Flash design of a green-tipped sonic screwdriver wrapped in three white ribbon banners reading Wibbly, Wobbly and Timey-Wimey, with a green halftone glow behind it.

Sonic screwdriver with Wibbly Wobbly banners

Traditional · Colour · Flash

A bold outlined drawing of a sonic screwdriver with grey metal sections, a gold barrel and a glowing green tip, set against a green halftone burst. Three white ribbon banners wind around the body of the tool, each carrying a lettered phrase in black, and the ribbons have green shaded undersides. The design is centred on a plain pale grey background with flat, graphic colour.

Traditional Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer to the hearth, the lot of you, and mind that draught from the door, it has never once shut properly since the snow came over the pass. You'll have heard the saying about time at the Ferrow Inn, that it goes wibbly wobbly and timey wimey, and you'll have laughed at it. Laugh if you like. Old Tobias Quill laughed too, the winter his clock stopped at a quarter past nine and his wife kept laying the table for three.

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Tobias mended clocks for the whole valley, drank more than was good for him, and kept a slim brass rod in his waistcoat that he called his screwdriver. He'd had it off a tinker who came up the road on foot with a lame dog and no coat. The tinker wanted nothing for it but a hot meal, and when Tobias asked where he'd come from, the man only tapped his own chest and said, "Further than you'd credit."

Whenever a clock lost its nerve, Tobias would wave the rod over the works and the tip would glow green as a glow-worm in a jar, and the hands would pick themselves up and carry on. Nobody asked how it worked. Nobody asked what the tinker had really been selling.

On the night the road shut, the bell over the door rang twice with nobody there. Tobias went out with his lantern and found a strip of white ribbon caught on the latch, lettered in a hand he did not know: Mind the nine o'clock. He minded it. At nine the cellar stair began to climb, one step at a time, and the whole inn leaned like a ship taking on water, and Tobias pressed the green tip to the wall and the years folded back on themselves like a letter. When the floor stopped swaying he was sitting in his own kitchen. His wife laid three places without looking up, and the third chair was already pulled out, as if someone had only just stood from it.