Black silhouette design of a small fairy and several flying figures on a white background, shown as a standalone design with no body part visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Silhouetted flying figures design

Black and grey · Flash

A solid black silhouette drawing of a small fairy at the top left and several flying figures arcing across the page. The figures are shown as flat, filled shapes with no interior linework or shading. The image is in black on white with a loose, open composition.

Silhouette Fairy Flying figure Stencil

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 third child has already gone over the oak stile when you notice that Pim's light has gone out. It was the only thing lighting the lane, a jar of green glow tied to a hawthorn, and without it the wood at the end of Ashcombe Lane looks like what it is, a black mouth with the moon behind it. Somewhere above the bracken the children are calling to one another in the high thin voices of people who have never once looked down.

Keep reading

You know the rule your grandmother taught you. Nobody counts the flyers. You count the ones who stay on the ground. Fenn Adley, who sold you the blue thread, is standing at the gate with his cap in both hands, and his little sister Nell has her boots full of wet leaves, because she tried a jump off the wall and the wind would not take her. Pim flickers down out of the hawthorn, cross as a wasp, and tugs your sleeve toward the trees.

So you do the thing nobody does. You take Nell's wrist and run at the wall with her, and you do not let go when the air fails, and for three heartbeats the two of you hang over the ditch like paper cut-outs held up to a candle. Then the moon finds its way round the oak and the light comes back into Pim's jar. The children above are a long black line now, arcing toward the church spire, and nobody looks back to see who came down.

At the stile, Fenn is still holding his cap. Nell says she flew. You don't correct her. When you walk home the lane is lit from behind by a silver glow, and your shadow, stretched long across the stones, goes on ahead of you without waiting, the way shadows do once they have decided they are not yours any more.