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[noregerts-neoinnovations]

There are many methods to help a new artist develop the proper Needle / Ink Depth Technique. The Neo Needle / Ink Depth Tool takes the guess work out. Can also be used for tattoo fading. 

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[fkinavocado]

In which you’ve got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them.

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 6 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Part 7 (Word count: 4K)

Somehow, you’d made it to your bedroom. You stumbled your way in there, kissing and groping and somehow even though you’d just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life, had even somehow squirted (!!!!!???), you were craving him now even more than before. The fact that you were stark naked but Harry had only ever taken his coat off was driving you wild for some reason. You wanted to see him, all of him. The room was dark save for the dim lighting coming from the lamp posts outside, enough to clad you both in a soft orangey light. He chuckled against your mouth at your eagerness as you were trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky fingers. As soon as they were undone, you ran your palms over his chest, your mouth going dry.

Holy shit. You always knew it, of course, you knew he was fit and you knew he was inked, but somehow seeing him shrug his shirt off, now topless in front of you was something you weren’t prepared for.

He had so many more tattoos than you’d anticipated, your palms tentatively running over each of them, especially the butterfly (or was it a moth?). He placed his hand over yours, urging you to roam freely over the expanse of his skin “Touch me, baby. I’m yours”

You looked up into his eyes then and the honesty you saw in them was disarming. You weren’t expecting to see anything other than lust in them, but he was looking at you, really looking at you, and you didn’t know what to do with all that intensity.

He must’ve seen your confused look, as his words had taken you aback a bit and went on to add “This only goes as far as you want it to, ok?” he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand and you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes.

If only he knew how much that meant to you.

You let out a quiet sob that came as a surprise even to your own ears. Fuck, fuck. Not this shit again. You held your breath, hoping he hadn’t heard it, but when he pressed himself closer to your naked body you couldn’t hide it from him anymore. You bit the inside of your cheek until it hurt a bit, hoping it’d snap you out of it, and inhaled sharply.

“Y/N… what’s the matter?” his voice was soft but lined with concern he was trying to hide, you could tell he was taken aback by your sudden change in mood. He cradled your face between his palms, trying to make you look at him. When you finally opened your eyes you realized they were watering and you wanted to pull your own hair out for doing this now, of all times. “Oh, no, no, baby… what is it, what’d I do?” he hushed you, your chin trembling ever so slightly now.

You exhaled shakily, trying to compose yourself but failing miserably “I’m so sorry” you let out a weak laugh, trying to conceal the depth of your emotions “I don’t know what came over me. Just… give me a moment. I’ll be fine”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes shut and before you knew it, Harry picked his discarded shirt off the floor and placed it over your shoulders, gently pulling you into an embrace “You’re not fine” he whispered against the top of your head

“No… please. I want to be fine. I need to” you pulled yourself away a bit to look at him but he kept his arms locked around you “I want you”

He huffed “Y/N…”

“Please?” you surprised him, pushing yourself against him and kissing him, not letting up until he relaxed into you and kissed you back “Fuck me. I want you to. I want it. Don’t hold back” before he could reluctantly reply again you dived in for another kiss, your hands roaming all over his chest and up into his hair, pulling him closer against your mouth by his roots earning a groan out of him, finally.

You could tell he was still reluctant but you wanted to reassure him “Please, please, daddy” you whined against his temple while your hand snaked downwards and over the evident bulge in his pants, ghosting your palm over it tantalizingly “I need you. Please make me feel good again. It’s all I want” you kissed down his throat and finally grabbed his erection through his clothes making him moan loudly. The sound sent your spiraling immediately

“Are you- fuck, Y/N!”

“I’m sure, please trust me. I’ll be a good girl, promise” his concern warmed your heart but you needed to feel like you had control over this again. You needed that control back, needed to be the one to give it to Harry for him to exert it, in turn, over you.

You needed to know that you’re the one to give him that power over you, and that he’d stop when you wanted him to.

He hissed through his teeth when you finally undid his fly and snaked your hand into his pants, touching him over his underwear “You’re already such a good girl... my sweet girl” but then he surprised you when he gently placed his hand over yours “...But I can’t”

You unglued your lips from his neck and looked at him, his face contorted in an effort to keep himself in check and you felt like crying all over again.

You’d ruined it.

You pulled yourself away, snaking your arms into the sleeves of his shirt and hugging your torso, shielding it away from him. He finally opened his eyes after a few deep breaths and his expression softened again seeing you so distressed “Y/N…”

“No, it’s all right. I get it. It’s fine” you dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt and into your forearms that you’d crossed over your chest

“Stop that” his tone was soft but left no room for nonsense “Stop saying you’re fine. As I keep telling you, you’re not fine” he stepped closer but refrained from touching you this time “I know you want to push back whatever had you on the brink of tears just then. And I know this power play can help, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but… would it really be so awful if I just wanted to hold you? For now” he tentatively reached a hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes following his movement

You couldn’t help but scoff, giving him a pointed look “You didn’t ditch your New Year’s Eve party with your friends to come here to hold me, Harry” you inhaled seeing him frown at that ���Listen… You’re really sweet for saying that. And I know you genuinely are a very considerate person. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just that... don’t… let’s not pretend this is more than it is”

His brows furrowed even deeper “This is not just basic human decency, Y/N. I care about you more than just that. I’m not saying… that is, you don’t have to feel the same way, and it’s fine if you don’t. But I’m not here for a quick fuck. You’re the one that keeps trying to keep it solely physical though, so maybe I should take the hint already” he muttered that last part

You were more confused than ever, now. This was not the time nor place to be talking about this, and definitely not with you only wearing his shirt that barely covered your ass, but the cat was out of the bag and you supposed it was time you addressed what “this” was going to be, whatever it was.

He sighed, probably sensing your mind race a hundred miles an hour “Look. Don’t freak out on me. I really just want to spend time with you. Is that so bad?” he tilted your chin upwards using the tip of his forefinger so he could look into your eyes “I’ll leave if you want me to. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to go?”

“No” you replied a bit too rapidly “I don’t want you to leave. I want to spend time with you too…”

“Yeah?” he gave you a lopsided smile and you bit your lower lip in return as you smiled back

“Yeah”

He closed the space between you, tentatively, giving you a soft kiss when you tilted your head further back for him on your own accord “Just want to… be next to you right now. Hold you. Cuddle you. Can I, baby?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing you slowly

You were still hoping he’d change his mind and fuck you senseless, but this was also sending your heart galloping. You urged yourself not to overthink it, though. You nodded, still not ungluing your lips from his and hooked your arms around his neck.

He tightened his arms around your waist and scooped you up, earning a playful yelp from you, then placed you on the bed, immediately scooting in after you, grabbing your bent knees and placing them over his hipbone, facing each other on your sides, pecking your lips while caressing your thigh up and down.

“This is nice” he hummed then added after a moment of silence “Haven’t done this in a long while”

“What? Just holding someone?”

“Yeah, but no… I mean… I missed the intimacy of just holding someone like this”

You hummed back, acknowledging what he said and then creased your brows, you were sharing the same pillow, close enough to kiss occasionally “I don’t think I’ve ever done this”

He mirrored your expression “Really? ...Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“No, I mean I just never tried just… being with someone like this before. It’s nice. I’m enjoying it” you gave him a slow smile and he mirrored that too, before capturing your lips with his in another slow kiss, pulling you even closer

“I’m glad. I’m big on physical expression”

“I could tell” you giggled silently and he grinned, pinching your bum swiftly

“Yeah, but I meant outside the bedroom. I’m that guy that makes things awkward with his mates because he wants to hug them”

You laughed “No wonder they wanted you at their party. You were probably gonna kiss one of them at midnight too, weren’t you? Bet one of them is pining for you, hoped you’d choose them for this new year’s tradition”

He chuckled loudly at that and then gave you a look “That sounds awfully familiar, actually. Reminds me of someone else who invited me to their party. Think they maybe wanted me to kiss them at midnight, too?”

You shrugged playfully “I mean, who knows? But can you blame them if they did?” He smiled at you and just stared at you for a while from under his eyelashes “Gosh, Harry. Stop looking at me like that” you shielded your face behind your palms, you couldn’t help that giddy smile on your face and it was making you feel silly.

“Like what?” he teased, removing your hands from your face gently “Just wanna look at you. You’re so beautiful, and I feel so lucky... I’m so glad you reached out” he whispered, tracing his nose along the side of your face “You’re the one I wanted to kiss at midnight”

“Yeah?” your breath caught

He scoffed “Isn’t it painstakingly obvious by now how just how much I’ve been thinking about you?” you gulped at that. No, it certainly hadn’t been. As if reading your mind, he went on “Been thinking about these lips, was desperate for another taste” he whispered, leaning in again and kissing you slow, taking his time, digging his fingers into your thighs every time he stroked your tongue with his “Been thinking about your body, and how pliant it goes in my hands, thinking about all the ways I could make you fall apart beneath me” he kept talking while licking along your neck and earlobe “Been thinking about your scent and how I get drunk on it… those panties you left last time really helped freshen up my memory”. You gasped and he bit your earlobe, you could definitely feel him smile against your skin at that “Been thinking about your eyes, and how they were looking at me, begging me to devour you” he grunted then, and you ran your hand through his curls, tugging at the roots a bit. He was panting heavily by now, biting a bit at your jawline before returning to your ear “But most of all I kept thinking about you calling me “Daddy”... made me fucking lose my mind” he whined, his mouth wet and hot against the shell of your ear making you squirm “I’ve never had anyone call me that in bed, and it might have ruined me. I don’t care if it’s depraved, I want it” he groaned, pulling you closer against him, your naked heat directly against his erection, his trousers still undone “I can’t get enough of you calling me that, never knew I needed that”

“I never called anyone that before, either” you whimpered as he started grinding up against you, using your bent knees as leverage “It’s always been a kink of mine but I just never had the courage to use it on anyone else before”

“Yeah?” he thrust his tongue into your ear then, making you moan loudly, his hand moving up to your breast and groping it through his shirt “Nobody?”

“Nobody” you sighed as he pulled the shirt open and bent his head to take your nipple into his warm mouth “Just you, daddy”

“Yes” he hissed, releasing your nipple with a loud pop “Just me. Tell me, baby. Did you think about daddy too?”

“Ahh” you moaned as he flicked his thumb over your areola in time with his slow thrust, his underwear not doing a good job at creating much of a barrier between his hard cock and your naked, dripping core “It’s embarrassing how much you’ve been on my mind”

“Tell daddy, baby. What did you think about?” he splayed his large hand over your bum, kneading the flesh there, spreading your cheeks a bit so that you could grind your wet folds directly around him

“So much” you rolled your eyes back when he bent again and began licking at your breasts sloppily “I thought about how tall and big you are, and how good I feel pinned beneath you”

“Go on, darling, don’t stop” his voice had gone considerably deeper by now

You whimpered “Thought about your large hands, and how good they feel grabbing at me and touching me everywhere. Ahhh. Thought about how your long, thick fingers pumped into me so good”

“Yeah? Like this?” he bent your legs further and positioned his hand beneath you, sliding his middle finger straight into you

“Fuck! Yeah! Just like that. Oh God!” he wasn’t teasing, he was driving into you hard and fast and the sound of his palm against your wet folds was driving you crazy

“C’mon. Sit on my face” he pulled out and slapped your ass with his wet hand, making you mewl. You hesitated and he grabbed your thigh, throwing your leg over him as he sat back on the bed, then grabbed from under both thighs and scooted you up and above his shoulders

You didn’t have any time to react, just to shrug off his shirt, but you hadn’t even settled properly when he attached his mouth to you, lapping and sucking and moaning against you “Oh my God!” you tipped forward, catching yourself against the headboard “Oh God, oh God!”

“Keep going baby, or I’m stopping. I want to hear it while I feast on your sweet cunt” he sucked your clit into his mouth while humming his appraisal and you screamed your pleasure

“Yes, yes! Don’t stop. Ahhh. I can’t think!” he slapped your ass at that and you took it as a warning that he would, in fact, stop, if you didn’t go on with your list of things you’d thought about since you last saw him “Thought about your tongue and how it felt to kiss you and wondered how it’d feel licking my pussy. Aahhhh, just like that!”

He hummed again and then thrusted said tongue deep inside you making you jump off him a bit involuntarily, but his hands on your ass brought you right back against his hot mouth “Touch your clit for daddy, darling” he caught his breath, watching you do as he instructed and you looked right down at him staring at you almost as if in a trance. After a beat he snapped his eyes back at yours, and surprised you with another swift smack to your bum “Did I tell you to stop talking?”

“Ow! Shit. Sorry, daddy” you whined, bringing your cunt closer to his mouth

“You’re getting kinda bratty, aren’t ya?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow then stuck his tongue out licking you upwards intently, and your fingers sped up on your clit

“Please!”

“Keep going if you want to come, babygirl”

You let out a frustrated groan. It wasn’t that you didn’t have what to say, there was plenty you wanted to tell him. But your mind was so foggy with lust that you couldn’t even form coherent phrases at this point “Fuck, what do you want me to say! I thought about you all the time, especially ahhhh… especially while I touched myself wishing it was you! Oh God, oh God, oh God!!!” He shook his head left and right, rubbing his mouth against you before dipping his tongue back inside you while you kept rubbing your clit vigorously “Gonna come, daddy!”

“Not yet!” he gave a muffled warning

“Please!”

To that, he caught your hand you were using to touch yourself and pinned it to your back “You promised you were going to be a good girl”

“I am!” you cried

“No, you’re not, you’re being bratty and demanding! I say when you can come!” to that he sat up abruptly and swiftly turned you over, ass up, face down on the mattress and sank two fingers inside of you without preamble

“Is this what you wanted, baby? For daddy to manhandle you, throw you around? Do to you what I damn well please?”

“Yes! God, yes!”

“Fucking take it, then!” he slapped your ass while continuing to furiously pump his fingers in and out of you “You like this, don’t you? You’re ready to burst! You like it when daddy spanks you, darling? Answer me!”

“Yes! I fucking love it!”

“Then come, show me how much you love it!”

You shrieked at that, he was smacking your ass so hard it drove your face deeper into the mattress each time, making your thighs jiggle and adding to the sensation of him working you with his fingers, hitting your g-spot every damn time. You came so hard you physically felt like you were going to keep going forever, especially as he kept at it, milking every single aftershock out of your body. When you finally came down from your high he splayed his wet fingers all over your behind, caressing it softly, shushing you “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, my sweet, sweet girl. You did so good for daddy. I’m so proud of you”

You whimpered, already half asleep, his praises making your heart ache even more than your tender flesh. He grabbed your waist gently and pulled you upright, then got you under the covers ever so tenderly “I’ll be right back” he whispered against your temple, kissing it before leaving the bedroom.

You nestled into your pillow, you were absolutely spent. You’d had really intense orgasms before, apart from the ones Harry had coaxed out of you, probably all of them induced by yourself. But this… had been so different. He managed to give you exactly what you’d needed tonight. He’d dominated you exactly the way you’d always craved, while still being caring and attentive and he’d made it all about your pleasure.

You tried to stay awake, you wanted to reciprocate, wanted to make him feel good but sleep was stealing you away.

You flinched when the bed dipped and you felt his cold skin against you. He’d taken a shower, you could smell your shower gel on him “Shh, it’s only me, sweetheart. Open your legs a bit, you’re too tired to go wash up”

You did as instructed and he ran a dampened end of a towel through your folds and then even bent to give your mound a peck which made you giggle lazily and he straightened looking at you adoringly “Do you mind if I sleep over?”

“What?” you furrowed your brows “Of course not, Harry. Get in here” you mumbled. You’d fallen asleep while he was gone and now was having trouble being coherent.

He chuckled as he got under the covers behind you, pulling you against his chest. He was only wearing his boxers while you were still naked “You’re so warm and soft” he nuzzled your earlobe whisperingly “I love sinking my fingertips in your plump skin. I love your body”

“Mhm” you were barely registering what he was saying

“Really wore you out, didn’t I, my sweet girl” he kissed behind your ear

“I’m sorry” you mumbled “I’ll make it up to you…”

“That’s not at all how I meant it, darling. There’s nothing to make up for, I’m beyond happy with everything tonight. Go back to sleep now and let me hold you close, is that ok baby?”

“It’s more than ok” you whispered back, dozing off.

Chapter 8

A/N: I'M SOFT DON'T COME AT ME ALRIGHT?? it just felt right ending it there, inside their perfectly content little bubble

...(although poor Harry deserves a bit of special attention next, wouldn't you say?)

💕 like & reblog if you’re enjoying this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

[brooklynmuseum]

Closing out National Poetry Month, our Spring Interns paired some of their favorite poems with works from our collection. We hope you enjoy!

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas

Image: Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770). Page From Haru no Nishiki, 1771. Color woodblock print on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Peter P. Pessutti, 83.190.1

from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” [Excerpt] By Claudia Rankine 

/

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

/

— Halle Smith, Digital Collections Intern Catherine Green (American, born 1952). [Untitled] (West Indian Day Parade), 1991. Chromogenic photograph, sheet. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 1991.58.2. © artist or artist's estate 

Ode to Enchanted Light by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.

Consuelo Kanaga’s black and white photograph captures a dazzling, yet fleeting moment from everyday life. Three textured glasses cast shadows whose patterns are almost kaleidoscopic in effect. We can imagine Kanaga passing by her kitchen table, as she is brought to a halt to take a closer look at, and ultimately to photograph, the simple beauty generated by the play of light and everyday objects. The close-up scale of this image emulates the singularizing framing techniques deployed by Surrealist photographers, who also took parts of everyday life and blew them up in the photographic frame, thereby encouraging their viewers to look at life around us from a different angle. It is a way of saying: Here, take a closer look. Viewing the world with wonder, along with the joy that this act brings, are encapsulated in Pablo Neruda’s poem Ode to Enchanted Light. The speaker observes the way light passes through trees and creates enchanting patterns. He not only observes, but feels the beauty in the simple details of life, from the way light falls from the sky, to the sheen of leaves, to the buzzing of cicadas. Approaching life through such a hopeful lens evokes a glass-half-full perspective. In fact, the speaker is so hopeful that he believes “The world is/a glass overflowing/with water.” I think Kanaga would have felt the same way. 

— Kirk Testa, Curatorial Intern, Photography Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Glasses and Reflections). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.25

Easter Wings By George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

      Though foolishly he lost the same,

            Decaying more and more,

                  Till he became

                        Most poore:

                        With thee

                  O let me rise

            As larks, harmoniously,

      And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

      And still with sicknesses and shame.

            Thou didst so punish sinne,

                  That I became

                        Most thinne.

                        With thee

                  Let me combine,

            And feel thy victorie:

         For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings by George Herbet and Martin Bach’s flower vase from the Brooklyn Museum’s Decorative Arts collection reveal the interrelationship between form and function. In Easter Wings, Herbert strategically varies the line length to create an image that enhances the meaning of the poem; when you turn the poem on its side, it resembles the wings of a bird, of which are symbolic of the atonement of Jesus Christ. In doing so, the author is not only telling us his message, but he is showing it visually as well. Similarly, the vase takes the visual form of its function. Its floral design amplifies the meaning of the object, as the vase is meant to hold flowers. In both instances, we see how aesthetic properties of a work echo the meaning and function of the work itself.

— Amy Zavecz Martin Bach (American, 1862-1921). Vase, ca. 1905. Opalescent glass. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Zoebisch, 59.143.16. Creative Commons-BY 

I am the Earth (Watashi wa chikyu) [Excerpt] by Kiyoko Nagase, Translated by Takako Lento

I am warm, moist soil  I am a single supple stalk  I draw my life  all the way up into corollas of wild berries on the roadside 

I am amazed at  a breast of water welling  to flow into the inlet of a muddy rice paddy  I am amazed at  myself being  hot steam blowing fire and sulfur up  from the bottom of the great ocean, deep indigo.  I am amazed at  the crimson blood flow  covering the earth’s surface in human shape;  I am amazed that it swells as the tides ebb and flow, and gushes out monthly under distant invisible gravity … I am the earth.  I live there, and I am the very same earth. 

In the four billionth year  I have come to know  the eternal cold moon, my other self, my hetero being,  then, for the first time, I am amazed that I am warm mud.

The vivid imagery conjured up by Kiyoko Nagase’s poem is beautifully visualized by Emmi Whitehorse’s painting. The emphasis on deep Earth tones and abstract corporeality in both the poem and the painting really creates an intense metaphysical link between the environment and the self.

— Amanda Raquel Dorval, Archives Intern Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo, born 1957). Fire Weed, 1998. Chalk, graphite, pastel and oil on paper mounted on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Hinrich Peiper and Dorothee Peiper-Riegraf in honor of Emmi Whitehorse, 2006.49. © artist or artist's estate

Seventh Circle of Earth by Ocean Vuong

On April 27, 2011, a gay couple, Michael Humphrey and Clayton Capshaw, was murdered by immolation in their home in Dallas, Texas.

Dallas Voice

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As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his hands? / Another torch

streams through / the kitchen window, / another errant dove. / It’s funny. I always knew / I’d be warmest beside / my man. / But don’t laugh. Understand me / when I say I burn best / when crowned / with your scent: that earth-sweat / & Old Spice I seek out each night / the days

refuse me. / Our faces blackening / in the photographs along the wall. / Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each thimbled throat / & made it sing

until the notes threaded to this / smoke rising / from your nostrils. Speak— / until your voice is nothing / but the crackle / of charred

bones. But don’t laugh / when these walls collapse / & only sparks / not sparrows / fly out. / When they come / to sift through these cinders—& pluck my tongue, / this fisted rose, / charcoaled & choked / from your gone

mouth. / Each black petal / blasted / with what’s left / of our laughter. / Laughter ashed / to air / to honey to baby / darling, / look. Look how happy we are / to be no one / & still

American.

Ocean Vuong’s “Seventh Circle of Earth” has persisted as one of the great, affective moments of poetry in my life since I first heard Pádraig Ó Toama’s gorgeous reading and discussion of it on his podcast, Poetry Unbound. I decided to pair Vuong’s poem with Mary Coble’s Untitled 2 (from Note To Self) because both works are urgently immersive into the violence and experience of LGBTQ people in the U.S., and for how each work uses text and physicality to address presence, pain, and erasure. Vuong’s poem is actually footnoted to a quote from a news article about a gay couple murdered in Texas. The page is thus blank, absent of text. The reader has to sink below the main stage, the accepted space of word and story, to find the voices of this couple and the depth of their story’s tenderness, eroticism, and utter devastation. Coble’s piece foils the structure and effect of Seventh Circle of Earth by taking what was subverted by Vuong—text and the narrative of violence—wholly to the surface. Her photograph captures her own legs tattooed without ink with the names of LGBTQ individuals victimized by hate crimes. I cannot help but think of Franz Kafka’s short story “In the Penal Colony,” in which prisoners’ “sentences'' are inscribed by the needle of a “punishment apparatus” directly onto their bodies. I was struck by how the curator’s note for this photograph describes Coble’s artistic endeavor here as “harrowing.” The needle in Kafka’s short story is indeed called “The Harrow”. The noun harrow is an agricultural tool that combs plowed soil to break up clumps of earth and uproot weeds and clear imperfections. The verb to harrow means to plague, and in the story’s original German the verb for “harrow”, eggen,  is also translated as “to torment”. Kafka and Coble conflate these definitions of “the harrow” in their respective works: they use a needled device, like the true noun definition, as an instrument of torment because of someone else’s idea of punishment and justice. Here, violence is brought to the surface, intimate in as much as we are brought right up to the artist’s skin and into the presence of her and her community’s pain. Together, one can see how each creator physicalizes their respective artistic space to tell the stories of LGBTQ people, of what is tender and harrowing, below the surface and written into the skin. 

— Talia Abrahams, Provenance Intern, IHCPP Mary Coble (American, born 1978). Untitled 2 (from Note to Self), 2005. Inkjet print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 2008.10. © artist or artist's estate 

To my daughter Kakuya   by Assata Shakur  

I have shabby dreams for you   of some vague freedom   I have never known.   Baby   I don't want you hungry or thirsty   or out in the cold.   and I don't want the frost   to kill your fruit   before it ripens.   I can see a sunny place  Life exploding green.   I can see your bright, bronze skin at ease with all the flowers   and the centipedes.   I can hear laughter,   not grown from ridicule   And words not prompted   by ego or greed or jealousy.   I see a world where hatred   has been replaced by love.   and ME replaced by WE   And I can see a world replaced                                       where you,   building and exploring,   strong and fulfilled,   will understand.   And go beyond my little shabby dreams. 

This poem is featured in Assata Shakur’s memoir, Assata: An Autobiography. It details her hope for a better world that  her daughter can grow up in. This poem is positioned in the book when Shakur is facing increasing prosecution as a result of her  activism and affiliations with the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation army. Being written more than 30 years after this picture  was taken, the poem summons me to think about the trauma that many Black women face and how much of that trauma gets passed  down to their children. The black and white photo of a mother and daughter provides a nice visual to the poem. “The image of a Black  mother and child sitting on their luggage reflects the little-discussed history of segregated transportation in the northern United States. Through the 1940s, Penn Station officials assigned Black travelers seats in Jim Crow cars on southbound trains” (Brooklyn Museum). The photograph of train passengers waiting outside of Manhattan’s Pennsylvania Station especially echoes the verse “I don’t want you  hungry or thirsty or out in the cold.” The overall optimistic tone of Shakur’s poem alters our relationship to the image as we imagine  the mother pictured above hoping for the exact same things

— Zaria W, Teen Programs intern Ruth Orkin (American, 1921-1985). Mother and Daughter at Penn Station, NYC, 1948. Gelatin silver photograph, sheet: 13 15/16 × 11 in. (35.4 × 27.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mary Engel, 2011.22.3. © artist or artist's estate

Crunch.  By Kailyn Gibson 

I retch as a mass of sinew lies between my lips.  The sensation is unbearable.  Fortunately, the jar of flies has gone missing again. 

Slowly, surely, and yet never sure at all,  the quiet of buzzing rings through the in-between. 

It is a symphony wrought from blood and bone. 

Saliva drips from bleeding, hungry gums,  And the crunch of glass echoes the grinding of molars.

If I proffered a sanguine smile, would masticated shards look like teeth?  Would they gleam just as prettily?  

The flies ring,  and the rot calls. 

— Kailyn Gibson Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917). Portrait of a Man (Portrait d'homme), ca. 1866. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Collection Fund, 21.112 

Excerpt from Autobiography of Red A novel in verse by Anne Carson

7. If Helen’s reasons arose out of some remark Stesichoros made either it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) or it was not.

8. If it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) either this remark was a lie or it was not.

9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way we are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.

10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.

11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.

12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.

13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.

This excerpt comes from Appendix C of Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red, a novel in verse. A translator and classicist herself, Carson mixes fact with fiction in her unconventional retelling of the myth of Geryon and Hercules, beginning with a roundabout introduction to the poet Stesichoros. Autobiography presents a captivating example of recent Queer projects that take up Classical material as their basis. A fascination with the Classical past has pervaded our modern conception of sexual identity politics, down to the very etymology of the word “lesbian.” In this fascination, I see the same desire to capture Classical imagery as cultural heritage which has also pervaded American museums, albeit with significantly different aims. The fresco pictured above comes to mind, which passed through many collectors and was even purchased by the museum before anyone pegged it as a modern piece—not an original Roman fresco. John D. Cooney, a 20th century curator of our Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art collection, wrote that “the unclad and somewhat winsome charms of the lady [probably] diverted objective glances.” Both in the case of the fresco and Carson’s novel, the “unclad and somewhat winsome charms” of the Classical past shape and reshape our understanding of history.

— Kira Houston, Curatorial Intern, Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Modern, in the style of the Roman Period. Part of a Fresco, early 19th century C.E. Clay, paint. Brooklyn Museum, Ella C. Woodward Memorial Fund, 11.30.

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

— Shori Diedrick Brackens (American, born 1989). when no softness came, 2019. Cotton and acrylic yarn. Brooklyn Museum, Purchased with funds given by The LIFEWTR Fund at Frieze New York 2019, 2019.12. © artist or artist's estate

Jaguar By Francisco X. Alarcón

some say                                    dicen que ahora                  I'm now almost                           estoy casi extinto       extinct in this park                      por este parque    but the people                            pero la gente who say this                               que dice esto don't know                                 no sabe that by smelling                          que al oler   the orchids                                 las orquídeas in the trees                                 en los árboles they're sensing                          están percibiendo  the fragrance                             la fragancia of my chops                              de mis fauces  that by hearing                          que al oír the rumblingc                            el retumbo of the waterfalls                        de los saltos  

they're listening                         están escuchando          to my ancestors'                       el gran rugido   great roar                                  de mis ancestros

that by observing                      que al observar     the constellations                      las constelanciones     of the night sky                         del firmamento 

they're gazing                           están mirando at the star spots                       las motas de estrellas    on my fur                                  marcadas en mi piel that I am and                            que yo soy always will be                           y siempre seré the wild                                     el indomable

untamed                                  espíritu silvestre living spirit                               vivo de esta of this jungle                            jungla

While the author of the poem speaks about animals, their words can also speak on behalf of the erasure of indigenous peoples in South America. Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions and culture are very important to life in South America. Despite their marginalization, Indigenous peoples throughout the Andes used coca leaves to help with the altitude. The use and cultivation of coca are criminalized throughout most of South America despite it being essential to indigenous cultures. This vessel was used to contain lime which would activate the coca leaves.  Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions are also faced with endangerment despite being woven into the fabric that is Latin America. Through the opposite man and woman figures, the vessel shows the duality that is important to the Quimbaya people which is still relevant to Colombians today.

Aunque el autor del poema habla sobre los animales, sus palabras también comunican el sentimiento común de la supresión de los indígenas en Suramérica. Con la mención del jaguar, se puede entender en el poema que la cultura y las tradiciones de las personas que son indígenas son sumamente importantes para la vida en Sudamérica. A pesar de su marginación, los indígenas en Los Andes utilizan la hoja de coca para ayudar en la altura de las montañas. El uso y el cultivo de la hoja de coca fue criminalizado (penalizado) a través de Sudamérica, aunque su uso para los indígenas era vital y esencial para su cultura. Este recipiente que se utiliza contiene limón lo que activa la hoja de la coca. Similarmente al jaguar, las tradiciones de los indígenas siempre estaban en peligro aunque estuvieran entrelazadas en las telas de lo que sería Latinoamérica. A través del hombre opuesto y las figuras de mujeres, el recipiente muestra la dualidad de lo que es importante para las personas que son Quimbaya, algo que todavía hoy es relevante para los Colombianos.

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas Quimbaya. Poporo (Lime Container), 1-600 C.E. Tumbaga. Brooklyn Museum, Alfred W. Jenkins Fund, 35.507. Creative Commons-BY 

[ramonaprintmakingtwo]

Deranged Kid (Hosai Baido, 1968-1912), Fireman of Tokyo (Kunichika Toyohara, 1868-1912), Dragon Tattoo (Kunisada Utagawa, 1786-1865), 108 Heroes of Suikoden - Tattooed Zhang Shun (Kunisada Utagawa,1786-1865), The Most Popular Actors in Edo, Their Portraits and Their Voices - Tattooed kabuki actor (Kunisada Utagawa 1786-1865), Zhang Shun, the White Streak in the Waves (Kunisada Utagawa,1827-30).

Printmaking and Tattoos

For assignment four the it asks that you consider objects that are symbolic of important to you or capture what is important to you. Although it may seem superficial to some, my tattoos are very important to my sense of self. My tattoos identify me. Without clothes, my hair, jewellery etc, I still look like me when I look in the mirror. I need to consider how I may include my tattoos within my self portrait and wanted to explore other artists who have done so. 

There is a long history of crossover between printmaking and tattooing. In the above Japanese woodcuts from the Edo and Meiji period, the characters pictured are adorned with tattoos. The two mediums developed side by side as the woodblock printing exposed more people to images of tattooed heroes causing tattooing to increase in popularity. Woodblock artists and tattooists were often affiliated with each other some printmakers becoming tattooists themselves as there were shared methods and tools between the two practices.  The terms for traditional Japanese tattooing include Horimono (彫り物, 彫物) which means the carving of images and Irezumi (入れ墨) insetting of ink. The term ‘Horishi’ is used for both tattoo artists and woodblock printers and translates to ‘carvers’.

Traditional woodblock printing tools (Bull, n.d.)

Kyumonryu Shishin (Tsukioka Yoshitoshi 1868) Woodcut print depicting 18th Century Tattooing technique called ‘tebori’ wherein a set of needles is attached to a bamboo rod is rhythmically tapped into the skin depositing ink. 

Traditional tattooing (Western and Eastern) uses strong line work and contrast. This is not only a stylistic choice but a practical one as bold lines help give form to colour which is more likely to fade. This aesthetic transfers well to reduction printing and many contemporary tattoo artists have explored the medium. 

Alex Binnie

Alex Binnie is renown tattoo industry and an essential part of the history of the UK tattoo scene opening the first fully custom studio, Into You in 1993. Binnie’s specialism is blackwork which is characterised by strong bold line work with traditional subjects and and patterns from ancient tattooing practices (Samoan, Maori, Tibetan, Japanese, Filipino, Thai, Taiwanese, Polynesian and Indian).

This understanding of positive and negative, black line, can be seen within his detailed woodcut prints. His is especially skilled at depicting tattooed skin, the tattoos appearing as part of the skin rather than sitting on top like a sticker. This is achieved by creating texture on the skin, rather than clearing the whole area so that it is bright white, creating a greater depth of tone. Should I wish to depict my tattoos in a realistic way this is technique would be something to bear in mind. 

Mark Jelliman

Jelliman has a distinct style and his Japanese influenced tattoos resemble conventional printmaking techniques, in particular the the use of parallel lines to depict tone and curved form. 

Jelliman’s linoprints are very similar to his tattooing although more symmetrical and uniform in shape (geometric shapes don’t work very well on the body as they wrap and warp). Within his printing he uses denser areas of black but continues with the parallel lines. I think his prints are beautiful and I really enjoy them however the techniques aren't suitable for depicting my own tattoos as they are high colour traditional and illustrative in design.

Martha Smith

Smith’s tattooing style is much finer than the previous two artists. Within her bolder outline (good for tattoo longevity) she uses delicate dotwork to create  depth. This would be extremely difficult to replicate this with carving into lino or wood but perhaps it could be achieved with etching with a fine tool. 

Unlike her tattoos Smith’s printing is bolder and uses stronger contrast. The addition of colour in the design of the tattooed woman is an interesting approach, the colour moving outside of the linework and even outside of the figure itself. The female torso print uses a similar technique to the portraits to Alex Binnie, using a range of fine lines to add additional depth of tone. 

Sue Van Gageldonk

Van Gageldonk tattoos have a very print-like quality with high contrast and a good balance of black and white. Whereas the other artists I’ve looked at tend to keep their printmaking and tattoo work separate, Gageldonk uses one medium to influence the other, tattooing images that she created initially for prints adjusting them only slightly. 

The links between the two mediums are longstanding and nuanced. Don Ed Hardy, known for his development of modern tattooing initially studied and worked a printmaker. I want to consider the relationship between the two and how I can incorporate it into my work. I'm unsure about how to depict my own tattoos within my self portrait and I need to explore the best way to do so. 

References

Alexbinnie.com. n.d. Alex Binnie. [online] Available at: <http://www.alexbinnie.com> [Accessed 25 August 2021].

Bull, D., n.d. Encyclopedia of Woodblock Printmaking : Yoshida - Japanese Woodblock Printing : Chapter II : Part II. [online] Woodblock.com. Available at: <http://www.woodblock.com/encyclopedia/entries/011_07/chap_2b.html> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Egenolf Gallery Japanese Prints. 2021. Egenolf Gallery Japanese Prints. [online] Available at: <https://egenolfgallery.com/> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

En.wikipedia.org. n.d. Irezumi. [online] Available at: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irezumi> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Etsy. n.d. Sue Van Gageldonk Etsy Shop. [online] Available at: <https://www.etsy.com/shop/suevangageldonk> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Horisumi.com. n.d. [online] Available at: <https://www.horisumi.com/tebori/> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Howerton, R., 2017. The Art of Tebori — Creating Traditional Japanese Tattoos the Old Way. [online] Tattoodo. Available at: <https://www.tattoodo.com/articles/the-art-of-tebori-creating-traditional-japanese-tattoos-the-old-way-13410> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Iamfy.co. n.d. Martha Smith Tattoo Shopfy. [online] Available at: <https://www.iamfy.co/shop/martha-smith-tattoo> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Japan House (Los Angeles). n.d. The Process of Woodblock Printing. [online] Available at: <https://www.japanhousela.com/exhibitions/nature-supernature/process-of-woodblock-printing/> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Jelliman, M., n.d. [online] Marktattooist.com. Available at: <https://www.marktattooist.com/> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Jelliman, M., n.d. Mark Tattooist. [online] Instagram.com. Available at: <https://www.instagram.com/marktattooist> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Museum of Fine Arts Boston. n.d. Object Number 260017, Woodblock Print. [online] Available at: <https://collections.mfa.org/objects/260017/> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Smith, M., 2021. [online] Martha Smith Tattoo. Available at: <https://www.instagram.com/marthasmithtattoo/> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Van Gageldonk, S., n.d. Sue Van Gageldonk. [online] Instagram.com. Available at: <https://www.instagram.com/suevangageldonk/> [Accessed 24 August 2021].

Von Huban, L., 2019. "Inserting Ink": the Hidden Ties Between Japanese Woodblock Prints and Traditional Tattoos. [online] Revere Auctions. Available at: <https://www.revereauctions.com/2019/03/22/inserting-ink-the-hidden-ties-between-japanese-woodblock-prints-and-traditional-tattoos/> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

Wanczura, D., 2004. Heroes of the Suikoden. [online] Artelino.com. Available at: <https://www.artelino.com/articles/heroes_suikoden.asp> [Accessed 20 August 2021].

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 21: Answers

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan awoke that morning feeling fresh and clear and light, so much so that it surprised him. Unnerved him. He still felt weightless, but he was no longer falling, no longer lost. He could almost still feel Aelin’s hand in his, a phantom limb. Guiding him onwards.

The day passed normally, only Aelin was banned from the kitchens so they made their trek up to the temple ruins in the early morning rather than at noon. They were both quiet for most of the day, adjusting to this new thing – this new dynamic between them. Or at least Rowan was.

He didn’t know what to do with her, didn’t know where to place her in his life.

Yes, she was temporary, and would soon be gone back into the west, but right now she felt frighteningly permanent. And though she was young, she felt old. Very old. Her experiences in life had aged her immensely, and though she was very similar in temperament to Fenrys, Rowan felt far more akin to her than he’d ever felt to the reckless male.

But she wasn’t a friend, wasn’t a sister, wasn’t a companion. She was still his student, still under his command. And he did not take that lightly, nor could he forget it. She was his responsibility until they knelt at Maeve’s feet in Doranelle, and no earlier.

And yet, last night something had passed between them. Something had shifted, and would not easily shift back.

Yet it was far from easy between them. The day Aelin didn’t provoke him at least once, would be the day the world fell apart at the seams. What was strange was Rowan was almost starting to enjoy the teasing, and how it morphed into a comfortable banter between the two of them.

Mostly, however, he felt a ravenous, aching curiosity. The girl was a mystery, one he was now determined to solve. One that he would solve. Last night, Rowan had broken down the door, and handed her his past on a silver platter. And she had taken it, had listened to his every word. Without judgement, and without reproach.

It had felt…good. To open those floodgates, to let go of his truth. To share it with her. And he had no intention of going back to the icy silence. All the questions had built up within him over the past weeks and were now resting on the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked. He just had to find the right opportunity.

That evening, Rowan ate in the kitchens with everyone else, then retired to his rooms early to begin repairing the damage done to his tattoos. He used a mirror to ink in the mangled sections on his face, but soon realized it would be impossible for him to fix the marks on his right arm without help.

Rowan sighed deeply, and went to go ask Aelin a favor.

···

“Tell me about how you learned to tattoo.”

“No.” An automatic response.

Aelin looked up, her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t answer my questions, I might very well make a mistake, and…” She lowered the tattooing needle closer to his arm for emphasis.

Rowan almost laughed. As it was, he let out a huff of air through his nose and his lips tightened, preventing a smile.

He was sitting on his worktable, facing away from the idly burning fire and towards the closed door. Aelin was sitting in the rickety wooden chair and hunched over his wrist, baring the tattoo needle with a wicked glint in her eyes, her neck arched towards him, her golden hair falling over her shoulders and masking the beautiful curve where her neck met her torso –

“Did you learn from someone? Master and apprentice and all that?” Aelin’s question jerked Rowan from his thoughts.

“Yes, master and apprentice and all that,” Rowan answered, silently cursing himself. “In the war camps, we had a commander who used to tattoo the number of enemies he’d killed on his flesh – sometimes he’d write the whole story of a battle. All the young soldiers were enamored of it, and I convinced him to teach me.”

“With that legendary charm of yours, I suppose.” This time, he couldn’t completely hold in the smile curving his lips. He cursed inwardly again, and mentally shook himself.

“Just fill in the spots where I – ” Rowan hissed in pain as Aelin took the needle and punched another mark into the thin skin on his wrist. “Good. That’s the right depth.”

Rowan couldn’t help but be impressed. Before they’d begun, he’d instructed her on how to properly use the tools, and she’d taken to the lessons quickly, her skill with blades translating fairly well into the subtle dexterity necessary to make the delicate markings. Usually he asked Gavriel to assist him, and it’d become a regular ritual in their easy friendship. Once, he’d asked Fenrys, and then immediately regretted it. The male had no patience for the fine, slow work.

Aelin made several more marks, her hands steady, while Rowan focused on locking his jaw and evening his breaths.

“Tell me about your family.” Another casual question.

“Tell me about yours and I’ll tell you about mine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Fine.” Her hard voice revealed nothing. “Are your parents alive?”

Rowan shook his head. “My parents were very old when they conceived me. I was their only child in the millennia they’d been mated. They faded into the Afterworld before I reached my second decade.”

Aelin was quiet, so Rowan paused for a moment, deliberating. There was so much he wanted to ask her – about the years he knew nothing of, about her family, her friends, about whoever had died and left her to cross the ocean alone, desperate enough to bargain with a Fae queen. But he knew he had to ease into it.

“You had no siblings.” The statement was flat, the question implied. And even though Rowan had thought it innocuous enough, Aelin still hesitated, her embers curling around her as she steeled herself.

“My mother, thanks to her Fae heritage, had a difficult time with the pregnancy. She stopped breathing during labor. They said it was my father’s will that kept her tethered to this world. I don’t know if she even could have conceived again after that. So, no siblings. But – ” A pause, and a deep breath. “But I had a cousin. He was five years older than me, and we fought and loved each other like siblings.” Her voice was hollow and cold. Rowan searched, trying to remember, but the name slipped his mind. Her cousin…

“I don’t know what happened, but they started saying his name – as a skilled general in the king’s army.” And then it clicked. Aedion, Aedion Ashryver. The name he had heard her whisper in her sleep that night they camped in the wilderness together, the male she had apologized to in her dreams. The Wolf of the North, and general to the King of Adarlan.

Rowan didn’t know much about him, only the scant rumors that had made their way across the sea. Before the fall of Terrasen, not much was said about the boy – especially when so much attention was laid on his much more powerful cousin – but Rowan could remember hearing of vague machinations to marry Aelin and Aedion, strengthening Terrasen’s ties to the Ashryvers and Wendlyn, and therefore to Doranelle.

After its fall, Rowan had heard nothing at all until Aedion swore fealty to Adarlan and was placed in charge of Terrasen, only now under the thumb of the evil king. He had become Adarlan’s whore, and a menace to his own people. But still, he had survived. A feat in itself.

Aelin’s voice was quiet as she admitted, “I think facing my cousin after everything would be the worst of it – worse than facing the king.”

Understanding twisted in Rowan. She had left Aedion to deal with everything completely alone – with the fall of their kingdom and the slaughter of their family, with the murder and enslavement of their people, with the shame of having to kneel to the southern king. Aelin’s hands trembled, shame and hatred dousing her golden flames.

So Rowan gave her all he could – the calming meditation that came with the repetitive action of using the tattoo needle. “Keep working,” Rowan said, jerking his head towards the tools currently sitting in her lap.

After a few more taps of the mallet, Rowan chanced another question. “Do you think your cousin would kill you or help you? An army like his could change the tide of any war.”

Aelin’s lips pursed. “I don’t know what he would think of me, or where his loyalties lie. And I’d rather not know. Ever.”

Rowan kept silent, waiting for Aelin decide to continue the conversation. He knew what it was to be unable to talk, and though his curiosity burned, he didn’t want to push her into giving anything she didn’t want to give him.

But after only a few moments of silence, she offered up another question. “Do you have cousins?”

“Too many. Mora’s line was always the most widespread, and my meddlesome, gossiping cousins make my visits to Doranelle … irksome.” Aelin gave him a small smile, and though it didn’t touch her eyes it urged him onwards. “You’d probably get along with my cousins. Especially with the snooping.”

Aelin squeezed his hand hard enough to hurt. “You’re one to talk, Prince. I’ve never been asked so many questions in my life.”

The light teasing had him baring his teeth in response, though the pressure of her hand was a surprisingly welcome warmth. Rowan stiffened, forcing those thoughts back, and glanced meaningfully at his bleeding wrist. “Hurry up, Princess. I want to go to bed at some point before dawn.”

But instead, Aelin used her free hand to make a particularly vulgar gesture. Before she could drive the point home with some quip or insult, Rowan caught her hand with his own, baring his teeth again. “That is not very queenly.”

“Then it’s good I’m not a queen, isn’t it?” She tried to keep the words light, but they burned with the weight of her self-hatred. And Rowan could no longer hold in his curiosity.

“You have sworn to free your friend’s kingdom and save the world – but will not even consider your own lands. What scares you about seizing your birthright? The king? Facing what remains of your court?”

Their faces were now inches from each other, close enough that he could see the flecks of brown hidden in the indistinct border between her turquoise pupils and their golden core, their hands still clasped together between their chests. “Give me one good reason why you won’t take back your throne. One good reason, and I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.”

Aelin paused, seeming to weigh the intentness of his gaze against her desire to keep her answers locked up deep in her chest. Then she finally said, “Because if I free Eyllwe and destroy the king as Celaena, I can go anywhere after that. The crown … my crown is just another set of shackles.”

He leaned back slightly, the information clicking into place. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, another set of shackles?” Rowan loosened his grip on her hand to reveal the two thin bands of silver that encircled her wrists – the marks of heavy chains, embedded in her bones.

Aelin yanked her hands out of his grip. “Nothing,” she said. “Arobynn, my master, liked to use them for training every now and then.”

Rowan’s mouth tightened. Something was off in her scent, and it almost smelled like the anxiety that came with a lie. Not that Rowan blamed her if she was keeping anything back from him – she didn’t own him anything.

Aelin went back to her work, and Rowan kept his body very still through the sting of the tattoo needle. But his mind was far away from the small, damp room. It was across the sea, in the capital of Adarlan and deep in the bowels of the Assassin’s Keep, where he could see a small golden figure curled up in the dark, her limbs held in chains. A perfect reflection of the cage she still labored within, the mental shackles containing her power. But in this image, Aelin had a child’s face.

Fury rippled through him, and the question leaped to his lips. “Why did you stay with Arobynn?”

A pause. “I knew I wanted two things: First, to disappear from the world and from my enemies, but … ah.” Aelin avoided his gaze. “I wanted to hide from myself, mostly. I convinced myself I should disappear, because the second thing I wanted, even then, was to be able to someday…hurt people the way I had been hurt. And it turned out that I was very, very good at it.”

That quick flash of fury gave way to a much deeper, writhing rage as the image of that chained girl shifted, her face becoming twisted with a suffering and anger and violence that no child should be faced with. There was much about the princess that eluded him, but this didn’t. He too had been put in chains, he too had a master.

But he had chosen his chains, had walked into this slavery. She had been forced into it, and the difference there was massive. Infuriatingly so. The difference between jumping off the ledge, and being pushed.

Aelin continued. “If he had tossed me away, I would either have died or wound up with the rebels. If I had grown up with them, I probably would have been found by the king and slaughtered. Or I would have grown up so hateful that I would have been killing Adarlanian soldiers from a young age.”

Rowan’s brows rose at all the questions she was purposefully leaving unanswered, but Aelin only clicked her tongue, saying, “You thought I was just going to spread my whole history at your feet the moment I met you? I’m sure you have even more stories than I do, so stop looking so surprised. Maybe we should just go back to beating each other into a pulp.”

“Oh, not a chance, Princess. You can tell me what you want, when you want, but there’s no going back now.”

She lifted the needle and mallet once more, another tease on her lips. “I’m sure your other friends just adore having you around.”

Rowan grabbed her by the chin, lifting her face to look up at him. “First thing,” he breathed, “We’re not friends. I’m still training you, and that means you’re still under my command.”

A thin shield, one Rowan could only hope would stay intact under the weight of Aelin’s relentless teasing. If she started making any other kind of advance, he had no idea what he would do. Rowan didn’t know what Aelin wanted with him, but he did know that he wanted her. And that he couldn’t ever have her. For many, many reasons.

So he also said, “Second – whatever we are, whatever this is? I’m still figuring it out, too. So if I’m going to give you the space you deserve to sort yourself out, then you can damn well give it to me.”

She studied him for a moment, their breath mingling.

“Deal,” she said.

···

The next few weeks passed more quickly and easily than any Rowan could remember in the past century. He still woke up almost every morning gasping for air, still occasionally heard Lyria’s faint screams in his head, and felt the cold numbness dragging at the corners of his mind. But time no longer pressed in on him like bags of sand, and passing through each day no longer felt like fording through river rapids.

Emrys grudgingly let Aelin return to the kitchens the next day, and she spent each morning and evening playing scullery maid. Rowan had decided to continue the pattern, even if he now knew that the work wouldn’t teach her the lessons he’d originally intended it too.

Aelin didn’t need to be taught the value of hard work, didn’t need her arrogance curbed by manual labor. She already understood these things. But she seemed to enjoy her time working with Emrys and Luca, so Rowan had no intention on depriving her of meaningful, productive work in which she found purpose and camaraderie. Particularly as it freed up his mornings to continue his pursuit of the dark creature.

To both his and Malakai’s relief, no more dead demi-Fae appeared. And though each morning Rowan flew into the wild, carrying out systematic searches for the creature, he found nothing at all. As usual.

By now, the flights were almost solely out of habit, or perhaps some sense of obligation. Though he remained vigilant, Rowan didn’t truly expect to discover anything on these trips, and he ended up spending most of the time thinking about the princess.

Not that he really wanted to be doing that either.

But he couldn’t help it, she was an enigma. The more he tried to unravel her, the more tangled up she seemed to be. And she was very adept at dodging his questions; much of the time they spent together, it was he who was speaking, telling her his many stories, his long history.

Now that he had finally let go of some of his truth, the rest of it followed suit, flowing out of him more painlessly than he would have ever thought possible. But it was more than that – Rowan wanted to tell her. Wanted her to know him, just as he wanted to know her.

Rowan told Aelin about his various campaigns in the south and east of Doranelle, the wars fought and won, the courts that rose and fell with the tide, the Fae he’d led through battle and who died at his hand and under his command. Told of sieges in bloody sand that lasted for years, of the destruction of towns and villages, the massacre of evil and good men alike, of spying, lying, cheating, and killing.

And she listened to it all, unwittingly giving him the greatest gift she could give.

Fenrys, Connall, Lorcan, Vaughan and Gavriel were frequent visitors in his tales, though it was rare that all of them were ever in one place. Aelin didn’t ask many questions about them, and Rowan only rarely provided names or details. There were stories that weren’t his to tell, truths that didn’t belong to him.

As he talked, Aelin worked with her magic, painstakingly drawing out small tendrils of flame and trying not to burn up the mountainside. She only sometimes failed. The small things were still the hardest, and Rowan had her practicing lighting candles, putting out hearth fires, weaving ribbons of flame through her fingers. Slowly, she improved.

A week or so after the incident beneath Bald Mountain, Namonora finally sent notice to the fortress.

Prince Whitethorn –

We have completed our examination of the body, though I would prefer to explain our conclusions in person. And also, I think there is someone here you would benefit from meeting.

Please come at your earliest convenience.

– Namonora, Head Healer

Western Compound, Doranelle

So the next morning, Rowan flew out to meet with Namonora at the Healer’s compound.

This time, he found her sitting at a worn desk in a small room deep in the stone castle, pouring over a piece of paper, her brow furrowed. Rowan greeted the old female respectfully, his head slightly bowed. Namonora jerked from her reverie, then greeted him in return.

“As you asked, so I have come.” Rowan said.

“Indeed you have, Prince Whitethorn.”

“And?”

“And there is no doubt that the demi-Fae are being murdered. None whatsoever.”

Rowan’s lips pursed, and he nodded, gesturing for the old healer to continue.

“The body arrived approximately two weeks ago. Both I, and two other experienced healers conducted the examination. We couldn’t determine an exact time of death, due to the strange nature of the decay, and the damage done to the body in transport. The demi-Fae could have died as few as two or three days before he was discovered, or as much as three weeks.”

“Is that normal? To have such a wide gap?” Rowan interrupted.

“Far from it. Normally, we can determine the age of any corpse by the degree to which various species of insect have matured on the body, in combination with how physically decomposed it is. But this body has not decomposed naturally, and has been avoided by all kinds of scavengers – including insects.”

“Do you know of anything that could cause such a thing?”

Namonora clenched her teeth, and shook her head jerkily, frowning. “No. I have never heard of bodies being avoided by insects – such a thing is completely unnatural. A disruption of the biological cycle, the order of things. It all but confirms that whatever killed the demi-Fae is just as unnatural.”

“You mean, the creature…marked them, somehow?”

“Perhaps, I don’t know.” Namonora shook her head again, this time in discomfort. “It could be the scent that keeps them at bay, but we couldn’t prove such a thing. It could also be as simple as the fact that the corpse was so withered and empty of sustenance that scavengers were deterred from feeding.”

“What about a cause of death?” Rowan was intent, his eyes narrowed.

Namonora pursed her lips. “Another mystery. You were right, there were no marks on the body, nor could we find any internal damage to any organs, vital or otherwise. The lungs, heart, liver, intestines, brain – all intact.”

“So death was magical.” Rowan asserted.

“Yes.” Namonora sighed. “I can’t think of any other reasonable explanation, though I don’t know of any power that could inflict this kind of damage.”

“It has to be something new.”

Namonora pursed her lips. “One of the first lessons you get taught as a healer, is that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. I do not like asserting something so outlandish, no matter how it stares us in the face. It was why it took me so long to summon you. I kept re-examining our notes, turning the facts over and over in my mind. I even consulted with my former instructor, but he knew nothing that could be helpful.” The healer sighed, a huff of air out of her nose. “But once Paynor arrived, I knew I could wait no longer.”

Rowan frowned, asking a silent question.

Namonora just shook her head, standing from her chair and moving to depart. “I will let him tell his own story.”

The healer led him back through the compound, and towards the wing of the camp where long-term patients stayed while being treated for non-life threatening injuries. Namonora knocked on an obscure dark wooden door, her expression expectant. A soft, “Come in,” could be heard from within, and she entered, revealing a small, dry room with a well-made bed and a tall, lean man sitting upright, though his left leg was encased in plaster.

“Head Healer,” the man greeted her, nodding respectfully. He was completely human, his scent bland and uninteresting – a mixture of wool and hay and oats. His clothing was simple, but clearly marked him as a soldier from Wendlyn, possibly naval.

“Paynor.” Namonora inclined her head in return, her face tight, “This is Prince Rowan Whitethorn.”

Rowan nodded his greeting, while the man’s scent filled up with that all-too-familiar fear, his eyes widening, muscles stiffening. Rowan shifted slightly. It had been a while since someone had reacted to his presence so violently, and it discomforted him.

The soldiers of Mistward had no love for him, but they no longer flinched whenever he entered a room. Rowan could even eat in the kitchens now without attracting too much undue attention. And spending so much time with Aelin, who had not feared him even once since that first encounter, was really shifting his expectations for how others reacted to his presence, and not helpfully.

Namonora’s voice cut through the tension rapidly filling the small space. “The Prince is investigating a series of deaths, and I think your story is relevant to his search.”

The soldier looked confused, but with a gesture of encouragement from Namonora, he began to speak. “Until very recently, I was a soldier serving in Wendlyn, in the King’s navy, beneath Prince Galan Ashryver.” The young soldier shifted in his seat on the bed, settling in to tell his tale.

“The first couple of years were simple, not easy, but expected, you know? I fought when I was told, did whatever work was asked of me, kept silent when I was told to. But then a few months ago, we got a strange assignment. A foray into enemy territory, but not to strike – to spy.” At this, the soldier’s eyes flicked uncomfortably over to Rowan’s and then back again.

“It was strictly against the King’s directive, but the orders came straight from the lips of Prince Galan, and my commander wasn’t one to question princes.”

“So you went.” Rowan said, his face inscrutable.

“So we went.” Paynor agreed dispiritedly. “Galan wanted us to make a sweep of Adarlan’s coast, to scout the locations and dispersal of enemy ships, and to determine whether the bastard king was really intending on invading us anytime soon. We were to disguise ourselves as merchants, but instructed to keep our distance from foreign ships as much as possible.”

Paynor signed. “It worked at first. We shot across the sea, heading for the southern half of the western continent, around Fenharrow. After about a month, we reached land, and began to skirt our way up the coast. We knew we would have a sketchy bit of sailing around the Dead Islands, but we had no idea what we were in for. A storm caught us at exactly the wrong time, and we were marooned just off the coast. Only twenty-three of us survived the sinking. But that was only the beginning of it.”

The soldier’s face darkened, and he shook his head slowly. “Now, I have to think I’d gone insane. But I would have sworn I could hear…roaring. Fell noises at night. And then people began to disappear.” The soldier shuddered. “For all I know, they were only wandering off and then succumbing to dehydration, or exposure. But with that roaring…it was hard not to think that the islands were haunted. That a creature was coming at night and killing us off – one by one.”

Paynor took a steadying breath. “I soon lost track of the days, but we had to have been stranded for nearly a week. And then, the night before we were rescued, I think I caught a glimpse of…something. A…darkness. That reeked of death. But then it was gone, and in the morning the twelve of us remaining were found by a passing vessel and taken to the nearest port, where we bartered transport onto a ship heading for Varese, and didn’t look back.”

The soldier’s voice regained some of its former strength. “Another month passed in travel, and we regained some our health. But this leg – ” Paynor gestured to the limb currently bound in plaster “ – was broken in the sinking, and it didn’t set right. So once we returned to Wendlyn, I was sent to the Fae healers, so I might recover its use. And now here I am.”

Namonora nodded, her pleasant expression doing little to disguise the anger and fear and disgust that colored her scent. “Thank you Paynor, I know that was hard for you to relive.”

The soldier nodded, his brow furrowed in anxiety and confusion. “I only hope I could be of service, ma’am. But I don’t really understand how I could much help.”

Namonora only nodded once again, giving the soldier a polite farewell and turning to leave the small room. Rowan followed her back up to her small office, thoughts swirling.

“So.” Rowan said, once the door was shut behind them.

“So. Last time you visited, you asked after anyone who bore a similar story to yours. So once I heard Paynor’s, I sent for you.”

“He is not exactly a trustworthy source – he admitted himself that he must have been going mad.”

“Quite to the contrary. Before you came last time, we had already treated another from Paynor’s company and discharged her. There is another to corroborate his story, who also spoke of a strange darkness stirring in the Dead Islands.”

“That does not mean it has come here.”

“No, it does not. But you must be able to see the similarities between them.”

Rowan sighed. “Paynor did not lie, but I am loath to take such vague assertions at face value. As you said with healing, so is true with most things: the easiest explanation is usually the correct one. And a connection between two events, thousands of miles apart and separated by an ocean, is far from the easiest explanation.”

Namonora’s jaw tightened, and she sighed as well. “Still. I thought you should hear his story.”

Rowan nodded, and thanked her.

Namonora shifted in her seat, her eyes once again finding his. “And as for your other problem, how has that been going?”

Rowan blinked. “She has progressed well since we last spoke.”

“And is Aelin Galathynius’ mental block gone?”

Rowan couldn’t contain a flinch of surprise.

Namonora gave him a small smile, her eyes warm. “I did not know until I saw her in person. I knew her mother, many years ago. A good woman, the Ashryver Princess. Her daughter seems to have inherited her strength, and her compassion.”

“So it seems.” The words were tight, even if Rowan should have anticipated this after Emrys’ revelation the previous week. Namonora had been here just as long as the old male, if not longer, and her memory was infallible. No matter her penchant for bedside tales and impractical notions.

“The Heir of Terrasen has walked a hard road. I can only hope that it has been less dark of late.” The healer’s eyes glinted.

Rowan’s mouth tightened, but before he could reply, Namonora interrupted once again. “I stand by what I said before, Prince. There is still hope. And it gladdens me that after all these years, you seem to have found it again.”

Rowan just nodded curtly, his face an icy mask as he strode from the room. It wasn’t that he was angry with the female, more that he didn’t have the heart to contradict her. No matter all that had happened, how much had changed, it didn’t mean that there was any hope for him.

Rowan had been entrusted a spark, and he would ensure its survival unto his own death – but that meant nothing for his own future. He had tied himself to Maeve, and though it had been at the lowest, most desperate point in his life, he had still done it. And it could not be undone.

Not for anything, let alone feeble hope.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[sciencespies]

Could Tattoo Ink Be Used to Detect Cancer?

https://sciencespies.com/nature/could-tattoo-ink-be-used-to-detect-cancer/

Could Tattoo Ink Be Used to Detect Cancer?

When amateur artist Cristina Zavaleta signed up to take an illustration class with Pixar animators on character design, she had no idea she’d also be embarking on a new scientific study. At the time, Zavaleta’s work as a post-doctoral biomedical researcher in a molecular imaging lab at Stanford involved evaluating contrasting agents, like dyes, used to detect tumors in animals. During her art class, the researcher was struck by the intensity of the colors of gouache, vibrant water-based paints, that her fellow illustrators were using. “They were bringing back these pieces that were just incredible, really rich colors. And I thought, how do you even achieve that color, visually,” says Zavaleta.

That simple question ultimately led Zavaleta, now an assistant professor of biomedical engineering at the University of Southern California, and her colleagues to create a first-of-its-kind library detailing the optical imaging properties of commonly used pigments and dyes, found in everything from tattoos to food coloring. The researchers hope their study will open the doors for the novel use of everyday colorants as imaging agents in medical tests, that may be more effective at early detection of several kinds of cancers.

Currently, only three dyes with fluorescent properties used as optical imaging contrast agents—methylene blue, indocyanine green and fluorescein—are approved for human use by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). In diagnostic medicine and in some surgical procedures, imaging contrast agents are materials used to improve internal body pictures produced by X-rays, computed tomography (CT) scans, magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), and ultrasounds. These materials can be ingested or injected and temporarily color targeted parts of the body, like specific cells, organs, blood vessels and tissues, to help clinicians see differences and abnormalities that may indicate disease. Yet, Zavaleta wondered about the significant catalogue of approved food, drug and cosmetic dyes that people routinely encounter in their everyday lives. Are there other imaging agents hiding in plain sight?

“As my art brain was thinking about these paints [from class], I thought to myself, what paints are already being used in humans?” says Zavaleta. “And a lightbulb went off.”

Tattoos. High quality pigments used in tattooing are made from mineral salts and metal chelates, which have been isolated from natural sources and used by humans for thousands of years.

Zavaleta’s next step was to do her homework, as any good researcher would. She contacted Adam Sky, a tattoo artist in the Bay Area whose work she admired. Sky was interested in her research, and gave her samples of some of the inks he was using, which Zavaleta collected in a well plate, a tray with multiple divots, or wells, that can be used as test tubes, she’d brought along, just in case.

“I immediately took them to my microscope over at Stanford, and I did all these different tests on them,” Zavaleta says. “I was amazed at what I was seeing.”

In a tattoo ink color palette, each color carries a unique spectral fingerprint that can be used as an imaging barcode to better identify and detect tumors.

(Tattoo and design created by Adam Sky)

She measured two optical elements of the inks, their fluorescence properties and Raman properties. Fluorescence relates to a dye or pigment’s capacity for absorption and emission of light, while Raman indicates how light scatters. Both are commonly used in imaging techniques in the cancer field. Highly fluorescent agents offer sensitivity in imaging; very small amounts are needed for them to illuminate areas very brightly. Raman imaging, on the other hand, offers specificity by allowing multiplexing, or the ability to look at several processes happening inside the human body at once. These can help show whether cells or tissues are expressing multiple genes, for example, or expressing one more highly that may be associated with a particular cancer, like HER2 and breast cancer or EGFR with lung cancer. Each of the targets has different receptors that will be illuminated by different agents, and depending on their optical properties, some agents will be better than others.

In all, the researchers evaluated the optical properties of 30 approved food, drug and cosmetic coloring dyes and tattoo ink pigments using a spectrophotometer, an instrument that measures the intensity of light after it passes through a sample solution. Seven of the colorants displayed fluorescence properties that were comparable to or exceeded the three FDA-approved clinical dyes. The researchers next measured the Raman signatures, to see how high the colors’ unique signatures of light photon peaks were, with high peaks being indicative of usefulness in terms of multiplexing. Finally, they tested the best-performing dyes and pigments by injecting them as imaging agents in mice with cancerous tumors.

The researchers evaluated the optical properties of 30 approved food, drug and cosmetic coloring dyes and tattoo ink pigments.

(Cristina Zavaleta)

Data from Zavaleta and her colleagues’ study showed that FDA-approved Green 8 dyes used in drugs and cosmetics have significant tumor targeting potential in mice with cervical and colon tumors, and the Orange 16 pigment found in tattoo inks also showed, according to the authors, promising fluorescent properties and tumor targeting potential. This is significant because, as they note in the study, “no single imaging modality currently meets all the clinical needs of high sensitivity, high spatial and temporal resolution, high multiplexing capacity, high depth of penetration, low cost, and high throughput.” In other words, no single imaging agent can provide all the information a doctor might need.

The USC lab where Zavaleta and her colleagues conducted the research uses nano-based imaging contrast agents, or tiny spherical vesicles that are loaded with the dyes or pigments. While nano-based agents are approved for use as a medium in human imaging, they have been controversial in the past because of potential toxicity. Metallic-based nanoparticles like those made from gold and silver have been known to stay inside the body for long periods of time after exposure. This is one of the main reasons the team instead uses liposomal nanoparticles, made up of biodegradable materials with fatty skins similar to human body cells, that are already used in other applications, like drug and nutrient delivery.

“You can think of it as us having all these different batches of nanoparticles, and one has a different tattoo ink [or other dye or pigment] inside of it. And that tattoo ink has a very special barcode that’s associated with it; every ink has a unique fingerprint, yellow different from red, red different from purple,” Zavaleta explains. “So, if we have all these different flavors of nanoparticles that we can now target to different receptors on tumors, we can enhance our ability to distinguish between different [cancers].”

One use for such materials could be gathering real-time information during a test, such as a colonoscopy, where physicians are visually searching for certain kinds of polyps. Enhanced imaging agents have the potential to also reduce the invasiveness of disease detection and diagnosis, such as the number and size of biopsies needed, by providing more information from a smaller sample.

Christian Kurtis, who made the career change from biomedical researcher at the National Institutes of Health to tattoo artist in Rockville, Maryland, spent his post-doctoral period in a cancer research lab at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences. Kurtis says the specificity these kinds of dyes could offer for imaging is key to better treatment.

“The unfortunate problem with malignant [tumors] is that they comprise a [variety] of molecular markers that may not be present on all cell types. The increased metabolic activity of malignancy is the signature most commonly exploited in imaging, and is the reason these liposomal techniques are effective,” says Kurtis. In other words, because cancer cells tend to spread quickly, researchers and physicians are able to track their growth with imaging. Having multiple types of agents that bind to the different markers would be even more helpful. “In my opinion, it will be personalized or individualized medicine that will hold the key to meaningful early diagnosis of disease,” he adds.

Jocelyn Rapelyea, the associate director of breast imaging and the program director of the radiology residency program at the George Washington University Cancer Center, adds that while tools like molecular breast imaging have been around for a while and help to identify problematic cells before they grow into lumps, advancing knowledge is always a positive. What works well for one patient may not for another.

“It’s always exciting to have the ability to be able to identify tumors at a potentially early stage. It’s quite interesting how [Zavaleta] came to dyes,” Rapelyea says. “This is obviously a model in mice at this point, but it is promising to see that there could be potential of being able to identify earlier development.”

Zavaleta knows the dyes and pigments her team has catalogued in a library will be subject to the FDA’s rigorous regulatory procedures before they could ever be used as imaging agents in humans. “We’re not suggesting in any way that they’re safe,” she says. “We’re saying, ‘Hey, these are dyes that we’re continuously being exposed to on a day-to-day basis. Let’s have a look at them further.’”

#Nature

[foretolds]

ROMEO LAUFEYSON called into ORACLE FM. They were a little bit SELFISH & NONCHALANT at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little COMICAL & WELL READ.  They said they’ve been working as JOURNALIST, and thinking about aligning themselves with LOKI/THEMSELF since they have been living in Nova Satus for FIFTY YEARS ( ON AND OFF ), and from what we can tell, they still give off huge THE BRUSH OF FANG AGAINST PULSE, PUSHING THE ICE CREAM OFF A CHILDS CONE & THE BACKROOM AT A DRAG SHOW . [RUBY ROSE, DIETY, NON BINARY, UNKNOWN, THEY/THEM ]

this intro is a little bit difficult for me, because im trying to resist writing the typical long ass bio, so instead im going to bullet point some shit. that being said, don’t judge me, love you, mean it, thanks. 

loki is a product of an asynja and a jotunn, which technically would only make them half deity, but the aesir has always accepted them as one of their own, and that was...that, pretty much. well, until things get complicated later, stay tuned. despite the fact that they were generally always accepted, the questionable line of heritage was one of the first stones thrown, when it comes to the black sheep they have painted themselves as.

loki is married, or was, but that was quite some time ago, and it is no secret that said marriage is not given the traditional sense of commitment. loki’s feelings are mixed when it comes to their given wife, as she has been brutally loyal to them through all the bullshit that comes with that, but something about that blind loyalty never did sit right with them (imagine, you dumb ass). 

despite the above listed marriage, loki is open to both platonic, sexual, romantic, and any other relationships with people. however, these are very much “choose your own adventure” because you never quite know what you are going to get from them. that, and it is either a task keeping their attention or a task getting rid of it, depending on what unfortunate end that you land on. that, and the wavering of loyalty and intention can certainly be off putting.

loki is fairly indifferent when it comes to the way most people see good and evil, though the years have shifted opinion in several different ways, and they are more than happy to debate the ups and downs with anyone intelligent enough to have the conversation. that’s the caveat though, being worthy of the time and the seriousness of conversations that hold weight and gravity. 

while the worship of loki as a deity themselves is quite questionable and sometimes even seen as shameful depending on who you asked, they have worked hard to shift this narrative to assist them, especially since the fall of the power for all of the deities. that being said, things like the marvel interpretation and several cartoons portraying them are highly encouraged and inviting, because if you think about it, the followings to these things are akin to worship, and they aren’t above twisting any and everything to get what they want, or what they need (power, in this instance). 

on one side, the assumption that loki cares only for themself is accurate. however, like any good character, there is depth and layers to such a statement. there are certainly things that they could give a fuck less about, and they will openly admit that. there are also things they think are trivial and not worth giving a fuck about but should probably (flaws, embrace them, or something). so while seflishness and manipulation is there, there is also heart, and affection, when you look in the right places, and when applied to the right people. 

the conflict with fenrir was a turning point, albeit silently, for loki. there was no real reason besides the ever changes tides of fate and the fickle nature of visions and prophecy, to have chained their son or punished him for things that he had yet to do. perhaps there really is always room for change, but the wolf was never given the chance, and instead painted the villain that he would become. that being said, the little known truth is that loki was kept from the attempts to bind him, blinded and deafened on the entire matter until it was too late. as stated, this was the turning point, where they started to make the moves to go against the force they’d known, and made the decision to fight against them if and when the end does come. it was, however, lokis tampering that assured they would never find a way to kill their son, regardless of whether that little shit knows it yet, or not.

through the years, despite not really being particularly boastful about it, loki has made it a mission to accumulate several different useful people, places, and things. that means, they have went out of their way to get tools that might help them in not only regaining power, first and foremost, but fighting the battles they were not previously prepared for. they have studied, they have learned, they have practiced, and they have made an actual effort to protect themself, their interests, and their people (lucky you or unlucky you, if this happens to pertain to you). 

loki is covered in tattoos that are similar to the ones that ruby has (full sleeves and whatnot), but these are both chaotic and meaningful. each one has a story that will be told for a price, but depending on both mood and setting, they might be true, or they might be whatever bullshit fairytale that they had come up with at that point and time. however, it’s important to note that they do have some sort of ink for each child, sigyn, and other family members/important figures in their timeline.

fuck that little bitch baldur, and everyone who has a problem with it. this was the point in loki’s life that they started to harbor the chip on their shoulder for that which is deemed as perfect, or too precious. that being said, they aren’t a fan of the pristine, and the praise that comes with perfection or even the christian ideal of “godly”. also, not a huge fan of christianity (obviously), and angels can get fucked twicey.

obviously not a big fan of the gender binary, and very much the first one to stand up in defense of those that have been persecuted for their identities, personal choices (to a point), or who they are in general. that being said, catch them (surprisingly enough) donating money, time and effort to anything that involves this. 

STRENGTHS

“deceiver” deity physiology

shapeshifting

lie manipulation/detection

magic use/detection

all chaotic powers 

supernatural beauty/combat

trickster archetype

WEAKNESSES

disbelief

destiny manipulation/decision

divine power negation

deity consumption

certain magic/binding

divine power absorption

themfuckingself (this seems stupid but loki gets in loki’s own way, mentally and emotionally to the point of major flaw on several occasions)

[kamccormickhnd1b]

Jonathan Bielaski: Environmental Photographer

Environmental portraits are a very involved type of portraiture that is a slow and methodical process requiring interviews and understanding of who the person is. In the end, it requires the photographer to deliver a product that tells something specific about who the subject is. The aim is to tell viewers about this person without needing to put words.

Jonathan Bielaski has been doing this for years, and knew that he wanted to be a photographer from a very young age. He is based in Toronto, Canada and some of his clients include, Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment (Toronto Maple Leafs, Toronto Raptors and TFC), Sports Illustrated, Billboard Magazine, T+D Magazine and the list goes on.

Jonathan Bielaski got into photography naturally: his dad was a master print maker and his mom a graphic designer. Growing up, he was surrounded by images 24/7. Both parents tried to encourage and raise him to do something other than the arts but it was just part of him, he knew he wanted to create images at a very young age. By the time he was in high school he was assisting on commercial jobs and had a studio to start taking my his very own images. From there lots of hard work and persistence led to where the man is now.

What first attracted him to shooting portraits then environmental portraits?

When Jonathan Bielaski started out in photography he didn’t enjoy making portraits and was attracted to still life photography, he says that he now understands that it was his attraction to lighting and with shooting these types of images he could master light and its effects. But something was missing–whenever he was photographing custom motorcycles and custom made products the story about the makers became a huge interest to him. Who they were and where they lived or worked fascinated him. He wanted to capture them in their workspace. People have a story as well as their space, together they complete a visual story and you can capture who they are and what they do in a signal frame.

Jonathan likes to sit down with his subjects and learn : With making any portrait I do–I like to sit down with the subject and learn about them: what they do, where they come from and where they want to go. He would ask them to take him though a typical day, show him some of their favorite places and tools. He really tries to get to know them, to get a strong understanding of them as a person. Sometimes this is done on the same day of the shoot and sometimes it is done beforehand, but the best thing that he learned to do is listen. By listening, you learn and find the small details that makes them who they are.

To Jonathan Bielaski, a perfect environmental portrait is a portrait that tells a story, you are learning something about the person in the portrait without the use of words. The background and foreground are just as important as the person in telling the story but they are the supporting cast and the person is the lead roll. On their own they could make good images but together they make a great image.

Jonathan Bielaski’s Work

I looked into some examples of Jonathan Bielaski’s work and I took a big interest in him. I’ve uploaded my favourite photos of his work, the ones that stood out to me the most.

The thing that drew me to this image was the man’s shirt and his eyes. For me, the eyes stood out the most, they are clear and have godo catchlights in them, and for me personally, I’m drawn to eyes more than anything else in an image. They are powerful and can tell a story, so the clearer the eyes, the better. With the hat and the shirt and obviously the chickens, I get the impression this man is a farmer or at least works around farm animals. I liked how well he was put together: most likely, this is something the man would wear on a regular basis when doing his work amongst the animals. I liked how well he captured this man, I feel he has a strong expression on his face, his beard is neat and “sharp” and I think Jonathan Bielaski captured the man perfectly.

The background of this image is what captured my interest the most.It is a messy background to me despite attempts to make it neat and tidy, to me, this screams artist. The man has paint on his apron and you can see paint brushes in the background and many other crafting items he uses. I have friends who art artists, and often their workstation is a mess of dried in ink, paint or even just their tools. I feel the background captures the madness within an artist’s mind: putting your ideas into place and creating your idea is your main focus, and it shows in the background. I liked this photo because it displays an artist in his work place. 

Compared to the above farmer image, this image has a lot more in the background, it’s cluttered and busier, to show the work and mind of an artist. I feel he captured the mood of this image rather well, for me, it tells a story of a busy man with many tools for his craft.

I like this image because it is another outdoor image. But for me personally, it tells a story of someone who enjoys the outdoors and some adventure, I like how well the image turned out with the sun behind the model and the environment altogether. I like the use of light here, the model is lit well and the sun isn’t doesn’t overpower the model, my main focus is the model herself. She is sat in amongst shrubbery, which most likely wasn’t very comfortable! But comfortable or not, if she enjoys being outdoors, then this would be a rather normal place for her to sit and explore. 

I like the depth of field in this image, it helps to blur out the background but also shows what’s there and how it affects her story.

This image tells a strong story for me. There are numerous props to tell you about the model in the centre, she has a disability for the wheelchair to be there, she likes tattoos and for me, I think she finds a tranquility brought by music. Music is very calming, and in this photo, there are books and one woman is reading a book, this scene tells me a story of looking for tranquility, peace and quiet, looking for a small escape from stress. 

For me personally, I enjoy reading and I enjoy listening to music whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed by stress, so this image resonated with me. I liked how the environment itself tells you a lot about the model, all while not telling you a word of it. It is beautifully lit with sunlight, possibly near golden hour, but not quite. It gives off a mood of comfort and warmth. 

The two images above are of the same man, but I liked the use of shadows in these photos. Immediately, you’re drawn to the man’s trade: blacksmithing. All around him are tools of his trade, fire and water he would use on a regular basis in his work. I liked the ambient lighting, I prefer darker images to brightly lit images, so these two photos drew me in immediately. The man himself tells a story: he looks rather tired to me, he is a little bit scruffy and dirty from working hard, a smoker to destress while on his breaks. 

I like the story this image tells, the story of a working man who works in a warm environment on a daily basis, working red hot metal, steam, hard labour involving heavy tools such as hammers. It would be a tiring job to do, especially every day, it tells me a story of strength more than anything else. He is a man working naturally in his trade, and it tells a strong story of manual labour. 

[tziska]

TRP Flag: Tziska Shadowspite - Torment of Warwolf Row

Directory Information: Race: Sin’dorei Class: Death Knight Age: Dead Eye Color: Lichfire blue  Height: 6′1″ Body Shape: 166 lbs. (Muscular) Birthplace: Sunsail Anchorage Residence: Silvermoon City

Additional Information: Pronunciation: “Zih-skah” Nicknames: Spite, Ka Tattoos: Geometric, runic designs in icy snowfall ink curl along her limbs and torso. Scars: Skin shows signs of fatal frostbite. Misshapen scar low on left abdomen. Affiliations: Ebon Blade, spellbreakers Vitality: Stone dead, but in good spirits. Languages: Thalassian, Common, Orcish, some Draconic

Personality Traits: Chaotic (17) > Lawful (3) Forgiving(7) < Vindictive (13) Altruistic (7) < Selfish (13) Gentle (3) < Brutal (17) Renegade (17) > Paragon (3) Swords (17) > Spells (3) Extroverted (3) < Introverted (17)

Physical Description: Tall and well-muscled, this elven woman has the watchful, wary bearing of a veteran of many battles. Her skin is shriveled and blackened over her form, frostbite run wild. She tends to keep her pale hair short and often favors armor or tops that show off her biceps. Pale blue ink shimmers on her bared skin in intricate runic designs both Ebon and arcane.

Though the clatter of her armor is noise enough, she often adds to it by tapping the flat of a dagger rhythmically against her thigh or the end of a pen in a rapid tattoo against the nearest flat surface.

History: If any recognize her these days, it's probably as the reclusive proprietor of a small tattoo shop on Warwolf Row in Orgrimmar called Ink and Spite. It's not a popular place; rumor has it that anything and everything she does hurts more than it ought and she'll toss out a client who presumes to tell her what to put on the canvas presented.

Scholars of rune magic may know her as a specialist in complex inked ward-work and graven spells. Though there is the expected Ebon Blade influence to her work, many of her incantations bear hallmarks of training with quel'dorei spellbreakers.

During the Siege of Orgrimmar, Ink and Spite was closed for nearly a year and she is rumored to have gone relic-hunting on the southern coast of Kalimdor.

Before death, she served as a mercenary loosely affiliated with the quel'dorei military and the spellbreakers in particular. Any who served under Kael'thas on his ill-fated expedition to Northrend, or among mercenary companies in Quel'thalas may recognize her.

At First Glance:

Smells like... A light jasmine perfume mixed with machine oil, crushed greenery, and old blood.

Runic tattoos. Tattoos inked in snowfall blue cover her arms, torso and legs, and partway up her neck. 

Fidgety. She is often tapping her fingers or a pen or a knife blade against some surface. 

Other Information (OOC): I like big words and I cannot lie. http://tziska.tumblr.com

Inventory:

Polar Bear Fur Cloak Armor          Cloak “An off-white cloak of bear fur. This cloak was hunted, skinned, tanned, and sewn into a garment for her by her beloved.”

Portable Nether Pocket Container          Bag “A small netherweave pouch with a flap that unfolds to give it a much wider opening than it seems. Might actually be a pocket dimension.”      Spell-scroll Folio      Container          Wallet      “A leather billfold that opens to reveal a half-dozen very tiny rolled scrolls for shattering and nullifying cast magic.”           Healing Scroll           Magic          Spell-scroll           “A scroll-like length of linen, inscribed with runes of healing and repair. But is that ink...blood?”           Use: Heal a target.           -----           Containment Scroll           Magic          Spell-scroll           “A long, winding strip of parchment inscribed with runes of containment and conscription.”           Use: Contain a magic spell inside the scroll’s boundaries.           -----           Healing Spell-scroll           Magic          Spell-scroll           “A long strip of linen parchment inscribed with gleaming golden runes of healing.”           Use: Heal a target.           -----           Nullification Scroll           Magic          Spell-scroll           “A parchment scroll bearing anti-magic and spell nullification runes that activate upon contact with a spell.”           Use: Nullify a spell.           -----           Spell-shattering Scroll           Magic          Spell-scroll           “A vellum scroll bearing harsh runes in iron grey ink that will shatter spells on objects when folded around them.”           Use: Shatter a spell.      -----      Sight Salve      Magic          Potion      “A mix of beeswax, herbal extracts, two kinds of enchanting dust, and a wizard oil few remember how to make anymore - it allows the user to see the leylines and flows of mana for a short time.”      -----      Runemaster’s Monthly      Document          Magazine      “A copy of Runemaster’s Monthly, an esteemed scholarly journal of written magic. Typically circulated amongst the Ebon Blade.”      Use: Read the document.      -----      Sin’dorei Blood Gem      Consumable      “A highly dangerous and volatile crystal made with mana-infused blood.”

Black-handled Dagger Weapon          Dagger “Nearly a foot long, it’s almost more of a small shortsword than a large dagger - kept in a calf sheath. The simple handle is carved of oiled ebon-wood with a pommel of truesilver and a cloudy blue sapphire a little over an inch in diameter set in the end. The quillion is dark iron and relatively minimal; it’s not designed to be a parrying dagger. The blade is high carbon steel and so heavily engraved with runes that it appears to have a damascus twist-steel pattern.”

Jewelry Box Container “A fine jewelry box such as one might find on a dresser in a modest estate.”      Simple Bracelet      Jewelry          Bracelet      “A leather bracelet with a hand-blown glass bead that looks like it contains smoldering embers in its depths.”      -----      Jeweled Earrings      Jewelry          Earrings      “A pair of elegant jeweled drops in sapphire or amethyst.”

Wardrobe Furniture “A large wardrobe, like one might find on a modest estate.”

Scribe’s Box Container          Case “A cherrywood box about 18″ wide, 9″ deep, and 4.5″ tall. This box has several drawers and compartments for storing scribal tools and materials.”      Silk Pouch      Container          Bag      “A small pouch made from bright aqua silk.”           Saffron Threads           Reagent          Cooking           “A small bundle of dark red saffron threads.”      -----      Hand-graver      Tool      “A four-inch length of hardened steel with a chisel-tip point.”

====================

Tonic - A feline skeleton in a cat-shaped cloud of bone dust.

Bones are exposed... ...And well, you know how that goes." - Aurelio Voltaire // This creature is an animated feline skeleton. Bones. You can see 'em.

Semi-solid cloud. Surrounding this feline skeleton is a semi-solid, semi-opaque cloud of bone dust. There's hints of tabby striping and some black and white blotches in the pattern. Why doesn't the dust blow away or out of cat shape? It is a mystery.

[illyrianbeauty]

Going Home: Part 3

Feyre and Rhys stood together on the small balcony just after Under the Mountain.  What if the mating bond had snapped into place for Feyre as well?

Writing Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all of the amazing support and feedback! I was truly blown away by the response to the first two parts!  Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel

A huge thank you to @nomattertheoceans for beta reading this for me! 

***

Feyre

“Nooo!” the High Fae youth sobbed, his eyes were wide and filled with terror as they held my gaze.  I took a single step forward, my heart constricted painfully.

“I’m growing impatient, Feyre,” Amarantha tutted, her fingernails tapping impatiently along the side of her throne.  I bristled at the sound, at what she was demanding of me. I risked a glance in Tamlin’s direction, immediately regretting the decision.  Even now, after all that I had done, all that I was about to do, he refused to send even the smallest of smiles in my direction. The torn, shredded pieces of my heart crumbled as I turned back around, facing the quivering form of the High Fae before me.          

“Please,” he pleaded, struggling in vain against the binds that held him down.  I broke, fracturing bit by bit, with each step that closed the distance between us.  

“I’m sorry,” I wailed, the hand in which I clutched the ashwood dagger trembled violently.  He cowered from me, from the promise of death I held. Tears streamed down my face as I took ahold of his shoulder and thrust the dagger into his chest.  His eyes widened in surprise, a strangled gasp escaped his lips. I watched silently, unable to move, as he slumped to the ground, the light in his eyes dimming until it was wholly extinguished.  

Blood.  There was so much blood.  I coated my hands, pooled on the ground at my feet.    

The dagger clattered to the ground, the sound reverberating through my bones, down my spine.  

“Good,” Amarantha purred from her throne.  “Again.”

A sob ripped through my chest as I reached for the second dagger.  My hands, still wet and sticky with blood, shook uncontrollably as my fingers wrapped around its hilt.        

Another dagger.  Another innocent High Fae.  This time female. I knew her, the words she’d say, the prayer she’d recite.  For Tamlin, I would do this. For him, I would damn the tattered remnants of my soul straight to hell.  To free his Court, to free all of Prythian, I would do this.

I turned and faced the kneeling female.  Her expression was fierce, her dark eyes flashed with a deep resolve as they met mine.  I knew I would never dare paint her, paint this moment. I would never be able to capture the fire that burned in her eyes, the way she held her head high as she met her death.  Her death at my hands.

I gripped her slender shoulder, and plunged the dagger into her awaiting heart.    

Murderer.  Butcher. Monster.  Liar. Deceiver.

“Excellent, my dear,” Amarantha said, gigging delightedly at the sight before her.  This was just some sick, perverse sort of entertainment for the fae, and I was nothing more than the unwilling star in her show.      

One last dagger.  One last High Fae kneeling before me.

Murderer.  Butcher. Monster.  Liar. Deceiver.

One last innocent soul for me to slaughter.  And then this nightmare would finally be over.  One more death, and then I could finally turn the blade on myself… and end it all.  I could feel myself falling apart, shattering into a million pieces. Tamlin. For Tamlin, I must do this.  I took in a shuddering breath, and stepped in front of the awaiting figure. The cold hilt of the dagger bit into my hand, still warm with the blood of the High Fae female.  

Another male.  His broad shoulders were relaxed, without fear.  I knew who was waiting beneath that hood. I knew what to expect- I had relieved this moment in my dreams often enough.  I watched silently as the hood was ripped from his head. The fae surrounding me gasped, their confusion a tangible thing.  I felt the world spinning, reality slipping away from me as I sank to the ground. It was not emerald green eyes that met mine.  No, it was not Tamlin’s eyes that held my gaze, but rather, violet eyes kissed with starlight. Rhys’s eyes. Rhys. Mate. My mate.

***  

My eyes flew open, the last remnants of a scream falling from my lips.  I bolted upright in bed, my body still quaking in terror, aftershocks of the nightmare that had plagued me ever since my return to the Spring Court.  The frilly pink nightgown I had slipped on after Tamlin and I had made love earlier that evening clung to my sweat slicked skin. My gaze flashed across the room, convinced that Amarantha or one of her henchmen would be lurking in the shadows, ready to drag me back to Under the Mountain.    

I took in a shuddering breath, attempting to ease the ache that had been growing in my chest.   A dream .  It was just a dream , I assured myself, trying to reel myself back in.  I tucked a damp strand of hair behind an ear, my fingers grazing the delicate edge of its newly pointed tip which marked me as High Fae.  I ran my hands along the sheets, wiping off the sweat which clung to them, so similar to how the blood of the High Fae I had slaughtered had covered my hands, my body.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting down the bile that threatened to rise, though I knew it would do little good.  I bolted out of the bed, fumbling in the dark as I staggered towards the bathing room. I dropped to the ground, my knees jarring with the force of the impact.  I knelt before the toilet on the cold, hard ground and emptied the contents of my stomach. This was the price that the Cauldron demanded I pay. There was no way to undo what I had done, no way to atone for the murders I had committed.    

I spent my days pretending that I was fine, happy even, that I hadn't been utterly broken by what Amarantha had done to me, done to us.  Night after night, I relived the worst of what I had endured Under the Mountain. Night after night, I was chased from my dreams by piercing, violet eyes.  Night after night, I heaved up the contents of my dinner. And night after night, I suffered alone. Whether or not Tamlin was aware of the nightmares that plagued me, I didn’t know. I didn’t blame him though.  Not really. He had his own demons to battle. When nightmares tore him from sleep, Tamlin was an explosion of fangs and fur. He would stand guard for the remainder of the night, pacing back and forth in front of the door and windows.  The first few times this had happened, I had tried to comfort him, to be there for him. I had tried to pull him from the darkness that haunted us both. But every time I did, his eyes glinted dangerously, and he resumed guarding the door with a renewed vigor.  

When I was sure the heaving had finally subsided, I flushed the toilet with a trembling hand.  Leaning my head back against the tub, I squeezed my eyes shut. I got out. I’m free.  It was just a dream , I murmured, trying to gain some semblance of control over my tumultuous emotions.  The porcelain was cool against my hot, clammy skin. Breathe.  Just breathe .  A cry of surprise escaped my lips as pain tore through my palms.  My eyes narrowed as I opened my hands, unclenched the fists I hadn’t even known had formed.  Small, crescent shaped indentations ran along the length of both palms where my nails had dug deeply into my flesh.  

My breath hitched.  I could have sworn... no.  It must have been a shadow, my eyes playing tricks on me.  Magical or no, tattoos didn’t blink. I gazed warily at the catlike eye tattooed inked upon the palm of my hand.  It seemed to be assessing me, considering me, and coming up short. My lips pulled back in a snarl, and I looked away in disgust.  He had yet to call in the bargain I had so foolishly made, desperate to heal the wound that the Middengard wyrm had inflicted.

A cool breeze coming in from an open window caressed my cheek.  Why hadn’t he called in the bargain?   I gazed out of the window, into the endless night sky.  While Tam tried not to show it, at least not in front of me, I knew that it made him uneasy, the uncertainty of it all… not knowing Rhysand’s game.  Tam and Lucien were searching for ways to break the bargain, but hadn’t had any success. But in the months since Under the Mountain, we had yet to hear anything from the High Lord of the Night Court.  Was it because he was my...

Not my anything!

I stood clumsily, still not wholly used to my new, elongated limbs.  I walked to the window, the cool night air a balm on my otherwise jagged nerves.  I rested my forearms along the window sill, content to stare out into the inky depths of the night.

He hadn’t wanted it any more than I had, that much was obvious. He hadn’t wanted this... bond between us.  He hadn’t wanted me. For Cauldron’s sake, he would have winnowed away from me, had I not stopped him. No wonder he hadn’t called in the bargain.  To him, I was a tool to be wielded against Tamlin, to piss him off. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever his reasons, I was grateful he hadn’t called in the bargain, forced me to go to the Night Court against my will.  

I slammed the window shut, the glass reverberated dangerously.  Casting aside thoughts of a dresser drawer painted long ago, I walked back into my bedroom.  I climbed back into the bed next to Tamlin, who was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the soul crushing guilt that was slowly consuming me day by day.

***

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[noregerts-neoinnovations]

Review

Bought this about a month ago. Did a few test spots on the tattoo behind my ear I’m wishing to fade. Saw significant fading a few days later! I’ve tried laser removal in the past with little to no results. The device works faster than a typical laser and i’ve had better results. Definitely worth the purchase! The costumer service was also great with any of the questions that i had. 10/10!

Get Yours Here-> http://ow.ly/8cEF30qw7GW 

[failurexbyxdesign]

There are multiple techniques that can be used for scarification. 1. Strike branding- a heated piece of netal is used to create the design 2. Cold branding- This is a rare method, but is done just like strike branfing except the branding tool is cooled to a very low temperature using liquid nitrogen. 3. Cutting,- a scalpel is usually used to cut designs into the skin. One cutting technique is called ink rubbing, where tattoo ink is rubbed into the cuts. As the cut heals, most of the tattoo ink stays in the skin, resulting in the same basic effect as a tattoo. 4. Electrocautery- This method uses an elctrosurgical tool to cut and cauterize the skin. Sparks jump from the tool to the skin, causing it to vaporize. This way is more precise because depth and what damage is done to the skin can be regulated, unlike traditional branding where the tissue is damaged. With electrocautery, the skin is vaporized so quickly that very minimal damage is done to the surrounding skin. This also leads to less pain and healing time. 5. Skin removal/skinning- uUsing single line cuts, the skin is sliced and peeled off. Scars created from this method have varying textures, which needs an experienced scarification artist and strict aftercare. #modification #bodymodification #advancedbodymodification #extremebodymodification #scarification #branding #electrocauterybranding #art #bodyart https://www.instagram.com/p/BoDxnfGgVsr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ej06oq5996vt

[elysiancolorr]

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Get the best Areola Tattoo service from us today:-

Many of us have stood alongside our sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and friends while undergoing a mastectomy to remove cancer from our bodies. Maybe you even have one. But after everything they've been through (surgery, chemotherapy, hair loss, recovery, remodeling), these strong women sometimes struggle with their body image. The hallmark of the breast is the nipple/areola. Of course, this is the focal point of the eye. When the nipple/areola is removed and is no longer present, the patient often focuses on the scar in the area. Get the job done by the best Areola Tattoo artist Alabama today.

For your technician to recreate her natural appearance after breast reconstruction, she must have skin experience and an artistic eye for color and detail. To help these patients regain their good feeling in their bodies, reconstructive surgeons turned to artists and decided to specialize in areola repair. They offer a 3D nipple tattoo that uses shadows and accents to create texture instead of fabric to restore the nipple. This technique restores a sense of depth and detail from the reconstructed breast.

In the case of total breast reconstruction after mastectomy, nipple and areola enhancement is usually the last step. This treatment is a form of micro-pigmentation or cosmetic tattooing. To explain better, 3D nipple tattoos are real tattoos that use oscillating needles coated with pigment, and the hand inserts the pigment into the skin. This approach essentially creates a "picture" of grain and has no physical dimensions, but it may seem quite realistic.

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Microblading Training Provider– Best Courses To Choose From

Microblading Training Provider– Best Courses To Choose From

The latest method of eyebrow shaping is microblading. If you are presently in the fashion and cosmetic industry or fascinated to be part of it, you might start by taking up microblading training to cater to your requirements.

Find out a training provider that will offer you everything you need to become the top microblading artist. However, there are several choices for you to opt for.  

Basic Microblading Training

This is for beginners who would want to obtain the basics of microblading. Though necessary as it might look, you will get the very fundamental skills and knowledge through this training. Meanwhile, the procedures presented are all required for you to become an expert in microblading techniques. You will get the steps available in an easy way so anyone can learn them.

Why Enroll In A Basic Microblading Course?

The best part of several microblading training is worth your cash, especially if you have no experience. It is worth your money when it comes to microblading training online and hand-on training. The hands-on training program may last for three days, and an extra training course can be seven or more weeks, which is completed online. Both are necessary because the hands-on will improve your skills using the pigments and the microblade with direct instructions from the trainer. On the other side, the online course will able to watch videos anytime and learn from them. This training type is an additional program in which providers can review the virtual lectures as regularly as possible.

Meanwhile, there might be instances when the trainee cannot finish the whole training for seven weeks. Microblading courses will let the trainee rejoin the course at discounted prices. Thus, some people will be completed their training on time but still can watch the videos to recall methods.

Getting Certified

When the training is done, trainees will receive the certification of the training program.

During the basic methods, you will not only get procedures in microblading, but also you will gain knowledge about pigmentation. Apart from this, you will learn how to make eyebrows designs, corrections, color selections, and other useful techniques in microblading. Meanwhile, you will learn how to apply colors in the correct way on the skin.  You will also learn about the pigments' determination putting depth, microblading hair stroke pattern, and other related procedures.

While you will be talking with the clients before, after, and during the methods, students are taught appropriate strategies to develop bonds with the clients. In this way, you can also handle the payment terms and how to process the microblading services.

Furthermore, you will also be able to get knowledge about the basics of training. You will get information about permanent make-up, skin anatomy, and colors. Apart from this, equipment, supplies, and tools and their appropriate utilization, storage, and sterilization will also be taught during the training program.

Additionally, most of the course includes microblading kits for the trainees to start receiving customers. These are needles, practice skins, shaping pencils, color pigments, microlight, eyebrow repair gel, sticky rules, and other equipment.

For numerous microblading experts, the introductory training course is the right course. But if you want to obtain an advanced system and attend the microblading pool masters, you need to take the advanced training.

Microblading Brow Advanced Training Course

The advanced training program will enable students to get manual and digital microblading knowledge. The training permits you to improve and develop more skills in microblading. However, some training centers offer this course for two days. With this training, you learn different procedures that focus on eyebrows removal and corrections as well. Also, you will be an expert on mixing colors, removing tattoos, and correcting designs.

Work on Live Models

Students will be functioning on live models to get advanced knowledge in microblading. This permits firm practices on color and tattoo removal and design correction. Through this advanced course and instructions, the instructor demonstrates the procedures, and the trainee will have their return demo on how such methods they learned are completed.

During the training, the students can be given instant feedback to find out what is right and how to perform the microblading appropriately. This is the way to mastery the knowledge since the trainees will know how to improve the procedures.

This training program is for different methods in microblading. This method trains the students to become masters like Deluxebrows trainees, who show exceptional skills.  If you seek the good, this type of microblading course is for you.

Advance Training

This course trainer will also permit you to get advanced master training provided by Deluxebrows, microblading training USA. In this course, students will learn about digital microblading techniques, the use of designs, color correction, and the removal of tattoos with tools.

Moreover, there is a necessity to become eligible for the said one of the types of training. The student should either have done the course of 50 techniques. For the final, before and after pictures with the customer's permission are needed. This means the student has proven that they become skilled in microblading. Thus, they are learned enough to get advanced techniques in microblading.

The Organic Brow

You may have known about organic techniques in microblading. This is offered by Deluxebrows, where the microblading experts share about organic microblading. However, pigments come from natural ingredients such as mineral-based pigments and plants. This kind of pigment permits faster absorptions for any skin, and the skin will heal quickly. Meanwhile, the natural pigments do not fade into blue or green ink, and they stay longer as well.

So, if you are searching for the most pleasing microblading trainer, ask about the organic eyebrow method to give your customers better. So, this is something different which is not all training providers can offer.

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The 7 Best Permanent Make Up Machines Of 2020

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The 7 Best Permanent Make Up Machines Of 2020

Doing the perfect makeup often feels impossible for women all over the world. Even the best of makeup artists tend to mess up their winged eyeliner or over line their lips every now and then. If you’re one of these women, you are not alone. Women all over the world spend loads of money every day, picking up makeup tools that they hope will help them look flawless. This rarely goes as planned. That’s why you need a more modern solution.

With all the many permanent make up machines available in the market it’s time we try out one that will leave you looking flawless. That way, you can sleep in for much longer in the morning but still turn up to work looking on fleek. It is a revolutionary machine and is bound to save you loads of time and money. It has recently gained lots of popularity and is great for people who have lost facial hair or suffer from skin blemishes. Are you intrigued? Well, read on as we have put together a list of the best permanent makeup machines you should try out this year!

7 Best Permanent Makeup Machines in 2020

1. Dragonhawk Mast Pen Rotary Tattoo Machine Airfoil Power Supply

This tattoo machine has a powerful custom motor and an advanced gear system. It operates quietly and without any vibration. With WJX brand cartridges needles and a patent shell design, the ink will absorb faster into the skin, and you can increase the amount of ink stored in the machine. It is made using LPG PC medical-grade needles that are safe and reliable. This machine is compatible with all cartridge needles and is used all over the world by some of the best tattoo artists.

Pros:

The cartridge comes with close-mouthed tips

It has medical-grade needles

It is a well-rounded rotary tattoo machine that has been specially designed for accuracy and better grip

Suitable for fine and precise work

Cons:

The needles may not be not durable

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2. Pinkiou Permanent Makeup Pen Machine

This stylish permanent makeup machine does not make too much noise and is strong and stable to work with. Even when used for a prolonged period of time, this machine doesn’t heat up. It has an anodized silver surface with aircraft aluminum alloy ensuring a perfect finish once done. The battery has a working life that lasts 2 times longer than most other machines and comes with a pen cap for safety.

Pros:

It is lightweight and easy to use

It has anodized silver surface with aircraft aluminum alloy

Comes with a pen cap for better safety

It is rotation stable and does make too much noise

Best suited for eyebrows and other facial makeup, as well as for tattoos.

Cons:

Device may heat upon continuous usage

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3. BIOMASER P300 Permanent Makeup Device

This permanent makeup machine has a foot pedal and is easy to use. It has short circuit protection, which means that any voltage fluctuation will cause the machine to stop to protect you and the user. It has an adjustable speed controller making it even more convenient to use. The handpiece has an adjustable scale that will help you control the depth of the cartridge. It can be used to cure acne scars, wrinkles, blemishes, and even for eyeliner lining. Functional and versatile is how we describe this permanent makeup machine.

Pros:

It has a foot pedal and short circuit protection

Has HD screens and a touch button

Suitable for acne scars, wrinkles, fine lines, blemishes, and lining.

Low vibration and easy to work with

Cons:

Not long-lasting

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4. Solong Tattoo Pen Rotary Tattoo Machine EM128-1

This tattoo machine is designed with a space aluminum alloy frame and a powerful motor. The motor runs seamlessly, making little to no noise. This machine is compatible with all other tattoo power supplies and is designed to give you the feeling of an actual pen. It can be used for tattooing, permanent makeup, and lining.

Pros:

This permanent makeup machine has an adjustment handle that allows safe sterilization under steam

It has a 10W motor that does not make too much noise

Anodized finish

Makes little noise

Runs seamlessly

Suitable for tattooing and permanent make up.

Cons:

It is a starter kit

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5. Tazay Rotary Tattoo Machine Pen

This permanent makeup machine has an aluminum pen and a DC cord cable. It is a professional rotary tattoo pen that has been crafted with an aluminum alloy holder and a strong, stable Japanese motor. It has an anodized finish and offers a clean and crisp finish. It runs smoothly and does not make a loud noise when in use.

Pros:

Crafted from aluminum alloy and has an anodized finish

Features a Japanese motor

Has strong power and low noise

Suitable for tattooing and permanent makeup.

Cons:

Very small

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6. Dr.Pen Auto Microneedle System Ultima-M5

This rechargeable wireless machine is great at eliminating wrinkles, covering blemishes, and aiding in skin rejuvenation. It is suitable for all skin types and can be used on sensitive skin as well. It is designed to give its user the closest feel to an actual pen and aids in faster healing. It has an electronic, automated microneedle with a guide that adjusts needle depth and can be used at home. Safe and functional is how we describe this permanent makeup machine.

Pros:

Rechargeable

Electronic automated micro-needles

Nanoneedle for spot removal and skin rejuvenation

Nano silicon for pit repair.

Suitable for tattooing, fixing skin blemishes, and permanent makeup.

Cons:

Does not come with instructions as to how to use the needles

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7. PMU Permanent Makeup Wireless/Cordless Tattoo Machine

This permanent makeup machine comes with a lithium battery and an AC/DC adapter. It can last for upto two hours and works efficiently. The machine has adjustable speed and works without making too much noise. The needles are crafted using aluminum alloy and are used by makeup artists all over the world. Lightweight and functional best describes this tattoo machine.

Pros:

Needles made from aluminium alloy

Wireless pen that works on lithium battery or AC/DC adapter

Speed varies from 8000 to 1600 RPM

Suitable for tattooing and permanent makeup.

Cons:

Lasts for only two hours on a complete charge

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There you have it! These are some of the best permanent makeup machines available in the market. Using them will give you that #iwokeuplikethis flawless look always. Let us know what you think of these revolutionizing machines in the comments below. 

Expert’s Answers For Readers’ Questions

What are the types of permanent makeup?

There are many kinds of permanent makeup, such as micro-needling, permanent eyeliner lining, lip blushing, freckle tattooing, scar camouflaging, and permanent blush.

How long does permanent makeup last?

Permanent makeup like any other tattoo will begin to fade over long periods of time. Although they generally last 3 years some permanent makeup can last up to 5 years but in 10 years most permanent makeup would have faded. That’s why periodic touch-ups are recommended. These will make the permanent make-up look fresh and neat.

Is permanent makeup safe?

Yes, permanent makeup poses little to no threat to its wearer however they do carry the same risks that tattoos do. They can damage the skin and cause other complications such as allergic reaction, skin infection, the development of nodules of inflamed tissue and in some cases bloodborne diseases. These diseases include Hepatitis and Tetanus if unclean needles have been used. That’s why it is important to pay close attention when picking the tattoo artist of your choice.

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Source: https://www.stylecraze.com/articles/best-permanent-makeup-machine/

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Customer Review: Bought this about a month ago. Did a few test spots on the tattoo behind my ear I’m wishing to fade. Saw significant fading a few days later! I’ve tried laser removal in the past with little to no results. The device works faster than a typical laser and i’ve had better results. Definitely worth the purchase! The costumer service was also great with any of the questions that i had. 10/10! 

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