Black and grey pen drawing on paper of a sun with wavy rays, a crescent moon and four-pointed stars in its centre, shown as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun with crescent moon and stars

Black and grey · Flash

A drawn tattoo design of a sun with long wavy rays radiating outwards, shown on paper. Inside a circular disc sits a crescent moon and several four-pointed stars, with dotted and short-line shading around the edges. The work is in black ink and grey tones, centred on a plain light background with pens visible at the top right.

Sun Moon Crescent Star Ray Celestial

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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

Sit closer, and mind the goat, she bites. You want the sun over the Gate of Vell, the one the masons carved with rays so long the children were afraid to walk under them. The king of Ossenmere had that great round face cut into his gate, flames for hair, and it was the finest thing in the kingdom and also the most bored.

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Every evening the sun was made to climb out of his disc and across the sky, and every evening he came back grumbling. He wanted company. The moon lived in the lower half of the disc with her silver horns tucked under her, and nobody had ever asked her opinion. So one spring a girl called Ilse, the stonemason's daughter, climbed the scaffold with a pot of ink and a sharpened quill and drew a few four-pointed stars in the dark part of the disc, the way you'd sketch a promise.

The stars did their work. The sun, who had stared at nothing but his own reflection in the river for three hundred years, noticed the sparks beside the moon and, for the first time, sent his rays out sideways instead of straight at the wall. Long bent ribbons of light curled off him like wet hair. The moon blushed at the edges. Nobody in Ossenmere could say whether it was love or only a truce, and the king, who had a fine ear for business, declared it a treaty and taxed the dawn.

Ilse married a carter and never got her ink back. But stand under the gate at dusk and you will see the stars still wink, and the sun still leans a little towards the moon, as if he has only just remembered her name. That's the tale. Now pass me that cup, and mind the goat.