Close crop of a woman in a studded black corset bodysuit showing a large black and grey linework tattoo on her thigh and a small red tattoo near her wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Thigh tattoo and studded corset top

Thigh · Mixed · Photo

The photograph is a close crop of a woman from the chest to the thigh, with her face out of frame. A large tattoo covers her thigh in black and grey linework with ornate, sketchy detail, and a wing shape is visible on her upper arm. A small red tattoo sits near her wrist, and the bodysuit carries a black and white print with the words PANTE and COWBOYS FROM HELL.

Thigh Forearm Scorpion Wing

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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

Dear Hollis, the rain has finally come to Varrow Ford, and the scorpions came up out of the wet ground the way they always do, all at once and furious. Father says they are a sign of nothing but bad drainage. I have stopped arguing with him about signs.

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The rider who came through on Tuesday left his coat with us to be re-stitched. Black leather, heavy as a wet sheep, with a brass-studded bodice that had gone green at the rivets. I spent three nights picking out the old studs one by one and sorting them into a tin by size. Some had the same little pyramid shape as the saddler's bridle in your shop. Under the lamp I could see a wing pressed into the lining, drawn in ink that had run and then been painted over.

On the fourth night he came back early, before I had finished, and stood in the doorway looking at the tin rather than at me. He said the coat had belonged to a woman who used to ride the Salt Marches carrying a letter for the governor, and that she never delivered it. He asked if I could sew a new scorpion onto the cuff. I said I could sew anything. He said good, because she would have wanted her enemies to see it coming.

I have sewn it. Red thread, because it was the only spool I had, and it looks like a drop of blood on a grey sky. He paid in silver and did not wait for the change. The coat hangs on the nail by the stove now, and every morning the sun comes through the window and scatters the studs into stars across the floorboards. I count them before I open the shop. Still forty-one. Come home when the roads dry, and bring the good scissors.