Realistic peacock feather tattoo on the outer thigh, with a teal, purple and yellow eye at the top and a grey-shaded feather running down the leg.

Peacock feather on the outer thigh

Realism · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A peacock feather runs down the outer thigh, with a vivid teal, purple, pink and yellow eye at the top and a long, curling grey-shaded plume below it. The colour section uses smooth blended shading to give the eye a glossy, dimensional look, while the lower feather is rendered in soft black and grey with fine linework on the barbs. The composition follows the curve of the leg against a plain black background.

Realism Botanical Thigh Peacock feather Feather Peacock eye Plume

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crate came off the Liverpool boat smelling of tar and wet straw, and Ada Pell had it open on the back counter before her brother had finished signing the carter's book. Four hundred peacock tail feathers, packed flat between sheets of tissue, each one as long as her forearm. Tom wanted them sorted by Friday. Fans for the Assembly Rooms, he said, and a dozen milliners already asking after them.

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She lifted them out one at a time. Most had gone dull in the crossing, the greens sour and the blues the colour of pond water, and she set those aside for the rag bin. The eighth from the bottom was different. The eye at its tip had not faded at all. Teal ringed in violet, a band of pink like a struck match, then a yellow so bright it looked wet, and at the very centre a blue-black pool with a glint of rose under it. The barbs below curled like the ends of a wig, grey where the light had given up on them.

Tom saw it and reached across, and she moved the crate with her hip. 'That one's cracked,' she said. It was not cracked. She had held it to the window and seen the shaft was sound. 'Cracked feathers don't sell,' he said, and went out to see about the carter. She sat on the step until the light changed, then rolled the feather into a paper tube and slid it inside her coat.

Forty-one years later the shop was a teashop with a different name, and the front window still caught the afternoon. Ada's niece had the old feather framed above the till, its eye a shade cooler but still blazing when the sun came round. Customers asked where it had come from. The girl always said it was a gift, which was true, and that the rest had gone to the milliners, which was also true.