#realitybled

[pyreshe]

@realitybled from here 🔥

her expression doesn't change, but something about her eyes seems to spark and brighten at the sight of the oreos. she catches the pack deftly in one hand, sitting back on the surface of the fridge and shifting to sit cross-legged with her snack and proceeding to impatiently tear into the plastic with her teeth. olivia is already eating the oreos two at a time by the time his comment registers, at which point she leans over the edge of the fridge toward him, hand held out expectantly for the so-called real food.

she only ever speaks about half the time; some days she'll talk about the pigeons she's taken to feeding in the park or the odd squirrel she sees now and again, pretty dresses in shop windows, almost chatty, and then days like today she is utterly silent. the soldier had affectionately referred to her as a shadow, but others used the term church mouse- quiet like her life depended on it.

[deatheless]

@realitybled sent: what's wrong? cat got your tongue? / accepting.

❛ what? what — stop, don't act like this is, like — something that happens every day, oh my god! i am so within my rights right now to be freaking out! ❜

she's never met another ghost before. if that's even what she is, that is, which — honestly, if anything, meeting willie has kind of proven to her that she isn't one. or at least not a normal one. it's starting to seem like she's something else entirely.

willie is like, dead dead. all the way through, all the time. and she ... isn't. something cemented further by the fact that she's had to duck them off to the side, wedged in the alleyway next to a coffee shop, so other people don't see her standing in the street talking to the air, because people can still see her ( well, most of the time ), and they can't see him ( all of the time, apparently ). the last thing she needs at this point is adriana texting her because someone's posted she's having a mental break on hollywood boulevard or something.

mina runs her hand down her face with a groan before she holds it up in front of her, hopefully quieting willie down in the process. jesus, if it hasn't already, she's pretty sure her heart's gonna stop.

❛ let me just — process this, okay? i'm still barely used to this stuff happening to me. i've never seen it with anyone else, and especially not like ... our deals are ... different, okay? something's different here. ❜

[accustiv]

imagine having a mutual as cool as ellis 😎

omg imagine having a mutual as cool as pidge what an honour

[accustiv]

Is your character the subject of ‘imagines’ or ‘x reader’ style blogs? 👀👀

if beau was canon (accepting)

oh… yeah.

there are already so many imagines & x reader posts and fics out there for ty, so if he was cast in the canon of whatever – there would be A Lot

i also just think those blogs would just completely mischaracterise how beau behaves in a relationship and turn him into some strange fanon version of himself for the express purpose of x reader fics - even if not in the wider fandom.

i just think beau would be PRIME self insert material but not for any reasons actually related to how he is, he’s just pretty and a criminal and the wattpad girlies simply can’t get enough !!!

[4ger-archived]

     " WOULD THAT AT ALL IMPRESS YOU?     then yes,   absolutely you should. "    e.ames know it wouldn't.   e.ames also knows he should probably keep his mouth shut,   it only worsens the taste of blood in his mouth  &  that's already disgusting enough   .  .  .   but when has that ever stopped him from running his mouth?   also the other guy is at least as bad off as e.ames himself is⸺⸺   he could probably blame his current state on the element of surprise  &  get away with it.   being socked in the face three seconds after waking up from a less than peaceful shared dream seems highly unfair.   in hindsight,   having gotten away with a laceration on his forehead,   a split lip  &  a few bruises here  &  there seems like divine intervention.    (BUT WAS ACTUALLY SHEER LUCK  &  THE ROUTINE OF THIS HAPPENING BIMONTHLY AT LEAST.)    " if it means you'll give me the good stuff against the pain,   i can spin you a tale of great bravery  &  valor,   sure. "    it would not be that much different from making up new fairy tales for his sisters' bed time whenever they had gotten bored with the ones he's read them.   might have to lose a few dragons⸺⸺   or perhaps that could actually get katharine to laugh.    (ALSO WHO DOES NOT LIKE DRAGONS?)    " give me the good stuff first  &  the story will be that much better.   but maybe put a band aid on my forehead first.   from what i have heard,   all that blood's better suited to be inside of me as opposed to all over my shirt   .  .  . "

ACCEPTING.     BRUISES  &  BRUISING:     "LET ME GUESS, I SHOULD SEE 'THE OTHER GUY'?"   FEAT.   @realitybled / KATHARINE

[volchtsarchive]

@realitybled's lancelot to beatrize : ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞

“ what always happens. ” she has no strength left in her to rebut his observation. he is right anyway, and beatrize can feel it. there is blood and gore all over her armor, her skin feels sticky and her scalp is itching something demonic. and so she plops down right at the opening of her tent and begins to unbuckle the straps of her breastplate. the light chain mail underneath it is soaked with darkspawn ichor. she thinks she can feel it start to burn her skin.

giving up on the third strap, beatrize looks over at lancelot, both arms falling limp by her side, stiff shoulders sagging. “ the merchant was right, ” she tells him, “ the village was overrun by a horde. ” she had been warned, and she could have opted not to go to honnleath. but the prospect of a golem was too tempting to refuse; any help we can get, beatrize reasoned to herself the night before. it was worth it in the end, despite looking like reddened shit in the aftermath, as her companion so succinctly put.

“ we got a golem out of it. ” she gestures to shale with her chin, standing rigid under a big oak tree, with fire crystals gleaming all over her shoulder, arms, and legs. she isn't what beatrize thought a golem would be, but then again... it's not like she would know. the fact that shale killed her last master is something they're all simply going to have to live with. at this time, she isn't inclined to mention it to lancelot. “ would you mind getting your hands a little dirty? ” she asks, a wan smile marginally brightening up her tired face. beatrize gestures to her back. “ need some help with these last two buckles. ”

assassin's creed: valhalla sentence starters

[4ger-archived]

     " CHARMING ONE,   AREN'T YOU? "     it is not the first time a knife has been pulled on e.ames,   it will not be the last time,   he has no inclinations towards hope on that account.   &  perhaps he should take this more seriously:   the point of the knife dents the skin of his neck,   almost drawing blood.   but the facade of e.than's wife stays put,   lips pull into a pretty little pout.   more e.ames than m.ia but the harm is done as is   .  .  .   he does not wonder how e.than was able to see through it⸺⸺   while rare,   there is danger in forging one emotionally connected to the poor victim of the act.   worth a try!   even if it ends at the unkind end of a weapon occasionally.   more than occasionally,   perhaps.    " is this how you treat all your ladies? "    he leans forward,   quarter of an inch,   knife digging deeper into his neck,   skin taut against it.   e.than will not murder him   .  .  .   &  if so,   e.ames can always try against the next night.   this is but a dream⸺⸺   &  so the pout smoothly transform into a smile,   his hand comes up to rest on top of e.than's holding the knife   .  .  .   a twisted image of holding hands.    " you would not hurt me,   would you   .  .  . ? "

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶.     𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴:   [𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙴]   𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃. @realitybled

[pyreshe]

@realitybled - "hey, kiddo," james's voice is soft as so not to alert anyone else in the workshops. he holds out his hand underneath the table so it is at her level, fingers unfurling to reveal a round piece of honey candy wrapped in a scrap of fabric. there's a curl at the edge of his lips, encouraging her to take it with a hint of mischief. a little secret between them.

she likes the semi-controlled chaos of the materialki workshops. for reasons she's unsure of, the buzz of machines and the heat of forging fires never seem to bother her. often, she'll settle under a table with one of the books she's borrowed from the library and read it as the figures in purple pass by discussing metal and stone. they don't usually seem to mind, though some have forgotten she was there and then shriek in alarm when hours later she crawls out from under a table

james passes the candy her way and she swipes it out of his hand with a smile of her own. " thank you, " she says softly