If you only have a limited amount of brushes and don’t want to wash your brush in between using different eyeshadow colours, then check out my tutorial - I show you how to remove the excess pigment so you can go straight onto using an alternative colour with the same brush.
I also show you how to hygienically sanitise & rapidly clean each brush so you can use them of different people, with only a 5 minute drying time!
And lastly, I show you how to deep clean your brush set & finish them off with a quick spritz to sanitise them.
Goooooddddddd, do you ever just want to cry? I swatched some of my fav colors from the Morphe 35T and they’re sooo pigmented and beautiful and creamy I just want to die. I need to experiment with looks ASAP.
On a personal note, it’s good to write again regularly. I can’t imagine this being too terribly important to anyone else, and I tend to give, or attempt to give, my work exclusive rights to my biographicals, I’m not one to share details of my life outside of metaphor and paint pigment, finding this a better source of fuel to kickstart a line or composition, I digress…yet it is good to write again consistently, which is the only way I’ve ever found to surmount the cluckiness. My grandfather’s passing was a numb trauma and that dull ache and anger I had that he should go in a hospital bed connected to tubes scarcely coherent, these polite plastic deaths we die now, this death of his dumped a shovel full of ash over me and I remember being, and still very much am, angry that he should die away from his own set of joys. My words couldn’t bring him back and they couldn’t give me comfort. They still don’t. I think of writing poetry as an unimportant something, a thing you do to rattle against death, knowing it will win but you will give it some sweat before it does, maybe even sprain its ankle. There is no conquering it, but there is something in me which makes me want death to notice me before it takes me, to reconsider what it is that it does to us, something in me that wants to crack a lightening bolt before I go, something my grandfather never did or cared to do. I wonder if death noticed him before it took him. These are my thoughts.
i really want to buy the highliner is mari(gold) and n(ice) because i want to start wearing just gold or silver eyeliner with a nude lip but $25 each smh. any suggestions for high pigment gold and silver liners?
Please be sure to write out their personalities, how they would treat the other members of RGBY (Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple)!
Your characters have a high chance of being written into the story, whether they talk to my characters or have a brief cameo or mention. Either way, I WILL try to use all the characters made for this. My character’s personalities are under the cut.
a lot of MAC products are total rip offs imo esp the lipsticks, there are so many MAC lipstick dupes for cheaper prices the best MAC products are the setting sprays,highlighters/pigments, some of the primers and eyeshadows
Title: Figure of a Chimera (mythical beast) Date: 25-220 AD Origin: China Size: 8 ½ x 10 x 16 in. (21.59 x 25.4 x 40.64 cm) Medium: Earthenware and paint Description: “The Han dynasty was one of China’s most dynamic eras. Except for a
brief interruption in the first century A.D., the country was strong and
unified, experiencing great power and prestige in military, diplomatic,
and cultural fields. The territory of the empire expanded in all
directions, while overland trade routes and sea lanes took precious silk
to the Western world. Despite political and social changes, the
ancient tradition requiring elaborate burial rituals and funerary
complexes continued to be followed throughout the Han dynasty. Burial
objects have been found in large quantities in tomb excavations
throughout China. Many were made of gray earthenware and painted with
unfired colored pigments. The splendor of such objects can be surmised
from the lively surface decoration found on the museum’s chimera. Representations of fantastic beasts such as the chimera were placed
in Chinese tombs to protect the dead from evil in the afterlife. With
its highly pointed ears, and bulging eyes, this guardian confronts the
viewer, daring him to pass. The square socket behind the neck indicates
that the beast originally supported something, perhaps a standard.“ Source:Dallas Museum of Art
This is how we’ll begin:
soft spoken silences, internet cables
and sharing rum as satellites drift with time in the sky.
We both know what happens when the clock breaks
so drive away from the night chanting the wish we make
(begging the sun to drown the moon
before it turns the tide against us).
This is how we’ll become:
u-turns in headlights, country roads at dawn,
and letting the skin pull against our bones on purpose.
Star scattered skies in your window focus,
smashing fragments into pigments on your skin;
a new galaxy, and I’m not sure if you’re home
or something else in between.
This is how we’ll end:
two silhouettes against a rising moon
as the sunset drowns out the headlights,
casting clouds across the field bed.
A touch of familiar hands, a meeting
of blue and brown, then, just maybe
both of us asking me to stay.
I miss the fall in the South. Oregon is beautiful- the greens here are lush and bright and heavy; the sky overhead is frequently the most beautiful kind of slate-grey, almost melodramatic in its pigmentation; the trees reach too tall and too strong, whether they are deciduous or coniferous. When the trees shed their leaves starting in September and into October, the colors are rioutous and bright and beautiful, and the grey rain gives the colors of them something beautiful to show against. I love the fall, and I love the fall here in the Pacific Northwest, but it’s not quite home. I miss Mississippi. There, the fall does not begins really, properly, until about mid-October, and it hangs on long into November. It is less a season of a couple of months and more about four weeks before winter sweeps through suddenly and harshly. I miss the way the trees in the neighborhood I lived it became bare, their ghostly and sharp fingers reaching into the belly of the sky, to claw at something. I miss the cloudless clarity of the autumn and winter sky, flat and a dusty kind of blue straight through forever. I miss the way the grass dries up and dies, the way it crunches underfoot when heavy with frost; I miss deep evergreen of pine needles becoming the only sign of life for months on end. God help me, I even miss the way it’s flat. There are no mountains in Mississippi, and precious few hills as well. At my end of the state, the Northwestern end, it is only a few miles drive south to the Delta, which is a landmark of topography marked not by a presence but by an absence. The land stretches out there, stretches like an animal stretches, without reservation or conscience in every direction. It yawns, until eventually you hit the river, which is brown with the dirt of the middle of America, come all the miles to stay here. I miss the plants, I miss the sky, I miss the land. I miss the relief of sixty degrees, fifty-five degrees after suffering a summer that began in early May and lasted so long; a summer that was often ninety-five degrees hot and so humid that thin clothes stick to overheated bodies. There is an idiom, a Southern idiom. Women do not sweat, they glisten. I miss the unpacking of sweaters after a long, glistening season. Portland is so strange to me for lots of reasons, but strange for reasons that Mississippi was never strange. It’s not that people here wear color and decoration and patterns in a way that would have been verboten in Mississippi; it’s a strangeness inside of the culture. My freshman year, it was such a relief to come here and so find that I thought as other people thought and that there was room for me inside of a world like that. As time has gone on, though, the more I feel like a stranger here. A traveler, a wanderer. I never felt at home in Mississippi until I left it, and even then, I still do not quite fit. It’s not that I am decorated in a way that is purely unacceptable in the South. Much as in Portland, in Mississippi, I have thoughts and desires and wants that are purely unacceptable inside of the culture. I love pork rinds and sweet tea and women who wear lots of rings on all of their finger, some for husband(s) and some for children and some for birthdays. I love the way people go to the grocery store on Sundays, still in their church finery- the men who will wear all the same shade of lavender at once, from their hats to their shoes. I miss the chatty clerks at the grocery stores. I miss hearing the high school football game all the way from my driveway, about a mile away from the field. I miss, “Do you want a coke?” and then specifying what kind of coke I want, because that is not a specific noun but instead an entire class of beverages, all of them carbonated. I miss the smell of smoke emenating from a backyard and down a street, down a city block, indicating that something tasty is happening. I miss radio stations that play Otis Redding and Elvis and Booker T and the MGs. Christmas cookies and children’s stretched vowels and bows. So much effort will go into placing a bow on a little girl’s head, and so much effort will go into the construction of the hair object itself. And while I love all of those things, I also love having blue hair and I love seeing other people’s tattoos. I love the absence of Confederate memorobilia. I love men and I love women and I love people whose identity lies with neither of those groups. I have opinions and affections that are politicized inside of both places- a lack of a faith, a kind of love that so many people find unacceptable, a belief that there is an injustice committed in this country and it is not committed against rich, white men. I will let you guess which place thinks these are relatively acceptable stances, and which one makes me hide these things. I am caught in a strange space, in which I am wrong for the cultures of both places. I am authentically from and of neither, and I feel, so often, that I cannot live authentically inside of either. I feel like I am without a country, and I feel it perhaps most accutely in the fall and the winter, when this place that accepts me as a political entity resists the charms and quirks and ugly beauty of the place where I grew up. I feel so often that I escaped, but what does it mean that I spend so much time wishing that I could go back?
I am quite new to the Kat Von D makeup range, since its extremely hard to get your hands on in Australia. Unfortunately you can only buy her products from Sephora stores (which we only have 1 in Australia, which is also whole state away from me) or you can buy it online but the conversion rate from AUD-USD is painful at the moment. I only ended up buying 2 products from her range (I only have 1 other products which is the Studded Lipstick I got a few months back) so I picked a eye product and a lip product to try.
Kat Von D Interstellar Eye-shadow Palette First of all, how amazing is the packaging? I have used this a few times and the pigmentation in her colours are incredible. Easily the best eye-shadow colour payoff I have ever used/owned - so just be careful when you’re applying a dark colour because a small bit of product can go a very long way! Its super long lasting, creamy and blends well. I would recommend it to anyone if you really love doing a dark eye look because the colours are so intense but its definitely awesome if you’re into that. Just make sure you have a blended brush close by!
Kat Von D Liquid Lipstick ‘Santa Sangre’ Yes, I am jumping onto the bandwagon for her famous liquid lipstick, so of course I had to buy one. She has some many unique colours that I had trouble picking so I went with my safe option of a classic red, because you can never go wrong with a classic red lippie. I haven’t had the opportunity to wear this lipstick out yet, but I know that with 1 swatch you can a very intense colour payoff, and it stays on for a very long time (and kiss proof!). I will do an update on it when I do wear it. I paid $22.00USD @ Sephora
someone wasn’t liking this classmate and my conversation on the google doc about how darker skin pigmentation could be a trait thats advantageous esp on earth where global warming is getting worse and through natural selection everyone in the future will be darker
and they deleted that entire thing
like that discussion was good because its going to be one of our test questions you fucking twat bc the professor mentioned it twice in class (given our environmental circumstances, what trait would prevail through natural selection)