2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
will byers stan first human second
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
⁂
Product Placement
Andulka
Jules of Nature
Discoholic 🪩
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Cosmic Funnies
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
blake kathryn
🪼
@theartofmadeline
No title available
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
cherry valley forever
hello vonnie
No title available
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
@oftribulation
#TBT From The Reckoning in 2003. Photo shared by the photographer Stephen Vaughan.
@stephenvaughan68 “Sorting through some of my old Film-stills work… found this portrait of the wonderful Tom Hardy taken on the set of “The Reckoning” in rodalquilar, Southern Spain 17 yrs ago(?)“
Eames & Fischer. Bane & Crane. Solomons & Shelby.
‘If you know you’ve got Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy in a room together, you just milk it.’ — Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight
Their next collaboration is Christopher Nolan’s ‘Dunkirk’. Principal photography currently under way; opens July 21 2017.
@influencedbyfear
Circa.2012
@oftribulation
She had been born into this world mere years ago, her eyes doe like and her heart pure. Talia could not comprehend, nor would she for years to come, the type of men whom she called her new companions. Her mother, kind and intelligent kept her far away from prying eyes, but a child cannot be contained, her curiosity could not be stopped and thus she could be found peeking through the makeshift curtains, eyes wide with wonder and her lack of knowledge was all that stopped her crying out in disgust at the things she saw.
It was how she had met him, large and imposing, somebody who should have scared her, should have pushed fear through her veins like he did for many other prisoners, but that was not for her. His voice was deep but if she twirled her hair the right way, or did something he called ‘amusing’ she could see his eyes crinkle, and in her young innocence, that was something she strived to do as many times as she could. To make her friend happy for her mother told her many times that Habibi did not get a good life.
Small hands curling around bars, she rests her face against them, looking at her affectionate friend, her mother with the doctor “Habibi, what is wrong with mother?”
The child.
@theslowestknife
الطفل
“A seed can not flower under ground, it has to be stamped out.”
Pure. –Vulnerable. In the pit, the belly of agony that lie those afflicted, cursed to their slow suffering, too bore innocence. Grief, and torment lined the cold stone underground of death and bone. To each cast unto their own plague, unique hues of misery and disease infected psyches. What was once human , now only existed wraiths smothering in their own deteriorating rotting souls.
Like a slow drip. Burning, cutting through flesh, underneath the bone, and dissolving what was left of any life it once held.
A harmony of persecution and only darkness, that unadulterated light could not exist.
Should not exist. –He knew.
As a boy, the symphonies of suffering was all his young psyche knew. Light, hope, companionship, compassion, and love was of folklore… visually, mentally, it was a world he would never know or understand, and a world that could not exist for him.
Until her.–The child of L i g h t.
As a boy in the shadows, he had seen many things. Observing destitute’s routine, and it’s victims. But, nearly a man… there was something else. Something very new. Something fresh and free of any parasitic particle of decay, that his world had touched before. Plucked from the outside like a ripe fruit. Lowered into the depth of despair for it’s taking–
a woman. Blossoming with Life.
He had never seen a woman before. Nor could his eyes understand the concept of what true “beauty” or life was until it was there surrounded by decomposition, iron, and lust in front of him. Against the rotting contrast. The positive of true life against it’s negative. Not even the blind amongst them could miss. All that were condemned to damnation, would submit to it’s pestilence. But not her.
That anomaly in the pit of death and darkness was sacred.
For a boy who had been shaped by despair, tragedy, of affliction and tribulation, that light was his own. The paradoxical suffering that was Bane’s existence, birthed – his purpose.
Love. The way her eyes met the infants…. the affectionate stroke over her head. The vision unlike any other he’d witnessed, born into this hell, was that of a longing. He’d watched it daily from a distance–warmth ; Everything and anything unlike he’d known himself. As a teenager it had been retribution; and as she grew, redemption unto his own lost soul of humanity destined in solitude. She, in all her innocence, contradicted and defied everything surrounding them; And as she grew, so did the ambition to ensure that that abnormality be protected and lifted from the f e a r, isolation and despair, in all it’s cancerous desperation where it reached in all directions to silence and contaminate her purity. The same that had bound and broke the pulse to any man or child it touched, before her. He would not allow the same fate to consume true innocence. Like a diamond in tar. A rose buried far too deep below ground. She was vulnerable… exposed to the suffocation. She could not know the dangers of the world that she was born into. The same suffering he had endured. The air he breathed was different now. Gratifying, alive, and vibrant around her.
Such a delicacy in a world it was not meant to be in, or could survive, would need strength in it’s vulnerabilities to it. It’s innocence. Before the colour of her world was lost and the darkness had begun to reach for her. Before it’s infection and mutilation closed in.
It would meet the older product of it’s persecution…the calloused mass it bore and forged in it’s crucifixion. Her protector.
Perhaps it was the kindness in her eyes… when they connected to him without fear. The twinkle of wonder beneath the child’s lashes amongst the shadows. The unfeigned luminosity in the depth of warmth he’d never felt before. A growing new hope.
As an infant, a toddler, and a young girl; She’d taught him what it meant to truly live as a human being with compassion, joy, humility, and love by her mother, into his twenties. Maybe it was something he’d craved all along. Delicate. She was precious and very special to him and he was her “Habibi” – her friend.
Blue-green watch shifted beneath veiled focus slowly between the doctor and her mother’s face. He could feel the girl’s hues find his, searching for the answer in his expression to what he could not say. His vision seeped in one blink over to meet her eyes resting upon the bars framing her seraph face. Even in the darkest depth of the earth, plague and contagion could find them. His eyes moved from hers to the sun carved over her head in the iron cage she shared with her mother. If she were in fact sick, the pain that he had kept her from, would certainly find her soon. That was something he could not shield her from; But, it would give her the strength and endurance she would need to r i s e when that day came.
His bound lips beneath the indigo sari masking his own lingering youth, parted. His reflection of the destination place he knew she would find staring back at him over her head. Wincing, the heart of his attention moved back to it’s motivation. Sapphire innocence still searching him for an answer.
“Tabib is there to make certain her eyes do not share the same colours as the men here… on this side.”
حامي لها
► ( @oftribulation . )
█ ▌┆►¨ PLUG && PLAY. ❞
❝ Hey … you’ve done a lot of … questionable stuff. I mean … I can’t really say much … but like … I don’ know … why ? … I guess is what I’m tryin’ to ask … Um … ❞
(@markfxschbach)
Gothimites,
Distinguished by their ignorance...their bliss, and their corrupt visionaries. Judgement otherwise shrouded by a rose hue. They "do not know" and that is their crime. Their "Why." And why is it that you don’t know? I will tell you why...because what you lack, has become you. Your false sense of security fed to you by your prophets, your illusionary hero, and simply by what you choose to see. How can you truly see, when you are blind? Your judgement is submerged in the sinking sands of truth around you. While you struggle to understand it. You emerse deeper in what you can not decipher for yourself. The way you can’t not find. You will inevitably fall deeper into it, and you will fail. This is why, you ask why. Your unsound foundation of Blissful ignorance, who now has found themselves back into reality. Their new reality unrecognisable. Smothered by that of which they don’t understand. Head first, and by choice. Their vision, hearing, gravity and reality will always be impaired. engulfed by self doubt. Your "why" is an after thought, and afterthoughts are as insignificant to the difference, as you are in this world you've been oblivious to. That is why, you ask why, and why in itself. Because of the people, the unassuming, unsuspecting citizens who fail to see their truth. Who ask "why" after they’re already drowning. Pointless and insignificant contributors of nothing.
“Why”?... Indeed.
are you mutuals only ?? <3
| You added a heart there. Well with that added character now in the equation, I suppose this old callused villain can make an exception.|
Mutuals only? My dear Anonymous, that would imply understanding, likeness, a kinship. “A mutual” does not exist. But a “likeness”, a kinship… that lies only in darkness not to be found. I am exclusive to no one, and welcome all of those who seek.
Reckoning Returns
| It has been brought to my attention that I have been missed here. Clearly you all must be suckers for the punishment; But, the feelings are mutual. Thus, prayers are answered, mountains climbed, and sense of unfulfillment and purpose in “the cause” will be right in this world. Once more. You might burn, break, or shatter in the process, but what’s important is that you gave it your all.... properly so, in regards to “the cause” since I’m back. Bane is back. You should pray, a lot. But say hello as well if you’ve wished it. Since you weren’t careful there, so you should own up to what you’ve done. But pray too before you do. Cause I genuinely want to hear from you, even if there’s a good possibility Bane may break your face. That is all. |
“You don't fear death... You welcome it.“
Reblog This If You Are Comfortable With Brainwashing/Conditioning RPs
The Yielding Pulse
Fear - Where has it taken you?
A defeated corner? Shying away from it’s face - man, beast, or psyche.
Or for you, has it brought invigoration?
Why do you sound like a muppet getting anal from a helium filled dong?
Anonymously, I’m afraid your hearing as well as your significance in this world may be impaired. Such a pity that is from an outwardly active member of society.
But not to fear! I can correct that for you.
Queries
Come now! Don’t be shy Gothamites.....
Now is not the time for fear, - that comes later!
Road To Retribution
@bloodforthecause
Do the barriers make you feel safe? Steel and titanium bars- shielding you from a darkness you feel you can not control?
Yes, hold onto your hope - disguise the fear locked away. It is the fear of man that will be it’s end.
The men’s voices carried on in their distraction in the front of the truck. Pleased with themselves on the haul they were bringing in, as the shackled passengers were indeed somewhat of a prize winning new addition to the very prison they had a hand in liberating two years ago. Gotham City following it’s siege had taken time in picking up the pieces, cleaning up, and restoring it’s new days into the new foundation of it’s future. This included rounding up all the loose ends affiliated with the dark days behind them, and today having just captured the masked man’s right hand, well– there would undoubtably be a celebration following this arrival. Today, was a very special day indeed.
With the conversation at the front… the binding steel at the back of his wrists, shifted and echoed with the road. Listening to their plans, the optimism, and the joy in their voices. Unaware that they were apart of the masked man’s second coming.
“Prisoner X….I don’t know man, he’s already served time in VanHook and now he’s supposed to serve the rest of his sentence here……Yea….. don’t know…….he’s a big son of a bitch though. You can take him in….”
The men spoke curiously for a moment regarding what they’d heard surrounding the heavily bound large shrouded man in the very back of their truck. Behind their glee, behind his men… and underneath the hood, sat their executioner.
Getting lost in the gossip and curiosities that surrounded the mystery man in the back coincidently drew the plan to silence them …
His large boot shifted revealing a ballpoint pen that one of the front officers had misplaced while boarding their high profile passengers. It was in this simple unassuming device that the seats would be rearranged before arriving at Blackgate Penitentiary to “serve”. His bound legs shifted to hoist the instrument to the designated men’s freedom forward before they reached the facility grounds.
Confined, but not contained eradication.
On the road to retribution.
Lost Light
@slippingbetweenbones
“My ankle. I think I twisted it while climbing down.”
The large prisoner’s disposition suddenly changed upon her words.
Nightly, with the new warmth to the air… he took the child to the walls edge, to be closer to the stars… the light of the moon. It were moments such as these in his purposeless life that gave him that which his damned soul sought. The night’s sky overlooking her promise gave him a sense of peace he’d only known recently. The child had been his forsaken soul’s salvation and here….under the soft light, her promised freedom. Her young eyes always sparkled with a vitality much like the stars above the stone wall in which he too were born and they both imprisoned. She, was different than he, however. She was special.
His massive frame lifted from the cold stone in which he’d been sitting against while she scaled the jumping ledge. After only helping her up, he’d taken his seat to watch her explore the promise, while he sat idly by, watching the outside world whisper to her young soul that did not belong to this below.
His brow soft and heavy at the same time as he stepped towards her with concern. Towering over her, he lowered to the ground reaching to lift the torn fabric at her ankle, very gently, while cradling her foot to slowly lift where he could see. As he focused his smooth young features strengthened .. his plush mouth tight, his jaw constricted underneath the deep colored sari cloth that covered them while his large hand slowly brushed over the bone.
Dear Citizens of Gotham City,
Have you missed me?
Dedicated, I am to you ….
Your friends, your enemies, neighbors …and, to your -hero.
You have rebuilt, repromised, and revolutionized your city with positive affirmations. But that will not save you. Opportunity….only presents itself to the face of change, restructure and demolishment. But, real retribution , true fortuity – freedom is now upon you once more.
The possibilities simply endless.
As the imagination soars, curiously…. do feel free to inquire to your fear’s content. I welcome and encourage all who seek.
