Two matching cartoon toast tattoos with smiling faces and small red hearts, one with peanut butter on the forearm and one with jam on the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching peanut butter and jam toast tattoos

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two small matching tattoos show cartoon slices of toast with smiling faces, arms and legs. The left one, near the wrist on the forearm, has brown peanut butter filling, and the right one on the ankle has red jam, with a small red heart beside each. The dark outlines are simple and the fills are flat, set against bare skin.

Forearm Ankle Heart Smiley face Cartoon

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 fog rolls into Scarrow Point before the kettle has boiled, and by the time you reach the top of the iron stairs the lamp is sweeping blind over the water. Keeper Pell has been stuck in Wick harbour since Tuesday, and she left you a tin of rules: wind the clockwork at six, log the tide at seven, and never, under any circumstances, leave the bread bin open. You have broken the last one twice this week.

Keep reading

Tonight the bin is open again, and two slices have escaped across the gallery floor. One is peanut butter, thick and brown at the crusts. The other is jam, bright as a channel buoy. They have been bickering since you cut them. The peanut butter says the jam is too sweet to trust in weather. The jam says the peanut butter clings to the roof of the mouth like a limpet. You flap the tea towel at them, and they ignore you, hopping onto the rail with their stick-thin arms held out like sails.

Below, the foghorn bellows every thirty seconds, and somewhere past the rocks a small boat is rowing blind with a lantern on its prow. You can hear the oars knocking, uneven, and a man swearing softly to himself. The slices wave their arms at the lantern and shout in voices like crumbs pressed between fingers. The lamp is slow to turn. You haul the lever and it groans round, once, twice, and the beam finds the boat and holds it there.

The boat turns for the harbour mouth. On the rail, the jam slice says, 'Told you so', and the peanut butter slice says nothing at all, only smiles. You carry them both back down to the bin and, for once, you remember to shut the lid.