Black outline tattoo of Mickey and Minnie Mouse on the neck behind an ear, with a red bow on Minnie.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mickey and Minnie Mouse behind the ear

Neck · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows two linked Mickey and Minnie Mouse head outlines in black ink, with spiral curls for the ears. A small red bow sits on Minnie's head, and the rest of the design is solid black linework. The photo is taken close up on the neck behind the ear against dark hair.

Neck Mickey mouse Minnie mouse Bow Cartoon

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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

The second the net came up heavy off Iceland, the mice were out of the fish room and across the wet deck as if they'd been waiting for the cue. I was on the rail with a bucket of gurnard heads when the first one ran over my boot, and I swear it looked up at me before it went under the winch housing. Skipper Pryce said ship's mice were bad luck. Cook said they were the only crew who never complained about the porridge. I kept feeding them crusts anyway.

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There were two that mattered. The smaller one wore a scrap of red ribbon tied in a bow on its head, pinched from the galley string where the bacon was hung. The bigger one had ears curled up like coiled rope on a bollard, and it never left the bulkhead near the forepeak. When the wind came round to the north-east and the Ruth Ellen started to lie over, the big one ran straight for that bulkhead and sat there chattering until I came down with the torch.

The water was weeping through a seam no bigger than a fingernail, and the bilge pump had already given up on the lower mess. I had the wedge in and the pump running again before the skipper got down the ladder, and he didn't say a word about bad luck for the rest of the night. He just stood over the seam with his cap in his hands while the red bow sat on the step beside me, washed in lamplight, looking entirely pleased with itself.

We came into Grimsby on a grey Tuesday with the hold half empty and the crew half asleep. Pryce carried the small one off in his oilskin pocket and sent me up to the galley for a saucer of milk. Nobody has asked what happened to the manifest since.