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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@kamiibehr
Welcome
Hey there, I'm Kamii. I enjoy playing The Sims and other games, and I post Sims content when I can. I'm a college student who's still finding herself and coping with life, playing the Sims.
I will be posting some storytelling and my versions of other sims very soon, but most definitely a few legacy challenges <3
note: this will edited alot lol Testing rn :)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by An animal‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 25- Black Panther. (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A era‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 24- 80s Tell it to my heart Tell me I'm the only one Is this really love, or is it just a game? (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
Scrolling on tiktok. Found an Olivia Pope x Tony Stark edit. Found this masterpiece in the comments.
Olivia Pope did not fidget. The black cocktail dress, a Valentino that whispered power with every seam, was her armor. The flute of champagne in her left hand was a prop, not a drink. She’d taken one sip in ninety minutes, just enough to leave a faint gloss on the crystal. The gala hummed around her—senators, tech moguls, journalists pretending not to be on the clock—but her attention was a laser. Somewhere near the bar, Senator Calloway was about to say the wrong thing to the wrong reporter, and she was already calculating the damage. Three steps ahead. Always.
Then the air shifted.
It wasn’t a sound so much as a ripple of attention. Heads turned by increments toward the entrance. Olivia tracked it without moving her neck. A man had arrived late—unforgivably late, by D.C. standards—and the room was rearranging itself around him. He wore Tom Ford like a casual afterthought, the jacket unbuttoned, no tie. His beard was trimmed with the kind of precision that suggested he’d done it himself three minutes before walking in, and the arc reactor visible beneath his shirt wasn’t a fashion statement. It glowed. A soft, cerulean pulse.
Tony Stark.
Of course. The keynote speaker. Olivia had skimmed the guest list, noted his name, filed him under “manageable chaos.” She’d been wrong about that second part, she realized now. The chaos wasn’t manageable. It was gravitational.
She watched him work the room without moving. He shook hands without letting go, leaned in too close, said things that made old white men laugh nervously. Every woman in a twenty-foot radius adjusted her posture. Even the ones who pretended not to.
“You’re staring.”
The voice came from her left. Abby, her right hand, appeared with a fresh glass of champagne Olivia didn’t need.
“I’m assessing,” Olivia said, voice flat.
“Same thing, with you.” Abby’s smile was a flicker. “He’s heading this way.”
Olivia didn’t react. Her pulse did something stupid, a hard thump against her ribs that she refused to acknowledge. She turned, just enough, and found Tony Stark ten feet away, his eyes already on her.
Not scanning the room. Not looking past her to find someone more important. On her.
“Ms. Pope.” He said her name like it was a private joke they’d been sharing for years. “You’re harder to get a meeting with than a head of state. I checked.”
“You didn’t try hard enough.” She let the corner of her mouth lift. Not a smile. A warning shot. “My office has a phone.”
“Phones are boring.” Stark closed the distance. The scent of him—sandalwood, something sharper underneath, ozone maybe, from whatever that thing in his chest actually did—touched her before his hand did. He extended it. Not for a handshake. Palm up, an invitation. “Dance with me.”
Abby made a sound like a stifled cough and evaporated into the crowd.
Olivia didn’t take his hand. “I’m working.”
“You’re breathing. That’s the only prerequisite.” His eyes flicked down to her left hand, the one still holding the champagne. “You’ve been nursing that glass for an hour. You’re not a drinker. You’re a watcher. So watch me while we dance.”
The logic was absurd. It was also disarming. Olivia set the glass on a passing tray and gave him nothing. “The last time someone told me to watch them, I was cleaning up a congressman’s sexting scandal within forty-eight hours.”
“Sounds like a slow Tuesday for you.” Stark’s hand remained extended. “I don’t sext. I have too much respect for the medium.”
A laugh. She almost let it escape. The muscle under her jaw tightened. “You’re trying to charm me.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He said it without malice, without the smug certainty she expected. Just a simple, warm observation, the way someone might comment on the weather. “Your left eyebrow does this thing. A micro-expression. When you’re deflecting, it twitches. Did it just now.”
Her eyebrow, traitor that it was, remained perfectly still. But something lower—a flutter in the pit of her stomach, unwelcome and undeniable—responded.
The band started a new song. Something slow. A saxophone curling through the ballroom like smoke.
Stark finally lowered his hand. But he didn’t step back. If anything, he stepped closer, reducing the distance between them to something less than professional. The glow from the arc reactor threw faint blue shadows across the lapel of his jacket. “Okay. No dancing. Talk to me instead.”
“About what?”
“About why you look at this room like it’s a chessboard and you’re the only one who can see six moves ahead.” His voice dropped, just for her. “About why you’re bored.”
Olivia’s spine straightened. She didn’t look away. “I’m not bored.”
“You’re so bored you could scream. But you won’t. Because screaming would be messy, and you don’t do messy.” His gaze traveled her face, not lecherous, but cataloging. Like she was a blueprint he was memorizing for a reason she couldn’t guess. “I know the type. I am the type. Except I scream. Usually at people who work for me. But I’m working on it.”
A beat of silence passed between them. The kind that had texture.
“You think you know me after two minutes,” she murmured.
“Three and a half. I’m counting.” Stark tilted his head. “I know you’re the woman who fixed the Calloway situation last spring before it became a headline. I know you haven’t taken a vacation in four years. I know you wear heels that cost more than most people’s rent because they make a sound. A specific sound. It tells people you’re coming before they see you. Power in the warning.”
Her jaw loosened by a fraction. She hadn’t blinked. “You researched me.”
“I didn’t have to. You’re the most interesting person in this room, and I have a radar for interesting things. It’s calibrated.” He touched his chest, right where the reactor sat. “Literally. It beeps. You’re setting it off.”
Olivia’s fingers curled at her sides. She imagined stepping back, creating distance, retrieving her armor. But her feet stayed planted. “What do you want, Mr. Stark?”
“Tony.”
“What do you want, Tony?”
There it was. The flash of something real behind the performance. His eyes, dark and impossibly focused, held hers. “I want to see what happens when you stop being bored for five minutes. With me.”
Around them, the gala continued its oblivious rotation. Waiters wove through with canapés. Somewhere, Senator Calloway was probably still talking, still digging a hole. But that emergency had faded to white noise.
“I have a job to do,” she said. The words came out with less conviction than she intended.
“You have a phone in that deceptively simple clutch. You can do your job from anywhere. I know. I invented half the technology in it.”
She almost smiled. God help her, she almost smiled. “You’re insufferable.”
“Accurate.” He stepped back, finally, and the loss of proximity hit her like a door opening in a pressurized cabin. “I’m staying at the Hay-Adams. Suite four-twelve. If you’re done being bored, come find me.”
He turned before she could refuse. Before she could do anything but watch the line of his shoulders as he walked away, the casual confidence in his stride.
Abby materialized at her elbow. “So. That happened.”
Olivia didn’t answer. Her mind was a cascade of calculations: the risks, the optics, the sheer impossibility of a woman like her crossing a line like that. Tony Stark wasn’t a distraction. He was a detonation.
But her fingers, still curled at her sides, were tingling. The spot on her palm where he might have touched her felt electric, as if the charge from his chest had jumped the gap.
“Calloway?” Abby prompted.
“Handle it.”
“And you?”
Olivia finally lifted her gaze from the path Stark had cut through the crowd. The exit doors were still swinging slightly. The Hay-Adams was four blocks away.
She thought about rules. The ones she’d built her life around. The ones that kept her safe, kept her sharp, kept her untouchable. She thought about the sound of his voice saying liar. The way he’d looked at her not as a strategist or a fixer or a weapon, but as a woman holding her breath underwater and refusing to admit she was drowning.
She thought about what it might feel like to exhale.
Abby was still waiting.
Olivia reached for her clutch, checked her phone—no new crises—and began walking toward the doors.
“Olivia,” Abby called, a note of warning in her voice. “What do I tell the senator?”
Without breaking stride, Olivia said, “Tell him I’ve found something more interesting.”
OMG, I saw this tiktok and lovedddd it. ty for feeding us <333
⋆.𐙚 ̊ I need someone to write this crackship immediately. I am VERY moved. I need itttttt 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A city‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 23- I'm a Bay Area girl. I took inspo from a woman I saw on Pinterest for this outfit. (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by An Element‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 22- Water. "COCONUT WATA" (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A noise‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 21- a fart noise. Yes. "You not even the fart" (dividers credits by @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A cartoon‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 20- I loved this cartoon when I was younger (Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends)(dividers credits by @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A food‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 19- Fried or sunny side up? (dividers credits by @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by An album aesthetic‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 18- my name is pink, and i'm really glad to meet you (Fancy That Album)(dividers credits by @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A Hobby‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 17- stacking and flipping (a baker and cook)(dividers credits by @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A Holiday‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 16- A love day sim (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A Tarot card ‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 15- The Empress card (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by A Time of Day ‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 14- Based on the sunset I saw, around 8pm (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
⋆｡˚𑣲⋆｡˚ "inspired by" by An Urban legend‧₊˚. (@pixelpurgatory)
Day 13- Bloody Mary (dividers credits- @honeyluvsw)
