Black and grey Traditional style tattoo of a winged ankh with an eye of Horus, a scarab and a stepped pyramid, on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged ankh with scarab and pyramid on a thigh

Traditional · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A large winged ankh sits centrally, with an eye of Horus above a scarab beetle and a stepped pyramid running down the lower half. The linework is bold and the shading is smooth and layered, using dark outlines and grey tones on the wings, pyramid blocks and the ankh loop. The composition is vertical, filling most of the frame on the upper leg, with a partly visible second design at the lower left edge.

Traditional Thigh Ankh Eye of horus Pyramid Wing

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 tow truck coughed twice before it gave up on the Qasr road, so I walked back to the one lit window, where Mr Halloran kept his tyre shop beside a heap of cracked hubcaps. He was already holding a spanner like a sceptre when I came in, sand in my boots and the sun behind me like a dropped coin.

Keep reading

"Your engine's not dead," he said. "It's waiting for a sign."

He pulled a tin from under the counter and tipped it out: a dozen small stones, each carved with a beetle and worn smooth by thumbs. The lid was painted with a single watching eye. His father had found them in the quarry where the old stepped wall was cut for the new road, he said, and the men who dug them swore each one kept a lorry running. I told him I didn't believe in luck, only in fan belts. He laughed and set a loop of brass on the counter, shaped like a key with wings.

"That's an ankh," he said. "Life, or the door to it. You fix what you can and leave the rest to the gods."

I fixed the belt that night with his brass loop tied to the mirror. At dawn the truck started first time, and the road ran pale and straight toward the spoil heaps on the horizon, their stepped sides catching the light. I drove toward them with a beetle stone in my pocket, and somewhere past the second ridge I realised I had stopped counting the miles.