# @badvibestattoos on Instagram

- **Type:** Image
- **Original URL:** https://www.instagram.com/p/Dd7rsrnDanH
- **Gondola URL:** https://gondola.cc/posts/71065852-badvibestattoos-instagram
- **Thumbnail:** https://img.gondola.cc/tr:w-,h-,fo-auto/postThumbnails/76df293613.jpg
- **Posted:** 2026-10-01T01:02:09.000+00:00
- **Account Owner:** Nico Winter Buccione (@badvibestattoos) — https://gondola.cc/badvibestattoos

## Caption

Story shared with permission, read:

His last name is McGrimmon. That’s where the Reaper started. A joke, almost, something to put in my request form. 

Then we sat down.

He told me about the accident. He got out of the car. Two of his friends didn’t. He said it plainly, the way people do when they’ve carried a thing long enough that it’s stopped needing dressing up. We talked about the years after, the habits that filled the space, the version of himself he’d been working to put down.

The Reaper stopped being a joke somewhere in there.

Later he mentioned the lambs. Nine of them. He feeds them every morning. He said it offhand, like it didn’t belong in a tattoo consultation, and I put my pencil down.

I asked if there was one that stood apart from the others. There always is. The black sheep, the one that wanders, the one you have to go find. He laughed. He knew which one I meant. He also knew I wasn’t only talking about the lamb.

What if the one who comes for life was the one holding onto it? And what if the one he’s holding is the one nobody expected to be kept?

That’s where it turned. The Reaper, hood drawn, a “black” sheep cradled against the robe. Not the one from the flock that stayed in line. The one that strayed, and got carried back anyway. A lion pushing up out of the folds beneath. That came from Africa, from a stretch of his life he lit up talking about. And under all of it, sheep skulls in the dirt. The parts he was leaving behind. The things that had to die so the rest could live.

The lamb became the center. A life spared, held in the arms of death. The nine he keeps. The friends he lost. Himself, the one that wandered off and came back.

By the end, it was one scene. The kind of frame you could pause a film on and know there was a whole story on either side of it.

That’s what the consultation is for. Not to confirm an idea someone walked in with, but to leave enough room to follow a thought, ask the next question, and find something neither of us had pictured.

We came in with a last name and a Reaper.
The conversation gave us the rest.

12h so far
Link in bio to book 📍 
Done with hustlebutterdeluxe 
#ottawa #tattoo #grimreapertattoo

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## Tags

ottawa, grimreapertattoo, tattoo

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