First digital painting ever ! i just finished it and i though it would be a great idea to start this tumblr account with it ! It took me a whole week to do but it was sooo funny ! It’s Lexa from the tv show “The100″ i wanted to draw her right after her conclave, with her fresh healing back tattoo, bruised and wounded. It’s hard to say if it’s finished or not, but yeah, i’ll continue to work with that graphic tablet to do even better ! Please feel free to share and comment ( idk how it works on tumblr x) ) Twitter : @tinidraw Instagram : @tinidraw
Tell me about something that makes your skin crawl, that makes you shiver and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Tell me about something that broke you, that completely changed who you are, that made your walls crumble down. Tell me what you did to fix your heart, to knit your bones back together, to heal your wounds and bruises. Tell me about your favourite colour, book, film, food, anything. Tell me about your last heartbreak, the last time you fell in love, the last time you felt like you couldn’t move on. Tell me something about loss, about grief, about the last time you cried so bad you could hardly breathe. Tell me. Just tell me. I’m all ears. I want you and I want all of you, the good times and the bad times and all the times inbetween.
What makes you who you are? I’m dying to know
Elijah fell silent when you glared at him. He’d gone and
done something reckless to help Klaus and you’d thought he wouldn’t be coming
back, which had led to a long argument about helping Klaus when he returned.
It was like the world slowed as you stormed your way over to
him, gripping his face as you kissed him your pent up worry and anger pouring
through the kiss. Elijah’s hands found your waist as he deepened the kiss,
lifting you off your feet as he crossed your room.
On August 14th 2012 a four-year-old boy was rushed to hospital with severe abdominal pains and internal bleeding. The boy’s mother - who hospital staff identified as twenty-five-year old Jessica Dutro - told the emergency crash team that her son Zachary had fallen out of bed onto the hard wooden floor, and claimed his younger sister had kicked him a few times. As soon as Jessica Dutro was out of sight the E.R staff called the Portland police; Zachary had been the victim of a horrendous beating, and his mother was responsible for it.
While police caught up with Jessica, medical staff fought to save Zachary’s life; his intestines had split in two places, and feces had spread into his bloodstream causing a massive infection. Doctors also noted that Zachary’s upper lip had been partially torn off and his abdomen was covered in both fresh and partially healed bruises. Just hours after he had been admitted, Zachary Dutro died, from a combination of septic shock and internal injuries.
Jessica Dutro was immediately arrested and charged with child abuse resulting in murder. She confessed she beat Zachary because she was afraid he was gay; she had sent a text to an ex-boyfriend just a month before the fatal beating that said “he [Zachary] walks around like a fag. He needs to learn big time”. Jessica Dutro told police she snapped when Zachary insisted on taking his shoes off while he watched TV, and admitted to kicking him five times in the stomach, punching him into a wall, and tossing him onto the bed when he lost consciousness. The child lay on the bed for over thirty-six hours - in excruciating pain due to his split intestines - before his mother sought medical help.
Jessica Dutro was found guilty of killing her son and sentenced to life with the possibility of parole.
Kim Kardashian’s ass didn’t wreck the world.
Didn’t impoverish nations or deport my neighbor’s mom.
Didn’t let Brock Turner off with a slap on the wrist,
Or bring Burger King to someone
Who shot a woman in prayer.
Her ass didn’t blow any whistles or involve the Russians or ban
The House on Mango Street in public schools.
If you’re looking where to blame,
I see supremacy painted as normalcy,
I see news brought to you by the number 14-
Didn’t Big Bird ever tell you about the letter K?
Not for Kim.
Or for Khloe.
Not for Kourtney, either.
But for the three striped steps up the White House stairs,
Knocking. Knocking. Knocking.
Never letting their bruises heal.
Laying on the couch, scared of dying sane, drowning in spicy leather. Hungry fingers are yellow, but there are no cigarettes to be smoked. The thirsty throat burns, but there is nothing left to drink. To heal. Postponed trials leave bruises, but there are no words to be spoken. Letting the sun descend, afraid of heresy, breathing thoughts to be condemned.
Originally requested by anon: can you do one where Sherlock comes home from a long case which he finally solved but is beaten up and and bruised and he doesn’t understand why is reader is so worried because Sherlock + human emotions = ? Winner of Sequel Friday #2
Pairing: Sherlock x reader
Word count: 2,690
Warnings: None, I think.
A/N: I know I said I would add a bit of smut, but I couldn’t find a way of doing so because it would be too rushed. Sorry! Maybe, if you want a third part I will focus on that.
To say that
her behaviour changed after Sherlock’s strange confession would be a lie. (Y/N)
was still the same professional, friendly, caring girl Sherlock had fallen for
within an instant.
made sure to take good care of him, and so his bruises were healing and his
limping was almost gone. Sherlock was afraid that her interest would be soon
lost without his wounds and so he would try his best to get rid of the ice and
heat packs whenever she wasn’t looking, or faked to drink the medicine just so
it would last a bit more.
know, John.” (Y/N) sighed to the phone, “He was fine and now he… He sunk.” She
stood silent for a while, and Sherlock observed her from a slight creek on the
door. “Yes! I’ve done everything; the bruises are still there… I’m getting
worried, John, what if it’s something else?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Fine…
All right, thank you… Bye.” She hung up, and Sherlock rushed back to the bed
before she saw him.
John?” He asked innocently as she entered the room.
Mary and he are taking the baby to the park for a while and then they will come
over.” She replied softly.
bad. Her eye-bags were pretty big by then and her hair was messy, her usually
pink lips were pale and her whole complexion seemed to have changed. She looked
skinny, and sad.
you still worried?” He inquired tiredly, “I’m good now.”
not.” She stated, staying at the door. “The bruises are still there without a
single change… It’s like you haven’t been on treatment or something.”
hesitated to speak. He knew it was his fault, his own envious fault, wanting to
stay ill just for the sake of having her focused only on him. Sherlock knew he
had to tell her the truth, he felt bad when seeing her like that, but what if
she lost interest?
During their first sex scene Poison & Wine by the Civil Wars is playing in the background. They slowly remove each others close and once they’re both undressed Bellamy lays Clarke down on the furs and gently covers her body with his own. The camera closes in on their hands as they lace their fingers together above Clarke’s head while the lyrics “Your hands can heal your hands can bruise.” play. They stare into each others eyes one last time before diving in for a passionate kiss. The screen goes black.