#but I’m no tattoo artist so it’s eh

[timethehobo]

Saw more photo inspo and just had to. Tattoo Emmy tho… 😌

[persephone411]

Under the skin (JT x Reader)

Summary: you get your first tattoo from a very attractive tattoo artist

You took a deep breath before you opened the door to Teller Morrow. This was it. You we’re actually going to get your first tattoo. An exited giggle escaped you. During the whole time between the making of the appointment till today you had expected of you to drop out and cancel. But now you were here. With slightly shaking legs you enter the tattoo studio. It was kept in the industrial style with a dark wood floor and exposed brick walls. Dozens of sketches and pictures of finished tattoos cover the walls. A black leather couch was to your left.

“Hey. I’m Gemma. how can I help you?” A brown haired woman behind counter asked you with a polite smile.

“Uhm hi. I am here for my appointment. It’s at half past one” you nearly stammer. The woman nods and checks her computer.

“Yeah, you send your design in a mail, your first tattoo right ?”

“Yes, how do you know?” You asked surprised but Gemma only laughed

“Sweetheart, only first time clients are so nervous, plus you also wrote it in the mail”

“Oh yeah right” you say while laughing akwardly.

“Hey, everything is fine. What will happen now is that I’ll print out the design you send a few times in a few sizes and you can see which one you like the best ok?”

“Yes, thank you. I guess I’m just excited ” you smile while the printer works.

“And that’s totally normal. A tattoo is a big thing, but I assure you after you get your first, you will get more. It’s always like that”

Gemma says while cutting out the design.

“Alright, I printed out three different sizes. You can always say If I should print out more. The placement was the hip ?”

“Yes” you answer and carefully take the smallest of the pieces. Quickly you noticed that the moment you held it in your hand, you fell even more in love with the design and the idea of having it as a tattoo. After a bit you chose the middle size. Not too big, not too small.

“Alright perfect. It’s a really beautiful design. I’m sure it will look amazing on you sweetheart” Gemma says with a motherly smile.

You smiled and she nodded at the leather couch

“How about you take a seat. I’ll bring you some water, hydration is important. My son should be done in a few minutes”

“Your son?” You ask interested and Gemma nods

“Yes, it’s a family business. Here”

She gave you a glass of water, then sat down next to you.

The next minutes you spend taking. You told her the story behind your tattoo idea and she shared her tattoo stories plus the history of the studio. Just as you were about to compliment one of her tattoos on her arm, someone new stepped into the room.

“Alright, We are done”

You turned your head towards the new voice and your eyes widened.

Fuck he was gorgeous

Long blond hair, blue eyes and a blonde beard. He wore white trainers, baggy jeans and a white oversize T shirt. Tattoos were covering his arms. You were so struck that you didn’t even notice the other man, probably his previous client standing next to him

“Ah, perfect, your next customer is already here”

Gemma stood up and you followed.

“This is my son, he will be doing your tattoo” she introduced him and he shook your hand

“Hey, I’m Jax” he said with a mischievous wink.

You introduced yourself and Jax smirked

“Alright, then follow me, you got your design?”

“Yes” you showed him the piece of paper.

Shortly before Jax guided you into the separate room, Gemma called him back

“Be gentle with her, it’s her first time”

Jax nods understandingly

“I’m always gentle at the first time” he said and you blushed at the innuendo.

Then he walks to you into the tattoo room.

“Alright darling, first time eh?” While he spoke he started to stretch himself.

“Excuse me. I’ve worked on that one piece for hours now you can probably imagine what my back feels like after being in one position for so long“

He groaned and a hot shiver rand down your spine.

“No I get it. Don’t worry” you assure him quickly.

He nods but then gets serious.

“Alright princess, where should the tattoo go?” While he spoke his gaze slowly wandered over your body and another shudder went through you. Why did he have to be so attractive?

“I thought about the left hip bone” you tell him and he nods.

“It’s a good spot. Sexy”

You smiled and Jax walked over to his desk to prepare the stencil.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” You ask him

“Now around 14 years i think. I started by doing my first stick and poke on my own leg. I was just a rebellious teen. You know the drill. Then I started to design my own stuff out of boredom. I grew up with this whole tattoo culture. I mean you’ve seen my mom’s tattoos and everything. So when I was 20 I leaned it professionally and we opened up the shop”

While he talked you listened attentively. You loved the way he talked. While staring at his back you notice a few darker spots under the white of the shirt.

“Do you have a back tattoo?” You asked curiously and he nodded.

“Yeah, got it when I was done with the training. It took multiple sessions, still remember the pain. I’ll show it to you once I am done with your stencil”.

He worked for a minute or so in comfortable silence, then he got up.

“This is the stencil, and this is my back piece”

Your eyes widened as he started to strip out of his shirt.

“Wow, that is impressive” you said as you saw the huge sons of anarchy tattoo on his back.

“Yeah, it also hurt as hell go get it. The spine was the worst. You can touch it if you want to. No need to be shy”

He said.

Hesitantly you reached out to touch the ink on his back, tracing the letters.

“That’s insane” you murmur and quickly pull back as a shudder goes through Jax

“It’s fine. Just a bit sensitive on the back”

He explained while turning around to face you. Again your eyes widened. This time because of his naked torso. It was perfection. Although you’ve never seen an actual naked Greek god, you were sure that they looked like Jax Teller.

“You like what you see?“

Jax chuckled as you blushed and started to stammer while avoiding his gaze.

,,It’s fine. I’m just teasing” He said with a playful wink. You nodded and watched as he grabbed his shirt. Quickly he pulled it over his head, then he grabbed the stencil for your tattoo.

“So, where should it go?” He asked and you pulled your shirt up and your pants down slightly to show him the spot you chose. Just on the hipbone. Perfectly hidden from everyone except for the people who you wanted to see it. Jax nods, then without a warning gets down on his knees in front of you. Carefully he presses the stencil against your skin, holding it for a bit and then peeling it off.

“Is this ok? There is a mirror. If it is too high, too low or anything, just tell me. I can do it again”

You nod and walk over to the huge mirror. Eying the blue mark on your left hip. Behind you Jax was still on his knees, watching you.

“Maybe a bit higher” you said and he nods, getting up to get some wet wipes.

Carefully he wiped the blue ink off the stencil off your skin.

Goosebumps form on your body as you feel his breath on your naked skin, tickling you slightly. Jax places the stencil again, this time slightly higher. You watch as he bit his lip in concentration.

“How about now?” He asked and you walk back to the mirror.

“Can you do it a bit more right?” You asked hesitantly.

“Sure” again he wiped off the old stencil and placed it a bit more right. You checked it out again and nod with a happy smile.

“Perfect”

“That’s what I want to hear. You can then lay down on the table and I’ll prepare everything” Jax instructed you.

You did as he told you and watched as he prepared the ink and the tattoo machine. Then he grabbed a black hair tie and pulled his hair into a small bun.

Fuck he was even more attractive now.

With his stool he rolled over to you and watched as you exposed your hip area again.

“I’ll start now and if anything feels wrong, You tell me. We can pause it anytime ok?”

He told you, his voice serious.

You nod and laid down comfortably, focusing on your breath.

Again you couldn’t really belive it, you were actually getting a tattoo !

You felt his gloved Hand on your hip, then he started. It was less painful than you thought it would be. Mostly just a bit of a tickle with a slight burn from time to time.

“How are you doing?”

He asked after a bit, his hand absentmindedly caressing your skin

“Good so far, it’s not as bad as I thought It would be” you murmur while staring at the ceiling.

“Good. If anything happens, tell me”

You nod and he started again.

It was a nearly relaxing process. The buzzing sound of the machine, the tickling on your hip and the quiet rock music in the background. But your favorite feeling by far was his hand on your skin. Although he wore a glove you could feel his warmth, and sometimes his cool breath.

“You mentioned that your first tattoo was a stick and poke on your leg?” You asked after a bit and he hummed.

“Yes, I was 16 and my best friend and me thought it was a cool idea. I tried to do the Harley Davidson logo. But it looked rather bad. Couldn’t get one line straight”

He chuckled and shook his head. You watched him silently. A strand of blonde hair had fallen out his bun ad he bit his lower lip in concentration. As he reached a new spot you nearly flinched. It was much more painful than the rest.

“Shh. It’s alright. We’re over the hip bone now. The skin is thinner” Jax explained and stopped for a bit

“And here I was, nearly falling asleep” you joked. He chuckled and pushed the strand out of his face

“Tell me when I can start again. Did you eat or drink before coming here?”

“Yeah, I had breakfast” you answered. As you two talked you couldn’t help but love how calm and relaxed everything was. Jax really made sure that you were feeling comfortable and for a bit you wondered how it would be to be friends with him, or maybe even to be more. Just as you dreamt about snuggling in his arms on a couch in front of a TV, Jax spoke again.

“Is everything alright ? You seem a bit lost in your head” his blue eyes watched you attentively.

“Yeah, you can start again” you nod towards the tattoo machine in his hand.

He nodded and continued to tattoo you.

“We’re now halfway done” he informed you after a bit.

“What are some of the craziest tattoos you’ve ever done?” You asked.

He thought for a moment then answered: ”I think I have a few specials. Sentimental, funny or plain stupid. But no bad tattoos. I don’t do bad tattoos”

You giggled at his cocky tone.

“Someone’s confident”

He laughed and you nearly melted. It was nearly criminal for someone to be that attractive.

“So? What tattoos did you do?”

“Hmm let’s see. I did my first real one on my best friend, that was quite special. Once time I tattooed a couple which was married for nearly 70 years. That was probably the one time where couple tattoos aren’t stupid. I have lots of sentimental tattoos, like pets who died or the names of children. In regard to funny tattoos… A girl once wanted me to tattoo her vagina. She made sure to ask for me specifically“

“And ? Did you do it?” You asked curiously but Jax only smirked

“What do you think?”

Your eyes widened and he chuckled.

The next minutes was a comfortable silence between you two. Although you had so many questions for him (like what is the favourite tattoo you ever did? Are you single? Can we get married ?) you didn’t say anything. After a bit he broke the silence.

“I’m nearly done sweetheart”

You bit your lip in disappointment. You didn’t want him to be done. To be honest, you would love to fall asleep right here, with his big warm hands on your skin and the quiet buzzing of the machine.

“Do you have a website or a portfolio?” You ask Jax, curious about his work. His own work.

“Yeah. I have a folder and also a instagram page If you are interested. Oh and you can also DM me anytime if you think about getting a touch up or other tattoo related stuff”

“Yeah, that would be great” you smiled, already excited to stalk his social media.

The tattoo machine stopped and you sat up slowly.

“Careful, you could feel a bit dizzy from lying down for so long“ Jax gently grabbed your arm and you blinked a few times.

“I think I’m good. Thank you” you smiled and slid off the tattoo table. Jax was still holding you as you walked over to the big mirror to inspect your tattoo. It looked even more perfect than you expected it to be. The shading was perfect.

“Wow” you say quietly.

“You like it?” Jax was towering behind you, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, it’s absolutely amazing. I love it. Thank you so much”

“I’m glad to hear it” you shivered at the slight purr in his voice.

The next minutes Jax put the second skin onto your fresh tattoo and explained the aftercare to you. Like mesmerised you listened to his voice, barely acknowledging what he said.

“Good. I think we’re done. It was an honor to be your first time and I hope I’ll get to tattoo you again”

Jax smiled and loosely wrapped an arm around you while he led you out of the room.

“And? How did it went?” Gemma asked as soon as you entered the main room of the studio.

“It went well and the tattoo truly looks amazing” you said while beaming. Jax chuckled, visibly proud of himself. You showed Gemma the tattoo and she nodded.

“Good work there son. I hope you treated her like a lady”

“I did. Don’t worry”

The payment process was quick and simple and you thanked Jax again.

“No problem sweetheart. It was a pleasure and hey, maybe we’ll see each again”

You smiled and waved him and Gemma Goodbye.

On your way to the car you opened instagram and found the sons of Anarchy account as well as Jax personal account. The moment you saw the first of his own tattoo designs (and a shirtless picture) you knew you would come back.

[morganski-19]

The One Where It All Started

This takes place about a year before the rest of the posts will be taking place. Just to set the stage before the real schnenanigans start.

“So I said that was a terrible idea, because there was barely any research done so it would be misleading to the readers, right,” Nancy continued her story about the piece she’s been working on at work.

“Yeah, that would make me pissed,” Robin added, following along.

Nancy nods in agreement as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Exactly. I would rather print nothing than something they made up. But of course, the boss doesn’t think so. I’m thinking of dropping the project, so my name isn’t attached to it, but then that just means I ‘didn’t have faith in the work’. No shit I don’t, it’s completely fake.”

“Fuck those guys,” Steve adds, partially listening as he’s grading his student’s assignments.

Jonathan and Argyle walk into the café, finding the group at their normal seats and joining them.

“My dudes,” Argyle bellows. “How’s it going?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Nancy groans.

Jonathan winces. “Those assholes at work again?”

“Yes,” Nancy exclaims. “I need to find another job but this is the best I could get after school.”

“Could be worse,” Robin adds.

“I know, I just hate working there.”

Steve stares at the paper in front of him with a confused expression. “What do you guys think of this one?”

He turns the paper around to reveal a hand turkey covered with red drops resembling blood. What would normally be the feathers are now plucked off and surrounding the turkey leaving the pink underneath. Or at least that’s what it looks like. It could just be pink feathers and a turkey standing on a pile of leaves. But that wouldn’t explain the X’s for eyes.

“Are you seriously grading hand turkeys right now?” Robin rolls her eyes. “And you think your job is hard.”

“Try to teach a bunch of first graders basic math after they’re all hyper from recess and then get back to me. And it’s not just hand turkeys. There’s also spelling tests somewhere in here.”

Jonathan takes the paper from Steve’s hand, showing it to Argyle better with a very concerned glare. “I think you might need to talk to this kid.”

“He drew a murdered turkey, dude. Kid’s got issues.”

Steve takes the picture back, assessing it more. “I mean, those could be leaves.”

Robin points to the picture. “And that’s not blood.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to the kid.” Steve turns it over and sees the name. “Wait, this is Bobby’s. His parents hunt wild turkeys. That’s normal.”

A man with long, brown curly hair approaches the group, wearing a leather jacket with a band tee and black jeans. “Sorry to interrupt but, Wheeler?” He turns toward Nancy, pointing softly at her.

“Oh my god, Eddie?” Nancy smiles standing up to give him a hug. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“Eh, it’s been better. But you, I saw the article you did last month. Best thing I ever read in the news.” Eddie sits down on the chair across from Nancy.

Steve is trying his hardest not to stare and keep grading his stack of papers, but it’s hard. Robin elbows him in the side and widens her eyes in a “Really?”. Steve shrugs in his defense, taking a sip of his mocha. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Aw, thank you. I worked hard on that. What are you up to now?”

“Kinda between jobs at the moment. I work as a freelance artist but I’m taking a break from that becoming a tattoo apprentice.”

“That is so cool, dude,” Argyle interrupts from across the table.

Nancy has a moment of realization. “Right. Eddie, these are my friends. Robin, Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle. Guys, this is my old friend from high school, Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you guys.”

The group replies with varied greetings, Steve and Eddie holding eye contact a bit longer than the rest of the group does. Resulting with another jab in Steve’s ribs from Robin. He yells at her with his eyes for her to stop.

“So, do you live in the city now?” Nancy goes back to addressing just Eddie.

He scratches at his chin with a pained faced. “Kinda. Moved here to live with my ex a few months ago. And then he sort of cheated on me, so I’m trying to find somewhere else, but money’s kind of tight right now.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Nancy winces. “I’m sorry.”

“Is what it is.”

Nancy turns to Robin, whispering something in her ear. Robin shrugs and whispers something back.

“You know, if you wanted to, no pressure or anything,” Nancy starts. “But, my old roommate just moved out and I’m looking for a new one. It’s a nice place my grandma rents to me so it’s rent controlled. I know we haven’t talked much since high school, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“Have to think about it, and see the place. But that might be nice.”

“And you’d live across from me and Steve,” Robin adds, earning her an elbow to the ribs.

Eddie smiles flirtatiously. “Well that does sweeten the pot.” He notices the hand turkey still laying on the table. “What the fuck is wrong with that hand turkey?”

“I already said I would talk to the kid,” Steve groans.

“Why is this is this kid going on turkey hunting trips anyway,” Jonathan asks, concerned.

Steve shrugs. “How would I know, not my kid.”

Argyle reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a joint, handing it to Steve. “For your troubles.”

“This group is great,” Eddie laughs to himself, already agreeing to Nancy’s offer in his head.

General information about the fic here

Tag list (just tagged everyone who seemed interested, let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417

[morningsharksworld]

Painted Rocks PT.1

Hazard x StreetArtist! Reader [PLATONIC]

A/N: I wanted to make a platonic fic for a while where Hazard seems like a Older Brother figure (since personally I think he would’ve been a good big brother). I also based this off of a song that I can’t get out of my head :’].

Summary: you just wanted to be an artist

The hiss of spray paint filled the still night air as you finished the last vibrant swirl of color on the abandoned wall. The mural was alive with chaos and passion, the only outlet you had since leaving home. This alley had become your sanctuary, a canvas where you could scream silently against the world.

You stepped back, admiring the sprawling piece—a phoenix rising from ashes. The colors gleamed even under the faint streetlight. For a moment, you forgot the aching in your arms, the chill of the night, and the gnawing hunger in your stomach.

But the sound of a boot scraping against gravel shattered your focus.

You turned sharply, your heart lurching as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dangerous-looking. His sharp, piercing eyes caught the faint glow of the streetlamp, and his jacket bore a patch you recognized—this was Hazard.

“Ach, yer no bad wi’ a can, eh?” he said, his voice low but thick with a lilting accent.

Panic flared in your chest. Not bad? He must have been sarcastic. This was his territory, wasn’t it? He’d probably come to run you off—or worse.

“I-I didn’t know this was your space!” you stammered, already stuffing your spray cans into your bag. “I’ll leave, I promise!”

Before you could bolt, a firm but not harsh hand gripped your arm. “Easy now” Hazard said, his tone steady. “I’m no here tae scare ye off.”

You froze, trembling under his hold. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to explain yourself through a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just—this is the only place I can paint. Please, don’t hurt me.”

Hazard’s gaze softened, and his grip loosened. “Och, dinnae fash yerself, lad” he said, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Yer fine. I actually like the art. That phoenix? It’s brilliant.”

Your breath hitched, the tears spilling over despite his reassuring words. He waited patiently as you wiped your face with trembling hands. “You mean that?” you whispered.

“Aye” he said, his voice a little lighter now. “And ye look like ye could use a break. Come on, I ken a food stand round the corner. Best noodles ye’ll ever taste.”

The food stand was modest, but the aroma of spices and broth was heavenly. Hazard handed over a few bills to the vendor and sat across from you at one of the rickety tables.

As you ate, he leaned back, watching you with curiosity. “So” he said, breaking the silence, “what’s got ye out here paintin’ at this hour? Most folk’d be in bed.”

You paused, your fork halfway to your mouth. The words came reluctantly at first, but his calm demeanor made it easier to talk. “I… left home a while ago” you admitted. “My parents—they didn’t see art as a real job. They thought it was a waste of time, a waste of me.”

Hazard’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing, letting you continue.

“They’d yell, tell me to focus on something ‘useful.’ But this—” you gestured toward your bag of paints—“this is all I’ve ever wanted to do. So I left. Been couch-surfing, sometimes sleeping out here, just… trying to get by.”

He nodded slowly, his sharp features softening. “That’s rough, nae doubt. But fer what it’s worth, I reckon ye’re doin’ the right thing. Stuff them that say art’s no a real job. Yer work’s got heart. That’s more than most folk can say.”

His words hit you like a warm wave, easing the tightness in your chest. “Thanks” you murmured.

“Nae bother” he said, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Ye ken, I think Susie’d like ye.”

“Susie?” you asked, confused.

“Aye” Hazard said, leaning back with a grin. “She’s a friend. She’s got a knack fer art herself—tattooing mostly. She’d probably take one look at yer phoenix and start ramblin’ about how tae capture it in metal.”

Your eyes widened. “You have an omnic friend?”

Hazard’s grin softened into something more genuine. “Aye. We’ve got…history. She’s one of the few folk I trust. And if she likes someone, they’re usually alright.” He paused, giving you a look. “I reckon she’d like ye. Ye’ve got that same spark.”

The unexpected compliment caught you off guard, and for the first time in a long while, you felt yourself smile.

“Tell ye whit” Hazard said, standing up and gesturing for you to follow. “I’ve got a wee hideout no far from here. Safe, warm, quiet. Ye can crash there if ye need a place. No strings attached. And if ye’re up fer it, maybe I’ll introduce ye tae Susie or the gang sometime. She’ll probably want tae see yer work.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Why would you help me?”

Hazard chuckled, leaning back again. “Because I ken what it’s like tae be on yer own, fightin’ tae do what ye love. And besides…” He glanced at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yer art’s too good tae waste on walls no one sees. I’d hate tae see ye give up on it.”

His sincerity caught you off guard. For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. But there was no malice in his expression, no ulterior motive you could detect.

“Alright” you said finally. “Lead the way.”

As you followed him through the quiet streets, your heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break you’d been waiting for—a chance to start over, to create freely without fear.

And with Hazard by your side, you felt like you could finally begin to rise, just like the phoenix in your mural.

[asmileforyourscrapbooks]

It's the summer of 2001.

Joe meets Patrick and he’s like, “Yo! i know about music.” and Patrick’s like, “Yo! I know more about music~!” “THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!111 ...Do you wanna start a band?” and Patrick’s like, “Yeah, that’s cool” and then he’s like, “Yo! this is a bookstore, it’s not a music store!” And then they met at Patrick’s house. so, Patrick’s wearing shorts and socks and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin’ reason. and Pete’s there for some reason. they start playing music together and they’re like, “oh, let’s play some fucking covers from some other bands!” there was like Green Day, and fucking Misfits, and fuckin Ramones. Pete said to Joe, “Yo! We gotta change this shit up!” — HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH — *sips beer* — “Yo, we played all these bands, let’s play shit from Fall Out Boy” and so Pete and Patrick were like, “Yo, that’s dope. but we need a fucking drummer!” because Patrick’s playing drums and he’s a singer! Patrick’s like, “Yo! I got a soul voice!” and they’re like, “wait! how do you have a soul voice?” and he’s like, “Yo, watch this – YEAAAAAYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAEEEEEEEHEEEEEYEEEEHEEEEHHH” and they’re like, “ Oh my God, that sounds like soul!” so they put it in a song, it was like, “WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHTTTTTTT” — THHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH — and then they’re like, “Yo, that’s fuckin perfect. this is fall out boy” — *drinks beer* —

And they made records like ‘Evening out with your ex-girlfriend’ Evening out with your ex-girlfriend everybody loves it — “It’s called evening out with your girlfriend” — With your ex-girlfriend? It’s called evening out with your ex-girlfriend. It’s called eating out your girlfriend and it’s real and it doesn’t matter.

And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like, “yooo, what the fuuuuuck!!?? YO THIS IS GONNA BE FUCKIN DOOOPE” so they made a record and it was called ‘Take This to Your Grave’. They made it without a drummer! and they had like three, four drummers come in; the four drummers ahead come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Peart, the dude from Toto — tnghhhh — the fourth one was like the guy from like Papa Roach or something. And they’re like, “Yo, we need Andy Hurley.” “Andy Hurley, Take This To Your Grave, fuckin record it.” And he did it and he killed it and he was like, “BEGEDEGEDUGUDLULULUHHHLAHLAH BSHHH” Killin the skins! Tappin the skins! Tappin the rim! Playing the shit! Killin these bitches! Wrappin it out! — THAHAHA YOU’RE GETTING A FUCKING TATTOO RIGHT NOW!! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING OON!!?? —

“We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, cuz these guys know what the fuck is going on” they were like, “yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is which is not fucking hard -” — tnghhh — “- we will sign you guys” he was like, “yo! we got this record that’s fuckin dope dude!” it’s called Take This To Your Grave. It’s called From Under The Cork Tree, it’s gonna be fucking huge. And then Patrick was like, “I gotta keep it real. I gotta keep it artistic. These are - These are three songs that are gonna make the album it’s called — *burp* — this is called Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, Twenty Dollar Nosebleed, and Sugar, We’re Goin Down. And they made this record that was fuckin dope and they fucking hit on the charts like ONE, TWO, THREE! THREE, TWO, ONE! THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEEENNN! TEN TO ONE! From Under The Cork Tree sold like four million records… ten million records… FIFTEEN MILLION RECORDS!

And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record! And Patrick was like, “THAT’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDD”

Pete was like, “Yo, fuck you! I can do whatever I want!” Joe was like, “Yeah, that’s cool man whatever I don’t give a shit” and then Andy was like, “Eh. Cool!” and Pete was like, “Makeup is fuckin great for a guy because it makes a guy look beautiful which a lot of times a guy is not beautiful and i wanna change that. I wanna make sure that everybody thinks that guys are beautiful”

— SPIT. SPIT. SPIT. “I’m good so far” “Do you wanna spit one more time?” “Yeah, I do.” SPIT. SPIT. SPIT. NGHHH SHUT THE FUCK! HAHAHA OH FUCK ALRIGHT ALRIGHT —

Pete was like, “Oh my god! I’m so embarrassed about this dick pic!” and then I saw the dick pic and I was like, “Eh, it’s not bad! It’s not a bad dick. Let’s be real.”

We made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so PISSED! they were like, “yo, fuck you guys!” They’re like, “YO PANIC! HAS THE FUCKING COVER OF ROLLING STONE!? YO FUCK THESE DUDES WE’RE GONNA FUCKING GO MILES ABOVE! WE’RE GONNA HIT EVERY FUCKING CONTINENT THERE IS KNOWN TO MAN!” but they didn’t! because they missed a second of time! Apparently, they were like, “Oh shit we got every continent!” When they didn’t actually hit it.

Dude, Pete was like, “WHAT THE FUCK!?!?” OOOOH YOU DIDN’T FUCKIN MAKE THE CONTINENT! IT’S LIKE FUCK YOU!

So From Under The Cork Tree happens we fuckin have three four years of awesomeness like people were coming on themselves cuz it’s so big.

Alright, so Fall Out Boy was like —

So Patrick was like, “Yo we’re gonna name this record From ooo - From Under The Cork Tree and from Inninity from EHEHAHA From Infinity on High.

Pete was like, "Yo, Folie A Deux means the theatric of two” — “The Madness of Two” “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” —

Fall Out Boy was like, “Yo, we gotta take a break” meaning Pete was like, “Yo, we gotta take a break bro” and Patrick’s like “I need time for my music - OOOOUUNGHHH” and Joe’s like, “Yo, I need time to find the fuckin art dude i gotta find some fuckin muh-metal” and andy’s like, “I’m just gonna play with some fuckin metal bands :D” and they’re like, “Alright, this break’s from like three years long two years long three years long three and a half?” “we gotta fuckin come back man we gotta come back STRONG”

— YOU TOOK MY BEER AWAY WHAT THE FUCK “you poured it all over yourself” —

“We gotta make this shit legit, it’s gonna be fuckin dope it’s gonna go fuckin sky high! we’re gonna make a fuckin record that sails the skies!” “skieees” “we’re gonna call this record: Save Rock and Roll”

So they made Alone Together, Light Em Up, Alone Together, The Phoenix. Everyone was like, “What the fuuuck?? you were going to the sky you fucking recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk!” — “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ON MY SHIRT DID I PEE ON MYSELF?” “You poured beer all over yourself” “oh god” —

Pete was like, “Yo, we’re gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and Twenty Pilots” TAHAHA *burp. spit.*

And that’s all. And that’s all that matters. and that’s just how the fuckin story goes.

[lvgrrqs]

LIGHT STING — E. WILLIAMS.

summary. ellie williams with an s/o who’s getting a tattoo for the first time!

no warnings besides some slight cursing and maybe incorrect performance on giving a tattoo.

note. i’ve gotten to see two concerts back to back and i’m so happy about that :) just in a good mood because of it so i’m trying to write better things besides that mini series i pulled from my ass.

word count. 815

ellie williams. who holds your hand as you enter the quaint tattoo shop together. she’s sure to be by your side even when you were first planning on getting your own tattoo.

“how did it feel when you got yours?” you asked as she held the door open for you with her free hand, allowing you inside first. “eh, just a light sting.” she hummed in response. but she knew that everyone’s pain tolerance was different, and knowing you, you wouldn’t just feel a ‘light sting’ as she had. “i’ll be there to watch you and possibly hold your hand if you need it. worst case, you’ll get a stress ball or pass o-“ she stopped her words at your face, nervously laughing off how fast your head had spun to look at her. “pass what now!?”

ellie williams. who borderline had to bribe you back into your own idea of getting a tattoo with your favorite lollipop and a frown on her face.

yeah, it probably wasn’t the best thing that she let that part slip, but she was able to successfully get you from walking outside of that tattoo shop. “i’m sorry sweet thing, that’s on me. but you got this, i know you do.” she attempted to cheer your spirit, which she did with no effort as a smile lifted upon your lips. “thanks els, but do you think i could actually get that stress ball?”

ellie williams. who sat nearby as the tattoo artist kindly complimented the stress ball you currently had in your hands, thankful that they were so kind and understanding about your first experience with something like this.

“now, you ready?” the artist sat down next to you, materials on a table next to her as your stencil had already been placed down onto your arm. “yeah, i really like the placement.” ellie’s eyes followed your gaze down to where your forearm was, a small collection of butterfly’s in a morphed, twisted design sat inches above your wrist. the design was a mock of her tattoos, which you admired heavily. “it’s a nice design, matches your girlfriends.”

ellie williams. who’s asked to sit out because of how watchful she’s being over you.

oh where did it go wrong.

“i understand you’re looking out for them, but you can’t stand there and tell me how to do my job.” you looked back and forth between ellie and the tattoo artist, both facing off as you sat back in the chair, stressball still in hand. “well you’re obviously hurting them! you don’t see how they’re jumping?” “els, im fine. it’s a tattoo, i’ll be okay.” “i’ve been around tattoos for a long time, okay? i know how people act and why.”

“if you knew as much as you claimed, you would be giving the tattoo.” the artist sighed, looking at you. “i’m going to have to ask her to leave, but i doubt she’s going to listen to me.” with an understanding look, you got up as ellie started rambling on about ‘how can you talk to them like i’m not standing right here??’

briefly, you led ellie back to the front of the building and sat her down. mumbling, she looked up at you and then at the unfinished tattoo. “you sure you’re okay? it’s your first tattoo, i know i freaked you out earlier-“ “i’m fine, it’s like you said. feels like a light sting, i’ll probably feel it later though.” with a relieved sigh, she finally sat back without a problem and let you go back to the back to finish the task at hand.

ellie williams. who finally sees your finished tattoo a while later.

she’s absolutely grinning like an idiot when she sees your smile and the pep in your step and you approach her. your arm is extended out to show the tattoo off to her, and anyone else who happens to pass out. “look! oh my god, it’s perfect.” you swoon out, meeting ellie’s gaze. “it is perfect, i really like seeing you excited like this.” “we should go get more sometime soon.” you practically demanded

“let’s let that one heal first, and then we’ll see.” she promised.

ellie williams. who totally takes pictures just to post them and show it off to her friends.

your phone went off as soon as you got back home and said goodbye to els so she could head home herself. it was a new post she had tagged you in, which you found weird because you just closed the door.

captioned, “u wish u were this kind of cool.”

followed by her story including a picture of her flipping off the tattoo artist working on your arm from around the corner, both you and the artist unaware. she even had the audacity to tag the tattoo shop - you probably wouldn’t be welcomed back anytime soon.

© lvgrrps 2023 — all rights reserved.

[wosowrites]

Tattoo Tour (Ona Batlle x Reader )

Warnings: none! pure fluff

A/N: I had to invent some meanings to Ona’s tattoos bcs obviously i don’t know what they all actually mean. UPDATE: this fic rly flopped oops

Prompt: reader and ona play for man united and are doing a tattoo tour video for manchester uniteds youtube chanel.

"You guys ready?" The media manager asks, looking between you and Ona. "Yeah, let’s do it!" Ona answered, her spanish accent making your heart melt for her. You two had been together for over a year and a half now, but every day, your love for her grew even more.

"Okay, 3,2,1, rolling!" The woman behind the camera said. "Hey red devils! I’m y/n y/l/n…" you start saying, "and I am Ona Batlle…" Ona finished, "and today we are doing a tattoo tour. We both have a lot of tattoos. I think i have 9 and Ona has… 8?" you say, turning to Ona. "Sí, eight." "Right, so we’ll be showing them off to you guys, and explaining what they mean. So… let’s do it!" you finished the introduction and the camera woman cut the video taping. "Which tattoos do we show first?" Ona asks, turning to you. "Uhmm… I think i’ll start with my arms. I have three on my left and two on my right." You told her. "Okay, i’ll do my back first." Ona said. "But we should show our matching tattoo at the same time." She then added. "Yeah, of course."

Ona started unzipping her training jacket, leaving her in her sports bra. Ona had always been very comfortable with her body, often posting more revealing pictures on instagram, you were always the one behind the camera. So, you follow suite, unzipping your training top, revealing a red, manchester united muscle tank so that you could easily show your arms. "Giving the fans a show, eh?" Ona whispered lovingly into your ear. "Aren’t you to one with your abs out?" You answered, looking down at the shorter girl. "Yeah, but you have guns." Ona said, poking your bicep.

Little did they know, the camera had started rolling already. "Guys, we’re rolling." The camera woman said, laughter in her voice. "Oops… sorry." Ona said, blushing. "Okay! Ona is going to start, she’s going to show us the three tattoos on her back, while i’ll show you the ones on my arm. Then we’ll move on. Good?" You said, turning to your girlfriend at the last part. "Muy bien." She answered. "You start." You told her.

Ona turned around and started talking about her tattoos. "I got the lion when I was 22, a few months after I met y/n actually. I think it’s kind of a reminder to stay fearless, while still being kind and caring. Lions are known to be protective animals and y/n always calls me protective even though she’s 10 times more protective than I am." Ona says, laughing as you roll your eyes. "When your girlfriend is teeny and gets thrown all over the place on the pitch, you get pretty protective." You simply answer. "Ha, ha." Ona says.

A camera man comes up to the duo to get a close up of the artistic lion on Ona’s back. "Then I have this sentence right here." Ona said as you traced your finger under the sentence. "It’s in spanish but it translates to 'love should be a two sided coin' and it’s something my abuela always used to tell me. She’s never cared that I like girls, as long as the one I love loves me just as much." Ona explained.

Once again, the camera zoomed in on the sentence. "Okay it’s a short video so show yours y/n/n!" Ona said, giving you her full attention.

Despite your strong build, you were known in the world of women’s football as a pretty shy person, so every time Ona’s eyes met yours, your blush would give you away. It was something you and your best friend, Jessie Fleming, shared. "Okay. Sure." You said, turning to the main camera. "First things first. Almost all my tattoos have stories behind them, so bare with me. Speaking of, my first tattoo is a bears head." You say, turning your left bicep towards the camera and pointing to the tattoo that was about the size of your fist. "This was actually my first tattoo, which is kind of weird because usually people opt for a smaller one as their first. But I kind of just went straight for it. My teammates at UCLA used to call me bear, which is weird when you don’t know the backstory. Bears are used in two common expressions. Soft like a teddy bear, and strong like a bear. And they always used to say that those sentences both described me." You say, a camera coming and filming the tattoo up close.

You don’t notice Ona smiling at you, her eyes almost twinkling. "Then on my forearm-" you say, turning your arm to show words. "-I have the words rationed trust. That’s kind of simple honestly, never trust just one person. Then, on the back of my hand I have butterflies. Butterflies are my favorite animal. I’ve had butterflies land on me during football games like… three times. They’re just really special to me." You say, smiling at the two butterflies. "I’m gonna hurry this up a bit to get back to Oni but on my other arm I have two tattoos. One of which i’ll let Ona explain. but on the back of my arm I have a bike. Which is matching with Jessie Fleming, who’s one of my best friends in the entire world. We got them after our first year of university because we would bike everywhere, all the time and it became one of our favorite activities." You finished explaining, smiling at the camera.

You looked at Ona, staring at her as though she was the most mesmerizing person in the universe. Which, to you, she was. "A lot of people have caught on to this but we’ve never actually confirmed it. We both have a tattoo in the crook of our arm that says lover. We’re pretty big Taylor Swift fans and well, yeah." Ona says. "Plus this one here is really corny. She always says how people would tell her not to get matching tattoos with partners because what if you break up. And she always says 'the pain of getting the tattoo removed would be nothing compared to the pain of loosing Ona. So I don’t care.' " Ona quotes you. "Hey! Now everyone’s gonna think you have me wrapped around your pinky." You pout at her. "Oh but I do." Ona joked, all thought she wasn’t really joking.

Ona then explained a couple more of her tattoos, and you pointed out the whale on your rib cage, the human heart on your upper left back, the olympic rings on your hip bone, and the daisy, rose, and orchid bouquet behind your ear.

Finally, the video wrapped up, and you and Ona were free to go home.

THE WEEK AFTER:

"Oh my god guys you need to see this." Alessia Russo said, rushing towards you and Ona. Ella was right beside her, smirking. Alessia was on tik tok and pressed play on a video. It seemed to be a fan page for you and ona. the username was onaxy/n and in the caption it said 'I will never ever get over how y/n looks at Ona.'

The song playing was MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT by Elley Duhé, and at the beat drop, clips from the tattoo tour video were played, edited in sync with the audio. Clips of you looking at Ona with so much love in your eyes, the clip of you tracing Ona’s tattoo with your index, clips of you smiling down at her like she was the only person in the world.

"People are obsessed with you two." Ella said as the edit ended. "Is that how you look at me?" Ona said, smiling at you. "I don’t know! I didn’t notice I was doing that." You answered, your cheeks burning. "It is. All the time." Lessi answered, smiling cheekily. "Ha! You looove meeee!" Ona said, teasing her girlfriend. "Don’t get cocky Ona, you look at her like that too." Ella said, giggling and rushing off with Alesia. "You were saying?" You said, smirking at your girlfriend. "Te amo, bebé," Ona said, kissing you sweetly.

[riveroftales]

:+:-・:+:-・𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍:+:-・:+:-

ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ ɢɪʏᴜᴜ x ғᴇᴍ! ғʟᴏʀɪsᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝘾𝙒! 𝖦𝗂𝗒𝗎𝗎'𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾

“Hello!” You smiled as you walked in the tattoo parlour, holding a box. “I have a delivery?”

“Oh! Hi!” A pretty girl with one tatted arm of a swarm of butterflies smiled back. “Are those the African Violets?”

“Mhm! Got 5 small pots in it, just as requested.”

“Thank you so much! You can leave them on the counter, and I believe the manager already paid?”

You listened to the girl, gently dropping the box near the register.

“Eh? I was told I’d be paid in person after I delivered it.”

“Ah, I see! Please wait for a bit then, I’ll go get the manager.”

You nodded as the girl walked away. Looking around, you took in the sight of the parlour. The whole place was kept neat and you saw a few bottles of tattoo ink.

Looking at the posters on the wall, you wondered if you could also get one.

What would it be?

As cliche as it was, you wanted a flower tattoo. A pretty flower of any kind.

There are a lot of pretty flowers.

“Hello.” A man emerged from the back.

But he’s prettier than flowers.

“Kocho, the girl you saw here, reminded me about the payment.” There wasn’t an expression present on his face, but his demeanour was soft.

“It’s fine. Honestly, things like this happen.” You smiled softly.

The man cleared his throat.

“How much is it?”

“$30.”

“Do you take credit?”

You nodded as you took your phone out.

“Yup! Just scan this and we’ll be good to go!”

He unlocked his own phone before scanning the QR code you put up on your screen.

“Thank you for your purchase!”

You sprayed the small bonsai tree on your windowsill with a spray bottle, humming along to the soft music you were playing in the back. The door opened.

“Oh! Welcome!” You smiled warmly to the customer, just for a blush to rise to your face.

The handsome tattoo artist.

“Hey.” He scratched the back of his head. “I.. Uhm. I need to make a new purchase.”

“Of course! Please feel free to look around and take your pick! I’ll make sure to deliver it myself as well.”

To your surprise, he laughed softly.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I’d like to make a new purchase for you. I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

STAY CALM STAY CALM STAY CALM STAY CALM STAY CALM STAY CALM STAY CALM.

“Eh?”

“I don’t really like stalling.. you already should have my number on your order history. Just text me a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. If it’s ’no’, that’s fine. If it’s a ‘yes’, you can send me your address if you want me to pick you up. Be ready by 7:30 PM.” He smiled softly before putting his hands in his pockets, turning around to leave the shop.

“Wait!” You stopped. “How are you so confident I’ll come?”

He smiled. “You go on blind dates, right? Only difference is that you know what I look like.”

A small laugh came out of you.

“See you then, princess.”

A smile formed on your expression as you recalled the memory. You finished cutting the stems of your flowers and you started to arrange them.

You relocated your office. The store was still the same, but now, your office was in a different part. It was facing the tattoo parlour right across.

You could still remember how the parlour was once the size of a small grocery store, but now, it had undergone renovations and it looked better than ever. You counted 7 new clients.

My Love, you still ready for tonight?

You received a text.

Yep! Just gotta finish a small arrangement for a client who’s getting married soon

You got a response almost immediately.

That’s odd. I don’t remember proposing to you?

GIYUU

I’m kidding, Princess <3

You let out a small huff before smiling. Finishing the arrangement, you put it away at a safe spot in your office before grabbing your bag and walking to the other side of the road to the tattoo parlour.

You wanted to spend a little more time with Giyuu even though you were still going out for a date later that evening. Time just felt so beautiful when you were with him. A little unfortunately, you forgot your phone at your office and hence didn’t see the next two messages from him.

<<Image attachment>>

Heads up: I’m going to propose to you tonight with this ring. Don’t cry, okay? Just say yes or no. I’ll wait as long as it takes. I love you <3 get all dolled up for me, okay?

Ahhhh low-key hate this but I was desperate to upload smth T^T

I MIGHT rewrite this later bsjsjsjsjsj

[lunarcrown]

Question! But how did you get into doing tattoos? :D

OOOO!!! Ok so I ACTUALLY wanted to be a stop motion animation and I have my bachelors in it and EVERYTHING….(pictured: me on a set WAY BACK IN THE DAY animating for my friend)

BUT LIFE HAS CURVEBALLS and mine came in the form of me being really bad at putting myself out there, over saturation of animators in a VERY extra small field, and painful student debt (that still assails me to this day……..OTL I’ll be paying till I’m a billion years old PLEASE DONT TAKE OUT LOANS FOR ART SCHOOL!!!!!!)

SO I kinda bummed around for a while, working shitty jobs (I hate u 7/11) and ok jobs (I love you Barnes and noble) and generally just fuzzy through life, and THEN I had the amazing opportunity to show my portfolio to a tattoo artist that a friend knew!!!! Now I didn’t HAVE a portfolio but BOY HOWDY I MADE ONE!!!!! And he said “ok come be an apprentice” and I said OH HELL YEAH!!!! Now as for my apprenticeship, it was EH…..I taught myself a lot of stuff and I never got hazed but my mentor turned out to be kinda uncool.

BUT I graduated and now I work at a women/queer owned shop where we all do our own appointments so I can make my own schedule and we have gallery nights and it’s AWESOME!!!! I’m still not great at basically being a “small business” and promoting myself but my clients are amazing and I’m hoping to keep growing!!!

And here’s a lil clip of me tattooing at my first ever tattoo convention!!!! YIPPEE!!!

AND the finished tattoo!! (It wrapped a lot/terrible con lighting but it was SICK!!!)

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics that feature DILF Harry. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) You Make My Heart Beat Like The Rain | Explicit | 6611 words | Sequel 1 | Sequel 2

"You're stunning, eh?" Harry whispers, his Canadian accent thick with lust. It usually slips out when he gets horny because he knows it turns Louis on. Harry presses his lips into the curve of his neck. His hot breath makes Louis shiver. He opens his eyes and sees Harry's bigger, tattooed arms wrapped around him, completely engulfing his smaller frame—and, fuck, maybe he is up for it.

Why does his boyfriend have to be such a fucking DILF? He blames it on a twitter thread he read a few weeks ago.

2) Coldest With The Kiss, Nice With The Cream | Mature | 11136 words

Louis has a thing for older guys, no one knows why but he just does.

Harry is a lonely dad.

And oh, Damien loves yellow a little too much.

3) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Mature | 24610 words

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

4) My End And My Beginning | Explicit | 24749 words

When Louis starts as an intern at a new company, he becomes particularly fond of the boss’ five children. And maybe the boss himself as well.

5) I’ll Find A Home Inside Your Heart | Explicit | 25808 words

In awe Louis stared up at him, his eyes wide and his lips parted. “I don’t usually make it a habit to go on dates with my clients,” he breathed.

Harry grinned, his touch light as he carefully swept a strand of hair out of Louis’ eyes. “Make an exception for me?” He asked cheekily, chuckling when Louis rolled his eyes.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Louis snorted and let Harry link their fingers together where they rested on the countertop. Finally, a shy smile crept onto those pretty pink lips of his and with his hands on his hips, Louis jut his chin out. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Of course, Harry didn’t need to be asked twice.

6) Sedative Duty. | Explicit | 46588 words

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press,  Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

7) Somebody To Love | Explicit | 51471 words

A hesitant fist hovers, ready to knock on the hard surface, when suddenly the door swings open revealing a small child with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“You’re here, finally!” She beams up at him, haphazardly brushing her orange hair away from her eyes.

He can’t help but let a grin fill his face at her anticipation. Bunching his pants at his ankles, he crouches down to her level. “You must be Margret.”

“Actually, only my daddy calls me that when I’m in trouble,” she explains with an assertive tone. “So you can call me Margo.”

“Well, Margo, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

8) This Is How You Fall In Love | Explicit | 53538 words

When Harry Styles' 16 year old daughter dragged him along to see her favourite artist, Louis Tomlinson, in concert, the last thing he had expected was to be invited backstage. Unaware his life was about to change forever.

9) The Bachelor | Explicit | 53953 words

“Don’t tell me, you’re Lola,” Louis pointed at the little girl and she crowded her father’s leg shyly, sticking her thumb in her mouth.

Harry chuckled lightly and cupped the back of her head with a large palm, his calloused hands catching the fine strands of her hair.

“She’s shy,” Harry told him. “Plus you swore mighty loud…M'Harry by the way,” he stuck his free hand forward, his diction belying his way of life- slow and casual.

The somewhat dainty-looking loud-mouth flicked a look to his hand, then back to his face. Harry waited patiently for him to take it.

“Louis,” he finally shared, clasping Harry’s hand with his smaller one and giving it a gentle squeeze, placing his other over the top of both of theirs. “Tomlinson,” he added. “I’m your personal assistant,” he added.

10) Ever I Saw | Explicit | 58342 words

Daisy Road Ranch.  A place for those in need to receive the help they deserve, even when they may not believe it.  A place where they don’t have to fear what, or whom they left behind.  A place where they can find themselves, or find a different way of coping with their issues.  Daisy Road Ranch.  A therapy ranch for those who’ve been abused.

Louis needs to find himself again.  Harry wants to help.  Can they find their way?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[drabbles-mc]

Permanent Investments

Opie Winston & OC Chris Teller

Warnings: 18+, language

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: cherry blossom

Word Count: 500

A/N: the universe can pry teenager!Opie from my cold dead hands!!! i have a whole multichap in the works for these two that i just...haven't finished....but that's a problem for future me lmao. for now we have this! and my burning rage over how few pictures/gifs/etc there are of young-20's ryan hurst. i will continue to be mad about that on my own time.

“I think you’re over-thinking it,” Opie said as he watched Chris pore over all the designs on the walls.

She didn’t even bother turning around to look at him as the response easily rattled off her tongue. “I think, as usual, you’re under-thinking it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before taking two strides across the room so that he landed next to her. He tried to figure out which one exactly she was looking at without having to ask her—much like her, he didn’t even know where to start. “It’s just a tattoo.”

That got her to turn and face him. “Yeah, it’s just something that’s going to be on my body forever. Clearly you and Jax and, fuckin’, everyone else in the club don’t really care but right now I do.”

He shrugged, not taking the bait and getting riled up along with her. “You’ll get over it eventually.”

She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the options plastered up on the wall. “That does me no good now.”

There was a smirk on his face as he lifted his hand and pointed to one of the designs, the overhead light glinting off the rings on his fingers. They were new, Chris had noticed. He was trying new things, trying to figure out who he was and what he liked. Not unlike her in that way.

“This cute little pink flower seems like you.”

His tone might’ve sounded genuine to any bystanders, but Chris could hear the sarcasm underneath the suggestion. She wanted to be annoyed, and part of her was, but more than that she had to admit she was amused as she laughed. “Yeah, you know, I don’t quite think I’m a cherry blossom kinda girl, Ope.”

“Gonna get a skull instead?”

“Eh,” she waved him off, “that’s more yours and Jax’s speed.”

“Just get my name, then,” he joked, knowing it’d get a rise out of her.

“That’d be a waste of ink,” she replied easily, the smile she gave him taking any malice out that the statement might’ve had under different circumstances.

“Wouldn’t take that much ink,” he shot back as he mirrored her grin.

She pretended to give it real thought even though they both knew it would never happen. “That seems more like a fifth or sixth tattoo kind of investment.”

He watched her for another moment longer as she gave up looking at the potential designs on the walls and picked up one of the books of the artist’s work instead. Her fingers manipulated the pages so easily, almost gentle in stark contrast to so much of how she tended to present herself to the world.

He watched her, still smiling even though she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Let’s start getting the first four done, then.”

There was a soft smile on her face even though she wasn’t looking at him, eyes still scanning and studying the drawings in front of her. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: A Good Man (Issue #1)

Here it is. 

Moon Knight Issue #1: The Macabre Moon Knight. 

Written by Doug Moench

Art by Bill Sienkiewicz

Published 1980

If you’ve been following me, I’ve covered the history, the development, the creation, and the evolution of Moon Knight. I’ve covered the writers, the artists, the drama, and the glory of the comic. 

If you haven’t been following me and this is your first run in, please, go back and check out the other reviews. I’ve saved this one for last for a reason and with this one ends the official Moench run. Moench did write Moon Knight’s other appearances from 1975-1980, but they aren’t considered the OG run and while some of them are referenced a lot (See the death of Randall Spector), they had very little impact on the events of the main run from 1980 onward. 

Moench later returns for two special events (mostly to fix a problem that another writer caused), and I may cover those later. But for now, I’m bidding a very emotional goodbye to the OG run and to Moench. 

So… Let’s get this bread for the last time. 

We open on the title page. 

"At dawn, in the Sudan, the memory of the night's merciless cold lingers in the bones while the day's withering heat has already begun to sear the flesh. 

It was at dawn that the mercenary commando squad under the command of the skull-faced terrorist-for-hire, Bushman, hits the rebel camp just south of the Egyptian border. At Bushman's side rode his second in command, Marc Spector.

Thus, Marc Spector begins this day as a soldier-for-hire. He is fated to end it as something else." 

"The slaughter is swift--and soon..." 

We see Bushman and Marc talking in the desert, surrounded by the fallen. 

"An easy victory, Spector... And yet, you do not exult in it!" 

"Maybe I'm remembering I'm a professional soldier--not a butcher! Or maybe It's just the heat." 

"You are too good a man to go soft, Spector! You must be bloodthirsty...Ruthless to survive in our profession!

Fear is the key! You must strike total fear into the hearts of your enemies...And your followers as well! That is why I had my face tattooed into a mask of death! I have become an almost mythical figure of terror!" 

"That's the role you choose to play. I don't!" 

Marc throws his gun aside in a fit of anger. He has been working for the Bushman for a while now. Unclear if it is years, months, or weeks. But he is listed as his second in command. The Bushman recognized that Marc was very good at what he did. Anything that had to do with war, combat, weapons… Marc was the best. So the Bushman has decided to take Marc under his tutelage to try to turn him into a ruthless killing machine that will simply follow the next war and the next. For the Bushman, it isn’t about the money. It’s about the battle. 

While Marc always describes his past as being bloody and himself as being a killer and nothing more, we see flashbacks in later issues that often depicted Marc as a man at war with his own soft heart. He often showed mercy and pity to those he came across when he was alone. 

At that moment the chopper returns, Frenchy has brought them new orders. 

“Good Morning, Frenchy!” 

“Perhaps not so good, Marc… I have stolen a look at Bushman’s secret papers. It is clear to me now that we are fighting for the wrong side… No matter what the pay is.” 

“Clear to both of us, Friend!” 

“Perhaps we should plan a leave taking, eh?” 

“Quiet! Here comes Bushman.” 

Frenchy met Marc before they joined under Bushman. He very quickly allied himself as Marc’s only friend and followed him every since. It’s clear that while Frenchy is a highly skilled pilot and weapons expert, he is not as geared towards physical combat as Marc is. They became a team. Though we don’t get Frenchy’s story until much later. He has his own ghosts. 

Bushman tells them that they are going to Selima. 

The Selima Oasis is located in Sudan, west of the Nile and ancient site of Amara West. It sits along an ancient road that leads into Egypt. 

This was a huge waypoint for travelers in ancient days, as it has easy access to fresh water. 

Not a lot of archaeological work was done at Selima. Sudan has a rough history of war and the likes. Today, Selima sits as a military outpost. 

Marc protests: "But... There are no rebels in that area." 

"True! But rumor has it that an American archeologist found a pharaoh's tomb there! If a tomb has been found, there's gold to be had!" 

What’s interesting here is that Marc protests that “No Egyptian tombs have ever been found so far south of Luxor… But anything’s possible.” 

The fact that Marc knows this tells us a few things: 1. Marc knows his geography. 2. Marc knows the archeological history of the area. 3. Marc knows Egypt. It’s possible that Marc has been to dig sites before, and even more possible that he was interested in Egyptology at some point and read up on the tombs and pharaohs. It’s also possible that as he fought in that area a lot, he spoke to the local people and learned about the areas he was working in. 

Marc asks Bushman if going hunting for treasure is worth the lives that are going to be lost in the process of taking Selima. When he’s dismissed, he angrily confides in Frenchy that he’s had it. They make plans to leave that night. 

Next we find a small peaceful town that, as Marc has already pointed out, is not involved in their war. “When once again the crescent moon shines wanly across the desert, the raid begins–Hard, fast and deadly! The town’s small militia meets death in the darkened streets…” 

In a house on the town square, we find a man and his daughter. 

"Father, who can they be? What do they want?" 

"It is...Bushman! I've heard the townspeople speak of him in frightened whispers!" 

It's Marlene and her father! 

Dr. Alraune knows that word of their discovery has leaked out and now Bushman and "his band of cutthroats" are there to take the treasures for themselves. 

He decides to stop Bushman himself. Taking a dagger, he tells Marlene to wait in the house. 

Outside, Bushman is telling his men to "Search every house! Gather all the civilians and line them up in the square!" 

Yeah...Historically, when people are gathered by force and 'lined up', it hasn't ended well for them. 

In this one moment, Marc lets his instincts take over and he stops Dr. Alraune from killing Bushman. This is the moment that will drive Marc Spector for years. 

He watches Bushman brutally murder Dr. Alraune. 

This is the moment Marc breaks away from what is expected of him. The moment he tries to do the right thing. 

And here, he meets Marlene. It doesn’t go well. She calls him a killer and he tries to deny it but then… “Spector’s protest dies in his throat. If he hadn’t stopped the old man’s thrust, perhaps he would yet live.” 

Marc can only see himself as a killer. In failing to save the old man, he views himself as having assisted in his murder. 

“Yeah… I killed him! And I’ll kill you unless you get out fast, woman! Now beat it!” 

“Is this how you ease your conscience, Pig? I pray that you die the death you deserve!” 

Bushman tells Marc he's growing too soft. But the girl will leave a trail that they can follow and since Marc DID save his life, he deides to over look this one little issue. 

Frenchy returns and Marc is eager to leave. "We've got to leave now... Before she gets too far!" 

"She---? What are you talking about?" 

"We've got to pick up a girl in the desert! I'll explain later! Let's go!" 

"All right, Marc... But I think you are crazy! The copter is this way!" 

But just then, Marc notices that Bushman has gathered up all the other villagers and archeologists and has a firing squad aimed at them, ready to gun them down. 

"Wait! What's Bushman doing over there? Those are civilians! They can't be planning to-- They are! Got to stop them!" 

"Marc! No! You can do nothing---" 

Marc runs to try to stop Bushman but it's too late. The guns go off and the civilians fall. 

"You... Gunned them down in cold blood! You filthy murderer! I should have let the old man kill you!" 

Now, here’s where things mix with legend, lore, and myth. 

In some retellings of the story, Marc is shot and left for dead. In others he’s beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead. In both those renditions he wanders through the scorching desert. In Sudan, temperatures can reach up to 49.7 °C (121.5 °F). That is enough to kill a man of exposure (and Marc is not dressed for this. That bare chest and arms? Marc really? Protect yourself my friend…). 

“Morning! Already the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly upon Spector as he begins what he knows will be a long walk to his grave. Already his throat is dry… His eyes burn… Noon. He is trapped in a bright, bursting nightmare… He staggers on. Night. Blindly, mindlessly, like a mechanical man he crawls onward, though the wind whips the sand into a stinging storm…” 

"He does not remember standing, swaying--nor the shout--" 

"Look! Against the moon!" Some men point as Marc lurches up over a sand dune. 

He collapses and the men grab him, pulling him away from the raging sand storm. 

"take him into the tomb! I will go to missy's tent and tell her!" 

"Moments later, in the tomb of the Pharaoh Seti..." We see Marc being carried into the tomb where a familiar statue waits. 

Marlene appears asking who he is. 

One of the men, a local that was hired to help at the dig site, proclaims that Marc is dead. 

"Him! Good--He's one of those who killed my father--He deserves to be dead!" Marlene angrily proclaims. "Leave him where he belongs--Rotting here in this tomb. Go back to the packing--We leave as soon as the storm dies." 

Her anger leaves her. She can’t be glad that a man is dead. And Marc did save her from the same fate as her father. She wonders if this is what cost him his life. “He must have suffered horribly in the desert! He was…Handsome!” 

I suppose now is as good as any to acknowledge that this stranger mercenary dead guy is handsome. Someone make sure they put that on Marc’s tombstone. “He was handsome”. He’ll appreciate that. (too soon?) 

 As Marc lays dead and Marlene at last allows herself to cry, the statue of Khonshu looms over them. 

"Outside, the howling sandstorm scratches across the face of the crescent moon. Inside, the torches' flickering light dances upon the hoard or a long dead king. And the stony countenance of the dark god who stands guard over him..."

“Perhaps it is a natural phenomenon which causes Marc Spector’s heart to resume throbbing… Perhaps it is something else… Whatever the reason..” 

And we don’t get to know the reason. Was he really dead? Had he just had a very weak pulse? 

We already know Marc has knowledge about the tombs in the area. Is it too much to assume he also had knowledge about Egyptian mythology? 

What have we learned about Moench up to this point? He had already picked the name Marc Spector back in 1975 when he was introduced in WBN. He had then learned that it was a Jewish name and he had decided to go with it. How much research he did is unclear, but the man also seemed to understand that he was not the best one to dive into deeply Jewish themes. (And yet, inadvertently, he still did and he carried them out in such a wonderful way). We ALSO know that he had taken an interest, like many others had in that time, in what was then known as Multiple Personality Disorder. 

Marc Spector was introduced in 1975. In 1976, the movie "Sybil" came out. It was based on the book that came out in 1973. This was the first big public interest in this disorder and Hollywood ate it up. It’s hard to say WHEN Moench decided to add this into Marc Spector’s character. Perhaps when he first made him all those years ago if he read the book? Or perhaps not till this issue in 1980. 

And as much as Moench was limited in how to properly depict the disorder, he somehow managed to do a damn fine job of it. 

You see, in WBN we get to hear a bit about Marc Spector’s elusive past. To pick the paragraph from WBN: "We'll get to that in time, Mr. Spector. Right now, I find your dossier immensely interesting... Soldier of fortune, mercenary, veteran of THREE African wars, FIVE south American revolutions, Brief flirtation with the C.I.A., Weapons expert, versatile practitioner of virtually all the martial arts, ex-prizefighter, marine commando for Eight years prior to beating a Lieutenant within an inch of his life...Et cetera." 

We get a picture of a hardened man and yet here in this first issue… We see a man in conflict with the brutality of what he is expected to do and what he deems as right and just. 

So when Marc wakes up from his ‘death’, he declares "Where am I? WHO am I?" 

And in this moment of panic, trauma, and confusion, he spots the statue of Khonshu. A statue of protection, vengeance, and power. 

And in that moment, Marc settles in what he must do. 

"Yes... One of the gods of the Moon--Known as the taker of vengeance... A figure of terror." (a figure of fear, much like how Bushman was trying to teach him and mold him to be). 

…..Marc… What are you doing. You can’t just steal random ancient robes and declare it’s ‘yours now’ and run off with it. 

"Mister... You're delirious! you must be! You don't know what you're doing!" 

"Don't I? Don't the dead know what they're about? Because I did die, remember? I'm a ghost now... A Spectre of the moon... The Moon's Knight of vengeance--and I've got work to do." 

I have wanted to analyze the heck out of this for AGES. 

This is a common theme that Moench comes back to time and time and time again. 

Marc believes he died. More than that, there is a possibility that Marc believes he is still dead. 

A man at conflict with himself over his past, over what is expected of him, over what he himself wants to do vs what he always ends up doing. We find a man that wants to be on the good side. That wants to believe that maybe he's helping someone despite knowing that he is causing death and destruction. 

This later turns into a man that despises himself. That thinks of himself as only a ruthless evil murderer that deserves bad things to happen to them. We see it get so bad that he becomes self destructive. 

So here we see a man that 'died' and now thinks of himself as just a ghost of who he was. 

Now, according to how Moench wrote Moon Knight (and no one else followed unfortunately), Moon Knight is also an alter. There are four people under that cape. 

It is possible that in this moment, Moon Knight split off from Marc with his very....very poor trauma processing skills. 

So in this moment, we literally do see the birth of Moon Knight. And with the way Moon Knight is written, more often than not, Moon Knight is co-conscious with one of the others, usually Marc. We don't actually see Moon Knight become aware of being his own person until much later on midway through Moench's run when he actually declares that he is no one but himself. 

But Marc continues to struggle with his identity and the notion of being 'dead'. It becomes a problem later on during the breakdown. And honestly, this is a thing that continues writer to writer. He dies many times over the years and comes back leaving him with less and less of a feeling of existing. Each death results in him immediately coming back and he is the one that experiences it and wrestles with it. 

Anyways, I just have always found that to be incredibly interesting in his character development. 

Marc runs off in their jeep with his new cape billowing in the wind. Marlene runs to get the other jeep to go after him.

"Midnight...ANd an eerie figure stalks the rooftops of Selina..." 

He looms over the watchmen. "Bushman--I want him! You'll stand aside--" 

And in this moment we are about to actually see what Marc Spector can do. It's rare that we really see Marc pull out his tactician abilities. 

He knows how to plan things. To create diversions, to utilize weapons of all sorts, and how to dismantle and break apart armies. 

"Meanwhile, inside the village inn, Bushman's men amuse themselves. The women whose husbands' bodies lay in the square are forced into humiliation worse than death..." 

We find Bushman forcing the women to dance for his men's amusement. 

Suddenly outside... 

Sending Bushman's army scattering, he slips out to face Bushman. 

"Yeah, it's me, Bushman! But I've changed--Just like you, into a figure of fear. I've finally learned your lesson, Bushman... And you're gonna be sorry you ever taught me." 

'changed.' Now under the guise of an Avatar of vengeance. He 100% is a new identity breaking off at this point. His years of trauma and self conflict are finally coming together. 

Marlene arrives and watches from the shadows. As she watches, someone sneaks up on her and snatches her up. 

Her cries distract Marc, allowing Bushman to make a run for it. 

"With the speed of thought, the cloaked figure races towards the source of the scream. Momentarily forgotten, Bushman fades into the night." 

He demands that Marlene be set free. 

"Oui! At once! Anything you say, Marc!" 

Frenchy! 

"I caught this one sneaking up on you! I thought..." 

He releases Marlene. 

Marlene is surprised. "I can't believe it! You--You won...All by yourself!" 

Oh Marlene, you don't even know this man. 

"Yes... But Bushman got away! I wanted his blood.. For killing your father!" 

"He killed--?" 

She realizes that she's misjudged him. 

“Not bad…for a dead man.” 

I also love how Frenchy is just “I was pretty sure you were dead but now you’re back and wearing a cape. Who cares. Let’s go!” This man would follow Marc to hell and back (which he pretty much does later on and suffers horribly for it. It takes a lot before Frenchy finally decides he’s had enough and leaves.) 

And here, we move on to exposition. We've seen Marc crawl through the desert and return as someone else. 

It's time to meet the cast. 

Narration: "He regains his health--ANd acquires three new identities. He is still Marc Spector, and he becomes Steven Grant, whose wall street wizardry parlays Spector's modest savings into a millionaire's fortune.

Then he adds Jake Lockley to his list of selves--Jake, a street-smart cabbie who hears everything!

Together with Marlene and Frenchy, they come to live in a Long Island mansion. Together they are...MOON KNIGHT... Continuing the mission begun in the Pharaoh's tomb!" 

(LOOK AT THEIR FACES. Marc is so frowny. Jake is just a guy. Steven...What is that smirk?) 

And this is where things really get exciting because we've met Marc. We saw what Marc can do and we saw him struggle with being a better man. We saw his...ability to deal with his trauma (nope)... And we saw the start of Moon Knight. 

And what's good about this is that this WAS the beginning of Moon Knight. 

Now we get to meet Steven and Jake. But we don't know when they started. We don't get to see them become themselves. Marlene assumes that when they came to New York and Marc started his new lifestyle that he was creating Jake and Steven for the first time. Just another identity to hide in. 

But again... Marlene doesn't know this man. She assumes she does and after they leave Sudan, Marc is no longer the one she's interacting with. 

Moench never officially shows it or discusses it. But there is a heavy implication that Steven has been around a LOT longer than just since they returned to New York. He acts the most self aware, is the most comfortable being himself, and knows a lot more about Marc and their past. 

Jake, on the other hand, he feels a bit newer. It's hard to say how long Jake has been Jake. It's possible he is a newer alter that came about when they moved to New York, as New York becomes Jake's home and he becomes attached to it to the point of never actually leaving it (He never travels with them). 

It's also possible that Jake was around BEFORE Marc left America. It's possible Jake was around in their youth, went dormant and then came back when the lifestyle changed again to better suit him. 

Either way, the system was not aware of being a system. Marc is heavily in denial and while he was out fighting his wars, the others were quiet and he essentially became front show runner. Steven is the first one to realize that they have a problem and that he is not just Marc and he is the first one to start asserting himself. Jake comes next and then Moon Knight follows. 

Marc is the only one that stays in denial until he flatout has a mental breakdown. ....Oh Marc... 

ANYWAYS… BACK TO THE COMIC. (I could babble about this all day if you let me) 

We first see Steven. 

We see him talking into a recorder. 

"Steven? Is someone with you? Oh. I heard you talking and--" 

"No one's with me, Marlene--Just dictating a case history. Moon Knight hit some heroin pushers tonight..." 

Yeah... just dictating huh? 

One way for newly aware systems to communicate with one another in an effort to open communication or keep the others aware of what's going on is to record messages on their phone (in today's age). 

We also don't really see them use the recorder again after this. Steven is trying. 

He tells Marlene that he found something while taking down the drug dealers. 

"Bushman!" Marlene is not happy. 

"Yes, your father's killer--Here in New York now, out for MY blood. I'm going after him as Lockley." 

He calls up Frenchy, who now lives on his roof I guess? He works on building a Moon chopper and other trinkets. 

He asks Frenchy to follow the cab in case he needs him. 

"Had a weird feeling about this, Marlene--Like I should tape Bushman's story before I left. But you stay behind, no matter what YOUR feelings are." 

He leaves after pulling on Jake's outfit. 

And here we see Jake. He always just calls Marlene "Lady." 

Samules, the butler, has Jake's cab ready. 

"Shall I expect you--That is, shall I expect Mr. Grant--back for dinner, sir?" 

"Don't hold your breath, Samuels. Grant just checked out for the night. And me, I got a heavy date ahead." 

Marlene remembers what happened to the last man in her life that faced Bushman. It's a loss that stays with her. 

"It's going to be hard, Steven...Or Marc, Jake, Moon Knight... Whoever you really are... The last time I stayed behind when a man I loved went after Bushman...I...I lost my father. And now I don't think I could bear to lose you... All four of you..." 

THIS IS THE ONLY TIME MARLENE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT THEY ARE INDEED FOUR PEOPLE. 

It also proves my theory that Moon Knight is his OWN person. 

For Marlene, again… She doesn’t know Marc! He connected to her because he felt terrible about her father’s death, he wanted to save her, and she had no one else. She connected to him because… she had no one else and saw him as her protector/hero. He offered her comfort and a lifestyle she found agreeable. He also helped train her in how to take care of herself. He made sure she knew how to handle guns, karate, self defense… They became a team, but she wanted something more. In the early days, she acknowledged that there was something strange about him and played along. When she got to know Steven Grant, she recognized that HE was the one that could offer her the life she wanted now and she latched on with the hopes that he would stop being the other alters and just be happy with her as Steven. 

This is a common thought with early dealings with “Multiple Personality Disorder” back in the day. That if they could just ‘fix them’ and give them a normal happy life, they could be the ‘good alter’ that was most adept at leading the ‘normal life’. 

It’s basically the old trope of “I could fix him”. 

And now... THE CREW! 

Even from the start, Jake always just cares about his people. He always asks Gena about the kids. 

And at this point, they only know Jake. They don’t know about his lifestyle, about the mansion, Marlene, Steven, or Marc. Later, Gena admits that they just assumed Jake was an undercover cop or something. 

Crawley is Jake’s informant. A homeless man that has a gambling and drinking problem. We find out more about Crawley’s past in a later issue. Crawley also has a distinctive style of speaking that only Moench has been able to pull off, which, unfortunately, has led to other writers just eventually getting rid of him. :( 

Anyways, Jake asks Crawley if he knows anything about Bushman. Turns out Bushman has taken over a lot of the drug and gambling action in the area. And he’s not being very private about it. “Almost as if he wants to be found.” 

Yeah… He wants to be found alright. 

Crawley gives him the address and Jake heads out, changing to Moon Knight. He calls up Frenchy and they head out. 

Moon Knight refrains from telling Frenchy who they are after. He knows Frenchy will want in on the action too, but "This one's mine--Mine alone." 

Unknown to Moon Knight, a fancy car has been tailing him and now continues to follow them as they head to Bushman's hideout. 

And now we see our first Moon Knight swoop! 

Moon Knight enters the night club and asks for the door to the back. 

"Tell your boss I'm about to enter his trap." He ascends the stairs. 

One of the chaps proclaims: "I know who that is! I even saw 'im once--Papers call 'im the Moon Knight." 

Up stairs they find the gambling room. Moon Knight bursts in. 

Those poses are completely unnecessary Moon Knight buddy… But you do you. 

He takes out the bad guys without breaking a sweat. 

He yells for Bushman to come face him. 

A secret door opens. 

"A trap... Just what I came here for." 

He dives in dramatic style, only to find an empty room with a golden dagger on the desk. A dagger from the dig site. 

"A memento, Mr. Spector... A memento of a fabulous treasure stolen from the grasp of antiquity... The ONLY memento I was able to keep--Thanks to you, Spector--Thanks to your treachery." 

Bushman's just a little bitter. 

Outside, the car that was following him comes to a stop and Marlene gets out. She wants revenge too. 

Bushman pulls out a gun and orders Moon Knight to the back room. 

"Forget it, Bushman! I've come for you. And nothing on this earth can stop me!" 

"You're afraid, aren't you, Bushman? Afraid of the figure of terror before you The lesson took!" 

"S-Stay back!" 

Honestly, Bushman knows Marc's skills better than Marc does. And the fact that he essentially beat up this man and tossed him in the middle of the desert to die and then having Marc come back, blow up his camp, and then track him through New York while appearing in the visage of a ghost claiming to have come back from the dead... I'd be worried too. 

At this point, Marlene bursts into the room behind Bushman. 

"At the sight of her father's murderer, Marlene cannot restrain a gasp! Instinctively, the cloaked figure turns towards the source of the sound. Momentarily forgotten, Bushman takes the opportunity to fire, but..." 

Moon Knight doges! 

Yeah, he then turns and shoots at Marlene. 

"Moon Knight lunges... But blind rage makes him careless." 

Bushman knocks him down and goes in for the kill with his sharp steel teeth. 

Moon Knight blocks with his truncheon! And then the anger and violence take over. 

He can barely restrain himself. He doesn't understand why she would want to spare Bushman. 

Her cries for Steven also go unheard. He isn't Steven. Steven is far far from present in this situation. It's no wonder he lets his rage take over and blocks out the rest. 

"Finally, as a soft moan heard through glass rises to a keening shriek, the crimson haze fades... And the fist falters. Opens tremblingly..." 

The police are on their way and they need to leave. 

It takes him a moment to snap out of it. To come back to himself. 

He and Marlene head up to the roof so that Frenchy can collect them. 

"Guess I... Went a little crazy, Marlene... Remembering that at one point I was almost like him.. But why did you stop me? Your father-" 

"I stopped you because I went crazy too at first--I wanted to kill him, but I knew I couldn't... We couldn't!  In a way, he created Moon Knight... But you've been through a lot since then--We've both worked hard to shape Moon Knight into something better than he was at his creation." 

They've all worked hard to set up Moon Knight to be what he is. To be the good man. To have access to what he needs to do what he does. 

"And I just want you to stay that way. I didn't want Bushman to spoil what he started... What you've made into a legend. Behind that legend is a man. A good and powerful man. And no matter how many roles you play, false or true, you must never abuse your power...You must never forget who that man REALLY is." 

And this brings our journey with Moench to an end. 

Bushman was their first villain and the most personal. He created Moon Knight when he killed Marc. He was brutal, and antagonistic to Marc. As the man that murdered Marlene’s father, any time he showed up, it was a high stakes game. No one knew Marc like he did. That is to say, no one knew what Marc was capable of like he did. 

As far as a threat, Bushman never actually was much of a threat. Though he was the leader of the mercenary group, it was always very clear that he got there through intimidation tactics, drastically brutal deeds, and back stabbing. When it actually came to abilities, Marc was always the top. What threat Bushman actually held was started above. Marc could have been Bushman. 

Marc had the ability to become the most brutal and dangerous leader of mercenaries. He had a second in command follower at the ready, Frenchy, he had a knowledge of the politics and governmental ruling of a lot of areas, he spoke several languages, knew how to blend in, knew geography, and he could fight. Marc also has proven over the years (even in Moench’s run) that he had a lot of powerful connections in high governmental positions. 

Yet Marc’s growing disagreements with the way Bushman worked eventually culminated in the literal death of that path. As much as Marc attempts to make himself seem no better than Bushman, he had a big heart. In this, Marlene was right. Bushman created Moon Knight. He killed the part of Marc that had any chance of branching off into that path. He started the legend and with the input of the good in his life, (Steven, Jake, Marlene) they were able to turn Moon Knight into a good man. 

So when Bushman returns as a ‘recurring villain’, I don’t consider him on the same level as say, Morbius or Black Specter, or Mogart or any of that. The REAL threat that Bushman represents is one of internal conflict and past trauma. The threat of Marc’s internal monologue of his own horribleness rising up to a point of self destruction. That’s right, the REAL threat? Marc Spector. 

Throughout Moench’s run we tangle with Marc over and over again. We see Marlene shun him. We see Steven fight him for control. We see Jake push him aside, and we even see Moon Knight himself struggle with his rage. Yet at the same time, we see flashbacks that show Marc being kind. Being merciful. Questioning his actions and deeds. Marc is his own worst enemy. 

By the end of the original run with Zelenetz finishing it off, we see Marc finding a sort of understanding with who he is. Attempting to find resolution in his father’s death, and making a timid peace with Steven Grant. 

When Ellis takes over after Bendis’ disastrous run, we find Marc in a very dark place struggling and drowning. Lemire picks him up and returns him back to the start. Back to Bushman and back to Steven and Jake. Then we have to skip across Aaron and Bemis (Hisss booo) before Marc finally lands with MacKay and we at last… at long last… We have healing. At last we have a Good Man. 

I want to thank everyone that has followed me through this journey into the original comics. I hope you found joy in the old comics and that it inspires you to maybe go pick them up and give them a full read for yourselves. Maybe you disagree with me on some points, and I encourage you to come up with your own theories. Find your own way to love Moon Knight and the message of mental health that Meonch started. 

As we bring 2023 to an end I look forward to getting into other Moon Knight comics in 2024. Some that I either haven’t read in years or that I may have missed all together! Currently I have no intention to continue to review every single comic. That's just... That's too much. But I hope to pick out a few special ones. But I've been wrong before. Let’s see where we go and what we find! 

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

It’s summer of 2001; Joe meets Patrick and he’s like “Yo, I know about music.”

And Patrick’s like “Yo, I know more about music.”

"That’s impossible! Do you wanna start a band?”

And Patrick’s like, “…Yeah… That’s cool.”

And then he’s like “Yo, this is a book store, it's not a music store!”

And then they met at Patrick’s house. And Patrick’s wearing shorts and socks and a hat. Patrick is playin’ drums for some fuckin’ reason! And Pete’s there for some reason! They start playin’ music together. And they're like “Oh, let’s play some fuckin’ covers from some other bands!” It was like, Green Day and fuckin’ Misfits and fuckin’ Ramones!

Pete said to Joe, “Yo, we gotta change this shit up! Yo, we’ve played all these bands; let’s play shit from Fall Out Boy.”

And so Pete and Patrick are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need a fuckin’ drummer!” Because Patrick’s playin’ drums and he’s a singer!

Patrick's like “Yo! I got a soul voice!”

And they're like “Wait, how do you have a soul voice?”

And he’s like “Yo, watch this: Yeah!”

And they’re like “Oh my god! That sounds like soul!” So they put it in the song and it was like “WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIGHT!”

And then they’re like: “Yo, that's fuckin’ perfect. This is Fall Out Boy.” And they made records like, Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it.

[Pete corrects Brendon]

(It's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend.)

[Brendon ignores Pete]

With Your Ex-Girlfriend! It's called Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend!

It's called Eating Out Your Girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter.

And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like “Yo, what the FUCK! Yo, this is gonna be fuckin’ DOPE!”

So they made a record, and it was called: Take This To Your Grave.

They made it without a drummer! And they had like three, four drummers come in.

The four drummers they had come in were like: Josh Freese, Neil Peart, the dude from Toto… The fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something.

And they were like, “Yo, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This To Your Grave. Fuckin' record it.” And he did it, and he killed it.

He was like, Bigadigadigalalululapssshhhh!

Killing the skins! Tapping the skins! Tapping the rims! Playing the shit! Killing these bitches! Wrapping it out!

[Brendon to Pete]

(You're getting a fucking tattoo right now! What the fuck is going on?!)

“We should get signed, to Fueled by Ramen. 'Cause these guys know what the fuck is going on.”

And they were like “Yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys."

Pete was like ”Yo! We got this record that’s fuckin’ dope, dude! It's called Take This To Your Grave.“

Hey, it's gonna be called From Under The Cork Tree, it's gonna be fuckin' huge.

And then Patrick’s like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic. These are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called (burp), this is called: 'Thnks fr th Mmrs,' '20 Dollar Nose Bleed,' and 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down.'

And they made this record that was fucking dope and it fucking hit on the charts.

Like: one, two, three! Three, two one! Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! TEN TO ONE!

From Under The Cork Tree sold like, four million records!

Ten million records!

Fifteen million records!

And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. And Patrick was like “That's good!”

Pete was like “Yo, fuck you! I can do whatever I want!”

Joe was like “Yeah, it's cool man, whatever… I don’t give a shit.” And then Andy was like “Eh… Cool!”

And Pete was like "Makeup is fuckin’ great for a guy. Because it makes a guy look beautiful. Which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everybody thinks that guys are beautiful."

(-I'm good so far.

-You wanna spit one more time?

-Yeah, I do.

...Shut the fuck!..)

Pete was like “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed about this dick pic!”

And then I saw the dick pic, and I was like “Eh, it's not bad. It's not a bad dick. Let’s be real.”

We made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy. And Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed!

They were like “Yo, fuck you guys!”

They were like “Yo! Panic has the fucking cover of Rolling Stone? Yo, fuck these dudes! We're gonna fucking go miles above! We're gonna hit every fucking continent there is known to man!”

But they didn’t! Because they missed a second of time.

Apparently, they were like: “Oh, shit we got every continent.” And they didn’t actually hit it.

Dude, Pete was like "What the FUCK?”

Oh, you didn’t fuckin’ make the continent. It's like, fuck you!

So From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three, four years of awesomeness!

Like people are cumming on themselves, 'cause it's so big!

So Fall Out Boy was like, so Patrick’s like “Yo, we're gonna name this record From Under The Cork Tree and From Infinity On High.”

Pete was like “Yo, Folie à Deux means the Theatric of Two.”

Fall Out Boy was like “Yo, we gotta take a break” meaning, Pete was like “Yo, we gotta take a break bro”

And Patrick’s like, “I need time for my music! Uhhh!”

And Joe's like “Yo, I need time to find the fuckin’ art dude I gotta find some fuckin’ meau-metal.”

And Andy’s like “I’m just gonna play with some fuckin' metal bands.”

And they were like, “Alright, this breaks been like three years long. Two years long.

Three years long.

Three and a half?

We gotta fuckin’ come back man. We gotta come back strong!

(-You took my beer away, what the fuck?!

-No, you poured it all over yourself!

-Yeah, you poured it on yourself, man.)

We gotta make this shit legit. It's gonna be fuckin' dope. It's gonna go fuckin' sky high. We're gonna make a fuckin' record that sails the skies.

We're gonna call this record: Save Rock and Roll.

So they made "Alone Together", "Light 'Em Up", "Alone Together", "Phoenix".

And everyone’s like “What the fuck? You’re working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk!”

(-What the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on my shirt?

-No, you poured beer all over yourself.

-Oh god...)

Pete was like: “Yo, we're gonna end up on the tour with Panic! At The Disco and Twenty Pilots.”

(Burp, spit)

And that’s all. And that’s all that matters. And that is how the fucking story goes.

The loading screen is frozen I …

h uh ?

[fandsart]

i’d love to see double date or tattoo fic for stobin (from the stobin month prompts)

I asked for requests because I could not choose between them and then you sent me a choice. Fear not, I will combine. Gonna ignore that tattoos weren’t legal in Indiana until the 90s, as it seems everyone is doing that anyway

Double dates make things easier. Nobody blinks an eye at what the activity they’re doing implies when it’s being done with two girls and two boys. It already looks like a double date. If they’re all giggling—as a group—well, no one really questions it. Still, they try to go out of town for it. The people in town know them too well. Assume that Steve and Robin would be dating which is uncomfortable on its face, but even if they were willing to go the beard route, that leaves Vickie and Eddie to pretend to be a couple, and they aren’t the closest. It would be a difficult idea to sell, long term at least.

It’s fun exploring the towns over too; places they’ve never been. Just walking around and finding things to do on the date as they go. Vickie once described it as like window shopping for date samples and then making a meal from the samples. Though she used more words to describe the idea.

So they’re wandering the area, looking in at random shops when Eddie suddenly shouts, “Oh my god, I totally forgot I’ve been here before!”

“Define ‘here,’” Robin prompts.

“This town. I drove over here last year for my wyvern tattoo.”

“I think, only you could forget about a town you went to a year prior,” Vickie says.

“What reminded you?” Steve asks.

“I recognize this area. The tattoo parlor is, like, a block away.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s the drive back that gets them talking, because Eddie has a strict rule regarding not getting impulse tattoos after getting the one his bats now cover, but he’s always itching to get more ink. The only issue comes with committing to a design and figuring out whether he’s actually prepared for the permanency of his choices or if he’s just so desperate to make himself into a work of art that he’s willing to take any image and slap it on his skin.

“If you want something meaningful to put on your skin, why don’t you just have someone you care about pick the design?” Vickie asks. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have any regrets then. I mean, unless you have a falling out with that person, but if it’s someone you really trust it would probably have to be, like, way down the road.”

“Oooh, Stevie, wanna get matching tattoos with me?”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if there’s anything that would be fitting for you to get that I would be also super comfortable having on my skin. No offense.”

“Course not, love.”

“But I could probably think up something for just you.”

“Aw, just for me?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“But yes?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’ll doodle you up something all for you.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo,” Vickie says, directed at Robin. “Maybe a matching one would be too early for our relationship, but corresponding ones could be cool. If you’re down for it. Like if they work as a pair, but could be viewed on their own just fine? But they would be meant to represent ourselves more than each other, you know?”

“We could get our instruments done.”

“Yes!”

“We aren’t heading back now for you to get that done,” Eddie says. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Obviously. We’d need to set up what they’re going to look like anyway.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised with how little a tattoo artist can work with. I know your instruments are kind of complex, but you could at least get a pretty good simple version of them. More detail means a higher price anyway.”

“We should probably sit on the idea for a little bit anyway,” Vickie says.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Wat’cha workin’ on?” Robin asks, pulling on her uniform vest, ready to start the few shared hours of work she has with Steve after school.

“Brainstorming ideas for Eddie.”

“Oh, the tattoo! How’s it coming?”

“Not well. I feel like if I saw an idea I could tell you whether he would like it or not. I know him well enough for the yes or no of it, but coming up with an idea myself is so hard. I know how Eddie thinks, but it’s not how I think, so I’m drawing a blank. You and Vickie made these decisions look so much easier.”

“Well, maybe if you tried to look for something you have in common like Vickie and I did…”

“It’s not… Look, I’m not upset that me and Eddie are so different. I love him for it. I just wish I could do this for him. I’m glad that you and Vickie being so similar works for you, but so does my relationship the way it is.”

“Well, obviously it’s not working that well.”

“Shut up, we aren’t going to break up over my uncreativity. Eddie’s just usually the creative one in the relationship. I mean, the reason he asked me to do this is because he’s literally so creative he won’t think his choices through.”

“At least he’s self aware enough to recognize that in himself.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe instead of brainstorming for just Eddie you should do some practice brainstorming first.”

“‘Practice brainstorming?’”

“Like a warm up. Like, you know how professional artists will, like, warm up by drawing a bunch of circles on a page before working on their actual pieces.”

“... No?”

“Ok well they do. Basically what I’m saying is that if your issue is that you don’t think the way Eddie does, then you could at least get into the mindset of thinking about what makes a good tattoo first. You think more similarly to me than you do Eddie, so if you were picking out a tattoo for me, what would you pick?”

“Well obviously a trumpet is an easy go-to. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “One thing you could do is get the word for robin—like the bird—down in every language that you know. And then you could add one whenever you learn a new language.”

Robin hums. “I might use that, but no time soon. I’ll have to think on it. Any other ideas?”

Steve snorts. “Ice cream.”

“That doesn’t even work out of context. The only way that could work, like, as something that represents me, is if you get a matching one.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah, the only way I’d even get an ice cream tattoo would be if you were getting a matching one.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I don’t know. The Scoops uniform had, like, a patch on the shoulder. I’d probably do that.”

“Well if that’s the metric we’re using, my uniform had it on the vest. That puts it on my…”

“Your boobie.”

She elbows him lightly. “Gross.”

“Oh, whatever! It’s part of your body Robin. How can you not bring yourself to name a part of your own body?”

“It’s gross that you’re the one saying it.”

“But you also don’t say it!”

“I’m also not getting a tattoo there.”

“Then just also get it on your shoulder! You don’t have to follow the logic.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

A couple weeks later sees Robin getting two tattoos. A trumpet on her left forearm, the same place Vickie got her clarinet, and an ice cream on her right shoulder in the same place as Steve’s. And Eddie is absolutely obsessed with his new tattoo of an african death-head moth. He named it Andrew. Steve may have recruited Dustin for help on getting past “moth.”

Despite being their most physically painful double date, it’s probably one of their most fun ones. Having some kind of goal and actually getting something—an actual physical thing—out of it makes it feel like they’ve achieved something. Maybe they should start structuring their dates a little bit more, even if it’ll be a little more tricky to keep their relationships on the down low.

It’s not longer “stobin month” but I will continue taking requests from the prompt list by @lesbianancyy because I wanted to take more in the first place, but I got these out late, because I’ve been super busy

[lightningboltreader]

(Bold) Me 🧑🏻‍🦰

APPEARANCE: i’m under 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts, or am in peril // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo, because ADDICTED // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair since demonic grays appeared at 16 // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn stupid easily // i have dude, so many freckles // i paint my nails but make it colorstreet // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike (converse, eh?) to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS: i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic, i guess? // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition, cuz skeeball counts babes! // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault - aka my passion is drawing somersaulting stick figures // i enjoy singing but you likely wouldn’t enjoy listening // i could survive in the wild on my own (only if surviving means sitting right where you left me) // i have read a new book series this year (idk, series is throwing me. i’ve read new books) // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks (if i can afford it) // i can do a handstand, in the water

RELATIONSHIP: i am in a long term, long ass relationship with my bestie // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friends i have known for (more than) ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends (see: mom friend) // i have made an online friend (heyyyy friends!) // i met up with someone i have met online (yes, yes and god i need to see my concert tribe again)

AESTHETICS: i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise (while detained by the police and i’m NOT still mad about it) // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of INSECT chirping calms me but birds are too gossipy // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like but heed Frank Zappa’s warning! // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths is a sentence that means i’m in GRAVE danger// autumn is my favourite season 🍂

MISCELLANEOUS: i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle, on the VERY rare occasions I’m not the driver// i am the mom friend and i’ve accepted this mostly. i’m good at it. // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities unless this is a euphemism cuz I’m sitting at my desk //i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead (with above disclosure) // i own at least three dogs

Thank you for the tags @welcometololaland @heartstringsduet 💕

Inviting all interested to participate, including my esteemed cigleague @carlos-in-glasses, @chaotictarlos, @bonheur-cafe, @catanisspicy @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @theghostofashton @three-drink-amy

[seraphicsage]

moaning time! Feel free to ignore so i’m getting a tattoo on my birthday (first one, my 18th yk, vr exciting, vr nervous) and my nan said that since it’s my 18th she’ll pay for it as my present (fab because i’m poor and can’t afford it) so she’s organise it all with the artist and we’re having some trouble getting responses out of her but yesterday we were talking about it so I could understand if i needed to do anything. I have a quite specific design that i would like her to use and since my nan’s organising it i wanted to make sure the artist has a reference of something as close to what i want as possible, reasonable right?

So we had a look at the reference my nan said (she said it would be something like that not exactly like the one she sent, but again, i want to be specific) because my nan thought it was the same, and it wasn’t so i pointed out that no, it’s not the same, the flowers are different and the orientation is different. And she seemed a bit like confused or frustrated, and told me that the flowers were only slightly different and she didn’t seem to think it was a big deal

but it’s like, if I’m getting it tattooed permanently on my body, i want to be 100% happy with it right? Not just like ‘eh close enough it’ll do’