Black outline Hello Kitty tattoo with a red bow on the lower abdomen, partly visible under a lifted tie-dye top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hello Kitty tattoo on the lower abdomen

Other · Mixed · Photo

A photograph of a Hello Kitty character tattoo on a person's lower abdomen, with the face shown in simple black outline and a small red bow on the left ear. The linework is bold and even, with no shading, and the red bow is the only colour in the design. The shot is cropped at the chest and the person's hand holds up a tie-dye top, with a bracelet visible on the wrist.

Other Hello kitty Bow

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

Mind the step, now, the one by the gate that the badger keeps loosening. You want to hear this properly, so sit where the wasps can't reach you. Late August it was, and the Harrow orchard was dropping its Blenheims faster than Mrs Teague could gather them, and that's when the white cat came up the lane with her red bow tied on the left ear, as neat as a postman.

Keep reading

She had no mouth, which the old folk held against her. A cat that can't speak has to be understood by other means, and Mrs Teague was never good at other means. The cat sat on the wall by the cider press and simply waited, paws together, and every apple offered her she turned away with a small tilt of that bow. Three days of this. On the fourth, the orchard boy, Jem Varley, who was nine and had no sense, set a windfall on the wall and said, you don't have to eat it, just tell me what you want.

The cat looked at him a long while. Then she walked the length of the wall to the old pear tree that hadn't fruited since the war, put one paw on its bark, and the pear tree, bold as brass, dropped a single fruit into Jem's cupped hands. It was hard and green and tasted of rain. Jem understood at once. The cat wanted nothing taken from the orchard. She only wanted someone to notice the tree had been waiting.

Mrs Teague never forgave the boy for the pear, nor the cat for being right. But the old tree fruited that autumn, heavy as a bishop's purse, and every September after, a small red bow appeared in the grass beneath its lowest branch, as though someone had come by in the night and tied it there for luck.