Black ink line drawing of a small sun with rays and a crescent moon with three dots, sketched on white paper as a tattoo design.

Sun and crescent moon sketch

Black and grey · Flash

A hand-drawn black ink sketch of a sun with a ring of pointed rays and short straight spokes, with a crescent moon overlapping its centre. Three small dots sit to the right of the moon. The linework is simple and outlined, with light shading on the crescent, and the design is centred on a plain white sheet photographed against a wall and wooden floor.

Sun Moon Crescent Ray Dot Sketch

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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

Ottilie had been told the sun would not be late for the sixth time that summer, but the moon had already slid across its face by the time she reached the bell tower, and the rays at the edge of the sky looked thin and scratched, like a child's drawing left out in the rain.

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Her grandfather kept the almanac of Veyle, a kingdom that existed only in the margins of the old maps, and he had told her that the sun and moon were married once, and that the three dots beside them were their daughters, who ran off to the rim of the world rather than sit through supper. Ottilie didn't believe a word of it, but she counted the dots each morning anyway, the way you count coins in a purse you suspect has a hole in it.

On the thirtieth day she climbed the tower with a pot of ink and a borrowed pen, and she drew the sun as she remembered it: a ring of spikes, short spokes for the warmth that crept into the cold stone. Then she laid the crescent over its heart and shaded the curve so the moon seemed to lean in, as if listening for something.

When the light came back, it came sideways, through the gap between the two shapes, and the three dots beside them brightened one after another, like lamps lit along a jetty. The bell rang noon an hour late. Ottilie climbed down with ink on her thumb and decided the almanac could wait. Her grandfather would have called it a bad draft. She called it the first honest sky Veyle had seen in years.