Black and white photo of a person seen from behind with a small solid black triangle tattoo on the back of the neck, hair in a bun.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small solid triangle tattoo on the neck

Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a person seen from behind, with their hair tied in a bun and their face turned away from the camera. A small, solid black triangle sits on the back of the neck, just below the hairline. The person holds a small device in their hands, and a bright window fills the background, leaving the subject softly lit against a darker wall.

Neck Triangle Hair bun

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

Nobody in Harrowmere would lend the surveyor's girl a boat, so she walked the reed banks with three brass pegs in her apron pocket and a folded map that the old king had burned twice. The map showed a triangle drawn in ink: the mill, the chapel bell, and the blackthorn at the ford. Where the three lines met, the king's grandfather had buried the tithe of salt, and the salt was all the kingdom had left before winter.

Keep reading

She reached the ford at dusk, when the water turned the colour of pewter and the blackthorn threw its shadow flat across the stones. Her father had always said a triangle was the only shape that could not be pushed out of true. Four corners would lean, five would sag, but three held their weight. She drove the first peg where the mill shadow touched the bank, the second where the bell's note fell silent, and the third into the mud beneath the blackthorn.

Nothing happened for a long time. Then a fisherman's boy came down the path with a lantern and asked what she was doing to his grandmother's eel traps. She told him the truth, that she was measuring, and he laughed and said the salt had been eaten by rats a hundred years ago. But he knelt by the third peg and dug with his fingers, and the mud gave up a cracked clay jar sealed with wax.

They carried it up to the castle together. The king broke the wax at the table and found the salt gone to stone, with a scrap of paper beneath it. It read only: measure twice, dig once, and trust the three corners. The ford was never quarrelled over again.