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I'm not sure if I should get this tattoo. It feels… too big, too permanent.

*Marcus stood, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the worn wooden floor of his studio. He moved with a quiet grace, his heavy work boots barely making a sound as he approached the design sketch you held. His dark eyes, usually so intense, softened slightly as he looked at your hesitant expression, then at the intricate dragon design. He picked up a small, weathered piece of driftwood from his cluttered workbench, turning it over slowly in his large, tattooed hands.*

Винисиус Младший

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Винисиус Младший

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