Two cartoon tattoos of peanut butter and jelly toast characters with googly eyes, one above the other on a forearm, in colour.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Peanut butter and jelly toast characters on forearms

Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two cartoon tattoos of toast characters with arms and legs sit on pale skin, one above the other. The upper toast is brown and tan with a pink mouth and blue-eyed googly eyes, with pink splashes behind it. The lower slice is purple and pink with white teeth and blue splashes, set on a lighter arm with soft glare across the top.

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 lift in Harcourt House has been broken since Easter, so you take the stairs with Jam bouncing ahead of you. Eleven floors of cold concrete, and every landing smells of somebody's fried onions and the bins by the lobby. Jam stops on each one to press her purple face to the wired glass and tell you what she can see. Mostly it is car park, a bus shelter and a bit of grey sky, but she says it like it is the coast.

Keep reading

The plan was hatched at the kitchen table in Flat 74, where the two of you had been toasted side by side on a Tuesday and then forgotten. Nobody came back for you after the grill. The toaster went cold, the radio carried on, and Jam said the thing she always says when the telly is too loud: that there is a bus from the stop by the Co-op straight to the sea. You said slices of bread do not get bus tickets. She said that was exactly why they had to be sticky.

At the sixth floor the stairwell door swings open on a draught and you both lurch sideways. Jam grabs your crust. You grab hers. For a second you are half-peeled from each other, the jam smearing across the peanut butter like a bad apology, and you think this is how the whole thing ends, in a stairwell with the wind getting in.

But you are stuck together and always have been, so you stagger on down, arms out, legs going like a pair of old dancers. At the bus shelter the timetable says the coach leaves at seven. The sky over the car park goes the colour of Jam's face. Neither of you has a ticket. You press yourselves to the glass and wait, and the driver, who has seen stranger passengers, opens the doors.

More like this

From the plentytattoo archive, uploaded by a user. Is this your work? Ask for credit or removal.