Two matching black tattoos on forearms, a Rebel Alliance emblem on the left and a Jedi Order symbol with a star on the right, in solid blackwork.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rebel Alliance and Jedi symbols on forearms

Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two forearms are shown side by side, each with a solid black tattoo of a Star Wars emblem. The left design is a filled black circle with a winged shape cut out, and the right design has swept wings around a vertical line ending in a star. Both are rendered in crisp, solid black ink on a plain background, with no shading or colour.

Blackwork Forearm Star wars Wing Star Emblem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fire door on the ninth floor of Halden House had been grey for as long as anyone could remember, so when Nell cut a ring out of a cereal box and taped it to the wall, the whole landing came out to look. It was a circle with a bite taken from the top, like a pair of open hands. Two floors down, Marcus had been doing his own with a bread knife and a ruler, and by Friday the wall was crowded with black badges nobody on the estate could explain.

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Nell was the one who wanted the second one, the one with wings that swept up like a bird coming in to land and a thin line running down the middle, ending in a star. She drew it on the back of a school planner in biro, pressing so hard the page tore, then made me hold the card steady while she sprayed. Her mum said spray paint was a fire risk. Her mum also said a lot of things about me. We did the star last, a tiny burst with eight points, and I remember thinking it was the only bit of the whole mess that looked like it had been meant.

In March the council sent two men with rollers and a tin of cream emulsion. They painted the landing, the lift doors and the bins, and by the time they finished you could hardly tell there had ever been anything on the walls. Nell moved to her nan's in Bexley that summer without a goodbye. I kept the cereal box ring in my school bag for years, soft at the edges.

Last week I walked up to the ninth floor for the first time since. The paint had bubbled above the door, and under the cream I could still make out the wings, darker where the spray had soaked into the brick, with the thin line running down the middle and the star at its foot.