King of everything.
King of everything.
“It’s who we are lucky enough to have in our lives. ”
Tbh I’m not a fan of Guy Ritchie. I don’t know why, really, sorry. But his last movie - The Gentlemen - oh boy, it was beautiful! The story itself wasn’t unique but it was interesting. Humor, dialogues, characters and visual - all these factors together combined into this very good movie.
(yeah, I’m sure I love it NOT because of this man, believe me)
“Don’t buy into that white-trash myth, ma'am. Jax Teller is formidable. As smart as he is dangerous.”
Jackson “Jax” Teller | Sons of Anarchy
I’d be blushing too
Stand out icons - Sebastian Stan, Bruno Mars, Charlie Hunnam, Mena Massoud, and KJ Apa
Please like if you use.
via Pinterest. ♥
Guy Ritchie usually has a style over substance approach, as if he were over-impressed with his own skills and that usually throws me off. I’m a self-confessed non-fan of the director I’ve - somewhat frivolously - dubbed him a “British discount Tarantino” but in this - and “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.’s” case - his signature sleek directing style won me over. That and what I saw as an array of canny tricks such as the unreliable narrator, the meta-references, and the mise-en-abyme technique.
The allure of having Matthew McConaughey as your leading man never goes unnoticed, but to me (and I know this to be true of several friends of mine as well) the actors who made the movie were those in supporting roles, specifically Charlie Hunnam, Hugh Grant, Michelle Dockery, and Colin Farrell. Matthew’s character ended up being more of an afterthought and weirdly, I didn’t have any complaints on the matter. The dialogue was quick-witted and just plain hilarious. Definitely one of the better films I’ve seen lately.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧
The skins initial contact with a needle is always painfully exhilarating. The tear of flesh is a white hot feeling of blistering pain, the red ache of skin a tell tale sign of what’s been endured from the consensual affliction. A thrilling rush permeates the body, an existential surge tugging at the soul as the mind comes to grips with its everlasting decision. The beginning is blinding pain, a mouthful of cries and cursed profanities as the skin opens to receive the ink. The end however, is pure philosophical ecstasy. Fulfillment and freedom to the highest degree, the feeling so great that the soul feels nothing but invincibility for a few blinking moments.
The rumbling buzz of vibration sings a triumphant tune through the otherwise deafening silence, the last pieces of dark umber skin left uncovered now dancing in the light as they are inked into warm reds and soft metallic blues. The wide white wings of Isis, the Egyptian goddess spread across the hot skin, her white crown; a throne in reverence of Osiris, gleams only furthering the artistic manifestation of her godly essence.
Ria sighed with some relief, the finality of the piece bringing comfort to the knots in her shoulders and the anxiety rolling in her belly. Religious pieces were a difficulty in and of themselves due to their nature. Essentially the tattoo was a work of reverence, a physical sacrifice of pain to show devotion. Ria’s perfectionism didn’t play to well with this nature, if anything it loathed the process. One false stroke of the needle could cause a slew of further imperfections, it was a jarring experience to say the least, but her perfectionism also hated the refusal to finish. The act of quitting.
Ria was no quitter.
“It’s beautiful Ria”.
A somatic manifestation of glee and satisfaction shown itself through the whiteness of the woman’s smile, the skin of her cheeks crinkling at the turn of her lips.
Once the woman’s moment of enthrallment ended, Ria wrapped her arm in a protective gauze before she led her to the hallway leading to the front of the shop.
The stretched walls of the hallway amplified boisterous noise. Light laughter and tense tones leading Ria to believe one thing. Her coworkers were debating. Again. The topics of these raving and not so settled discussions varied from tattoo artistry to films and even personal ideologies. All these opinions coming from a place of subjectivity despite their difference. In and through all of the noise lied this one endearing constant, which was their ability to raise passionate hell just as the sun reached its highest peak.
“Men are definitely more emotional than women!”
The proclamation came from none other than Victoria, or Vic as she liked to be called. An incredulous look on her face as she spoke. Ria was convinced that the incredulous expression was stained and forever existing from others always seeming to question or oppose the woman’s views. Vic was far too passionate to back down from a debate, and nine times out of ten she was too right in her claim to accept any other opinion that rivaled her own.
“Jin what do you think? Are men more emotional than women?”
“Pleading the fifth Vic”, Jin said as his hands held themselves in a surrendering manner.
“No!”, she rushed over to him, taking place behind the chair he’d seated himself in whilst pointing across the room.
“Your silence does nothing but help his argument. An argument that is complete shit might I add”.
With the slightest turn of his chair, Vic captured Jin’s eyes. The pointed nail of her index feathering and caressing the nape of his neck.
“You wouldn’t want to go against me would you Jin?”, she asked. Tone soft.
“I would never Vic”.
From where she sat, in the rather vast lobby of the tattoo shop, Ria could practically see Jin’s soul leave his body. His eyes filled with such a reverence and adoration reserved only for Vic. His invitingly kind nature and silent charm had crumbled to dust at the mere flick of a simple nail and now he was fully enraptured by batting lashes and a somewhat alluring widening of the eyes. Vic hadn’t even done much and in seconds she had turned Jin’s attraction towards her against him. In reality the matter had seemed so trivial, but that only revealed how enamored Jin was.
“Don’t let her seduce you Jin”.
In a matter of seconds, a tall muscular figure swiveled Jin’s chair away from Vic.
“Us men have to stick together. Don’t let her sway you”.
“Oh please Noa. Seduction or no seduction, doesn’t take away from how bad your argument is”.
Noa sighed, revealing some defeat as he turned to address Ria. “Please Ria, make some sense of my argument. Tell Queen Victoria”, he adds with a horrible posh accent, “that women are more emotional than men”.
Ria chuckled at Noa’s lack of awareness concerning his own audacity, but she didn’t expect less from him. He was a six foot five inch mass of pure inked muscle, and every inch and fiber of his being craved the need to be right even when he was undoubtedly wrong. His ego bruised easily and worst than fresh tattooed skin. Ria hoped one day he’d grow from it, or else he’d suffer from it greatly.
With her client long gone, Ria felt she could immerse herself into the Friday noon debate. “Men have a history of violence towards women solely based on the fact that we are women. There really is no comparison Noa”.
Feigning total defeat, Noa plopped onto the reclining tattoo chair, eyes in slits as Vic approached him with a teasing grin.
“Vic 5, Noa 0”.
Noa responded with a twisted facial expression that mocked Vic’s claim of victory, the tattoo shop settling in comfortable silence.
Ria took a second to cast a glance over the quiet lobby, the discussion at hand just minutes ago reeling her mind back to a striking incident. An extremely relevant and rather bothersome incident.
“And not to mention”, she sounded, “I got verbally accosted for not responding to a cat call yesterday. Went from beautiful to a fucking bitch in the span of five seconds. So yeah, men are trash”.
“Who called you a bitch?”
The voice was deep and laced with feelings of offense. It was a reaction Ria hadn’t expected from anyone, especially Angelo. Like Noa, Angelo was tall and muscular, his ivory skin covered in bold tatted pieces that complimented his placid brooding nature.
She met him with some hesitance as she spoke. “One of the construction guys working on that building on uh, on Lenox. The guy with the weird tat on his cheek”.
“Eddie. That fucking prick”, Noa confirmed with disdain.
The two men shared a glance at one another, an understanding emerging between them despite their silence. Windows to the soul their eyes were for one another, saying everything and nothing at all.
A/N: You cannot convince me that being bestfriends with Jax does not consist solely of flirty conversations and his mischievous grin
Gif credit goes to the owner
Request: okay but Jax challenging you to strip pong for some friday night fun but because he’s tired of seeing you flirting with some other guy he doesn’t remember inviting to the party.
You smile as you watch your first shot sink into the cup close to Jax. He removes the ball from his cup before slipping out of his kutte.
“Thought you didn’t wanna play,” he chuckles, his brow raised as he lays his kutte against the table.
“I don’t,” you counter as Jared shoots the ball, his shot bouncing off the rim before barely skating into the intended target. “I just don’t like to lose.”
I listened to “make it rain” by Ed Sheeran, you’ll find a few lyrics down below. This is probably my favorite Jax Teller imagine of mine. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Warning: reader gets hurt by Clay
“Hey Darling, I’ll come over in a while, alright?”, Jax was lighting up another cigarette, phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, sunglasses were shielding his eyes from the burning sun, “oh no, you can’t-”, her voice sounded shaky, nervous even, “- I’m still at work, don’t know when I’ll be home.”.
That made the prince of Charming frown, he’d often come to her place, while she was still at work, he’d wait for her, wouldn’t care about being on his own for a bit. “Okay darling, uhm, I lo-”, she had hung up before he could finish his sentence.
Green Street Hooligans
i’ll never stop talking about this