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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@forsomeone-blog1
so i just was told this by @girlachilles
and i had to share because that’s really cool that i could make someone else appreciate my holy son like this
@kylcspencer
It was his first time attending a high school party, having been extended an invitation to a social function he was innocently unable to turn down. After years of being educated at home by his mother the teenager was excited to put himself out there and be granted the opportunity to make new friends. Luke could hear the music pulsing from within the large house as he walked up the cobblestone steps leading to the entrance. The scenery was one he was unaccustomed to, and he slipped inside holding the tupperware container of homemade baked goods to his chest as he navigated the crowds toward the refreshment table. Unfamiliar and familiar peers stood all around talking and drinking from red plastic cups. Some greeted Luke, others passed over him, but his was a shining face with a smile for all. He set the cookies down, turning around and quickly observing his surroundings. He didn’t exactly give off an aura of shyness, more uncertainty. It didn’t last long as the turn of the night would have it.
Luke was unexpectedly welcomed by another, boisterous teenager, one by the name of Kyle Spencer. He straightened, gaining some confidence, not minding the familiarity he was greeted with at all but instead reciprocating it. Except he wasn’t going to pretend to know the pop culture reference being volleyed so energetically his way, though he was curious to learn more. Not to impress, but because his interest was genuinely aroused.
❝ --- Toto? I don’t know who that is.❞ By way of explanation he offered simply, ❝We don’t have television at my house. Or internet.❞
and when we burst start over, oh darling begin again
“I used to believe in God, too, but that stopped when I figured out it’s all bullshit,” Tate bluntly replied, straight-faced while he turned his head to look over at the brunette. “Ghosts and spirits, there’s proof of that.” Obviously. Luke was speaking to one right now, and the entire house itself was infested with them. They roamed about on Halloween too, and there were likely other haunted placed too; places that ghosts were trapped in. Maybe that’s why some ghosts became so angry, because of being stuck and being unable to find peace. “–But where’s your proof of God? It’s just something people hold onto because they’re scared of dying and having nothing left. He wasn’t there for me, and he’s not going to be there for you. Why? Because HE doesn’t exist or he doesn’t give a rats ass about what happens to this filthy world and it’s people.”
If God was someone to be worshiped, then why was the world in ruins? War, poverty, sickness. Children dying from disease or mother’s who just didn’t care to keep them. The world was a sick place, and what was God doing to help it? Nothing. There was never an answer from him, never even any signs, yet people poured all of their faith into a bit of writing on paper. Constance fully believed that it was His doing that she had deformed children, because two beautiful people would make too beautiful of children that it would practically be a sin. If anything, it was penance for her claims to being a devoted Christian but doing such a shit job at being one.
Grabbing a razor blade, Tate swiftly moved behind Luke and wrapped one arm around his chest to hold him firmly in place, his other hand raising to press the cool metal against the delicate flesh of his throat. “I could cut your throat right now. You’d die and be stuck here just like everyone else who died here,” the blond spoke against his ear, adding pressure to the blade to begin to draw blood. “Well? Where is He, Luke? You’re about to die and be condemned to this Hell, and I don’t think He cares.”
Sheltered as he was, he wasn’t accustomed to experiencing an encounter with someone so vocally against his religion and the beliefs he held. Luke’s faith was wholly and utterly pure and untainted. It was a trait that could be distinguished and attributed to his upbringing, but in reality it was a testament to the strength of his character. Luke’s mother was unfairly critical of the way he carried himself, from his personal grooming to his daily habits in order to maintain his health. She didn’t even allow him outside to exercise. He had a room specifically tailored to such needs, filled with equipment and weights so that he could work out without falling underneath the burden of watchful, lusting eyes. His was a toned and muscular physique to be proud of, yet he boasted no such feeling, humble in his appearance as he was everything else. Despite his run ins with Tate, as increasingly frequent as they were becoming, he didn’t entirely know what to make of the other male youth.
Sometimes he wished he would go away, but he would never dare to voice aloud such a desire. He didn’t know why, perhaps because he thought he was lonely, and so he endured his at times overbearing presence within the walls of the house quietly. Though not without making his disapproval for his tongue known, even if subtly so.
Luke’s back was turned to Tate when he came up behind him and felt the razor sharp edge dig into his throat, body constricted. He froze, blue eyes shooting wide open and staring out the window, at the rays of sunlight warmly embracing the outside. Beads of crimson blood formed on tanned skin from the scrape of an edge, drawn upon vulnerable flesh at the Tate’s threatening urging for him to renounce his faith. He was many things --- naive, innocent, ignorant, but not foolish. Neither was he without his belief. ❝He’s here,❞ he stated, fear seeping into his tone, stuttering his vocal chords, but Luke was only human. He claimed to be nothing more or even less than that. He was constructed of flesh and bone, without righteousness or the full knowledge of the divine, though everyday he was dedicated to learning, constructing himself for the better both for himself and others. Even for people like Tate. Especially people like Tate. He was fallen, but not lost, and Luke sincerely held onto that sentiment even with his fragile life caught in the balance. ❝Not only for me. For you. He is always here, even if you can’t see it. He cares. He loves and He forgives --- always.❞
Begin Again (CRNKN Edit) | Purity Ring
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
He didn’t know how to respond so instead of forcing a reply, his boundaries crossed as they were, he stepped back and wavered with his hand braced tellingly on the door frame. That was moments before he closed it shut.
@wearscmethingblack
❝You murdered dad.❞
Hot tears began to prick at Luke’s eyes, his croaky, accusatory voice reverberating through the hospital room like an empty shot. His mother slowly stood from the chair she was seated in, her face pressing closer towards his in increments as she repeated her denial in a series of unyielding, ❝No, no, no.❞ Her soft voice and reassurances did absolutely nothing to ease his sorrow. Yet his mother continued speaking to him in a quiet, steady stream that seemed to flow out ever more as a mixture of guilt and unconfessed secrets, ❝Go back to sleep, baby. Go back to sleep.❞
Luke withered on the hospital bed, deep, mournful sobs rocking his prone frame. His grief stricken heart sank even lower from the lack of a single ounce of remorse or compassion to be detected in his own mother’s every little action since he awoke. She didn’t want him to know, she didn’t want Luke to beholden to the truth of what she did, the lies she spun for nine whole years, but it was too late. This newfound revelation wouldn’t leave him be. The bite of moisture rousing against his eyelashes blurred his vision over and it was just as well as he couldn’t bear to even so much as look at her, briefly glad for the dark that enclosed him. Lids clenched tightly shut, the throb of pain and horror shuddering in continuous waves throughout his body. The energy expended from his weeping eventually wore Luke out — until his cries hushed and he could only inhale in gulps through his opened mouth.
He was drifting weakly back to sleep when his mother leaned over him, pushing down with both hands to cut off his breathing with a pillow.
@witchinhell
Darkness seemed to seep into him, taking his vision only first. The murky yellow street lights pooling from above were beginning to dim as the warmth in his fingers ebbed away. One hand had already turned a deep shade of crimson as the blood continued to pour from the knife wound slanted into his injured body with no hope of ceasing its flowing — soon Luke wouldn’t be able to cover the gash in his side any longer. It was only a matter of time. Time, such a precious commodity, so limited, so constantly passing, but he never realized how much so until it was slipping rapidly away from him like grains of sand through an hourglass.
Just a mere hour ago, Luke thought the hardest part would be managing to sneak out of his house without detection. During those nervous moments after his mother had released him from the closet she used as a prison, he nearly expected her to be able to read his mind. Instead, Luke had stayed wide awake in his bed waiting for her to fall asleep. Quiet as could be, he crept downstairs, stole the cash stored within a drawer for safe keeping, and prayed for forgiveness to God above as he opened the front door and continued his flight into the night. Still, even knowing mother was deep asleep and that he was free of her, clad in his jacket with the hood drawn up over his head with the sweet taste of freedom in his lungs, he looked back. He couldn’t help it. To leave everything he knew behind was still a difficult feat on its own indeed.
Luke had almost expected her to come bolting after him then, screaming out a Bible verse he couldn’t remember and passing judgement on his sinning ways. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t and so he had dared to believe he might be free at last.
Now, a part of him wished she had; the part of Luke that could still think while his vision failed him and his eyelids drifted heavily closed. Otherwise he wouldn’t be lying on the side of the road bleeding out and thinking about all the mistakes he had made over the too brief span of his existence. He had tried, he had tried so hard to live abiding his faith, to be a good Christian, to be a son worthy of being proud of by his congregation and mother. Apparently his prayer hadn’t been answered though, and rather than be forgiven, he was being punished. What else could it be? As dark as the thought was, he quickly dashed it. No, no. One mistake, one attempt at attaining true freedom, and Luke was dying, but there was a reason, a divine purpose beyond his capability of understanding. There had to be. Already the question of why popped into his head. Why had this happened to him? What was the purpose? Only one consoling fact remained. He might get to see his father again, and learn the truth of his destination at last. He just had to wait for the darkness to fully devour him…and it did.
wink wonk ;)
His mother had been keeping him especially cooped up as of late. She would answer the door and without fail slam it shut on anyone who asked for him. Gone on an errand that day, he was left on his own for the first time for so long he was nearly jumpy at the sound of a door being knocked upon, the sound traveling through out the interior of the house, filling to the brimming silence. Footsteps carried him across the threshold until he answered, gaze spread wide and open. A light cerulean gaze was flicked downward, born more out of pure confusion than anything else.
❝Hi,❞ he greeted politely, uncertainly, but his stance remaining tall and broad shouldered. ❝I’m Luke. Did you need something?❞
Dean Koontz, Innocence
I’m trash and here. <33
FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO
you know I’m such a fool for you You got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger?
Open
“–Why do I feel like every time I turn my back, you get into trouble? It’s like trying to babysit a kitten in a yarn shop.”
❝That --- that isn’t true.❞
❝I might have gotten spooked earlier, but I can handle myself.❞
Sure Madison has made many things in her lie, projects, Frankenstein Boys for love sick roommates. She is a strong witch. Ever since that bitch woke up she was strong and stronger. This time it was MUCH more personal though. She was KILLED and she won’t let that happen AGAIN. She WILL be the next supreme after all. Being the supreme wasn’t a catwalk but it did mean POWER, something that Madison Montgomery craves more then ANYTHING. After all no one wants to listen to or respect someone who had n o t h i n g. That’s why she has always paraded around with complete confidence, it didn’t always work but more times then not– it did..
The house is distracted with some pointless LESSON, while Madison Montgomery does TRUE magic! For the first time she is getting her hands dirty, her magic infused hands creating a perfect boy with her talented eye. She didn’t know everything there was to KNOW about Golums, but she doesn’t HAVE to! She just needs a nice STRONG man, to take the edge off. She’d have him eve if that meant making him herself, and in this case— it WAS.
Clay and dirt covers her hands as she scoffs at the muck covering her expensive black dress. Maybe with enough of her CASH she can afford to get the stain out, but for once she would risk her outfit for the SUCCESS of her m a g i c man. Dirty hands slap together and rub off as she sees the simple outline of a man, nothing crazy had to be built no, the magic will decide. You’re heart and soul are the deciding factor, BULLSHIT. She doesn’t have a heart or a soul most likely but she hopes that her sex appeal works just as good.
Her words are simple, she doesn’t need a lot with the power to resurrect and to have already create, she trusts her power. “Clay mold and shift into a man to protect me.” She adds at the end of her Latin mess of lament. Her hand lifting and flicking off as she watches with a slow lift of her crimson lips. The boy SLOWLY starts to change, from that of clay to something MUCH more visually appealing. IMPRESSED with herself she crosses her confident arms and checks out her perfectly toned naked man.
“Not bad— if I do say so myself.” She says before letting her arms fall to the side and steps close to him, his beautiful blue eyes are a wonderful contrast to that chestnut brown hair. Her slightly hand lifts to run through his soft locks and hums in appreciation, “hey gorgeous.”
@forsomeone
A voice spoke to him, and it was like waking from a deep, depthless darkness, being pulled from the abyss of a dreamless slumber. Except he never was asleep, but he was simply coming to be. Words sparked the beginning of his consciousness, synapses firing off as it gradually grew into a sensitized conflagration. New feelings crept into him, spreading through out his solidifying limbs, made from clay, from earth. They grew thicker and thicker. Innards bumped together, lungs rattled, and ribs shook. Real life force, blood, pumped through his veins, circulated by the beating muscle of his heart. He felt the weight --- weight? a heaviness --- the broadness of strong shoulders rising, muscles rippling and bunching beneath tanned skin.
The moment was brief, a silence hanging in the air with the remnants of her lingering magic, in which his eyes slid to hers and held. His brain was churning, and something flickered in crystalline hues, and he didn’t look away, held captive by nothing more than her mere presence. He didn’t question what was happening, he didn’t question his existence. She was beautiful, and he, he knew that he was here because of her, for her. He was there to please her. His features, before slackened and neutral, lightened while he smiled with joy to see the person he was created for.
Climbing off of the table he was laying on, he rose to stand on his feet before Madison. Every inch of him was natural, his form fit and toned with the hardness of flat muscle, but his limbs moving toward her in such a way to suggest a single-minded consideration and softness of a devoted lover. That was what he was to be after all, and more, her everything, whatever she was in most need of. And he was tall and beautiful, like a statue, but without the unfeeling cold or remoteness. Her approval warmed him like a slant of light he would gladly bask in, a ray he wished to cup and cherish between his hands so that he could keep it with him forever; a desire for more swelled powerfully in him, though he enjoyed the feeling of her fingers running through the locks of his hair, lids drifting closed in a frank and open appreciation of her affections. Lashes fluttered only briefly before his gaze locked and lowered to hers.
❝Hi,❞ he greeted, his voice emerging mellifluous and strong. Then, because he certainly didn’t know how to navigate the subtleties of social decorum, the broadness of his palms layered over both of her smaller ones and enclosed them gently together down in front of him. ❝What do you need?❞ he asked, a budding earnestness opening inside of him. ❝Please, tell me what do you need?❞
