#atlantisied

[decayent]

@atlantisied​  sent  :    ❝  you’re  wasting  my  time.  ❞

bree  wasn’t  above  having  to  beg  for  her  means  to  be  met.  it  was  another  unfortunate  part  about  being  homeless,   sometimes  it  was  necessary  to  disregard  your  pride.   “  i  just  need  a  few  dollars,  mister.  ”   not  for  food,  that  wasn’t  essential  to  her.   she  couldn’t  buy  what  she  needed  to  sustain  herself.   but  she  needed  something  to  do,  something  to  read.  for  once  she’d  like  to  be  able  to  pay.  “  or  just  a  few  cents.  i’ll  take  anything  you  have.   please  ?  ”

[astcroid]

“ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜɪᴠᴀʟʀʏ? ᴅᴏᴇs ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇxɪsᴛ ɪɴ 80’s ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇs?”  @atlantisied​

"ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ..."  buffy  trailed  off  as  she  gave  it  some  thought.  if  there's  one  thing  buffy  had  an  interest  in  other  than  fashion,  it  was  watching  a  mind-numbing  amount  of  netflix.  on  nights  when  strolling  the  cemetery  wasn't  enough,  the  slayer  would  do  the  next  best  thing  for  insomnia.  plant  herself  in  front  of  the  television  and  rewatch  classics.  "personally,  i  think  the  90s  movies  showed  better  chivalry.  i  mean,  what  about  the  total  babe  that  is  jack  dawson  or  sweetheart  forrest  gump?  no  one  from  an  80s  film  can  beat  them  when  it  comes  to  chivalry  to  me."  

[ofheartaches]

@atlantisied​  ❞  𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐡 & 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚   ❞

the cure for vampirism — always within arms reach and taken away mercilessly before she could reach it . pouting , spending time inside of the grill nursing a scotch while glaring at other consumers . she supposed it had been fitting for someone with a colorful past to be constantly knocked down off a high horse , or down a peg or several . “ you’d do well not to irritate me right now , love . ” icy eyes narrowing , already having sensed a presence lurking behind her : they seemed quite new . “ unless you care to join me in burying sorrows . ”

[decayent]

closed  starter  for  @atlantisied​.

she’s  only  come  face  to  face  with  her  creator  once.   the  night  of  her  recruitment  into  a  life  she  wanted  no  part  of,   into  a  war  she  had  no  intentions  of  fighting.   recollections  of  that  night  come  back  to  her  in  stages,  but  they’re  not  what  remains  burned  into  the  back  of  her  mind  at  her  sudden  appearance.   no,   not  that  night.   but  the  night  of  her  own  death  before  this  strange  town.   a  death  she  accepted  because  she  was  without  a  purpose.  diego  was  gone,  the  causes  of  his  demise  had  been  killed.  the  yellow  eyes  had  taken  care  of  that.  she  had  no  need  for  anger,  for  vengeance.   but  as  she  stared  down  at  the  woman  in  front  of  her,   that  changed.    “  you.  ”

[decayent]

@atlantisied​  sent  :   ❝  stop  letting  it  get  to  you. ❞

“  if  that’s  an  attempt  at  psychoanalyzing  me,  you’re  doing  a  shit  job. ”   of  course,   if  he  wanted  to  bring  out  the  worst  in  anyone,  maeve  isn’t  hard  to  get  a  reaction  from.   but  digging  deeper  beneath  the  surface  was  another  task  altogether.  yeah,  he  might’ve  been  right.  yeah,  it  was  solid  advice.  but  she  knows  better  than  to  listen.  “  you’re  not  getting  in  my  head  that  easily.  ”

[ineffxble]

RATIGAN & IAGO !!

Disney Villain Headcanon Prompts

RATIGAN - What’s your muse’s criminal record?

Does being mistaken for a noble during the French Revolution count? How about insubordination against God Herself? Not that Aziraphale remembers either of these episodes. As far as he’s concerned, the worst he’s ever done is accidentally litter when the wind blew a napkin out of his hand while he was eating lunch outside.

 IAGO - What’s your muse’s least favorite food?

British crepes. The French make them better.

[ineffxble]

@atlantisied said ‘  what  did  you  dream  of?  ’ 

“Quite little, frankly,” Aziraphale answered, bringing a pointer finger to his lip as he focused intently on reconstructing the few patchwork scenes that remained. “I was in a meadow. It was a rather pleasant day, so perhaps for a picnic? I don’t recall anything after that until the storm clouds gathered above me. I made it to the car just as it began to rain.”

He grew silent for a moment as his thoughts paused, retraced their steps, and circled back towards the car. Aziraphale knew it was long and black, but couldn’t recall much else. Desperately, he searched for the missing pieces, the sleek leather upholstered seats and the dramatic curve of steel above the car’s pristine black tires. But alas, he found nothing.

“I blame it on recent events - the dream, of course,” he continued on, redirecting his attention to the conversation at hand. “Nerves. Who wouldn’t have them after that awful storm?”