Black and grey shaded Superman shield tattoo on the upper arm, with a raised, bevelled look around the S.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Superman shield on upper arm

Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large Superman shield sits on the outer upper arm, filling most of the frame. The shield is rendered with smooth black and grey shading and a bevelled edge that makes the emblem look three-dimensional. The inner S has a muted reddish-brown tone against the dark outline, and the background is a plain light fabric.

Upper arm Superman Shield Superhero Logo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The press was still warm when Ada carried the sheet over to the bench, and she was already frowning at its edge. The shield had come out the way her father's shields always did, point sharp and top corners square, but the bevel had gone soft where the die was wearing. "You can see the join," she said. "Nobody will see the join," Walter said, not looking up from the kettle. "They'll see the S."

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They made them for the lads who came up from the terraces after the war, pressed from scrap biscuit tin and sold for a penny to be fixed on satchels, bike baskets and cricket bags. Ada had drawn the letter herself on the back of a seed packet, two bends like a river running the wrong way. Her father had cut it into the die over one bitter winter, and every badge was painted by hand: the outer shield dark as wet slate, the inner letter a faint rust, the colour of the brick the bench leaned against.

Teddy Hirst came every Thursday asking for one more, though he already had three. He said he was going to lift a coal cart with one hand. Ada gave him the spare, and a fortnight later he returned with it bent flat across the S, having jumped the canal wall and landed on the towpath. Walter took the tin, laid it on the anvil and tapped it back into shape from the inside, a little at a time, until the bevel caught the light again. "Metal remembers where it's been bent," he said. "You have to coax it the other way."

Teddy ran off down the hill with the badge held flat against his shirt, one hand pressing it there. Ada watched until he turned the corner. "It's only tin," she said. "It's only tin," her father agreed, wiping his hands, "which is exactly why it'll hold.