Black and grey realism tattoo of a Predator head with a red eye and a xenomorph alien, sitting on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Predator and xenomorph on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A large tattoo of a Predator helmeted head sits above a xenomorph alien head on a forearm. The shading is soft and smooth, with fine texture on the helmet and dark, heavy shadows around the alien's jaws. Apart from a small red eye on the Predator, the piece is entirely in greys and black, and it fills the frame from the top to the lower edge of the arm.

Realism Forearm Alien Helmet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marcus,

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I found the photograph of us in the Year Nine lockers, the one where you're holding that ruler like a rifle, and it set me thinking about the reunion. You didn't come, so you'll have to take my word that Gary Pollitt still talks about the bike shed fire as if he lit it on purpose, and that Mrs Okafor, who taught us chemistry, asked after you twice. She said she'd kept the old burner in the store cupboard.

The thing I keep returning to is the wood behind the playing fields, where we made up that game. You remember the rules: you were always the Hunter, all cardboard visor and a torch taped over one eye, and I got to be the thing that crawled out of the drains, the long pale shape nobody could look at for long. We kept score in ash on a bit of grey slate. Nobody ever won, which was the point.

At the reunion, under those hall lights that make everyone look like a dental advert, I watched Jamie Sewell try to remember who had been the Thing. He was sure it was him. I said it was me, and that I'd never once been caught, and he laughed as if I'd told a good joke. Then he showed me a photo of his boy in a hooded top, eyes wide, holding a torch with one eye taped over, and I thought of the slate and its smudged tally.

Come to the next one. Bring the torch. I'll keep the slate in my bag, and we'll see who's still winning.