Black and grey dotwork tattoo of a smiling cartoon teapot with dotted bubbles rising above it, on the lower leg.

Cartoon teapot with bubbles on a calf

Dotwork · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

A cartoon teapot with a winking face and curled spout sits at the centre, with dotted bubbles rising above its rim. Stippled dotwork shading forms a scalloped, flower-like backdrop behind the teapot. Bold black outlines contrast with the grey dot shading, and the design is centred on the calf.

Dotwork Calf Teapot Bubble Cartoon character Face

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

The teapot had been winking at me since the petrol station at Salt Tooth, and by the fortieth mile I had decided it was laughing at me. I'd bought it off a stall in Ogden for four dollars, mostly for the spout, which curled like a question mark. Now it sat on the passenger seat, its lid rattling, while the road shook out a mirage ahead of us like wet silver.

Keep reading

Dell wanted the van sold by Friday. She had said so on the phone from Tucson, in the voice she usually saved for dentists and cousins. I had promised to drive her half of the old Lincoln out to the coast, and I had not mentioned that the Lincoln had died near Ruin Flat, or that I had sold its radiator for beer money. So I did what any sensible man does on a desert road. I filled the teapot from the last jerrycan and waited for it to sing.

Steam came out of the spout in small round puffs, one after another, and they hung above the dash like dotted circles, the way bubbles hang in a dream. Outside, the dust blew across the cracked white road in a scalloped grey haze, and for a moment the whole desert looked like a backdrop someone had shaded by hand, one tiny dot at a time.

A pickup slowed beside us. A woman leaned out, took one look at the teapot, and laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. 'Where did you get that?' she asked. 'Ogden,' I said. 'My mother had one just like it,' she said, and she held out a tin cup and a bag of tea. We drank together on the shoulder of the road. When I finally got the Lincoln coughing back to life, the teapot was still winking at me, and I found I had stopped minding.