#Wanted to figure out how to draw Curly and how he might look in my style

[vampstel]

I need to stop obsessing over blonde men in horror games who eat shit and go through the most traumatizing experiences ever

[ari-ana-bel-la]

omg can you write one for Lewis where he makes a special helmet with some of the drawings his daughter has made for him, his helmet ends up having stars rainbows etc

A Helmet full of Art

The moment Lewis became a father, he knew nothing would ever matter more to him than his little girl, Yn. At just three years old, she had already captured his entire heart, filling his life with laughter, tiny hugs, and endless chatter about her favorite things. She was a bright little spark—curious, loving, and always eager to create something new.

And lately, that "something new" had been drawings.

Lewis had first noticed it when Yn would sit at the coffee table, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she held a crayon in her chubby hands, dragging colors across the page with uncontainable enthusiasm. At first, her drawings were just a mix of squiggles and chaotic rainbows, but over time, they started to resemble actual things—flowers, cats, and even an attempt at drawing both of them together.

"Look, Daddy!" she'd exclaim every time she finished. "This one’s you and me!"

And every single time, Lewis' heart melted.

He was the kind of father who supported Yn in anything she wanted to do. If she decided tomorrow that she wanted to be an astronaut, he’d find her a tiny space suit. If she wanted to become a ballerina, he’d be at every recital. So when he saw how much she adored drawing, he went all in—buying her the best colored pencils, sketchbooks, and even a little artist’s apron.

But what he hadn’t expected was how much her drawings would come to mean to him. He kept every single one. The rainbow she had drawn with colors that didn’t quite follow the traditional order. The cat that had oddly shaped whiskers but still looked adorable. The one of them together, with his curly hair drawn way too big and Yn’s little stick-figure self holding his hand. The flowers and bees that she had proudly declared were for him because "you like flowers, Daddy!"

So when the time came for his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis wanted his helmet to be special.

And there was only one thing that felt right.

The paddock was buzzing with anticipation. It was Lewis’ first home race wearing Ferrari red, and everyone knew he’d do something big. But no one expected what he revealed when he stepped into the garage on Friday.

"Alright, guys," Lewis said, grinning as he pulled the cover off his new helmet. "Meet my new favorite helmet ever."

The garage fell silent for a moment. Then—

"Oh my god," Charles breathed out, stepping closer. "Are these… Yn’s drawings?"

Lewis beamed. "Yep."

The helmet was a masterpiece. Instead of his usual bright yellow, it was now a canvas filled with his daughter’s art. Her rainbow stretched across the top, her wobbly cat drawing sat proudly on one side, the flowers and bees covered another part, and right at the back, a big, bold drawing of them together. It was messy, colorful, and absolutely perfect.

"You actually put them on your helmet," Carlos said, grinning. "Man, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen."

"She loves drawing," Lewis explained, running his fingers over the helmet. "And I love everything she makes. I wanted her to be part of this weekend somehow, and this felt right."

Oscar, who had just arrived, let out a low whistle. "This might be the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen in F1."

Pierre nudged Max. "Admit it, even you think this is cute."

Max rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah, it's cute. Not as cute as my cats, though."

Lando burst out laughing. "I swear, you and your cats—"

"But seriously," George interrupted, shaking his head in admiration. "This is incredible, mate. I bet Yn’s gonna freak out when she sees it."

"She hasn't seen it yet," Lewis admitted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

And oh, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Later that afternoon, after all the practice sessions, Lewis finally had time to call home. He was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, holding his phone in his hands, waiting for the call to connect.

The moment the screen lit up, Yn’s bright little face appeared, her curls bouncing as she gasped.

"Daddy!" she squealed. "Hi hi hi!"

"Hey, baby," Lewis grinned. "I’ve got a surprise for you."

Yn's eyes widened. "A 'prise? For me?"

Lewis laughed, turning his phone camera around to show his helmet. "Look at this, baby. Do you recognize these drawings?"

For a second, there was silence. Then, an excited shriek.

"THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MY DRAWINGS!" Yn shouted, practically bouncing. "Daddy, you put them on your hat!"

"Helmet, baby," Lewis chuckled, his heart swelling at her excitement. "But yeah, I did! Now, when I race this weekend, I’ll have you with me."

Yn clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "I love it! I love it, I love it, I love it!"

On the other side of the call, Yn’s grandmother laughed. "Lewis, you’ve just made her entire year."

"That was the plan," he said, winking.

Yn leaned close to the camera, her tiny hands gripping the screen. "Win with my pictures, Daddy!"

Lewis smiled softly. "I’ll try my best, baby girl. Just for you."

When Lewis walked into the paddock on Saturday with his helmet under his arm, the cameras instantly caught sight of it. And within minutes, social media exploded.

@F1: Lewis Hamilton’s helmet this weekend is covered in his 3-year-old daughter’s drawings, and we’re not crying, you are.

@SkySportsF1: Lewis dedicates his home race helmet to his daughter Yn, featuring her personal artwork. A touching tribute from the seven-time champion.

The media went crazy over it. Every journalist wanted to ask about it, every interview started with the same question:

"Tell us about your helmet this weekend, Lewis."

And every time, Lewis proudly explained.

"Yn loves drawing, and I love everything she makes," he said during a press conference. "I wanted to do something special for my first home race with Ferrari, and there was nothing more special than this. It’s my way of carrying her with me on track."

The fans adored it. In the grandstands, they held up signs with her drawings, and Ferrari even arranged for a little sketchbook to be placed in the garage for Yn to "design" future helmets.

By Sunday, it wasn’t just a helmet—it was a symbol of love.

As Lewis strapped himself into the car, he ran a hand over his helmet one last time.

"For you, baby girl," he murmured.

And then, with the whole world watching, he raced.

He raced with his daughter’s rainbow on his head, with her flowers and bees bringing color to the Ferrari red, with her little cat keeping him company through every turn.

And when he crossed the finish line in P1, the first thing he did after climbing out of the car was point to his helmet.

That night, when he called home again, Yn’s excited squeal nearly burst his eardrums.

"You did it, Daddy! My pictures won!"

Lewis laughed, feeling his heart swell. "Yeah, baby. We did it together."

And as far as he was concerned, that made this the most special win of his career.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[debussy42]

"straight or curly?"

Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈

wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW

"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."

Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”

Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”

You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”

She shrugs. “It’s easier.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”

You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”

Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”

Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”

You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”

Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”

You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”

Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”

Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”

You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”

Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”

Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”

Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”

Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”

You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”

—

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.

And then, you spot Levi.

He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.

You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.

“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.

Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”

You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.

Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.

“…You woke up just to ask me that?”

You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”

Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”

He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.

“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”

You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”

Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”

You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”

“Tch. Of course she did.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”

Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”

You grin. “It’s a talent.”

Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”

You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.

You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.

Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.

And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.

With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.

When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.

Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”

You smirk. “Straight.”

Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”

You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”

Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”

You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”

Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”

You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”

Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”

Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”

You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.

It’s true.

The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.

And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.

You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”

You snort. “Noted.”

As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.

Levi Ackerman.

Your Captain. Your superior.

The strongest soldier alive.

And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.

—

The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.

You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.

Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”

You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”

“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”

You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.

But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.

Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.

Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.

You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.

But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.

It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.

Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.

You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.

Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.

Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.

Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.

She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”

Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.

—

The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.

You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.

Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.

You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.

And then there’s Levi.

His presence alone changes the air.

He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.

Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.

And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.

You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.

“Your form’s getting sloppy.”

You turn sharply.

Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.

You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”

Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”

You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”

Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”

Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.

“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”

Your jaw tightens slightly.

You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.

And that bothers you more than anything.

You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”

Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.

You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.

And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.

And that’s enough to push you harder.

—

It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.

“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”

Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”

Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”

You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”

Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”

You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”

Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”

You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.

Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”

“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.

Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”

You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”

Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”

Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.

Because, honestly?

You kind of do want to see if he notices.

—

“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.

Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”

You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”

“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”

Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”

You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”

Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”

Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”

You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”

Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”

You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”

Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”

As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”

You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”

Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.

You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.

Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.

Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”

You smirk. “Told you.���

She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”

Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”

Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.

Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.

It’s just Jean’s birthday.

And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.

—

The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.

The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”

Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”

Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”

Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.

And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.

A shift.

The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.

Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.

It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.

Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”

You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.

He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.

And then—his gaze lands on you.

It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.

His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

You hold your breath.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.

His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.

“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”

You press your lips together, considering.

“…He paused.”

Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”

Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”

Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.

You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

But either way—he paused.

And that was more than enough.

—

The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.

Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.

You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”

Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”

You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.

Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.

He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.

You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.

It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.

Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.

Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”

You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”

“It wasn’t anything.”

Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”

Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.

Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.

And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.

Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.

Until—

“You’re drinking too fast.”

The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.

Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”

Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.

You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.

Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”

Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.

The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”

Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”

Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”

That gives you pause.

You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.

And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.

You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”

Sasha smirks. “Are we?”

You don’t answer.

You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.

—

The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.

The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.

And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.

You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.

You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.

But then—

His hold tightens.

Subtly, but noticeably.

His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.

Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.

A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.

You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”

The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.

Your smile tightens. “I should really—”

And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.

A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.

The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.

“Let her go.”

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.

And you do.

The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.

He makes the wrong choice.

“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”

A sharp, quiet pause.

Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.

Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.

With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”

You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.

Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.

You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.

His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”

You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”

Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—

“I know.”

It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.

Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”

You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.

Something like relief.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.

—

“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.

But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”

Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.

But then—

A hand.

Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.

And then—he moves.

Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.

For a second, you forget everything else.

The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.

His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.

And yet, here he is, following through.

You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”

You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.

The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.

And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:

Levi definitely noticed your hair.

The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.

His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.

And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.

Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.

Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.

You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.

You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”

Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”

“You’re dancing right now.”

“Tch. You call this dancing?”

You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.

Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.

He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.

You smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.

Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.

The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.

And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.

You’re testing him.

Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.

If he will choose to let himself stay.

Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”

A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.

Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.

He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.

The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.

Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.

You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.

He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.

“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.

You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.

And for the first time tonight, you realize—

You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.

Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.

—

You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"

You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.

Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.

His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”

Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”

Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”

Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.

You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”

“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”

A pause.

Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.

Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”

You don’t waste a second.

—

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.

And then—you see him.

Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.

There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.

Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.

But you don’t care about the drunk.

You care about him.

You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.

“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.

Then, at last, he turns.

The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.

He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”

You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”

Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”

You shake your head. “I came on my own.”

At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.

The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re shaking.”

It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.

You blink. “What?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.

You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—

Levi moves first.

His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.

Your breath catches.

It lasts only a second.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.

You swallow, staring at him.

“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.

Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.

“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.

Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.

Then, with the barest tilt of his chin—

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you believe him.

[sturnsblogs]

INTRODUCTION

NICK STURNIOLO X TATTOO!ARTIST!MATEO

21. Gay. Genuine. Playful. Bossy. Sarcastic. Blunt. Fast talker. Chaotic. Causes chaos (good way). Loyal. Caring. Sweet.

21. Bisexual. Independent. Creative. Artistic. Gets lost in art. Quiet. Gentle. Shows love. Art lover. Loyal. Slightly sensitive.

—

Nick walked into the tattoo shop, the familiar smell of ink, antiseptic, and faint music filling the air. He was used to the place, having been a regular for a while. He made a beeline for the counter, scanning the room for Cindy, the artist who had done most of his tattoos. As he reached the front desk, he noticed a guy with brown curly hair sitting at a table near the window, sketching something in a notebook. His fingers were smudged with ink, and he looked completely absorbed in his drawing.

Nick tapped lightly on the front desk, his voice low but playful, “Um… excuse me?”

The guy looked up, a small but warm smile pulling at his lips as he set down his pencil. “Hey there, what’s up?” he asked, his tone easy-going and friendly.

“Hi, I was supposed to meet Cindy today for my appointment. Is she around?” Nick asked, shifting on his feet slightly, a hint of impatience in his tone, not used to waiting.

The guy’s smile faltered, his eyes dropping for a moment before he spoke again. “Oh… I’m really sorry, man. Cindy actually quit last week,” he said, shrugging a bit, though he seemed genuinely apologetic. “She left kind of suddenly.”

Nick’s eyes widened in surprise, and he felt his stomach drop. “No way… really?” he dragged the words out with a hint of sadness in his voice, clearly disappointed. He had been looking forward to this session for weeks, and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

The curly-haired guy seemed to notice Nick’s dismay and pushed his notebook aside, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know, it’s a bummer. She was great. But, hey, I can help you out if you want. I’m Mateo,” he said, extending a hand across the counter. “I’m new here. I just started last week. But if you’re interested, I can take a look at your design and see if I can do it for you.”

Nick hesitated for a second, unsure about letting a new guy tattoo him, but something about Mateo’s calm demeanor and the way he didn’t push him made Nick feel more at ease. He took a breath and shook Mateo’s hand, the disappointment still lingering but beginning to fade. “I guess… I’d like to see what you can do. I trust the shop, you know?” he said, his voice a bit lighter now.

Mateo smiled, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “I appreciate that,” he replied. “Let me take a look at your design, and we can go from there.” He gestured toward a chair, motioning for Nick to take a seat. “We can chat about the idea, and I’ll show you a few of my designs while you’re here. I might not be Cindy, but I’m pretty good with the needle.”

Nick sat down, still trying to adjust to the idea of a new artist. But as he looked around the shop, he saw that it had the same vibe he loved. It was relaxed, welcoming, and full of talented artists. He figured this might not be so bad after all. Plus, Mateo seemed cool, and the way he spoke with such confidence gave Nick a sense of reassurance.

“Well, alright, Mateo,” Nick said with a small grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got. I’ve got this idea for a sleeve, and I want something a little different than usual…”

—

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend

LET ME KNOW HOW WE FEEL ABOUT THIS CUTE LITTLE SHIP (: I FELT LIKE NICK NEEDED MORE APPRECIATION.

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

Hiw kinnara could realistically work?what could be their internal anatomy, where should be wings ,legs,arms, nsfw parts, ? Typical kinnaris have the head, torso, and arms of a woman and the wings, tail and feet of a swan. Did I can use your kinnara drawings in my work?

kinnara: a hindu and buddhist mythical being with the upper half of a human and the lower half of a bird, wings included. the art I've found through internet search seems to vary on what type of bird is typically used. They look fun! actually reminds me of this other human-bird design I reblogged a while back (though this one makes the bird part much, much bigger than the human part)

(image description: two statues of humanoid figures with a bird body at their hips. end description)

I think if you did it similar to the post I linked, most of the internal and reproductive anatomy would match that of a bird, with the human torso part having things like the lungs, stomach, heart, and the bird part having more of the digestive system. that's just how they line up

the traditional of a kinnara basically just puts the legs int he normal human place and then attached bird parts around the hips, which works fine for their presentation as mythical figures having some manner of spiritual and symbolic importance. I don't expect them to look anatomically correct in this context. but if they're going to be used as a fantasy people, I think this arrangement of body parts is a little crowded and awkward, and the post I linked above has a more reasonable arrangement. however, I also think the bird and human sections can be drawn in different proportions depending on personal preference. here's my sketches:

(image description: simplified sketches of humanoid figures that have a bird body below the hips, not unlike a centaur. on the top half of the image are sketches of a bird-taur with a more natural bird body, having the legs further back while the wings are closer to the humanoid hip region. the lower half of the image shows a bird-taur with the legs in front of the wings. there are sketches of the full body, simple skeletal forms, and the bird-taurs in flight. end description.)

you can use these sketches as a reference if you want, but if you'd like to have nicer art for actual presentation in your project, please commission me! my commission info can be found here on ko-fi. I'll be able to prioritize detail and quality through a commission in a way I don't do with the quick art I make for tumblr asks.

reproductively speaking, most birds only have a cloaca, but some male birds do have a penis. it just stays internal until it's erect. finding an actual specific list of bird species with a penis was a little annoying because for some reason all these articles were quite vague like "oh, ducks, ostriches, and some other birds" like no, I need to know all of the specific species please! Figuring out non-human reproductive systems can be stunningly tricky sometimes.

anyway here's one article on the matter

and here is another article

from my research, here's just a list of bird species that have a penis:

ducks, geese, swans, ostriches, emus, tinamous. and there are also some birds that have a pseudo penis, such as cassowaries and red-billed buffalo weavers.

apparently all birds do have the genetic potential to have a penis, but they just don't grow one. so it might be an ancestral trait! that's kinda neat. personally, I have given my bird folk, the quetzalin, a penis that remains in the cloacal wall and emerges when erect. and yes, it's curly, though nowhere near as nightmarish as the penis on a duck lol. so you go ahead and have whatever fun you want with bird folk genitals.

[missedditart]

Along with my Lackadaisy hyperfixation I've also become obsessed with under the devils moon by @libras-interactives. I absolutely love their ocs and can't wait to see more of them in the story. I made some fan designs of them and thought it couldn't hurt to share them. I had a lot of thoughts about their designs so anyone who is interested can read about that below. Also, English isn't my first language so please ignore any spelling mistakes and such.

Malwina

Malwina's design was really fun, also the first one I did. She is described as having black fur and hair and orange eyes. I knew if  I wasn't careful she could end up looking like Ivy, so I made her hair color brighter than her fur color and also made her hair curly/wavy. I also emphasized the eyes as they're often pointed out in the text as big and pumpkin-like. I wanted her to look curious but maybe a little unsettling if she stares at you too long. I also gave her soft shapes and rounded years since she is very friendly albeit a bit pushy.

Máire 

for Máire just mostly followed the description we get of her, calico, auburn hair and green eyes. The thing I had to think about for this drawing is what kind of clothing she would wear. I went between thinking she would prefer something stylish or something comfy. I'm not an expert on 1920s fashion so I mostly looked at old clothing catalogs to get a feel for the clothes she could wear. I settled on something more in between a comfy shirt with a stylish skirt. I based the tarot cards in her hand on Pamela Colman Smith’s designs. Also since she is wearing a shirt I couldn't show off the heart fur pattern on her chest but it's definitely there.

Sylvester

Sylvester doesn't have a very striking design but that's the point. For his facial structure i took some inspiration from Asa Sweet and Bobby Bastion from the comic but I also tried to make him stand out on his own. Other than that I kept close to the text, gray suit and graying fur. I was tempted to give him a colorful gaudy tie, maybe something his wife insisted he should wear. To make him more interesting but again he was supposed to be drab and unassuming. So I decided against it. (I still headcanon that his wife gives him gaudy ties and insists he wear them and he cant say no to her.)

Flynn

Flynn was the one I had the most ideas for but also the one I'm the least happy with the result of but might as well share it. We haven't gotten many physical descriptions of him and what we get is somewhat vague. I also haven't played all the backstories so there might be something there that I've missed. But from what we do get he is often described as odd eyed and two faced, this gives me the impression he has a chimera pattern. We haven't been given any specific color so I chose what I thought fit best. black and bluish gray to make him cold and dark looking, i gave him green as an accent color. I probably went a bit heavy on the devil shape language but it's fun so… I also wanted to color the tip of his shoes white or gray to make them look like goat hooves but they ended up looking too much like bowling shoes so I decided against it. He still has a hoof-like pattern on his shoes which probably isn't very historically accurate for 1920s men's shoes haha. And lastly his cane is only described as black and ivory but nothing specific on the shape. I figured giving it some interesting motif would be fun so I went with a snake. specifically a black mamba witch don't look dangerous until you get too close or they open their mouth. I'm sure a fitting metaphor could be made from that. My design for him will probably change if we get new info about him later in the story but so far this is how i imagine him.

[3motionally3xhausted]

Kiss Kiss Fall into another old hyperfixation

Anyway, I randomly wanted to redesign the main cast of Ouran in my style/ with headcanons and my own embellishments

Here's a screenshot redraw, I'll put all the redesigns below the break bc I did all the main characters & wanna talk about the choices I made. Also I made up that uniform redesign on the spot bc I when I was doing the characters I just put them in casual clothes lmao

(I might do some others later, like Renge, Kasanoda, Yasuchika, Benibara, etc.)

Going in order of my least favorite to top favorite. And dont mind that I didn't color the clothes, that's not whats important here lmao

Mori is only at the bottom because I don't like the drawing that much, I still think the design is pretty good. Though, like right when I finished coloring, I decided a bun/top-knot would look better so it's a bit disappointing there. In my head, Mori is kind of struggling to figure out who he is & what he wants to do, which is why he follows Honey around and doesn't talk much. He does genuinely like being around the other hosts though.

Also, the undercut because A) he has the reputation for being the scary one & it kinda suits that, B) uh do I even have to say it? ...its hot He does lowkey look like Sokka from Avatar tho, especially with the blue accents

(edit: I accidentally deleted Mori's file so now this is the only copy so 😭)

Honey is next because again I think the drawing itself is a little off and the design is pretty close to Basil from Omori, which i didn't notice until it was too late lmao. One of the main things I didn't like about his character in the show was obviously how childlike he was & how girls still flirted with him even though he looked and acted 6; So now he still acts a bit childish but doesn't play it up as much & definitely has a more normal voice, not a fckn child's.

Haruhi! I definitely had to keep her glasses cuz they were really cute and kinda sold the whole 'commoner' thing in a way. But other than that I mainly wanted to balance out her femininity and masculinity to make her more androgynous/nonbinary/gender-fluid since she definitely has some of that going on in the show as is. I also gave her dark circles under her eyes to kinda show that she worked really hard to get into Ouran with low status.

Next up is Tamaki of course, getting into the characters I'm most happy with the designs of. One small thing I tried to do for each of them was give them varying hair tones; so even though Honey and Tamaki are both blond, I went very platinum-blond with him. When I started drawing him, my only real thought was "he has to be a pretty boy" so I dont have much to say about my choices, but i do think I succeeded. Don't mind the modern mullet thing, I can't stop it

Kyouya is definitely one of my favorite characters as is, seeing as he has one of the more fleshed out & heart-wrenching backstories in the show. I think the only thing I really wanted to change was getting rid of the Anime Bangs, so I just gave him this kinda sleek, kinda messy pushed-back look with a blue tint. Even though it's simple, I really struggled to come up with anything, until I found a page from the author saying smth like "I don't like the idea of him wearing neat clothes" with a picture of him in like a track suit so I did kinda the same outfit

My absolute #1 favorites, Hikaru & Kauru. They're honestly the ones that started it all because Kauru has been my favorite since I first saw the halloween episode (iykyk).

I don't know why, but I wanted their hair to be fluffier/curly and more of a natural(?) ginger color. I knew I wanted Kauru's to be redder and Hikaru's a bit lighter/blonder, but only subtly. I also gave Kauru a scar on his cheek from that time in Karuizawa, but most notably, I gave them blue and pink eyes as their signature colors. Lastly, their expressions are slightly different, because no matter how much they are in sync and try to match each other perfectly, Kauru's a much gentler soul than Hikaru, so I made Hikaru's smile a bit more snarky while Kauru's is soft.

Thank you for looking at my art/ reading my thoughts, here's an extra little design edit & comparison

(lol, I think they're mimicking Kyouya in this panel idek) (Also here you can see I tried the bun hairstyle w Mori, I think it looks good, but this is a really simple drawing so.)

[kailoweenie]

Thinking about my mouthwashing Sona/OC and how they'll die if we're talking about the canon of the game. (Yeowch! TW/CW for obvious death talk and gun mentions and all that. Me rambling about my OC being sad. Also I suppose the mention of Jimmy needs a CW of it himself/hj)

Might draw this as an actual illustration at some point....

Jimmy surely couldn't let him live, not when he knows Theo would gladly rat him out if they ever arrived back on earth. Not when Theo stands in front of Curly's figure, looking like the scared kid he always was, blocking him- and ultimately trying to stop him from taking responsibility.

Thinking about how he'd probably be the only other crew member alive once Anya, Daisuke, and Swansea dies...how he'll have nothing to protect Curly and himself from jimmy other than a useless dull scalpel stored in the medical room.

Take responsibility.

His grip was tight against the small scalpel, facing the barrel of a gun. He doesn't know how to fight, even if he did would he want to? Now that his boss, his best friend (and crush) and his acquaintance dead, would he really still want to try and fight jimmy?

To think his family worked so hard to get him a job outside of Indonesia, and now he's at the end of his line. Barely the age of 22 yet.

"....i-I'm scared..." he mutters under his breath to the only other person who was still alive, laying immobile behind him. Only able to watch as a bystander as his best friend raised the gun higher.

With just a single shot, he'd drop dead by the floor, blood pooling from the gun shot in his skull. Pierced right through his forehead. He'll be left there for god knows how long, alongside all his other crew mates who suffered the same horrible fate.

Mouthwashing brainrot is so real guys I can't get it out of my head RAAAAAAAAAH

[cargoholderautumn]

Hey hey! 🍓

Been noticing a lot of my coworkers on here, figured I could give it a go.

The name's Autumn, nice to meet you! I work at Pony Express on the Tulpar, I handle the cargo. It's kinda boring, not being able to look inside them, but it's what puts food on my table. Doesn't mean I don't do anything else though! You'll find me anywhere I can keep my hands busy.

Send questions, do whatever. Hope we can get along smoothly!

RP info under the cut!

Basic info:

Autumn Hodgens, they/them, mid 30's

They used to study for art in university before joining Pony Express. Coming from a lower middle class family, they've been told their entire life that pursuing art was a waste of time, money, and was unrealistic but went anyway. Soon enough they got ridiculously burnt out and left university with thousands in loans. Picked up many, many jobs in their life to pay off their loans and soon enough joined Pony Express thanks to Curly. They say they're just putting their dream on hold but in reality they've almost given up.

Fairly outgoing, has autism. Recovering from people pleaser tendencies 💔 Had a lot of heartbreak in the past and experience with terrible friends. Will tease, but can get flustered pretty easily.

Has some self-soothing tendencies, they have an extra ponytail holder on their wrist and a choker pendant that they fidget with. Has some knowledge in sewing, they embroidered the pattern on their jumpsuit themselves. Knows their fair share of video games as well.

Relationships:

Curly: Friends prior to joining Pony Express, used to go to high school with him and Jimmy. They lost contact for a while until Curly found them at one of their jobs. Nowadays they're pretty tight knit again, possibly mutually pining for each other. Autumn strives to be a listening ear for him, he is also their artistic muse.

Jimmy: Complicated. They dated at one point in high school, rebounded once but then split for good. Autumn doesn't really know how to feel about him, but now they're kinda stuck dealing with him every day. Will still tease him though, unless Jimmy is actually angry.

Anya: They get along pretty well, they usually talk to Anya the most during the work day. Loves seeing her little doodles and photos on the bulletin board, and can understand Anya's struggles with school. Confides in her pretty often, she notices things that not even Autumn could pick up on.

Swansea: Pretty standard coworker relationship, before Daisuke it was them who bugged him in Utility. They try to give a helping hand but it tends to annoy him more than anything. They admittedly do a more decent job in understanding what Swansea wants than Daisuke.

Daisuke: Surprisingly common interests, got along almost instantly. Has shown him a few tips on drawing during his short time on the Tulpar. They definitely have goofed off before

// OOC stuff + rules

18+ only please <3 this blog might get suggestive/NSFW

i will typically reply in semi-lit or lit responses

i don't have any specific boundaries, BUT if something is making me uncomfortable i will let you know

i will only RP in asks/reblogs, replies will always be OOC

OCs and canon characters are more than welcome to interact!! OC x OC and OC x canon is highly encouraged, i'm pretty open to anything

this is set before the crash, so post crash related stuff won't be relevant here

pls don't hesitate to tag me if you want me to reply! i'm very shy abt rping but i will do my best to respond asap <3

Tags

character tag - #cargo talk

NSFW tag - #hidden cargo

OOC tag - #out of bounds

[dragonsdendoodles]

Any and all of your ocs

Idk anything about them but they look really cool so I wanna learn about them!!

Speedrunning fun facts about all my main OCs because I’ve got four stories’ worth of them (plus a few others) and that’s a lot to go into actual detailed shit about every single one of them

These might be weird I’m sorry I’m literally writing the first thing that comes to mind and most of them are gonna be stupid

No Stone Unturned

Kylee initially had an emo hairstyle because I couldn’t figure out how to draw curly hair

Andromeda wrote her own magic system and has an IRL notebook dedicated to that magic system

Jay is the only character I have that I have ever drawn in his current state naked and fully uncensored (mostly for projected gender dysphoria reasons)

Lucy was the first character to be added to the initial cast when I decided the earliest draft of NSU needed a rewrite

Winter was involved in Jay’s fun fact but I’m 19 years old and too much of a coward to draw dicks

Kaitlin has half a page of my sketchbook dedicated to my inability to decide on a good hairstyle for her

Carson uses all pronouns and actively makes fun of you if you just default to “he” and nothing else

Mason used to be clinically insane but then I looked at that and said “if I make my main villain the villain because he’s insane that’s probably ableist” and that’s on self-awareness

No Stone Unturned: Fauna’s Epilogue (co-written by my friend Parker)

Fauna is Andromeda’s niece and the daughter of the two oldest human OCs I have. She is the closest any of the original gang will ever come to having children of their own

Neo is probably the only straight man I have ever written

Crystal injects herself with actual adrenaline to learn to control harpy mode. Jay, another harpy, is incredibly fucking pissed at himself for not figuring this out when eventually this works

Maddie is Winter’s niece from his dad’s second family (technically the first but we’re not doing Winter angst right now)

Leah’s a Twitch streamer

Adalaide’s mom has a crush on one of Fauna’s dads and refuses to let this go to the point he got a restraining order

Logan is a catboy. Canonically.

Aster had an on-and-off fling with Neo for a couple years that didn’t go anywhere because Neo doesn’t actually like men

Colton was inspired by JD from Heathers

The Jewels in His Crown

Pallas was not named after the actual Greek character, but after the version of that character in Joan Holub and Suzanne Williams’ The Goddess Girls

Kayda can turn into a big silver dragon. Yes that does mean what you think it means and yes Pallas is into it

Henry did all of the things he does for the story, including being abandoned and betrayed by his twin sister, at the ripe old age of thirteen

Joan was initially based on someone I know in real life who I had a massive falling out with that hadn’t been resolved when I wrote her

Lucimene was named by my boyfriend, whose favorite character in No Stone Unturned is Lucy

Aurora is here because I wanted Lucimene to be a lesbian

James has had multiple names and I still don’t know if I like his current one. Initially it was Patroclus

Muddy was initially an idea for a Dungeons and Dragons character

Luke was named after Luke Skywalker, because he also has a sister

Lorelei was named after my evident misspelling of Lorelai Gilmore from Gilmore Girls

Elementary (co-written by @pollux888)

Vincent figure skates and skateboards

Jackson’s name was initially going to be Apollo

Lily was based on one of my exes who yelled at me for being a trans gay man only to come out as a trans lesbian six months later

Gallace was initially based on Glaceon but currently shares a name with my Gallade in both Pokémon Go and Pokémon Legends Arceus

Alex’s hair as a Mii in Tomodachi Life is neon pink

Leo has a very similar powerset to Leo Valdez but was not named after him if you can believe it

Enoch was named after Enoch O’Connor from Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Michael was named after Michael Mell from Be More Chill

Miscellaneous

Limbo was my first ever fursona

Omega was named by my mother who does not know what a/b/o is (to my knowledge) because “he’s the last velociraptor”

Petal and Omega are were both initially a closed species that I didn’t know was closed and had a mental breakdown learning this fact because when I was thirteen I thought the cops were going to arrest me for copyright infringement

Ocean is a manokit because I wanted them to be a shark but a furry game I cannot for the life of me remember the name of had manokits and I thought they were cooler

Requiem was created when I changed my username to dragonryder21 and decided I probably needed a dragon fursona to go with it

Lux taught my mother what neopronouns were

Currentcall (Warrior Cats) was renamed from Riverpelt/Riverstar to Currentpelt to Currentcall all by fanmade games on Scratch

Sombra (Minecraft) was named after King Sombra from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Greenjay (MPHFPC) doesn’t currently have a first name

My currently nameless MLP sona has always been a pegasus for as long as I can remember. I just like pegasi I guess

[bella-goths-wife]

Bonding time- Paul

Father Paul x daughter reader

Paul was someone who took great pride in his looks. He didn’t like to be unprepared for a potential victim, that and he just enjoyed pampering himself.

But one thing that he takes the most pride in was his hair. His curly golden locks that would get a woman’s attention from across the room was something he went to great lengths to make perfect and cared for.

So when he was told he was babysitting you and saw your tangled and messily braided hair, he couldn’t help but cringe.

No matter how much he loved you, his ideal Friday night did not include you. So he decided to make his own fun.

“Hey kid” he called you over and you rushed to him “who did your hair today?”

“I did!” You announce proudly with a toothy grin on your six year old face

“Why didn’t one of your other daddies do it?” Paul asked curiously, he remembered David learning how to braid hair specifically so he could do yours so it’s not like they couldn’t do it.

“They were busy and you weren’t here so I wanted to try” you explained with childish glee

Paul let out a small sigh, he knew he wasn’t one to criticise the boys for being neglecting but your hair was painfully knotted and tightly in messy braids. How did they not notice?

“Want me to show you how to make your hair really pretty?” He asked as he watched your face light up

“Will I look like a princess?” You asked excitedly and Paul chuckles

“The prettiest princess in all of Santa Carla” Paul said as he chuckled at you before turning you around “now sit down and I’ll get started”

You practically jump to the ground and sit cross legged between his legs before he got up and went to his nest to pick up his hair care kit that he hid incase marko tried stealing it again.

Paul walked back to you and handed you a small colouring book and crayons and you looked at him with confusion.

“This takes a while baby” Paul explains as he returned to his previous position and begins to gently undo your braids “you might get bored”

You nod and begin to colour as Paul smiles at the sight of you. He then gently combs out your hair and winces when he gets to particularly large knots. He soothes you through the temporary pain with stories about how when he was younger, his brothers would yank on his hair to get his attention and how he would run after then in revenger.

“How old are you pops?” You ask absent-minded and Paul feels the sudden need to lie

“Not to old” he answers as he looks down at you colouring in a drawn picture “what are you drawing?”

“Me and mommy” you answered back and Paul cringes but looks closer at the drawing and notices something off.

“Star doesn’t have those clothes” he remarked as he looks at the housewife get up “she’s more hippy”

“No I mean my other mommy” you say defensively as Paul begins to rub hair oil into your scalp

“What other mommy?” Paul questioned as he brushed it off as an overactive imagination

“The one who carried me in her tummy” you say as you continue to colour “I can’t wait to meet her properly”

Paul’s movements stop as he looks at you with a shocked expression. The only thing that breaks his trance is when he hears a woman’s voice on the small tv.

He looks up to see a woman wearing a housewife dress with matching hair and eyes to yours. You smile while looking at her.

Paul sighs at your confusion, you clearly took this woman as a mother figure because you didn’t really look like star or the boys.

“Honey, you only have star and your daddies” Paul explains as he finishes his process and gets you up talk to you “we’re your family”

“Then who carried me in their tummy?” You asked with childhood naivety “did you or was it papa?”

“No sweetie” he laughed out “we had a woman who had you for us and then she gave you to us”

“So she didn’t want me?” You asked with a frown

“She was only the tummy for you, she was doing us a favour because she knew how loved you would be” Paul lied as a thought of Katie crossed his mind

Paul and katie didn’t love each other but looking at your facial features made him feel like he loved her because she gave them you, or more they took you but you were still theirs

“We all love you very much baby, that’s why she helped us” Paul said as he picked you up to put you in bed. He walked into the bedroom and sets you down on the bed.

“I like it when your home” you said with a giggle as he attacked you face with kisses “you should stay more”

“I will baby” he lied as he gave you one last kiss “goodnight”

Paul blows out the candles and leaves your nest before returning back to the living room where David sat smoking a cigarette.

“Good night?” David cocked his brow curiously and Paul sat beside him

“Yeah, some awkward questions but nothing she’ll remember” he explained as he leaned back

“I actually bring good news for you” David remarks as Paul turns to him curiously “you’ll no longer have to babysit on Fridays, I’ll be free since max likes me to bring her to meetings”

“Oh” Paul remarked sadly “I was actually gonna offer to babysit more”

“No need but thanks for the offer” David said nonchalantly

“Are you sure?” Paul asked and David grew frustrated “I promise I’ll be sober”

“One hundred percent sure, actually on that note” David pulls out a bag filled with weed and holds it out for Paul to take “I got this for you as payment”

“You don’t have to pay me for babysitting my own kid” Paul said defensively

“Do you want the weed or not?” David said annoyed

Paul looked at the bag filled with temptation and feels the urge to grab it, so he does. He grabs the bag and puts it into his jackets inside pocket. All while feeling like a babysitter rather than a father figure. David smirked at the action

It always felt like every time Paul wanted to get clean and become a father figure to you, David would tip the scales of fate and feed into his addiction rather than see you favour someone else to him.

He wanted Paul to stay absent so David could stay a constant present.

Hope you enjoyed

Love ya ❤️

[moogaiashe]

WIP WEDNESDAY!!

Thank you for the tag @lathez

I haven't done much so I haven't posted for Wip Wednesday in a while sorry :P

Here is my latest sketch, I think I'm gonna render it. This is my OC Eden btw if u didn't know!!

The story behind this drawing is kinda like. She gives peace to the world and is kind and sweet about it! The flowers represent her growth as a person after getting out of a toxic relationship and finding a new(less toxic but not the best, at least her new hubby respects her 🤪) relationship.

Also I love the mystical curly hair ykwim

I also have a piece of writing i have not yet edited at all </3

“We meet again, Dragonborn.” Before the black could fade out of her vision as she entered Apocrypha, Eden could sense everything else. She could tell Miraak was in front of her again. “Here to stalk me again?” Eden groaned. “Yes, actually,” Miraak said with a bit of pep in his dark voice. “Keep your enemies close.” Eden looked him in the eyes and then pushed him out of the way. She didn't have time for this. She needed to learn more about Apocrypha before she could figure out how to stop all this from happening. She also needed to learn more about Miraak. That made her think. What better way than to let him talk about himself? He sure loves to do that. That's when Eden stopped in her tracks. Miraak stopped behind her. “What's your problem?” Eden frowned. She's trying to figure out a way to get him to spill as much about him as possible. “Are you afraid I'm just better than you are?” Though Eden couldn't see his face, she could tell he was upset. “You better than me? I worked with the dragons, I was powerful, and I was the most knowledgeable mortal in of all of Tamriel. I even continue to live now, thousands of years later. And you think you're better than me?” Eden could tell he's trying to cover himself. So he is worried she might be better than him. “Oh, yeah,” Eden sighed. She really hoped she was making this seem real. Her sister always told her she's bad at lying. “Because you're so great and amazing.” “Are you being sarcastic? I didn't know you had it in you,” Miraak turned Eden's face to look at him with one of his hands. “You know I could kill you right now if I desired.” It was probably true. She didn't want to admit it, but she had no idea what kind of power he held. “Then why don't you?” Eden said confidently. This could definitely get her killed. He stopped for a moment. Eden almost thought he froze, but he turned his head slightly, which was the only way she knew he was still responsive. “Because I’m intrigued.”

There u go ig it's highk shit but trust the process i suppose

[transmasc-tabris]

Introduce this mystery OC! I wanna meet them :)

Hey sorry for sitting on this for literal days I have no excuse besides the fear of being cringe. Stupid since I clearly decided to be cringe anyway.

Since the two who've taken over my brain most are two of the potential Rooks I've planned, and I saw a 'meet your rook' tag on a few posts, I'll answer it in that format.

Also putting the rest under a cut because this is really long and disjointed and rambly and includes a shitty drawing

Anyway, since he's the first one I'm going to play since I'm incredibly basic and starting as an elf whenever I play a fantasy RPG is basically tradition at this point

No, I don't know what compelled me to draw him looking like a court from aliexpress but it's all I've got.

Name: Issala Laidir

Nickname/Alias (besides Rook of course): 'Quiet', 'Crooked Fingers'

Pronouns: he/him

Lineage: Elf (born Dalish but doesn't consider himself that)

Faction: Lords of Fortune

Class: Rogue (saboteur)

Potential Romance: Neve is most likely

Potential Friendships: Davrin and Bellara (obviously others are possible too but those are the ones I've spun little scenarios in my head about. I've been trying not to think toooo much about the upcoming companions so I don't develop wildly inaccurate images of them and get disappointed)

Potential Rivalries: Lucanis. (I like him well enough but I keep thinking about an early game choice that was spoiled and this Rooks most likely route in that scenario wouldn't sit well with him)

Also putting Solas down for this since while I think they'd end up on at least alright terms with each other, I really don't think they'd start on good terms, though I obviously don't have a plan for for things would turn out.

Scars/Tattoos: Well, obviously there's the giant burn on half his face (and extending to his ear, hence the little gold thing) (people think it's from a mishap with either explosives or poisons since he uses both and often tries and fails to diy new types. it's not but he lets people think it is), and along with that there are quite a few others on the rest of his body (some of which are from explosions or poisons), including some rather significant ones on his stomach (from other events). I mulled over whether or not he'd use tattoos to cover or at least distract from his scars, but in the end I decided that he wouldn't let anyone close enough for long enough to do that, and as far as his face is concerned, he'd rather just deal with it as it is than possibly be mistaken for Dalish.

(note - that's not out of some intense dislike or dismissal of the Dalish people. More that he barely remembers having been part of a clan (not that he remembers much of his life all that well before like age 13 - totally didn't give him that because something something slapping my own issues onto a made up guy) and by the time he has much agency and ability to consider where he wanted to go in life, he felt that it was too late to try to connect with that part of where he'd come from, that he'd gotten by without it for over twenty years and could just keep on that way. looking forward to figuring out how his feelings on that might change)

Oh and the ones on the opposite side of his face. Bar fight, because of course he'd do that. And of course it would have started with him standing up for a woman he was into. She really didn't need defending but appreciated him trying. Then he got someone close to her killed, they broke up and she took the kids (mutually agreed as the best decision). Good times all around.

Notable appearance details:

Large hat and either long sleeves or some other sort of arm covering, at least whenever he's out during the day.

Two gold teeth - gold because lords of fortune aesthetic. Made as replacements after the woman in the already mentioned bar fight punched him in the face.

I tried my best to draw it but not sure how well it came across, but curly hair.

Blue scarf - a gift from that same woman. He definitely keeps it for practical reasons she didn't change the trajectory of his life or anything.

That jar was supposed to have a beetle or similar bug in it but I am very very much not skilled enough to depict that. He likes bugs. They're just interesting little creatures.

Stupid tall boots.

Unseen - a little pouch of ashes in his pocket

I gave him a trait I generally like giving characters, which is that he, for lack of a better way to say, looks like he doesn't know how to have a face. Like every expression he makes is... not necessarily creepy but always a little stilted awkward and generally just a bit off

Anything else to share: Overall, I know he's not the best or most interesting or original character but I like him and am looking forward to bringing him to life.

I imagine him starting out as pretty jaded and apathetic, like he doesn't see the point of getting involved in anything bigger than himself or in thinking of the future, since he tried that before (when he was younger and a lot more idealistic) and it went absolutely to shit and that was kind of because of him over estimating both his skills and what he could handle mentally. So, it'll be fun to figure out how he handles having to be part of something much bigger than himself.

Oh, forgot to explain his name. It was given to him by a vashoth mage who saved him from Some Absolute Shit when he was young. At the time he was too injured to tell her his name, but she didn't want to just call him 'elf' or something like that, so she just chose the first thing that seemed appropriate, and even when he tried to choose a different name nothing felt quite right, so it stuck.

Okay uh, doubt anyone is still reading at this point but Rook 2. Just using a picrew since I don't have a drawing of her at this point.

Name: Anaan Mercar

Nickname/Alias (besides Rook): Sunny/Sunshine

Pronouns: She/Her

Lineage: Qunari (Vashoth)

Faction: Shadow Dragons

Class: Mage (continually torn between evoker and death caller)

Potential Romance: Davrin

Potential Friendships: Neve, Emmrich (again, obviously others as well. I think Taash might be a good possibility but it's hard to say right now)

Potential Rivalries: Again, Lucanis, for similar reasons.

Also again Solas, but I feel like it would be more intense with her and might take her longer to be at least grudgingly okay with him.

Scars/Tattoos: Snake tattoo over her left collarbone. Not some big story behind it she just thought it might look cool. And since she did do blood magic in her youth (I go back and forth on whether she'd have given it up by now or she'd view it as a tool like anything else - one not a lot of people have the competency to use and that can easily go wrong, but still) and the blood magic cutscenes in da2 stuck with me, there are a fair number of scars on her forearms for blood magic reasons.

Notable Appearance Details:

She is Always. in a dress.

Dramatic red lipstick.

Do I know 100% if curly hair is canonically something qunari can have? No. Is it still oddly important to me that she has curly hair? Yes.

Glasses (in my mind they're square)

Horns cut mostly off, the bits that are left capped with silver.

Always wearing some sort of silver jewelry, usually earrings or a bracelet.

Anything Else to Share:

Sees little distinction between her self and what she considers her purpose in life - can't think of a better way to put that, hoping it makes sense

Very much the sort to put on a happy or at least contented face no matter what she's feeling. In part that's just her putting whatever needs to be done first and just generally putting others before herself, but I also keep thinking about what growing up in a place where people would look at her and see a member of the race their nation is at perpetual war with and just how... she's never been able to blend in (the only way you don't stand out as a seven foot tall woman with very broad shoulders is if most people around you look like that) and I think it would dawn on her rather early that most people (to an extent even including her human family, not going into them much though right now since my brain feels like mud) view her, whether they'll say it or they even realize it, as inherently threatening, so I imagine her being constantly aware of how she comes off to people, very conscious and careful of her appearance and actions, and I keep picturing her as having this air of vague sadness. I already imagine she'd be able to drop that most easily and quickly around Neve, and underneath it she's generally very caring and will talk nonstop for hours if you let her.

Okay I'm sorry I typed all that.

Oh, might as well add that her name is the one her biological parents gave her (damn, way to set your kid up for success I guess), but officially her name is still the one her human family gave her, she just never uses it and would mostly rather forget it

[tinywitchgoblin]

Hello there! I was wondering about a ship request. Here is some info about me. I’m short (5’3”) and curvy lady with steel blue eyes and mid length light brown curly hair. I have 3 tattoos. I work as a mortician, but I have lots of knowledge about health and healing. I am always looking to learn new skills. I am a very introverted person around most people but when I’m with the right group of people, I am one the most social and bubbly person.

When I’m not working, learning something new, or my nose in a book I love to be outside hiking.I love cooking and baking. As someone who struggles with eating, I’m always trying to find ways to modify my favourite comfort foods to not only heal my soul but to fuel my body. I have a sweet tooth but I also love to surprise people with a sweet treat every now and then. I am also a very artsy person. I always have a sketch book with me. When I can sit at home I often am perfecting my sculpting skills. I have a couple musical instruments but in general I can pick up almost everything and with some time can figure it out.

I hope this enough information for you!! Have fun and I’m excited to see what you come up with. I always love to see these!

Thank you!! ❤️❤️

Of course! ❤️

I ship you with...

Hunter!

Even though he was raised and trained a soldier, Hunter has always wanted some semblance of domesticity and normalcy. With you, he gets all that and more. One of his favorite activities is being in the kitchen with you, whipping up something sweet as a gift for his siblings. Sometimes he'll stop in the middle of whatever you're making, stand there, and just take everything in- how lucky he is to have you, to have this life, this love he never thought he'd ever have the opportunity to receive, and he gets kinda emotional over it.

Hunter really enjoys being outside, and the two of you try to go out for a hike at least once a week (more if your schedules allow it). It might not even be very long; sometimes you'll hike to a spot and Hunter will find somewhere quiet to sit and relax while you draw in your sketchbook. It's a very relaxing way to counter the stress of work and is quite beneficial for both body and mind. Occasionally, Omega will join you on your hikes, but usually it's just you and Hunter.

Music is very significant to Hunter. One of his favorite ways to relax is to grab his guitar and play a few songs. He doesn't like to play for other people, so the fact that he plays and sings for you is something to cherish. It's even better when he plays and you join in with another instrument, making music together and letting the outside world fade as the bond between you grows stronger with every note.

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Thanks for reading! If you want a ship request like this one, drop it in my ask box, and don't forget to reblog 💚

[seesboy]

hello it seems i'm back here again with my Ambiguously Late 2000s AU except i managed to draw almost everyone this time around. woohoo

design notes && extra stuff under the cut :-)

~ if there's one design i'm not completely confident about it's combeferre's x_x i honestly didn't know where i was going with it outside of designating him as the Blue in the red/blue/yellow thing i did with enj/him/courf respectively. i might revise it in the future to make it fit him better but for now this is what i'm sticking to

~ there isn't much reason behind bahorel's clothes being similar to feuilly's it was 10pm when i drew him and i got lazy. i don't have much of an issue with how he turned out though

~ grantaire's hair is naturally wavy/curly (somewhere between 2b and 3a? i guess?? looking up hair types didn't help as much as i thought it would. btw it's vv much based off of my own hair lol), but it appears straight in most cases through a mix of him actually straightening it and it just being Greasy. i've drawn it naturally before though !

~ éponine's hair is dyed, naturally it's a lot like the light brown hair gavroche has. oh and the racoon tails are extensions lol

~ speaking of gravroche, while i don't know if it's completely obvious, certain parts of his design (namely the beanie) are based off of what i did for grantaire. he and ep are living with R in this au so i think he looks up to him a ton && really really wants to be like him (albeit in a "10 year old idolizing Some Guy" way) and that's somewhat reflected in his design

~ in an earlier draft of the second part i had a montparnasse design all set up and partially colored before i realized it would've made more sense to add gav lolol... i still have it saved but he's like. a Generic Emo Boy here so i don't feel like i'm confident enough in his design to add him to this post </3

~ oh yeah and i tried adding acne to a lot of the guys (gender neutral) but i don't think it's really noticeable outside of marius -_- i think i'll have to keep studying it to figure out how to draw it better

so yeah ! there's my update to this au, at the moment the fic (which i rewrote shortly after posting the first drawing) is sitting at over 5k words which is like. the most i've written Ever and it's still going strong... it's also taught me that i'm prone to writing scenes that drag and drag </3 thankfully revision helps a ton so hopefully it'll be decent when i finally finish it

[adelidae]

Curious about Glance, Motion, Arms, and Hair for Darius :3

glance: at first glance, what stands out most about your oc's appearance? what's their distinguishing feature?

he's fairly short. especially so when he's standing near the rest of his (very tall) family. the second thing you'd notice about darius is probably his eyes--at any given moment he either looks bored with his surroundings or has a very very intense gaze. it mostly depends on who he's talking to and the circumstances.

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motion: how does your oc move? how does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

darius tends to move in a quite reserved but confident way. he's not physically imposing by any means, but he walks like a man used to being in charge and getting what he wants. i wouldn't say he's particularly flexible or anything, he's not a very athletic guy. not to mention he largely dresses in business/formal wear which wouldn't really allow for that kind of movement in the first place.

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arms: does your oc have any weapons? what weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

ok this is a difficult one for me to answer because of the nebulous nature of darius' canon and the many aus i've put him in. he definitely doesn't have any unique weapons or any he's formed a particular attachment to, but i can definitely see him using a gun or knives if he has to defend himself. under normal circumstances i don't think he's regularly using weapons, but i imagine he might keep some around his home or office just in case. also honorary shoutout to vampire teeth lol

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hair: how does your oc wear their hair? does it have some kind of meaning?

darius' hair. literally my biggest nightmare and obstacle when it comes to drawing him. ok i'm actually awful at describing hair but i will try my very best !!! he has curly dark hair and its kind of long. i would say it reaches his shoulders. he doesn't keep it tied up usually unless its expected by the societal norms of his circumstances. he doesn't wear hair ornaments or anything either, he prefers to come across as more masculine in that regard.

one day i will figure out how to draw his hair and i will show you what it looks like then !!!

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from this ask game :]