Black and grey fine line tattoo of a pair of scissors on the side of the neck, just behind the ear.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Scissors tattoo on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small outline of a pair of open scissors sits on the side of the neck, behind the ear. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, so the scissors appear as simple black outlines. The photograph is black and white with a dark vignette, and a hoop earring is visible at the top of the ear.

Fine line Neck Scissors

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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 shears had belonged to Mr Okonedo's father, and before that to nobody anyone in Hebden Bridge could name, which was why Maggie refused to oil them with anything but the thin machine oil from the drawer under the mirror. Three chairs, one window painted over halfway up with the name of the shop in gold that had flaked to a rumour. On Thursdays the trains came through so loudly the mirror rattled, and the old men waited for the rattle to pass before they told their lies.

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She had been cutting hair for thirty-one years and had never once nicked an ear. People said it as though it were a feat of nerve rather than of attention. Attention, she told the young lad who swept for her, was just holding still and letting the blades do what they were made for. He wanted to know if he could have a go on the back of a customer's neck, the fiddly bit where the hair grew in whorls, and she said he could when he had stopped looking at the girls walking past the glass.

The last customer of the day was a man who came in every five weeks and never said more than the length he wanted. This time he sat a long while after she had finished, watching the hair fall from the cape. Then he asked her to take off a little more at the nape, just a fraction, so that the line would be clean when he wore the collar up at his brother's wedding. She leaned in, held the shears open, and found the scissors she had pressed into his skin decades ago were not hers at all, but a mark she had been waiting to make.