Colour tattoo of minion characters dressed as superheroes stacked vertically down a calf, with a green minion at the foot, shown in two photos.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Superhero minions stacked up a calf

Calf · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows several yellow minion characters dressed as superheroes, including one in a horned helmet and one with a round shield, stacked one above another up the calf. Smaller red and purple cartoon figures sit among them and a green minion sits at the bottom of the design. The linework is bold and outlined, with flat colour and light shading, and the image shows the same leg from two angles.

Calf Superhero Shield Helmet Cartoon character

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 costumes came out of the loft in March, fourteen of them, in a box that said HEROES in Maureen's capitals. Gerrit Tallow held up a horned helmet with one yellow goggle eye and told the gulls on the chandlery roof that it was a bad idea. Nobody in Scarlow Quay had asked him to fix the harbour wall. He fixed it anyway, with three bags of cement and a stack of old pallets, because the council had stopped sending men down the slipway.

Keep reading

By June the minions had their own rota. The one with the round shield took the morning tide, pacing the wall with his chest out while the crab boats came in. The horned one sat on the bollard and shouted at the ferry. At the bottom, where the green one lay in the weeds with his hat askew, there was always someone left to hold him up, a small red thing with too many arms that Gerrit swore had crawled out of the drain on the first night and never gone home.

The trouble started when the wall gave way under the weight of the stack. Gerrit climbed down the ladder with a coil of rope and found the lot of them in a heap at the tideline, shields and helmets and goggles all tangled together, with the red thing perched on top, grinning like it had planned the whole business. He laughed until he had to sit down on the wet stone.

They built it again the following week, taller, with the green one at the bottom where he belonged. Gerrit still cannot say why. The council sent a letter about liability, the fishermen left a crate of sprats on his step, and the minions kept their places in the sun, reaching for a ferry that never once stopped to wave back.