Realism-style tattoo of a grey Cyberman helmet with blue accents on the outer upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cyberman helmet on an arm

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a large helmeted head with a cracked, weathered metal face, a visor-like eye area with blue highlights, and a mouth grille. Shading is smooth and soft, with dark smoky edges fading into the surrounding skin. Mostly grey and black ink, with blue accents on the eyes and grille.

Realism Upper arm Helmet Robot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Brother Tobias pulled it out of the mere with a hay rake on the morning the water finally went down from the chapel steps. It was a head, or the shape of one, grey metal gone the colour of eel-skin, with a pale cracked face and two eyes that were not eyes but blue lamps set in narrow slots. Its mouth was a grille no wider than a finger. Abbot Hild said it had come up out of the drowned quarry and must go back in, but Tobias said that was no way to treat a guest, so it went into the bell-house, where the rope ran up past it into the dark.

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Nobody could agree on what it was. The cellarer thought it a bishop's lantern from before the Conquest. The novices thought it a demon with a bad temper. Tobias oiled its joints with mutton fat and talked to it while he scraped the mud from its brow, and it seemed, in its way, to listen. When the blue light dimmed it hummed, low, on the same note the big bell gave when rung softly, and the brothers said it kept better time than the sacristan.

The winter the river rose over the causeway, the monks were cut off for nine days. On the ninth night the bell-house door blew open, and the head had rolled itself out onto the wet stones of the lane, its eyes burning steady as two candles in a window. A boat came out of the fog following that light and carried the sick brother from the far farm back to the infirmary.

Afterwards they set it on a stone post at the lychgate, facing the road, and Tobias polished the cracks each Sunday with a rag and a little oil. Travellers still stop and ask what it is. Tobias tells them it is a watchman, and that it has never once asked for its supper.