Neo-traditional tattoo of a smiling sloth peeking out of a blue rose-patterned teacup, with pink flowers, on a limb.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sloth in a teacup with flowers

Neo-trad · Other · Colour · Photo

A sloth with brown fur and dark claws rests its arms over the rim of a teacup, with its face tilted towards the viewer. The teacup has bold black outlines and a light blue rose pattern with soft shading, and two pink flowers with yellow centres sit beside it. The bright, saturated colours and thick outlines sit against plain skin with a simple, centred composition.

Neo-trad Other Sloth Teacup Rose Flower Pink flower

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

Now sit down, sit down, the bride's aunt won't cut the cake until you do. Let me tell you about the sloth who came to the Pemberton wedding the summer the church roof leaked into the font. Nobody invited him. He came down from the oak above the lych gate at a pace that made the vicar check his pocket watch twice, and he hung himself over the rim of the best teacup, the one with the blue roses that Mrs Ashdown had been keeping for her own funeral.

Keep reading

The bride's mother wanted him out. The groom's grandfather said a guest is a guest, and the sloth didn't seem to hear either of them. He looked at the tea, which had gone cold an hour since, and then at the two pink wild roses growing by the gate, as if he were comparing their manners. He kept his arms folded over the china and his claws hooked on the gilt handle, and he did not move for the whole of the speeches.

Then the rings went missing. Young Tom had dropped them in the hedge while fetching the sherry, and the hedge was thick as a barn wall. The men searched with sticks and got nowhere. The sloth, who was slower than anybody's grandmother, took the whole afternoon to climb down from that cup, and when he came back the vicar had given up and was eating a scone. He carried the rings in his mouth, one at a time, and set them in the saucer with the patience of a man who had waited his whole life for something worth carrying.

That's why the Pembertons still take their tea slowly in Harrowby, and why nobody there has ever been in a hurry to hand anyone a cup. So if you ever find a brown lump asleep in your own teacup, don't you dare hurry him. Now, where's that cake?