Black and grey flash design of a Darth Vader helmet with stippled shading, two roses and leaves, and the words Who's Your Daddy arched above.

Darth Vader helmet with roses flash

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A line drawing of a Darth Vader helmet in profile sits above two open roses with leaves, with the words WHO'S YOUR DADDY? arched across the top. The helmet is shaded with fine dots, while the roses and leaves use clean outlines with light hatching. The design is in black ink on a plain white background, centred on the page.

Dotwork Traditional Darth vader Helmet Rose Leaves Lettering Star wars

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the step, that's the third plank gone soft since the rains, and keep your hands off the brass rail. Right. Where was I? Ah, yes. The rose-seller on the Ninth Terrace of Calder Sprawl, a widow called Mags Tolliver, who kept her stall under a cracked dome and had a daughter, Pell, with a tongue like a cut wire.

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Every morning the warden from the lower gantries came up for a single white rose. He wore a black helmet with a grille that rasped like a kettle coming to the boil, and he never once took it off in company. Pell called him a tin tureen to his face. He never laughed, but he never frowned either. He just paid his coin and went off down the ramp with the rose held carefully in one gloved hand, as if it might bruise.

One grey afternoon the terrace was packed with pipe-men and water-carriers, and Pell, leaning out over the rail, bellowed down the stairwell, "Oi, tin tureen, who's your daddy then?" meant as a jape, the way you'd tease a stiff-necked cousin. The whole terrace went quiet enough to hear the pumps. The warden stopped on the fourth landing and stood there a long while, his breath going in and out of that grille.

He came back the next morning and bought two roses, one half open and one still tight in its bud, and left them on the counter with a coin twice the price. Mags asked him nothing. Pell, who had expected a summons or a scolding, found she couldn't meet his visor. Every dawn after that she swept the petals from the step and left one fallen bloom on the bench by the rail, and every dawn it was gone by noon, and nobody on Calder Sprawl ever saw who took it.