Colour cartoon tattoos of three chibi musicians with guitars and a microphone, with lettering, on the outer thigh.

Three cartoon musicians with lettering on a thigh

Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A leg is covered with three stacked cartoon figures of a chibi musician in a beanie, each holding a guitar or standing beside a microphone, separated by thin horizontal lines. Handwritten black lettering sits above and between the figures, with the word Fantasy in script at the bottom edge. The linework is bold and clean, with the figures filled in yellow, blue and skin tones against black and grey text.

Thigh Guitar Microphone Cartoon character Lettering

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

Sit closer, the lot of you, the lamps won't stand this wind much longer. You want the one about the three players who came up the lane with their instruments in sacks? The eldest had a guitar with a cracked neck, the middle one would only sing into a microphone that hummed like a kettle, and the youngest, a girl in a hat the colour of wet slate, carried nothing but a stick to tap on her knee. They played the Michaelmas fair for pennies until Mr Abernethy, who had a moustache you could have hung washing on, heard them through the canvas and offered them the whole night's takings.

Keep reading

They asked for something simple, which is how you can tell the wish was going to bite. They wished the crowd would never go home. Abernethy laughed and shook on it, the lamps guttered, and the dark came down over the fen so thick nobody could find the gate. Still the music went on, the guitar and the hum and the tapping, and the people danced in the dark dark, and not one of them has walked out of that field since. Some say you can hear their boots on a wet night.

The three of them did not get off so lightly. They wanted to be the ones who played, and the fair took them at their word. They have been playing ever since, shrunk to the height of a thumb, stacked one above another on a painted board the showmen keep in the wagon. Open the wagon door in January and you will hear a chord that never resolves, and under it a tapping that never stops.

My mother used to say be careful what you wish for, and she said it every time a boy asked for a horse. Now, who's for a wish?