2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@almadael
#ALMADAEL. 𓆩 ⬩ 𓆪 multimuse containing canon and original muses. heavily plot driven. primarily headcanon based. friends orientated, rarely follow new people. highly selective. not affiliated with respective creators and rpcs. discord given upon request after one week of tumblr ims. triggers present, will try to tag. non rp blogs dni. PLEASE READ RULES BEFORE FOLLOWING. [ ... ] established: august 2019, re-established: january 2025.
links: ¹ carrd. / ² ask. / ³ memes. / ©.
i doubt this post will come as too much of a surprise -- especially considering the amount of soft refreshes / reboots beforehand -- when i say it's time i took the ultimate plunge and completely remake my multi. fresh blog, fresh look, fresh roster, fresh space. so! if you'd still like to follow, go ahead and like this post and i'll send a follow your way when the blog is up officially, otherwise thank you so so much to all my moots here for such a fun experience and a dash that's been equally amazing and inspiring during my time on almadael and i wish you all the very best <3
i doubt this post will come as too much of a surprise -- especially considering the amount of soft refreshes / reboots beforehand -- when i say it's time i took the ultimate plunge and completely remake my multi. fresh blog, fresh look, fresh roster, fresh space. so! if you'd still like to follow, go ahead and like this post and i'll send a follow your way when the blog is up officially, otherwise thank you so so much to all my moots here for such a fun experience and a dash that's been equally amazing and inspiring during my time on almadael and i wish you all the very best <3
fancy events and political talk. two things he’d rather not be a part of. two things he’s a part of regardless, enduring the evening in a sleek suit and a charming smile that’s already making his cheeks ache while repeating prepared answers drilled into him less than twenty four hours prior to predicted questions. this isn’t his kind of scene, he’s more relaxed and casual when it comes to fun, but sharing is caring, as jill likes to say. and he does owe her one. especially as this is how he finds out leon kennedy is alive.
it happened in the most surreal way. one minute he’s pitching bsaa’s plans for the future in hopes of planting seeds of opportunity, the next he’s bumping into a guy, spilling his drink with a splash all over himself and his shirt. apologises fly out of his mouth, trying and failing to fix it, and it’s only when he looks up he finds himself face-to-face with the last person he ever thought he’d get to see again. he seriously thinks his mind flat lines. he’s pretty sure leon’s does too with the way he looks at him. like two ghosts finally finding out the answer to the question: what happened to him? what happened to my partner?
❝ is there anything i can do to help? ❞ @fortrauma asks.
❝ in making my stain even worse? ❞ kevin jokes with a soft laugh and a crinkle of his eyes, inspecting the damage in the men’s bathroom mirror. they ducked in here with the perfect reason to slink away, though he’s given up on trying to get it out, dumping the expensive towels into the concealed basket. ❝ think i got that one covered. ❞
kevin’s gaze flicks to leon via the large mirror, stealing the chance to really look at him now while he deals with his own stain. he’s changed. looks older and sharper. his hair isn’t as blond, longer too. he's got stubble now, fine but there. there's so many questions, so many things he wants to say racing in his head, but he finds himself tongue tied by it all. what the hell do you even say or do in a situation like this? act normal as though nothing happened? address the metaphorical elephant in the room with, oh yeah, the government tell you i was dead too? fucking crazy, right? it doesn't near encompass how he feels, nothing is, sounding lame even to his ears, but it’s still true and he means it: ❝ shit, leon. it's so good to see you. ❞
she looks up at him. his height sprawls well above her head.
“ if you want to talk, then sit. drink tea. ” each pause definitive but tender voweled enough to impress her consideration of his free will. the long lip of her apron hung from her hands, suspended and waiting.
@almadael for leon.
gabriel’s not exactly here for a social call alongside his usual request of ingredients and herbs, but when was the last time he was granted the opportunity to sit down and rest? on a piece of wood purposely crafted to be a chair without knobbly branches prodding up his ass and an assurity of a warm drink that isn’t lukewarm piss from a shitty tavern? as the saying goes, he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
❝ merci, mademoiselle. ❞ gabriel says, a small nod of his head in gratitude before taking off his frayed and torn hunter's tricorne, placing it neatly to the side atop the kitchen table of her humble abode. his weapons follow next, shrugged off and placed to rest by his side—— just in case. a deep sigh leaves his lips as he sits his weary, achy bones down, long legs spread out under the table. ❝ i trust village life is still serving you well here? ❞
romantic gestures, displayed by kevin ryman. bold what applies to your muse, italicize if there's potential (or if it depends).
holding hands · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love.
long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · introducing them to their parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · stargazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument while gently guiding their hands · compliments
drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them their favourite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to their apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes
tucking a hair strand behind their ear · keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight · joint bubble baths · dropping the l-bomb / "i love you" · dedicating a song to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · grant them the last bite.
tagged by: @fortrauma thank you for the tag my way! 🥰 tagging: any of my oomfs who wants to fill this out for their muse, feel free to say i tagged you ^__^
Transient guests are we… D By Mindy Lee
( @almadael ) ❝ all right, out with it. what do you want from me? ❞
golden gaze is attentive to his less than gracious wounds. they were meant to send a message: to gabriel de león. that he too, could be caught by another type of predator. a huff, sharp ivories grazing her lower tier as she all bought fought to retain her mask of composure. ❝ idiot. ❞ skilled, lithe digits applying pressure before she finally lets those of glowing warm gold rest on his darkened optics. ❝ truthfully? I want to know how you got yourself caught by the inquisition... secondly, how you've managed to let yourself become this. ❞ lucretia raises a palm and wafts it in his general direction. he was paler than normal, unbathed, hair a mess, and he looked as if he had aged far beyond what he should have in the time they have been apart. vocalization was a raspy lashing, typical jest lacking in uttered intention. (missing him had felt like a notion of the past, unimportant given the circumstances he was in.) maybe there would be time in the future to assert unspoken affections.
his travelling partner was safe in the next room, asleep after what seemed to be a tumultuous however long they had been on this journey. gabriel tries to rise and she stops him; applying significant pressure to that silver lion tattooed to his chest. ❝ your companion is safe. fast asleep once she realized no one was going to hurt her. ❞ touch not easing just yet, as lucretia knew he was persistent. wanting to appease him though. it was important he knew he could relax, even if it was only slightly. ❝ I tended to their wounds first. I knew you wouldn't let me hear the end of it otherwise. ❞ the former silver saint would not easily be excused from her scrutiny. after all this was the first time in years she had heard from him. her letters had gone unanswered, and any knowledge held from passersby was met with hesitance or praise, never fact.
a slight brand of vulnerability echoes on carved countenance, palm moving from his chest to his jaw. bearing intently down upon him as she knew this was a man who did not ask for help easily. she would have to offer the possibility of it. not to mention whatever mess he and the girl were in, was now her mess too. it was coiled deeply within the ire of the inquisition, lucretia knew there was no simple way out for either of them.
❝ ask me for what you need, gabriel. ❞ she dares not give him the space to worm out of this. sculpted brow raised as she puts words to what they were both thinking. hunter would not deprive him of what he needed if he only asked. (even then, she'd probably cave to his incessant complaining.) but he didn't need to know that. rolling up her sleeve she waits, once perfect posture now haunched over his own. so close that they could kiss, if the moment warranted it.
lucretia appears like a golden saviour in the form of eloise, the angel of retribution, and when gabriel meets her gaze, he knew the disappointment was inevitable. he's honestly surprised she managed to keep it in with just a frown keeping that scorching tongue of hers at bay until they reached her safe house without further problems. but he knows why. she's always been soft hearted, doing so now for dior's sake, prioritising her over all else. good. he doesn't say a word—— even when she disappears with the girl after a nod her way she's safe before slumping down onto the first chair he could reach. gabriel feels his blood ooze through his fingers while his stomach continues to knit itself closed.
even in a sluggish doze, he can feel her presence, and the predictable insult from his question brings a smile to his lips—— though the hand taking over with applying steady pressure turns it into a grimace, pulling a soft grunt out of him. ❝ it's a long story. ❞ and still not over with danton on their trail like a relentless bloodhound for dior. gabriel starts to get up on pure instinct after being on edge for weeks with every possible danger lurking in the shadows to check on her —— and definitely not as a way to slink away from the conversation —— but lucretia knows his stubborn ways, pushing him back down against his bare silver chest to sit on his ass, making it clear he's not going anywhere. and that dior is well. he knows that's true, and finds it to be so, picking up on her slow and steady heartbeat.
gabriel's gaze breaks away from the room she’s sleeping in, sliding back to lucretia who glares in disapproval, waiting. he continues with a sigh. ❝ it has everything you like in it: mystery and intrigue. people pissing me off. possible answers to daysdeath. killing ancien. my continued hatred of fucking potatoes. ❞ a travelling company that would've benefitted in lucretia being their chosen silversaint. she believed just as much as chloe did over fate and faith and belief, a certain end to this perpetual night to be discovered in fragile pages scribed in ink so old it could smudge away with one touch, but god's always liked the cruel kind of irony by sending a disbeliever instead. it’s just him and dior now.
❝ thought you liked it when i look rugged. ❞ gabriel quips, a slight purse of his lips, fully aware of the unkempt mess of a beard on his face he's not had the chance to shave since keeping a sixteen year old alive. dior loves making shit jokes about it every chance she gets. ❝ i remember you used to get all sad and pissy whenever i shaved it off. ❞
gabriel's breath hitches over her touch, close and warm and intimate, and his brain short circuits for a second. months on the road and spending half of it near bleeding out or half his bones broken or both simultaneously while frozen to the core makes hers a stark contrast to his body. the hunger of the beast within agrees with intrigue for another reason. even after the reprieve of a pitiful load of sanctus scrambled into a pipe with shaky fingers and inhaled so hard he almost coughs all the intestines he'd managed to stuff inside himself back out to narrowly escape the inquisition's clutches and a twin sister's vengeful fury, he's far from sated. gabriel blames it on the death chill from outside that still clings to him like a spectre of death. and the lack of a good meal and actual sleep.
❝ i need you ... ❞ gaze flicks for a second to her lips, to smooth skin marked in gold, before returning to eyes framed by long, dark lashes. his mouth feels dry and his fangs ache, but a smirk still ghosts. ❝ to shift slightly to the left. ❞ it's not what she's insinuating, they both know it, but he's always been an insufferable bastard. firm but gentle, gabriel maneuvers her a bit with his leg before sliding it underneath with his thigh now between her legs, letting her rest there. ❝ still healing. ❞
space travel and alien life. he’d never thought he’d live long enough for it to become true beyond the printed words of a 1930’s sci-fi novel. it’s still a lot to catch up on. they won the war. they made it to the moon. technology and science advanced like wildfire. then they went further, discovering planets and stars and life. space travel is as normal as taking a train. aliens are very much alive and breathing. and they’re really not the cliché little grey or green life forms with giant eyes so widely known and referred to since … well, as long as he can remember.
he’s travelled, while on the run, seen plenty for the 22nd century not to be completely clueless by it, but some days he’s taking two steps back with learning and adjusting. gets reminded when something is clearly made for three fingers and not five. or none at all. the struggle of navigating takeaway menus not being the numbers anymore but the damn dextro-amino and levo-amino key. the fact he gets stumped sometimes trying to figure out whether a vorcha or a hanar are joking or not. and don't even get him started on what music has become these days. he thought 21st century music was questionable.
but he’s familiar in the way he’s full of sarcasm and selflessness, cracking jokes, stubborn to the core. good with his shots. reminds him too much of roguish charm and loyalty and the colour blue to the point he bleeds it.
❝ how did you find me? ❞ @satellitewar asks.
❝ ex-spy and assassin. ❞ bucky responds, deadpan, like it's obvious, searching eyes landing then on the control panel that'll let garrus go, inputting the code coughed up from a dying batarian's lips—— only for it to mockingly come up red with ‘ error ‘ in capital letters. a frown as realisation dawns: the final laugh. ❝ you always make friends with those who want you dead, vakarian? ❞ bucky quips, throwing a sharp, swift punch of his bionic arm straight through glass and metal and wiring, fingers weaving round and pulling them out until they snap and spark.
garrett is good at hiding what he’s feeling behind quips and jokes, a charming smile and a confidence designed to disarm, but fenris knows the difference. usually able to adapt in all manner of situation that befalls them, this one’s proving to be a challenge. the muffled sounds of clambering and shuffling of armoured boots in the dark came first. a colourful string of swears and grumbles following after it.
❝ it's too dark, i can't see anything. ❞ @goetiya says, hands scrambling, taking a guess as he reaches for fenris, fumbling through the cave.
fenris isn’t too far ahead, but he comes to a halt and a hand frantically finds and lands on his shoulder—— only to instantly retreat with a pained yelp, catching spikes. the second time is more cautious, but no less urgent. finding his upper arm, there’s a light squeeze. he doesn’t let go.
fenris masks his wince, and instead helps the both of them and the situation by carefully dislodging the death grip he has on him to reassuringly guide his hand into his own instead, fingers slotting in-between each other effortlessly. i’m here.
❝ garrett. ❞ his voice slightly echoes and bounces off of the cave walls, hopefully giving a better idea of where he is in a physical sense. fenris can see garrett's brows shift into a furrow, concentrating, eyes squinting and flickering to and fro, likely trying to focus on a part of his face.
maybe there’s a small sense of amusement curving across his lips for a moment at the endearing ridiculousness of it all —— not that garrett will see it very well, even with his markings aglow, offering some light —— yet it ends up making itself known in his tone instead. ❝ as an accomplished mage, you do know you could’ve conjured up your own light source to find me with. ❞
there’s still a strange heavy sense of surrealism that clings to him after everything that happened. and not just for making it out alive as the only surviving member of delta squad. that part doesn’t shake him up as much —— mercs like him come and go, just part of the contract as hired muscle and collateral damage —— but rather what they were sent into. it was a massacre. they died torn apart by things that weren’t human. not anymore.
and now raccoon city ceases to exist, burying the truth along with it. not that that fact deters jill. jill who is alive and well and not pale and dying. turning. she couldn’t have come at a better time really, letting go of a breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding. eager to get up and help in doing something to further shake it off, ignoring the cocktail of unease sloshing around in his stomach, carlos takes the top half off of her hands and follows her into the kitchen.
❝ hey, how are you settling into the new living arrangements? ❞ @goetiya nudges him playfully with her shoulder. settling some pizza she had ordered down on the countertop.
a hum and a flicker of a smile at the corner over the nudge against his shoulder. his short answer would be it's complicated. settling in hasn’t been easy. and not just because building an organisation from the ground up to fight against bioweapons is a nightmare in itself with all of the logistics and politics—— and that’s before getting to the actual bioweapons. being the guy who used to be part of the ubsc —— an extension part of umbrella —— will rightfully put anyone who knows on edge, especially the last remaining members of s.t.a.r.s. the bad taste it’s put in his mouth hasn’t left.
the only reason he believes he’s lasted this long without being killed in some gruesome grim fashion is thanks to jill’s vote of confidence and status as someone who's survived hell and back not once, but twice.
not that it stops the dirty looks he gets, the whispers behind his back. that he’s your typical merc. an undercover spy. that he’ll show his true colours as a traitor when the right moment to strike comes in some grand revenge scheme all in the name of umbrella. fucking insane.
he's not gonna worry her with all that though, she’s got plenty to deal with. it’s his situation to navigate through and make work. so he goes with an easy joke. ❝ you won’t see me complainin’, got better digs here for one. ❞ which isn’t a lie either. this is an upgrade compared to his past ones. moving around her towards the kitchen cabinets, he takes out two glass cups to put on the counter.
❝ it isn't much, but i thought we could watch some bad tv and eat some pizza. i heard the place around the corner was a delicious hole in the wall. ❞ jill smiles, waiting for him to say yay or nay.
a chuckle bubbles from him as he momentarily pivots, walking backwards a few steps towards the fridge with a boyish grin. ❝ jill valentine, how can i ever say no to a lady showing a guy a good time with bad tv and greasy pizza? even went all out and got the good stuff that clogs up the arteries. ❞ opening it up, welcoming the cool sigh against his face, carlos starts rummaging around. ❝ what do you fancy drinking tonight? ❞
The combination of 'unnervingly flawless self-control' with 'occasional tendency to engage in reckless, dangerous, and borderline self-destructive or death-seeking behaviour' in a character is SUCH catnip to me
resident evil 3 remake » jill & carlos — i’m not gonna die on you and leave you in a cold, cruel, carlos-less world.
though their own worlds and problems are so different from each other after parting ways years ago, this is familiar. a challenge met with equal zeal and determination as every other before it, only this time with a difference: a notable focus and control that only comes from experience due to his own fair share of battles. their blades meet like claw and talon with a fierce spark that's new, surprising him for a moment. he supposes by now he should know that a hawke is stubborn and persistent. carver is no different. no matter how many times his wings have failed and has fallen to the ground, he always gets back up and takes to the skies again. a trait he has always quietly admired—— if it has also provided a great deal of concern.
but he has to remember that it’s in a hawke’s nature and desire to fly.
❝ i must warn you, i won't go easy on you this time. ❞ @giantsreach says, already falling into stance.
❝ you’re warning me? ❞ it's said with a raised brow, a noticeable quirk upwards at the corner of his lips. he has missed this. ❝ someone’s confident. ❞
sparring just as they did back in kirkwall's hissing wastes, they've already fallen into practiced steps like an old dance. he can easily imagine the feel of the sun beating down against their backs, the faint crashing of the sea's waves resounding in the distance. a memory fenris has realised his mind has come to cherish with deep fondness, just as it has with so many others.
❝ just don’t let it become foolishness. ❞ fenris turns the movement against him with a return counter, giving him a small advantage by forcing carver to create a distance to rectify his footing. disengaging a moment, he decides now is the time to provide the real challenge he’d alluded to in the past—— when he deemed it time. becoming one with the fade, fenris’ voice echoes like a wraith’s whisper from everywhere and nowhere. the true and final test. ❝ come then. show me what you’ve learnt, carver. ❞
☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs - it's time to spread positivity ! 👻💕✨‼️
tysm bestie 🥰💖 you are the best ily2
☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs - it's time to spread positivity !
jay this is very sweet 🥺💕 thank you sm
