Black and grey traditional style tattoos of two wings, a rose and a banner across the lower abdomen, with a bearded man portrait and a woman with flowers on the thighs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged rose banner and thigh portraits

Traditional · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a torso in black lace underwear, showing two winged designs flanking a central rose on a banner with partly legible lettering. On the thighs are a bearded man in a cap and a woman's portrait surrounded by flowers. The shading is greyscale with bold outlines and solid areas of black, and the composition is cropped at the torso and thighs.

Traditional Thigh Other Wing Rose Banner Portrait Woman Flower

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 ovens were already ticking when I came down the stairs, and Mrs Okonedo had left her cardigan on the flour sacks again, which meant she was out the back having a cigarette and pretending she wasn't. I started the bread before the light came up over the car park. Sourdough first, then the tins for the corner shop on Hollins Row, because Dev never orders enough and always complains when they sell out.

Keep reading

My grandfather had a bakery in Whitby with a painted sign over the door: a rose caught between a pair of wings, and a ribbon with his name on it that nobody could read anymore because the sea air had got into the paint. He used to say the bearded fellow on the Tuesday pies was the skipper who sold him his first sack of flour, a man who came in smelling of diesel and never paid on time. I believed him until I was twelve.

This morning the wind came off the river hard and the back door rattled. I found a letter wedged under it, addressed in capitals to the baker with no name. Inside was a pressed rose gone the colour of weak tea and one line: the ribbon still says it, keep the wings up. I didn't know what it meant. I set it on the shelf above the proving drawer, where the steam keeps everything warm.

By six the window had gone grey-blue and the first van idled outside. I took the loaves out, knocked each one on the base and listened for the hollow sound. Every one sang back. I left the letter where it was.