Two small black fine line four-pointed star tattoos sit on the upper chest near the collarbone.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two small stars on the collarbone

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a person's upper chest and collarbone area showing two small four-pointed star tattoos, one slightly larger and higher than the other. The stars are rendered in black ink with clean, thin outlines and a small dot at each centre. The tattoos sit against soft, warm skin tones with the shoulder curving away at the right edge and a blurred dark background.

Fine line Chest Star Collarbone Small tattoo

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 snow closed the Gap road at four in the afternoon, and by the time the carrier's cart slid into the yard of the Brace and Bell you had already decided that the two strangers in the taproom were the reason the fire kept smoking. The older one, a surveyor with a case of brass instruments, had spread a chart across the settle and was swearing at it softly. You brought him a second candle without being asked.

Keep reading

"The valley's wrong on this," he said, tapping a spot where the ink had blotted. "Every star I've steered by for thirty years sits where the chart says, and tonight there's nothing to show me." You looked past him at the black square of the window, where cloud had swallowed the sky whole. Your grandmother used to say the great northern light was a liar in winter, and that you should trust the small ones that came out after it, the bright pair that kept each other company.

Later, when the surveyor had gone up to bed and the drift had piled against the door like a sleeper, you took the chart down and drew what you remembered: two stars, one a little higher and larger, the other tucked below it like a child at a hem. You inked a dot at the heart of each, the way the old maps marked a town. Then you pinned it above the bar where the lamp could reach it.

In the morning the sky was clear and hard as glass, and the surveyor stood at the door a long while, tracing the points with his thumb. "Whoever drew this knew where they were," he said. You didn't tell him it had been you. You only nodded at the pair of stars still burning low over the white ridge, one just above the other, and watched him set off by them.