Black ink sun with a face and rays behind a woman's ear on the left, and a smaller crescent moon with a face in the same spot on the right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun and moon behind the ear

Neck · Black and grey · Photo

Two side-by-side photographs show a small black tattoo behind a woman's ear. The left image shows a sun with a face and radiating rays, and the right image shows a smaller crescent moon with a face in the same position. The linework is solid and shaded in black and grey, set against pale skin and dark hair.

Neck Sun Moon Face Celestial Ear

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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 sun had been painted on the wrong side of the harbour for thirty years, and Ada Penhale had never once been asked to fix it. She climbed the ladder at the Gull and Anchor each spring with a tin of ochre and a size two brush, touching up the grinning face that looked out over the fish market. Nobody on Tide Street noticed the moon above the chemist's, pale and faded, its features worn almost to nothing by the sea wind.

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Her husband, Walter, had painted the moon. He had been dead since February and the chemist had asked her to take it down. She told him she would do it herself, and instead spent three nights mixing a grey so fine it looked like breath on glass. On the fourth night she climbed up with a lamp clipped to her coat and gave the moon back its eyes, a crescent brow, and a mouth turned a little down at the corners, the way Walter had always drawn it when he was pleased with himself.

Morning came up over the breakwater with the sun rising where it always rose. Ada stood on the cobbles with her hands in her pockets and watched the light climb the front of the Gull and Anchor until it found the chemist's wall. The moon's face caught it too, pale against the brick, and for a moment both faces looked straight across Tide Street at each other, close enough to shake hands.

The boy from the bakery stopped beside her with two rolls in a paper bag. 'They've never looked at each other before,' he said. Ada didn't answer. She took the second roll, bit into it, and reckoned the paint would hold until the autumn, which was about as long as anything in Whitby ever got to be perfect.