Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching cartoon toast tattoos

Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two cartoon toast slices with smiling or open-mouthed faces, arms and legs are tattooed on skin, one above the other. The top piece has brown and tan shading with pink cheeks and a red mouth, while the lower piece has a pink and purple jam topping, blue eyes and blue shading beneath. Both designs use bold black outlines and sit on a soft, slightly out of focus background of skin.

Forearm Cartoon character Matching

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The toaster had been Mrs Pargeter's pride for thirty years, and it had never once popped without a fight. That Tuesday it spat out two slices at once, one buttered and one jammed, and they hit the lino and went skidding under the fridge like a pair of runaway trays. Dennis found them first, because Dennis always found things under the fridge, usually crisps and once a cufflink. He held them up to the window. The buttered one had a face of pure alarm, eyes wide as saucers, and the jammed one was grinning with its whole crust.

Keep reading

"Oi," said the jammed one. "Put us down, we're not finished."

Neither of them had ever been finished. That was the trouble with bread that came out of a machine too hot: it wanted to go somewhere. They spent the afternoon crossing the kitchen on the sides of the bread bin, which was lower than it looked, and by teatime they had reached the windowsill, where a single sprig of basil was being very superior about the whole business. The buttered slice wanted to go to the bottom of the garden, where the blackbird lived, because the blackbird owed him a favour he could not remember. The jammed slice wanted to go in the other direction entirely, towards the biscuit tin, which had a lid that never shut properly.

They argued about it until the kettle boiled, and then they stopped arguing, because the kettle was a reliable witness and neither of them wanted to be on the wrong side of a steam cloud. In the end they went together, one arm hooked through the other, out through the cat flap and down the step into the wet grass, and the last thing Dennis saw from the doorway was two small figures waddling away in the dusk, the jam one still telling the butter one that he had been going the wrong way all along.