Colour tattoo on the forearm of a Death Star sitting on a blue cupcake case, with a green lightsaber hilt and blade running diagonally across it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Death Star cupcake and lightsaber on a forearm

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A grey Death Star with dark streaked shading sits on top of a blue cupcake liner, and a lightsaber with a green blade and metal hilt runs diagonally from the lower left to the top right. The grey shading is smooth and the blue liner has pleated lines, with the green blade glowing softly along its edge. The tattoo fills the centre of the frame on a forearm, with the skin tone and surrounding background visible at the edges.

Forearm Death star Cupcake Lightsaber Star wars

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Clarence House had been broken since the spring, so the baker carried the cake up all fourteen floors with the grey ball balanced on her palm like a dropped moon. Nobody on the stairwell asked what it was. They had seen her cakes before, and they knew she only made the ones she was paid for, in tins and in favours.

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This one was paid for with a lightsaber. Tomasz from flat nine had carried his laser-sword through three house moves in a shoebox, its green blade long gone to a dead bulb, and he wanted it on the cake. He said it was for his son's eighth birthday, and the boy had asked for the moon. A moon, Tomasz said, was too round for a child who had only ever seen one through a windscreen. So she made the moon into the Death Star, pinched and streaked with smoke, and set it in a blue case like a little harbour.

The boy did not come to the door. Tomasz took the box and stood in the hallway holding a sword he had not yet switched on. He looked at the cake for a long time. Then he pressed the hilt, and a thin green light ran up the length of the blade, faint as a torch under a blanket, and the boy's voice came from somewhere behind him, shouting that he could see it from the stairs.

The baker walked back down to the fourteenth floor without touching the banister. Some things, her mother used to say, want to be carried by hand all the way. She still had grey dust from the moon on her thumb when she reached her own door, and she left it there, because a thumbprint of the Death Star seemed to her a fair thing to keep.