Black and grey comic-style tattoo sleeve on an upper arm, showing a visored man with a moustache and a horned masked figure below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Comic character sleeve on upper arm

Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey sleeve tattoo wraps around the arm, with a large central figure of a man wearing a visor and a moustache, drawn with bold outlines and soft grey shading. Above him are dark claw-like slashes and a shadowy animal or creature shape, and a horned, masked head sits at the bottom of the frame beside a smoky grey backdrop. The shading is smooth and the composition fills the arm edge to edge against a blurred background.

Upper arm Comic character Moustache Horn Sleeve Smoke

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

Sit yourself nearer the stove, because this is a night-time story and it wants a cold window behind it. You know the Tanner Street bridge? Well, forty years back the whole of Gosling Row was afraid of the men who ran the sheep market, and the sheep market was run by a man called Mr Orrin Vell, who had a moustache like a yard brush and a habit of counting coins out loud. Nobody crossed him. Nobody except Sergeant Dale Harrow, who wore a grey visor over his eyes because he had lost one eye to a brass fitting on a tram, and who used to say a man with one good eye sees more of what matters.

Keep reading

The trouble started the autumn the claw marks appeared. Long slashes down the brickwork of the Corn Exchange, four fingers wide, as if something had raked the stone trying to get in. Then the night watchmen began turning up at dawn with their coats torn to ribbons and nothing to say about it, except that the thing had horns and smelt of wet smoke.

Harrow walked the Row alone for nine nights. On the tenth, smoke rose off the canal in a grey wall, and out of it stepped a horned figure with a mask pulled over a face all ridges and hollows. It did not speak. It only pointed at Vell's warehouse door, and Harrow understood, the way you understand a dream, that the creature was Vell's old debt come home to collect.

What Harrow found inside that warehouse, I will tell you another night, because the candle is low and my throat is dry. But when they dragged Vell out at first light, his moustache had gone white as ash. On the warehouse door, four long claw marks ran from top to bottom, neat as a ledger line.