Colour tattoo sleeve on an upper arm showing a blue TARDIS police box and a Dalek against a swirling cosmic background, in a bold neo-traditional style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

TARDIS and Dalek on an arm sleeve

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

The sleeve shows a blue TARDIS police box with its lit windows and sign, and a white and grey Dalek beside it. Behind them, swirling blue and teal clouds and bright streaks suggest a cosmic scene, with further coloured shapes running down towards the forearm. The ink is strongly coloured with bold dark outlines, and the design fills the frame from the shoulder downwards.

Neo-trad Upper arm Tardis Police box Dalek Space Swirl Sleeve

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain came down on Mallow Street market the week the blue box appeared, and nobody saw it land. It was simply there between the fishmonger's trestle and Ruth Abbot's stall of secondhand clocks, a tall blue cabinet with a lamp on its roof and a sign across the top that read POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX. Nobody had ever seen a telephone inside it, but the stallholders agreed it was a good sort of box, and they kept their umbrellas off it out of politeness.

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The thing that came out of it was grey and white, the height of a bucket, with a dome for a head and a plunger for an arm. It rolled to the edge of the cobbles, looked down at the puddles spreading between the stalls, and made a sound like a kettle with a grudge. Ruth had been mending a mantel clock for three days. She put down her screwdriver, went into the back of her van, and came out with a tin of Assam and two chipped mugs.

The creature did not want tea. It wanted the rain to stop, and it said so, many times, in a voice that rattled like a tin lid. Ruth told it rain was only water that had given up on going anywhere, and that a market in November was no place for anyone who minded getting wet. The creature considered this for a long time. Then it extended its plunger, very slowly, and tapped a single drop from the awning into the mug she offered.

They say the rain eased after that, though it never quite stopped. Every Saturday the box is still there, and the grey thing sits by Ruth's clocks with a mug of tea going cold beside it, listening to the drips, while the lamp on the box throws blue light across the puddles like a second sky.