Close photo of black script lettering reading Bulletproof Heart on the upper chest, with a small black bullet hole and red drip beneath, in a fine line lettering style.

Bulletproof Heart script on upper chest

Lettering · Chest · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows the words Bulletproof Heart in flowing black script across the upper chest, with the letters joined and the word Heart slightly larger and angled. Below the lettering is a small solid black dot with thin red drips running downward, creating a bullet-hole motif. The photo is taken close up with a soft vignette, and the skin tone and white top edge frame the design.

Lettering Fine line Chest Script Drip Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Old Tamsin Rudd kept the forge at the bottom of Coldharbour Lane, and the winter the wool men were shot on Greyfold Moor, a carter's boy called Ezra Bell came knocking with a sack of cracked horseshoes and no money at all. He asked her to make him something that could not be killed. Tamsin tipped the sack onto the anvil, counted the iron twice, and said she would need the carter's boy to hold the tongs.

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She worked three nights with the bellows open. From the iron she beat a heart no bigger than a walnut, folded it over on itself until the grain ran in rings, and quenched it in the horse trough where the grey mare drank, then in a bath of tallow and lamp oil that spat blue. Ezra stood by the door and watched the sparks climb the rafters. On the third night she set the heart in a cup of lead and told him to carry it always in his coat, over the left side, and never to let anyone tell him it was only iron.

In the thaw the squire's men came up the moor road with pistols and a warrant for the carter's boy. Ezra stood in the gateway with the lead cup buttoned inside his coat. The first ball took him low in the chest and stopped against the iron. It left a black pit the size of a pea, and a thin red thread ran down into his shirt, but he did not fall. The men looked at each other, then at the road behind them, and rode back down without a word.

Ezra paid Tamsin in spring with a new anvil he had carried up from Halifax on his back. Each full moon after, the black mark on the heart wept a single red line into the lead, and Tamsin wiped it clean with a rag and said the iron was only remembering.