from her window every night since. So when the bolt sheared and the lights died across the field, I didn't wait to be asked. I climbed.

Halfway up, the gondola swayed and a voice came up through the struts. "You'll break your neck, Ruthie." She was at the foot of the ladder with sawdust in her hair, holding a torch like a lantern. I told her to hold it steady. She said she always did, and that was the trouble with her. I came down with my palms raw and the bearing still stuck, and we sat on her caravan step until the generator coughed and the lights returned, one ring at a time, outward from the hub.

She didn't say sorry. She passed me the flask and nodded up at the wheel, lit now in a bright circle against the sky. "There. Now you can see the whole field." Then she shuffled along the step until her shoulder touched mine, leaving her own patch of yellow light for the dark bit by my caravan, where the moon was. That was as near to sorry as either of us ever got, and it was enough.