Colour tattoo of a Deadpool mask in bold black outlines, red and grey shading and red splatter, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Deadpool mask on the upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A bold tattoo of the Deadpool mask fills most of the frame, with its red face, black outlines and grey eye and cheek areas. Flat fills, thick black linework and a splatter of red dots across the upper left give it a graphic, comic-book look. Red dominates the palette, with small areas of grey, black and white skin showing through, and the design sits centrally on the upper arm.

Neo-trad Upper arm Mask Comic character Splatter

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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

Nobody in Harrowgate Lane could say how the red mask came to be painted with a stranger's face. Old Tamsin Vole had mixed her madder and lamp black the way her mother had taught her, and then on the last night of the Lantern Fair a boy knocked her pot against the trestle and the whole batch went over the mask in a spray of drops. She swore at him in two languages and set the thing on the shelf to be thrown out in the morning.

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It was still there at midnight, when the bells of St Crispin's struck over the wet roofs. The lamps had gone down along the canal, and the only light came from the gasworks and a cat's eyes on the wall. Tamsin heard footsteps that stopped outside her shutter. Someone tapped three times, slow, like a clerk checking a ledger.

She opened up. Nobody stood there. The mask sat on the step, grey cheeks catching the moon, and the red spatter on the cobbles ran in a loose line down towards the river. Tamsin pulled her shawl tighter and followed it, past the chandler's, past the drowned cart, past the bridge where the watchmen went to smoke.

At the water's edge the trail ended beside a coat folded neatly on the stones. On its collar lay a small brass key, and beneath the key a note in careful capitals: PAINT THE NEXT ONE BETTER, MRS VOLE. The river went on past, black and quiet, and somewhere up the hill a door closed softly.