Black and grey realism tattoo of a winged angel statue holding a cross shield, with a halo, across the side ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged angel with shield on ribs

Realism · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a winged angel in armour standing on a plinth, holding a shield marked with a cross, with a faint halo above its head. A dark creature lies beneath its feet. The linework is detailed and the shading is smooth, with strong contrast in the feathers and folds of the armour. The design runs vertically down the side of the torso, and the photograph is taken in warm, even light.

Realism Ribs Angel Statue Shield Cross Halo Wing Armour Demon

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

Frank Oakley had been up since half three, and by four the flour had settled into the creases of his forearms like a second skin. The ovens ticked as they heated. Through the steamed front window he could see the lane still black, the lamp above the churchyard gate making a small yellow room in the dark.

Keep reading

Across the lane, St Oswin's wall held the old stone angel his grandfather had called the only honest thing in the parish. It stood on its plinth in a coat of lichen, shield lifted against nothing, wings folded back like a coat over a chair. The council had tried twice to have it moved to the museum, and both times the lorry broke down at the bottom of Crane Street. Under its feet lay the thing nobody agreed on, a crouched shape with bared teeth. Some said it was a demon. Others swore it was a drowned wolf the mason had been paid to remember.

Maeve came in at five with her hair tied up in a scarf and asked why he kept the window clear of the cakes. He told her the angel liked the light. She laughed, then looked, and stopped laughing. The churchyard lamp had gone out. In the dark the shield seemed to tilt, very slightly, towards the bakery.

He slid the first tray from the oven, the crusts crackling as they cooled, and set it on the sill where the glow fell across the stone. The shape under the feet looked less like a beast now and more like a dog asleep in the warm. Frank decided the angel had earned its bread.