Black and grey fine line tattoo of two dreamcatchers with feathers and beads running down the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatchers and feathers on a thigh

Fine line · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows two dreamcatchers hung one below the other, each with a flower-like centre and a fine woven ring, with feathers, beads and a fringe of strands. Linework is fine and dark, with soft grey shading on the feathers to give them depth. The design runs vertically down the outer thigh against a plain, patterned indoor background, and the wearer's denim shorts sit at the top of the frame.

Fine line Thigh Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Flower

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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

Keep your eyes on the fire and not on the door, because what I am about to tell you does not care to be watched. In the kingdom of Varrowmere, where the reeds grew taller than a rider on horseback, there lived a weaver called Oda Sennet, who made nets for catching sleep. She did not use them for fish. She hung her rings of willow and sinew above the cradles of the valley, and the bad dreams that came in the dark got tangled in the lacing and could not find their way out again.

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One winter a fever came down from the hills, and Oda's own daughter Brannagh took it. The girl lay three nights with her eyes moving under the lids. On the fourth morning Oda climbed to the mill roof, where the grey herons nested, and gathered the long feathers they had dropped there. She strung blue glass beads from the coast onto a second ring, knotted horsehair strands to hang beneath it, and set the pair one under the other, so that anything which slipped past the first would fall into the second and be caught.

Brannagh woke with the sun on her face and a feather tickling her cheek. Every dawn after that, Oda found the strands swaying and a few grey down feathers caught in the knots, and she swept them into a tin box under the stair. When Oda grew old, the box was full and the lower ring still turned in the draught from the door. Her daughter kept the nets hung and the tin box locked, and never once opened it to see what had been caught.