#im sorry soph but HELPLESSSSSASSSSSSJSJSKAKJSJSJSJSKSKSKAKA

[daddy-ul]

THOUGHTS JINN. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS

Can't. My head fucking exploded in delight by song 3.

[animatedarchives]

GOJO SATORU

instagram: _hakkencoser_

[momorikoz]

Is... that what the world thinks of Gwen Stacy? As nothing more than a victim?

happy belated birthday bestie @spidergwcns!

[clubclassixs]

ANAA I FOUND THE PERFECT URL FOR YOU

appreciate the effort but I prefer these (even tho someone stole the one I want) :’)

[ohthathurt]

Are you kidding me right now? Are we really doing this? 'Khai' means crowned one in what language again? Not traditional Arabic or Urdu like I learned it! I'm seeing some people claim that in Urdu it means ditch, which is only slightly true. Actually it means 'canyon' or 'chasm' on the side of a mountain that's man made due to people exploding chunks of rock to make roads and highways.

I doubt that that's what they meant when they chose the name LMAO. As for the Arabic context, traditional Arabic doesn't have this word in daily or verbal use neither is this word in the Holy Book. So pray tell me where they found this.

Some say it's a mish-mash of her relatives' names. So how tf does it have a meaning all of a sudden? That's not how language works.

A few searches in I found that it maybe has an Egyptian link to it? Not sure. All in all, I'm sick of non-cultured people coming in, claiming a name that means shit-all and then slapping a label of culture in it.

Wow, do better.

[breitzbachbea]

Sometimes you need another parental figure/someone who grew up with a character tell them that a parent who's gone would be proud of them.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

rose macclare

Nah she dies

[madamhatter]

@virusvirtue​​ / bed-sentenced Sophie is not a happy Sophie. 

Why must her body protest and reduce itself to childish means? Time is critical and to collapse at such short notice - Sophie Hatter believed she'd gotten over that rambunctious phase of her life. Indignation courses through her body as the left fingers, shivering and trembling, twists into the sheets. Her gaze, blankly, looks upwards towards the pristine white ceiling of her room while the torment scorches under her skin. 

Move, we've been over this. Why must my body contradict the mind? Being a meddling and bumbling idiot that can't do anything is not up to any's worth of time and standards. 

At a boiling 39.8 C, the master candidate has been through a two-day sentence of aches, fever, and deliriousness. The mystic codes made by her own hands were dampened on the first day she awoke, her joints pulsating, but she marched on throughout the base on top of the snowy mountain. Never in her life did she spare herself any consideration nor entertained herself with the idea of limitations. 

Alas, the body came to a crescendo. When carrying the latest shipment, Sophie almost stumbled to the ground but managed to get back up. She scurries before any unwanted gazes see her and judge her for incompetence. Another instance where her vision grows blurrier while working through the labyrinth of paperwork and strategy she's made for herself. 

'Oh, this again,' she had told herself candidly. 'Ah, it’ll pass,' she repeats the mantra to push through. Stubbornness is the 'cure-all' in her eyes. She made her way from the desk, carrying her finished binder and heading to the door.

The door creaks open.

And that was when her body, once again, were worn at the seams, and the world descends to blackness...

Hence, the unusual arrangement with the master candidate begrudgingly in bed - any nerve inside of her itching and pricking her mind to do something. 

Her stomach churns as she squeezes the blanket further, keeping her gaze towards the ceiling. The nameless gargoyle at her side, watching her every movement. If any shred of pride existed in her, it was what was rotting inside her. 

Look at her, Sophie Hatter. Pathetic and useless, unable to do anything and making an embarrassment of herself. Hasn't she made enough trouble? Hasn't she burdened others enough? 

Stone-gray irises remain insistent and unmovable to the suggestions and declines from the copper-haired woman. A thin line makes up her expression, concentration in her eyes, as she steels herself from any pervasive questions that she knows she'd be relentlessly met within this stint. 

Aren't we just a hellish pair, then? She amuses his retort with one begging to be returned. Exhaustion, however, is more explicit in her shambled disposition, and she would not allow herself to become a more significant hindrance to the summoned. 

Freshly cooked chicken soup, chopped leeks, and made-from-scratch broth - - her nose tickles at the scent that tries to lure her in, pull her into consideration. Her brows knit together, despite her mantra-induced refusal. But it is not her mind wavering to the thoughts of a homemade meal.

It's bewildering.

Why would he even bother making something like that for her? Other servants deserve it and would be delighted by it - they don't require sustenance, unlike the humans... Hell, even the other candidates could dig in. Who in the right mind would even go that far to waste resources and time on that? She can pull herself together just fine.

This arrangement is not a comfortable one.

She already feels exposed - all parts of her body twitching and stuffy with red patches staining her body. She, however, made the one right decision - covering every inch of herself to avoid even more inevitably judgmental eyes. 

Her eyes squeeze shut as Archer spoon-feeds her alternatives. She'd rather choke on a blade in his collection than carry on with this conversation. Part of her urges not to be alone - for, with nothing to do, that was indeed when she'd fall apart. It wouldn't be wise nor proper for Sophie Hatter to do that. After all, she was taught better, and she knew better than to make problems as Mother and Father told her...

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to put up with my failures. 

"Mister Archer, your persistence in your work, I acknowledge it. And it's useful." She finally speaks up, lowering her chin and turning her face to watch him. "...when it's needed. Like in the field." 

"I'm fine." I've been through worse. "I can care for myself at this point. This pointless matter isn't worth the energy. It's over already." 

Sophie turns her head away with her ponytail following her. She was already seated up, refusing to lay flat on her back. Her palms, flat on the bed, slowly push her to turn away from Archer and face the unoccupied side of her bed. 

"If I am hungry, I can handle that. If I am thirsty, I can handle that. I can handle myself." She quietly folds the blanket over her lap away, revealing something quite unusual for Sophie - a pair of gray joggers. Odd to see her in a wardrobe fitting her age range. 

Her right-hand reaches out and remains against the wall to keep her balance. The bottom of her bare feet brushes against cold tiles.

Fully actualized shapes distort...

Her nails dig into the wall, refusing to let that sway her. Even if the world around her could spin at any minute. 

"I know some of the other candidates have been working a sweat with training. They'll need the vitamins, protein, and all of that. Other servants have unsatisfiable cravings for food too. They'll be able to appreciate your cooking." 

"I have work to do. I can't wait any longer."  

[hollandroos]

Hello love!:) can I ask for 17, 22, 49 &107 with peter parker from the 200 prompts?

Hey, my love!  I couldn’t work out how to use prompt 22 so i just skipped it. i hope that’s okay!! 

prompt list here

After two years together, you and Peter had seemingly pushed every button you could. You’d had arguments that had left in screaming and crying and slamming doors and not talking for days. But you always ran back to one another because, in the end, you needed each other. 

You loved each other. 

You had made each other jealous to the core, spitting words that made you both seeth and want to tug your hair out. He could anger you like no other and you could make him cry alone out of pure frustration.

But god forbid Peter got injured on a mission. The second you saw him fall on the field, serious or not you’d be by his side giving the villain that’d knocked your boy down absolute hell. 

And god forbid someone spit venomous words at you – usually because of who your dad was. You said it didn’t hurt but Peter new different. Peter was a hard boy to hold back and sometimes… there was no use in trying.

“The way he watches you…like he’s ready to take a bullet for you.”

The words lingered in your brain. Because Peter would take a bullet for you any day. He’d take hundreds if it meant he’d get to wake up to you because the majority of the time things were good. They were great. 

Soft kisses and pancakes for breakfast were how most mornings started. Draped in each other’s clothing and whispering words like ‘I love you’ and ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ It was pure bliss. 

That was also somehow what put you at each other’s throats. Because the two of you simply didn’t know how to be normal.

Peter had spent the majority of his teen and early adult years fighting crime and watching those around him drop like flies. There was his parents, uncle Ben, Tony Stark and most recently Aunt May and it hurt more then he’d let on to you – even to himself. Each death cut further and further. 

And you – you’d been raised as a weapon. Taught to kill and feel no emotion. Your first-ever hug was at age thirteen and the first ounce of love you received at age fifteen. But you felt so much emotion for Peter Parker that it was sometimes overwhelming and difficult to handle and Peter – god, he feared your safety every single day. 

“Maybe if you actually stop staring at her and talk to her, you might have a chance.” Ned had told him nearly 4 years ago, watching Peters adoring eyes watch the new recruit across the hall. She moves swiftly, never letting down her guard and Peter found that somehow she never slept. Yet the bags under her eyes proved to him that she was tired.

And Peter did have a chance because the flutter you felt in your heart the next morning when he bought you breakfast was a first but a feeling that you welcomed warmly (only with slight hesitation), and the one after that came when he sat next to you at the dining table and so forth. 

But somehow – after a series of trauma (most undealt with) you’d both been dragging each other on. Finding nothing but nonsense to pick and tear at and ultimately, tear each other apart. 

“I wish I’d never met you.”

Somehow the words sting. Almost like saltwater in a fresh wound. This fight was different than the rest and you realise that maybe you took the others for granted. The ones that ended in soft hugs and ‘i’m sorry’s’ over bowls of ice cream.

Peter had been pulling apart the threads that held you together.

“No… you don’t mean that.” You quieten down, lip quivering but you refused to cry in front of him. All anger is replaced with fear and sadness. “You can’t mean that.”

Peter swallows. He’s seeing red like the colour of his spider-man suit. Or the sickly red that seeped through your wounds last week after a ridiculously difficult battle. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

He wanted to feel like a teen again – young and in love, skating to the sandwich shop and kissing with lips covered in mayo. 

“Then get out and don’t come back.”

[animatedarchives]

hello everyone!! it’s been a wHILE since we hit 600 but i still want to celebrate how far we’ve come with y’all so i will be holding my 600 event from Thursday 5 Nov 12pm (GMT+8) to Sunday 8 Nov 12am (GMT+8). please convert the timings accordingly if you need to!

APPEARANCE MATCH UPS

i will not be doing any headcanons this time, i’ll just give you a match up based on who i think you’ll look good with ^^ some details to note:

ONE. you may use a picrew or provide a detailed description of your appearance if you are uncomfortable sharing an actual picture

TWO. please let me know if you want me to delete your photo before posting :)

THREE. tell me the preferred gender you want

FOUR. include the fandom for your match up. choose a maximum of two from haikyuu, bnha, kny, bsd, mystic messenger and free!

— all match ups will be tagged with #sophs matchmaking service

CHARACTER INTERACTIONS

send messages into my inbox for your favourite characters and i will get them to reply you! please refer to the fandoms above for the characters you can write to :)

— all interactions will be tagged with #character interactions

YOUR ANIME LIFE

give me three random facts about yourself and one fandom from those above and i’ll tell you who you’re dating, who your best friend is, and who you has a secret crush on you! please also specify the gender for your love interest :)

— all posts for this will be tagged with #your anime life

thank you once again to everyone who has supported me thus far :) i am truly grateful for every single one of you and please always remember that i love you guys so very much ❤️ happy 600 everyone 🥳✨

everything regarding this event will be tagged under #sophs 600 event so do block it if you don’t want to see it! enjoy! 🥰

[alexmercermolina]

thank u sm for the tag @sunsetnerve! xoxoooo

If you had to pick only 5 movies to watch for the rest of your life what would they be?! And, just to add a lil razzle dazzle, what is your fav movie snack?! 🤗✨✨

oh god sos, these are all my (soph’s) answers because ellie can’t decide - we both mostly watch tv shows instead of movies and our genres of both are so different so it’s hard - so these are the movies i’ve watched the most times and will never get tired of i guess

friends with benefits ft justin timberlake & mila kunis (idk why but i cry every single time lol)

school of rock (one time i watched it 5 times in 6 days lmao it is the best) 

the parent trap

freaky friday

stick it (my bi awakening - iykyk)

favorite movie snack: PEANUT M&MS (both soph & ellie)

i’m tagging @meangirlsx @dr-rigatoni @notsunsetcurve @curvesofsunset @sunsetcurvesphantoms and ANYONE ELSE IF U SEE THIS I TAGGED U

[megankane]

is it hot in here or is it just me?

[siqqet]

So here’s the... thing... The writing.... With Soph and Thassie....

“Um, sir?” Ensign Soraimo questioned, staring ahead, a bemused expression on his face. He had been called into the Commander’s office to address the recent disaster he had caused, and had been expecting the worst. The Commander, an ex-Sith, was known for dishing out harsh punishments, though Soraimo had heard whispers from older Imperials who had served under her while she still sat on the Dark Council that she had toned it down since the arrival of Republic citizens in order to maintain their support. They asserted that back in the day she had been entirely without mercy, torturing and killing soldiers for the slightest of misdeeds, so when Soraimo had entered the chamber, trembling in anticipatory terror, soot from the explosion still staining his shoulders, he thought he would be met with anger, and probably Force-lightning. Instead, the Commander sat at her desk, a serene, if not slightly entertained expression crossing her pale face and a young child balancing on her knee.

Soraimo recognized the child as Thassande, the adopted daughter of the Commander and her lovers, Beniko and Shan, though most people assumed a relation between her and the child, as they were of the same species and shared many traits. What Soraimo didn’t understand was what she was doing here. Surely a disciplinary meeting was no place for a kid, especially as Soraimo knew his punishment would have to be severe.

If the Commander agreed with him, though, she didn’t show it, keeping a steady eye locked on him, ignoring the child squirming on her lap, unable to keep still for even a second, and Soraimo was hardly in a place to challenge her lack of professionalism. When the Commander spoke, Soraimo startled, having been too lost in the confounding details of the situation that he had momentarily forgotten why he was there.

“Am I to understand that it is you, Ensign Firne Soraimo, who lost us thousands of credits worth of experimental technology?” Despite her calm expression, her voice was cold, scathing. Soraimo winced. His eyes lowered as he stared at the floor in shame and fear, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his uniform.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled.

The Commander made a small noise that Soraimo tagged as disapproval, and out of the edge of his vision, he saw her shift in her chair, the leather of her skirt creaking as it moved against the leather of her chair. When he looked up, she was leaning forward now, body curled so that her elbows could rest on the desk while still providing room for Thassande, who giggled quietly to herself, to poke through. The Commander’s expression held more gravity.

“It is difficult to find parts for a stealth ship, you understand,” she said and Soraimo couldn’t meet her eyes. He had always thought Sith had creepy eyes, but the anger behind them had never been directed at him. He didn’t want to see if it was now.

The Commander continued. “I shouldn’t have to tell you how costly the war with Zakuul was, or how hard it is to find usable parts for such sophisticated technology. You fought beside me. You should be well aware of the scarcity.”

Soraimo nodded. He remembered well, but it wasn’t as if he had destroyed the fighter on purpose. He felt suddenly defensive.

“It was hardly my fault, sir. If we could just standardize the measuring systems, I wouldn’t have run out of fuel!” he blurted out.

“Silence!” The Commander snapped in return, glaring at him over her daughter’s head. He noticed the wrinkle of anger in her furrowed brow aligned perfectly with the white markings on her face. “You dare tell me what to do, Ensign? After the catastrophe you have caused?” She did not yell at him; her voice remained at regular speaking volume, and rather level, but beneath it there was an edge, a venom that told Soraimo that he had overstepped. Of course he had. He had no right telling the Commander how to run her alliance. Besides, his suggestion hadn’t even been useful. Officially, the units of measurement were standardized, despite the shortcuts some Imperial soldiers took. They followed Republic units, which Soraimo could never follow, hence his disastrous mistake. He had no place exclaiming like that.

A giggle sounded, contrasting the Commander’s frosty tone and Soraimo’s silent guilt. Thassande grinned at him, her eyes glinting with a mischief Soraimo expected from the daughter of two Sith and a SIS agent, though that wasn’t the only unsettling thing about her expression, he realized. Although the smile on her tiny face should have been cute, a chill went down Soraimo’s spine when he saw that every one of her teeth were pointed. She laughed again, a knowing smirk replacing the dangerous-looking smile.

“Careful, mister. Isla’s mad at you.” she said. Her tone was so sincere that Soraimo would have believed it to be a genuine warning had he not seen her expression.  He also took note of what the young girl called her mother, pondering it for a second before realizing that since she had two mothers, it was logical to call the Commander by what Soraimo assumed was either her given name or a nickname. As he considered this, Thassande shifted, trying to straighten up, but only succeeding in driving her miniature montrals into her mother’s chin, causing the Commander to hiss in pain and surprise. In reaction, the Commander leaned back again, giving Thassande more room to move around, though she put her hands on the child’s hips to keep her from wiggling so much. Soraimo thought he heard her murmur “Mind yourself, love,” but thought it best to stay still and silent until the Commander had shifted her focus back to him. She stared at him for a long time before speaking again.

“Ensign Soraimo, your carelessness has caused us quite a setback. We will have to find new parts and--”

“You couldn’t scavenge anything?” he cut in, then winced at his mistake. He had spoken on impulse alone, his nervousness making him hasty.

The look the Commander gave him made him want to sink into the floor and the silence before she spoke was longer than the last.

“It was... Completely... Destroyed.” She said slowly, clearly, enunciating the words. Soraimo felt awful. He hadn’t meant to cause that much carnage. Well, he hadn’t meant to cause any, but this was a level of destruction he hadn’t thought he could have been capable of. It was disheartening, and terrifying.

Thassande decided to take the pause during which Soraimo’s soul was withering away in disgrace to pipe in. “It- It was a huge Ka-Boom!” she announced, excitement filling her voice. “I saw it- I saw it from my room! There was so much fire!” Thassande said, spreading her arms wide to demonstrate her understanding of the scale to the best of her ability.

Soraimo found her enthusiasm a bit offputting, but he supposed a four year old didn’t really have the emotional intelligence to understand the gravity of the situation. If he hadn’t had his life on the line, he might have thought it was cute.

“There was so much fire.” The Commander added, the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.

“You are fortunate no one was hurt, or else deciding what to do with you would be a lot easier for me, but a lot less pleasant for you, I suspect.” she said and Soraimo groaned internally. He wouldn’t exactly call the situation he was in ‘lucky’.

“My punishment, then, sir?” He asked, trying to keep his voice as professional and to-the-point as possible, though there was a slight tremor to it. The smirk on the Commander’s face seemed to drink up his fear, but this time he did not look away, even as his legs shook beneath him. The beat between his question and her reply seemed to stretch an eternity.

“Hmm...” The Commander stared past him, drawing the intermission out even further. Soraimo thought he might vomit from the anxiety.

She looked down, eyes fixed on the small child sat across her thighs who in turn looked up to meet her mother’s glance. “Advisor Thassande, what punishment do you recommend for Ensign Soraimo?”

The Commander’s voice was completely serious as she posed the question. Thassande’s eyes lit up and she gave a happy wiggle, seeming to like being asked her opinion. Once again, Soraimo wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

Thassande deliberated for a moment, humming and hawing over her decision, leaving Soraimo in limbo, unsure if he should be scared or not. Occasionally she’d stretch up to whisper something against her mother’s montrals, at which point the Commander would nod briskly and Thassande would go back to thinking. Finally, finally, she broke the silence, though with a laugh that sounded impressively evil for such an adorable child. Soraimo registered with a start that this was a Sith child, and that there was a very real possibility that her verdict may have been just as nasty as the Commander’s.

“Um, you’re... Um, you’ve gotta go to time out for the... the, um rest of the day and you’re not allowed to play-- to play with your toys... Your ships.” Thassande stammered out her best impression of a grown-up, though her high-pitched voice and speech impediment along with the characteristic hesitation of a child made the delivery kind of endearing. The punishment itself was monumentally less cruel than Soraimo would have predicted, given the situation, and he almost didn’t want to glance at the Commander for her confirmation.

When their eyes met, a soft smile crossed the Commander’s face, amused and loving, though it hardened after a second when she started to speak. “You heard her, Ensign. You are to remain in your bunk until dinner and you are to be reassigned from duty in the hangar. Check in with your Captain tomorrow, I will give her the details of your new assignment. You are dismissed.” She instructed and Soraimo nearly collapsed in relief. Not only was that a lenient punishment from the Commander, it was a lenient punishment in general. Thank the stars for Thassande’s input.

“Yes, sir!” He saluted the Commander as he stumbled towards the door, his body feeling like jelly now that the panic was wearing off. After a split second of consideration, he also offered a salute to Thassande, who giggled and waved at him. Unexpectedly, the Commander also laughed, though hers was a deep rumble.

“You’re lucky your mess caused too much of a stir-up for me to find a babysitter.” Her eyes bored into him as he wobbled out the door. “Any further mistakes will bear a much less... merciful result.”

[lottiesdocmartins]

what do you think LCL smells like // would you cosplay someone from nge? if so, who?

coming with the hard questions here lol

I think LCL would quite literally smell like people's hopes and dreams, whatever that is. if I had to think of an actual smell, probably burning plastic. I don't know about actual cosplaying but for halloween or something either Kaji or Misato

[plutosmellz]

which one of you

[joeypottrs]

sometimes writing a post at 2am when you are incredibly tired and have not watched something for a very long time is not a good idea and will in fact get people arguing in a tag for 10 hours...