Traditional style tattoo of a blue iced cupcake wearing a black moustache and bow tie, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Blue cupcake with moustache and bow tie

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A cupcake with swirled blue frosting sits on a dark wrapper, with a black moustache and bow tie across its middle and a round blue badge with a white mark on the frosting. Bold black outlines define the shapes, with flat blue and pale blue fills and some shading on the frosting swirls. The design is centred on the upper arm against plain skin, with a small dotted line trailing from the right side.

Traditional Upper arm Cupcake Moustache Bow tie Frosting Badge

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Desmond Okafor had iced forty-seven cupcakes by six o'clock, and the forty-eighth was the one people would talk about. He gave it a moustache of dark chocolate ganache, piped with the fine nozzle he kept for emergencies, and a bow tie cut from black fondant with the lid of a jam jar. The frosting he swirled in two blues, because the Bluebell tub was the only colour left in the cupboard and he was not a man to waste a good tub. Stairwell lights buzzed on the fourteenth floor of Harcourt House as he carried the box to the lift.

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The residents' meeting was in the community room, nine plastic chairs and an urn that wheezed. Mrs Pilling, who chaired the tenants' association and had banned baking since the custard incident, lifted the lid, studied the cupcake for a full ten seconds and said nothing. Desmond had learned that this was her version of applause. Then she pinned a paper rosette to the wrapper, reading Best Dressed, and asked whether the moustache was dark chocolate or the other sort.

The cupcake sold for a pound to the boy from flat twenty-two, who wanted it for his nan's birthday and carried it home in both hands like a lantern. Desmond followed him out, and noticed the silver sugar balls he had been dropping from the piping bag all evening, a neat line along the lino like breadcrumbs. He followed them to the stairwell and down every landing, one bead at a time, until the last one sat balanced on the kerb outside, catching the streetlight like a badge.