Two forearms shown side by side with matching colour tattoos: yellow stars and the word Player 2 on the left, and a blue shell with the word Player 1 on the right, both on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching Player 1 and Player 2 wrist tattoos

Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two forearms are shown side by side, each with a colour tattoo on the inner wrist. The left design shows two yellow cartoon stars above the script words Player 2, set against an orange glow. The right design shows a blue shell above the script words Player 1, set against a pale blue wash.

Forearm Star Cloud Matching tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Our mum called it the garden truce, which meant the bench under the plum tree belonged to whoever had the charger. Mara had the console on her knees and I had the sunburn, because she had refused to share the shade. We were eleven and nine and at war over a rainbow track that neither of us could finish without swearing.

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Every race ended the same way. Mara would pull ahead by the last bend, a yellow star flickering round her like a wasp that had been told it was lucky, and then I would lob the blue shell, which found her every time because it always found whoever was in front. She hated that shell more than anything in the world. I loved it. It was the only thing I ever won.

The summer the plum tree dropped its fruit early, Mara stopped racing me. She sat on the bench with the console switched off and watched the wasps in the windfalls, and when I asked what was wrong she said the shell only ever hit people who were winning, and that was a stupid rule. I said it was the rule of the game. She said then the game was stupid, and went inside.

I didn't understand until October, when the shell found me instead, spinning out of a sky I hadn't seen coming, and I sat in the wet grass with the controller in my lap and laughed until I hiccuped. Mara came back out with two felt pens and a grin. She wrote Player 1 on my wrist and Player 2 on hers, then drew a star over each. The shell, she said, could only hit one of us at a time, so from now on we would take turns being the one in front. We were still arguing about whose turn it was when the light went.