Three small solid black stars in a fine line style on the neck behind the ear.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three small stars behind the ear

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

Three small five-pointed black stars sit on the skin just behind and below the ear, forming a loose triangular cluster. The stars have crisp, solid black fills with clean edges and no shading. The pale skin and dark hair leave the ink as the only strong colour, with the composition cropped in close on the neck and ear.

Fine line Neck Star

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 lock keeper at Hollins Cut had said the river would be up by morning, but Mother Sallow would not trust a gauge, so at a quarter to one she sent you out on the back deck of the Wren with a torch you had long since stopped switching on. The poplars along the towpath stood black against a sky that had cleared hard and cold. Above the mill chimney, three stars sat in a loose triangle, and she had told you to keep the middle one over the lock gate and never touch the bank.

Keep reading

"Your grandfather's trick," she had said, not looking up from her crossword. "Three stars, a crooked triangle, and they'll tell you where the water runs deep." You had laughed at her then. Now the boat was drifting sideways in the slack of the weir pool, the engine idling low, and the stars would not hold still. Cloud slid across the top one and the bottom one dimmed. You counted their points over and over, as if they were a sum you could check.

Then the middle star began to move, steadily, in a line too straight for any star. It was a plane, low and blinking red, and you nearly laughed again. You made yourself look past it to the two that had not shifted all hour, let the crooked shape settle back into your eye, and eased the tiller over until the gate lamp sat exactly where the lowest star was pinned.

The Wren slid into the chamber with a hand's width to spare on either side. Behind you the gates groaned shut. Mother Sallow was snoring in the cabin when you finally tied off, one boot still on the step, and you stood a while on the cold deck looking up at the three small points, which had not changed at all while you were busy being afraid of them.