Some Lance doodles because why not

Tattoo artist Sero…

with his hair tied back, stray strands falling over his eyes while he works. His style is simple, mostly sketchy and fun pieces, but he sports a sleeve of intricate, delicate swirls. He's professional and kind while you talk through what you want, but excited—with a giant grin and eager eyes.

You're going for a stomach piece, one that stretches along your side, ending at your hip. Sero is focused while he works, usual grin replaced with a pursed mouth, brows knit tightly.

The pain is manageable, a flurry of fiery ants trailing your torso, but his warm fingertips distract you as they run up and down your skin, holding it in place as he makes each meticulous line, sometimes pressing the back of his hand into your navel. You hold your breath with each stroke and look away, overwhelmed from the sight of him—him so focused on you.

When he nears the end, where the ink continues down your hip, the tip of a slender finger curves into your waistband where it's ridden up. He's gentle, respectful, pulling just enough to uncover the edges of the final lines.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes meeting yours for a split second—to confirm you're okay—before immediately returning to the skin under his fingers.

You lean your head back, clenching your jaw as you stare at the ceiling, taking steady breaths to manage the pain—and that tingling heat everywhere he's touching you.

Should he have remembered the woman before him? The one that was adamant that they'd met before? His memory wasn't terrible and up until that point, he'd been all too confident in remembering faces. Chin tilted upwards when she mentioned sharing a joint by the dumpsters. Was it better to pretend like he remembered? And then they? What? "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't think we," he trailed off, the territory he was beginning to tread feeling dangerous. How did one claim something never happened without insinuating the other was a liar? "I think you're thinking of someone else, maybe?"

We really should have known that communism would fail. There were a lot of red flags.

If you rearrange the letters of mailman you get them very angry.

Why is peter pan always flying? He never lands

You know, dads are like boomerangs. At least I hope they are.

When does a man know he's become a dad? When it becomes a parent.

What has four letters, sometimes has nine letters, but never has five letters.

How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice. Hi.

Two fish are in a tank. One says to the other: do you know how to drive this thing?

What's the difference between a cat and a complex sentence? One has claws at the end of its paws and one has pause at the end of its clause.s