Watercolour-style unicorn tattoo in blue and purple washes with black linework on the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Watercolour unicorn on the ribs

Ribs · Colour · Photo

A unicorn head and flowing mane are drawn in black linework and filled with blue, teal and purple washes that fade at the edges. Small dark dots and a tiny heart sit around the design on the side of the torso. The colour is soft and blended, and the loose composition runs diagonally across the skin.

Ribs Unicorn Horse Mane Heart Dot Watercolour

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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

The grey mare came down Coldharbour Lane at dusk with the river mist round her knees, and nobody in Harrow Fell had sent for a horse that night. Old Mrs Pye saw her first from the bakehouse step. She said the mane was running off the animal's neck in ribbons of blue and violet, the way ink runs when you drop it in water, and that there was a horn on her brow no longer than a knitting needle.

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Now, the Harrow Fell men had lost their wells in the dry summer, and the vicar had prayed for rain, and the schoolmaster had sold the church bell to pay for coal. So when the mare stopped at the pump in the square and lowered her head, the boy Albert Dunn walked out with a bucket because somebody had to. She let him fill it. She let him fill a second one. Then she turned her long face to the hill and looked back at him with an eye like a drop of wet slate, and he understood she wanted him to follow.

He followed her up past the chapel and the last lamp, to where the spring used to be before the ploughing. Dark specks lay across the grass like spilt sequins. Under the hawthorn was a small red heart cut into a flat stone, and the mare stood over it and breathed until the water came. It came cold and clear and smelling of pennies. Albert drank, then carried two buckets back down the hill, and the town woke to the sound of its own taps running.

The mare was never seen again. Albert grew up to dig wells for other villages, and he never once charged a family for finding water. Each spring he climbed to the hawthorn and left a little blue wool on the stone, and Harrow Fell never went thirsty again.