Black and grey realistic tattoo of a standing wolf facing forward, placed on the outer upper thigh.

Realistic standing wolf on the thigh

Realism · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A wolf stands square on, looking towards the viewer, with its head slightly lowered and its tail hanging down at the side. The fur is built up with fine, layered strokes and soft grey shading, giving depth to the chest, legs and ruff. The design is entirely black and grey and sits centrally on the thigh against a plain, lightly lit background.

Realism Thigh Wolf Animal Portrait

Find an artist for this

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

Gather in close under the awning, all of you, the rain's coming off the canvas in a sheet and I'll not raise my voice over it. Mind the crates. This is the tale of the wolf of Coldharbour Market, which I had from my grandmother, who had it from a fishmonger who swore on his mother's grave that every word was true. He lied about the price of herring, but never about wolves.

Keep reading

The wolf came up from the river one wet November morning, while the stalls were still under tarpaulin. It did not run. It walked between the trestle tables like a magistrate, grey at the ruff and paler under the chest, and it stopped in the middle of the lane and turned its head to look at the crowd. Old Ada Pring dropped a tin of pennies. Nobody moved. The wolf lowered its head a little, as if to say it had come a long way and did not intend to be hurried.

Now, wolves go where they are remembered. This one had been seen in the hills beyond the wall, where the Haskett boy had gone up for sheep twenty years back and never come down. Ada had kept his cap on a nail behind her counter all that time. She took it down now, shaking, and held it out at arm's length, and the wolf came forward one slow step at a time until it could smell the wet wool.

It took the cap in its teeth, gently as a pup, and turned, and went back up the lane towards the river. Ada sat down on her upturned crate and did not sell another pear that day. The rain kept on. Some say the wolf is still up there. I say the cap was never hers to keep, and I'll leave you to think on that while the tea urn is still warm.