Colour realism tattoo of the cartoon monsters Sulley and Boo from Monsters Inc on the outer thigh, with a green glow and a dark circuit-like background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sulley and Boo from Monsters Inc on a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows the blue furry monster Sulley grinning beside the young girl Boo, who has black pigtails and a fringe, with a green glowing shape behind her and a dark background of coloured lines. The rendering uses smooth shading, fine fur texture and detailed highlights in the eyes and teeth. Blue, green, purple and skin tones dominate the colour palette, with the figures filling most of the frame on the leg.

Realism Thigh Monster Cartoon character Girl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Thistlewood believes a monster can be frightened of a child, which is why I never told them about Nell. I am seven feet of blue fur with the wrong sort of teeth for a kind man, so the village leaves its doors unlatched when I come down from the pines. Mostly they are right to. I eat turnips raw, and I keep the crows off the orchard by looking at them.

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Nell came over the wall at the end of March with a bread knife in one hand and a jar of fireflies in the other. Two bunches tied with red wool, a fringe cut straight across her forehead as if she had done it by candlelight, which she had. "You're the one in the wood," she said. "Mrs Abernethy says you eat children." "Mrs Abernethy has never been offered a turnip," I said. She laughed so hard the fireflies went wild and the whole orchard lit up green.

After that she came every night the moon was thin. She brought the sour apples nobody else would eat, and I showed her which lanterns in the forest belonged to foxes and which to lost men. Once the parish constable came up the lane with a lamp and a loud voice. Nell stood square in front of my knees and told him the monster was asleep. To my astonishment, he believed her.

The jar is still on my windowsill. The fireflies have long gone, but the glass keeps a green smear I have never had the heart to wipe away. Last autumn a grown woman in a red coat came up the lane with a bag of apples and a sharp face, and asked whether I was the one who used to keep the orchard. I said I was. She said her name was Nell. I told her the apples were the sour sort, and she said she had always liked those best.