Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Dalek and red roses on a thigh
Traditional · Thigh · Mixed · Photo
A grey and black Dalek sits above two red roses with green leaves, all outlined in bold black linework. The Dalek is shaded with grey tones and highlights, while the roses use solid red fills with lighter pink highlights. The design is centred on the skin of the upper leg and fills most of the frame against a plain background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit closer, the fire's low and I'm not wasting breath on the cold. You want the one about Nell Ashby-Quo's rose garden on Caddis Reach, the morning the tin grandfather came rolling up the gravel path. Mind, he wasn't a grandfather and he wasn't really tin. He was a shell of grey plate with a plunger for a hand and a grudge where a heart should be, and the moons had just gone green over the reach.
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Nell didn't run. She had kept those roses forty years through three droughts and a war nobody won, and she wasn't about to leave them to a machine with a list. She set down her clippers, walked to the gate, and asked him plainly what he wanted. He said he wanted the roses. She said they were not for sale. He said everything was for sale to a thing with a list, and she laughed, a big rough laugh that rattled the leaves. Nobody had laughed at him since his makers turned to dust, and it unsettled him more than any gun could have.
So he stayed. Every morning he rolled to the same bed and stared at the two red roses that grew there, the ones Nell's husband had planted the year they married. Every morning she brought him a cup of thin tea and set it on his dome, and every morning he didn't drink it. Then one dry autumn the roses wilted and he sat in the dust for a whole day, plunger lowered, until Nell came out with a watering can and poured it over him instead.
That's the end, or near enough. He never did stop wanting. But the roses came back, and so, in a way I'll leave you to work out, did he.
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