Just ink,’ he says. 'Just ink.’ Probably the most dangerous substance on this here earth. There’ve been wars started by 'just ink.

Getting ink felt right, like it would help her put her life in order, to move forwards. It was her body, despite the things that'd been done to it, and she wanted to claim it, to own it, to prove that to herself. She knew it wasn't magic, but the idea of writing her own identity felt like the closest she could get to reclaiming her life. Sometimes there's power in the act; sometimes there's strength in words. She wanted to find an image that represented those things she was feeling, to etch it on her skin as tangible proof of her decision to change.

A tattoo is a premanent reminder of a temporary feeling.

Wear your heart on your skin in this life.

Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past.

She grinned then traced her hands over his back. "I'm going to finish your ink, make you shine, then love you until the day I die."

He smiled back and she fell just that much more in love. "I'll be your everything. Your strength, your canvas, just yours."

Forever.