Grey shaded tattoo of a sun with a face and crescent moon surrounded by rays and stars on a person's upper back, with small blue and purple accents.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun with a face and crescent moon on upper back

Back · Mixed · Photo

A sun with a human face sits at the centre of the design, with a crescent moon tucked to its right and rays extending outwards. Four-point stars with small blue and purple gem-like centres surround it, along with smaller sparkle stars. The linework is dark and the sun and moon are shaded in greys, giving them a soft, dimensional look, while the small coloured accents add slight contrast. The tattoo is centred on the upper back and fills most of the frame against plain skin.

Back Sun Moon Crescent moon Face Star Ray

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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

The village hall smells of spilt squash and floor polish, and someone has pinned the old Year Eleven photograph to the noticeboard, the one where Mrs Pargeter stood you at the end of the back row because you were the tallest and the least likely to behave. You find your name on a sticky label and peel it off twice before it stays put. Across the room Kerry Ashdown is laughing at the buffet with her hand on a man you don't recognise until he turns around.

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Stuart. He still says your full name like a register call. Twenty-two years ago the two of you painted the sun on the art room wall for the summer fair, you doing the rays, him insisting the moon needed a face because the sun had already been given one and that wasn't fair. Mrs Pargeter let you keep the brush tin as payment. The caretaker told you once that the mural was still there, hidden behind the newer boards, gone slowly the colour of weak tea.

He asks whether you still draw. You say only on the backs of envelopes, and he says that's how the good ones start. You tell him about the stars you used to scatter round the sun, the little four-pointed ones with a bead of colour in the middle, and he laughs and says you always gave the stars more care than the people. You half agree and don't say which people.

When the lights dim for the slideshow, the projector throws a grainy photo of the mural onto the screen, sun on one side, moon tucked beside it, and the room goes quiet. Stuart nudges your elbow. "Still the better face," he says, meaning the moon. You take the cold tea from his hand and say nothing, because he's right, and because the moon always got the last word while the sun never minded.