Solid black tribal-style Umbreon design on a white background, shown as a standalone drawing with no body placement visible.

Umbreon in bold black tribal design

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A standing Umbreon, the dark-type Pokémon, is drawn in solid black shapes on a plain white background. Its ears, tail, rings and markings are cut from heavy black forms with thin white gaps separating the sections. The image is a single flat black and white design with no shading, gradients or colour.

Blackwork Pokemon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You have the ovens lit by four and the flour still settling on the bench when the fox first appears at the back door, sitting very upright on the step as if it had booked an appointment. Its coat is the colour of coal at midnight, and the bands on its legs catch the yellow light from the bulb over the bins. Mrs Okafor, who ran the shop before you, always said foxes came to bakeries for the same reason sailors came to ports. You leave the door open a hand's width and go back to shaping tins of white loaves.

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It comes every morning after that, always before the first van, always leaving the same way. You start putting the heel of the sourdough on the step, and the next day the crust is gone and a single bramble leaf lies where it had been. Your brother rings from Leeds on a Sunday and asks whether you've gone soft, running a soup kitchen for a vixen. You tell him the rent gets paid in odd currencies these days.

On the morning the frost is so thick the windows fog from the inside, the step is empty. You stand with a tray of bagels cooling and listen for the small click of claws on the tiles. Nothing. Then the bell over the shop door rings, and the fox is sitting on the counter between the cooling racks, ears pinned flat, watching the clock above the till as the glass goes grey.

You don't move. It stands, stretches like a cat that has decided something, and steps down onto the floor without a sound. At the door it stops and looks back, and in the window the first light shows the shop, the racks, and you with flour on your sleeves, and beside you a slim dark shape that is only your reflection's shadow, waiting for the bread to come out.