Colourful watercolour-style tattoo of a fox with splashes and drips in orange, red, purple and blue on the upper thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Watercolour fox on a thigh

Thigh · Colour · Photo

A fox sits upright and looks upward on the outer thigh, drawn with soft, painterly edges. Orange, red, purple and blue washes spread around the figure, with red drips running down below it. A person holds up a blue garment at the hip, and the tattoo fills most of the frame against a plain pale wall.

Thigh Fox Animal Splash Drip

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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

Sit closer, the lot of you, and mind the candle. Brother Anselm has already set one sleeve alight this week, and I'll not have the novices pulling him out of the cistern again. Now. Above the dye-house at Saint Ebba's there lived a fox, and the brothers despised her, because the madder vats were kept open to the night and she went down into them whenever the frost came hard.

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She was after the blue. Every bell-hour the brothers ground woad for the copying-room, and the blue hung in the air like smoke over the water, and a fox who has known only mud and bracken will want a colour like that. So she went in, one paw and then the next, and came out dripping red and violet and a blue like a kingfisher's back, and she climbed the cloister wall and shook herself over the flagstones. Brother Gerald swore that every drop she flung left a little fire behind it, and the abbot would not let anyone scrub it away.

One morning Abbot Odo found her sitting on the sill of the bell-tower, looking up at the grey sky with her head tipped back, as if she were waiting for someone to call her name. He did not chase her. He stood in the cold a long while, counting the stains on the wall, and then he went down and told the cellarer to leave the vats uncovered.

That is why, when the rain comes in off the moor, you will still find orange running down the calefactory wall, and nobody at Saint Ebba's has ever tried very hard to wash it off.