The documentary crew had just wrapped their final day on the road with Feral Eclipse, and to their credit, none of them had quit—though their sound guy had developed a persistent eye twitch and their assistant editor quietly vowed never to film another live music act again.

Their goodbye interviews were a mess of tangled cables, spilled coffee, and Maya threatening to tattoo a QR code linking to their worst gig. Brennan, the ever-stoic director, finally snapped his clipboard in half during a shot ruined by Jonah launching a beach ball across the lounge mid-interview.

By the time the crew rolled away in their rented Suburban, Thane had one clawed hand covering his face and muttered, “They survived. Barely.”

“Honestly,” Gabriel said from the counter, licking peanut butter off a spoon, “they should’ve thanked us. We gave them a career.”

Cassie snorted. “Yeah. Or trauma.”

Rico looked up from his phone with a slow grin creeping across his face.

“Speaking of trauma…” he said.

Thane groaned. “Oh no.”

Rico spun his phone around. “So I may or may not have just posted a contest on all our socials.”

Mark looked up. “What did you do.”

Gabriel perked up immediately. “Oooh, is it illegal?”

“Better,” Rico beamed. “Fan tattoo contest.”

Within twenty-four hours, #FeralInkEclipse was trending globally.

Thousands of submissions poured in. Some were expected—lyrics, pawprints, Gabriel’s signature, Cassie’s mic silhouette. Others… not so much.

A guy in Cincinnati got a full-back mural of Thane in silhouette howling at a blood-red moon.

A woman from Sweden inked Maya’s entire face across her bicep with the caption: “My patronus.”

Someone in Brazil got a tattoo of Mark’s scowling face in hyper-realistic detail… on their thigh.

Jonah found one of himself, cartoon-style, riding a flaming drumkit over a werewolf-shaped rollercoaster. He cried laughing. “I’m majestic.”

The band decided to host a live reveal party at a small venue outside Portland—full media coverage, prizes, meet-and-greet, and a few tattoo artists on standby for spontaneous entries. Gabriel even insisted on a fog machine. “For ambiance,” he claimed.

Fans arrived with sleeves rolled up, pants legs pulled up, and nervous grins on their faces. Some were elaborate. Some… deeply regrettable.

One girl had the entire lyrics to Blood Moon Revival spiraling down her spine in crimson script. Cassie burst into tears.

A hulking biker dude named Tank stepped forward with the band’s logo burned across his chest. “You guys saved my life,” he said softly. “I was at rock bottom until I heard your music. Now I’m clean. Haven’t missed a show since St. Louis.”

Gabriel hugged him like a brother. “Dude, you rock harder than we do.”

Then came the chaos.

A college student lifted his shirt to reveal a tattoo of Gabriel’s face… mid-howl… covering his entire stomach. It was slightly warped and oddly shaded.

There was a long silence.

Thane blinked. “That looks like if Gabriel and a velociraptor had a child.”

Gabriel couldn’t breathe. “Oh my GOD. That’s a crime.”

Jonah pointed. “Why are the eyes that wide?!”

Mark, utterly deadpan: “Looks like it saw itself in a mirror and died.”

The crowd lost it. The guy grinned proudly. “No regrets!”

In the end, the grand prize went to a shy, blue-haired girl with a tattoo of the full band lineup inked around her ankle—each member drawn as adorable chibi wolves in their signature outfits. It was flawless.

“Your pack keeps me going,” she whispered.

Gabriel gave her a signed bass pick. Cassie kissed her forehead. Maya gave her backstage passes to every show on the next leg.

Later that night, as the band loaded out into the cool Oregon evening, Gabriel nudged Thane with a smirk.

“Think we should do another contest next month?”

Thane gave him a tired but fond look. “Only if the winner doesn’t get my face on their butt.”

“Too late,” Gabriel grinned. “That entry was from Montreal.”

Mark walked by, sipping soda, and muttered, “We’re gonna need a legal department.”

And somewhere, in a tattoo parlor far away, an artist etched the words “Claws and Chaos Forever” across someone’s collarbone… while humming Blood Moon Revival.