Mixed-colour sleeve tattoo on an upper arm showing Star Wars stormtrooper and imperial pilot helmets with red roses and leaves, in a neo-traditional style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Star Wars helmets and roses on upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a stacked pair of white and grey Star Wars helmets, an imperial pilot helmet above a stormtrooper helmet, with red roses and leafy foliage filling the background. The helmets are shaded with smooth grey tones and highlights, while the roses use bold red with darker shadows. The design wraps around the arm in a vertical composition against a dark background.

Neo-trad Realism Upper arm Stormtrooper Helmet Star wars Rose Leaves Foliage

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Morag had the pilot helmet on the workbench for three days before she noticed the stormtrooper helmet underneath it, wedged in a crate of ferry parts her brother had dragged up from the slipway. Both were scuffed white, grey where the paint had worn through. Outside the boathouse door the roses were in full red, and the wind off the Minch carried their smell into the shed whether she wanted it or not.

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Iain had won the crate in a card game with a man from Stornoway who swore the helmets had come off a film set that shipped out of Oban years back. Morag didn't believe a word of it. She believed the dent above the left eye, and the way the visor lifted with a click like a latch on a henhouse. She spent her evenings with a rag and linseed oil, bringing the grey back to the cheek plates, and she kept thinking that someone had once worn these to stand guard over nothing at all.

When she finished, she set the pilot helmet on top of the trooper's, the way the pieces had been packed, and found it looked less like a costume than a lighthouse with a lamp on it. She carried the pair down to the rose beds at low tide and pushed the neck of the trooper into the peat. By June the bramble had climbed the visors and the gulls had claimed the crown of the pilot's helmet as their own. Every morning Morag watched the red bloom through the eyeholes, and every morning the gulls scolded her for coming too close.