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Ana de Armas (34) in Deep Water (2022)

#✗ — visage ｡ #usfw

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SHE'S STILL CLINGING TO THE BLOODIED BASEBALL BAT she'd used to crack open the skull of that thief, that murderer who'd tried to steal from them and then shot her companion for trying to stop him. She'd stopped counting after the third swing.

Sitting on the floor between two old pews and staring at the lifeless body of the man she might've almost considered calling 'friend', his wrinkled skin now almost as pale as his white hair now, ignites a soft anger within her. Foolish old man, both for allowing the drifter to join them and for confronting him. She'd have to bury him, or at least burn him.

Aria tenses up at the familiar sound of the church's rickety floor being tread on, and she presses her back against the pew and her hands curl tight around the bat as she waits for the footsteps, too heavy to be some waifish wanderer, to come closer. Fuck, just my luck.

He seems genuinely startled when she jumps out with the bat ready to swing, and he immediately shows his empty hands. That meant, if he wasn't a fantastic actor, he probably wasn't a stalker. "Y'just wander into random places and assume nobody gonna be there?" she demands, eyes narrowing. He seems almost too relaxed to be a lone drifter, she fears, and she doesn't want to be cornered in a small space if there are others to follow. "No sudden movements, or you'll join him," she warns, nodding toward the pulpy mess that remained of the thief nearby. She's completely alone now, she can't afford blind trust. "What're you here for? You followin' us?"

send “🎲” (or “dice”) for me to randomize the following settings and write you a starter set within whichever one we get

⊹ . ⊹ @spitsfire // an old church that has chipped wood and broken windows

Traveling everywhere by foot inevitably took much longer to get from place to place, and nights like these-- terribly cold, wet, and rainy, Wyatt wished he still had a horse that could take him to his next refuge. Well, he supposed having two perfectly good feet to walk on was a hell of a lot better than having nothing. There just wasn't much room for complaining. At first, he thought the century-old church that stood a few feet away from him was just a figment of his imagination. But the closer he came, he realized he wasn't dreaming. Right now this was better than nothing, he thought.

Warily, he entered the abandoned church, greeted by the creaking sound of the door opening and his heedful steps upon the wooden floorboards. There was water leaking from the ceiling, but for the most part it was dry. How old was this church any how? Just when he had begun to believe he was still alone, the sudden presence of the other startled him. "Now, you scared the hell out of me-- didn’t think anyone would be here," Wyatt said promptly, holding up his hands to show her he wasn't carrying a weapon in either one of his hands. With the state of the world as it was, most people seemed to be distrustful of one another right off the bat, and with good reason at that.

#WEEEEEE omg pls dont match this length i got excited #she is a scared binch #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. WYATT ｡ #✗ — VERSE : orange coloured sky ｡ #goodwinxandco #tw blood #tw death #tw violence

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FALLOUT 3 [9/?]

#✗ — AMBIENCE : orange coloured sky ｡

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BLADE RUNNER 2049

#✗ — VISAGE ｡

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Karma is God’s way of making things right

#✗ — PERSONA ｡

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#✗ — persona ｡ #✗ — visage ｡

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Ana de Armas leaving the Corinthia Hotel to attend the No Time To Die film premiere at the Royal Albert Hall on September 28, 2021 in London, England

#✗ — VISAGE ｡

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Guess who’s back?

#✗ — PERSONA ｡

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HER LIPS ARE CURLED WITH SATISFACTION, ever-delighted with Roland's open appreciation like he can't help but put his desire on blast whenever she's around: it strokes her ego and inflames her penchant for mischief and debauchery.

They sway together into the bathroom while Ari giggles at the words murmured into the curve of her neck, feigning gasping shock at his implication. "Had nothing but innocent intentions," she lies with a wide grin that makes the fact clear; "I only meant to ask you to help wash my hair, of course." She turns around in his arms, standing on her toes to fit her mouth into the hollow of his collarbone, suckling a mark there while her fingers hook into the waistband of his pants to wiggle them down his hips and off his legs.

She steps away and backward toward the cubicle, edging her own panties down her thighs gradually until she can step out of them and into the shower. Her smile is impish, her eyes wicked. "But do a good job, and maybe I'll let you have me up against the glass."

A slither of warmth slithers down Roland's spine at her inflection for petnames. First her predatorily Attention, then her possessive hands to clasp at his sweat-slick skin of roaring cacophonies and strumming lutes, and then, her name: blessedly and private given betwixt those rumpled, quiet pillows, held secret like the Key to her Heart's golden Locket.

And then to be tender in ready sweetness, flaunt with dimples that near rival upon Roland's gorgeous own?

And, lo, dost the points of his ears peak like the wag of a pup for her offer, for her sliding hand and that flash of her naked, sumptuous skin. Roland growls, borne burred and low-hanging from that gruff of an undulating sleep, and places he his coffee 'pon the counter to come after her; to nose at the back of her neck where those softest hairs twist in sleekness, to cup at her hips and to dance their way as he follows pertly behind her ankles.

"How showered art thou prepared?" purrs Roland, nestled by that tendered space just behind her ear. "To sweat in sleekness with the droplets of the cleansing rain as they drizzle down the gurgling drain? To train ourselves in that dripping crawl back to our beside, Ari?"

#could fade to black either on your reply or my next reply #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #✗ — QUEST: LONG SLEEVES & NAKED FEET ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #eritvita #usfw

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SHE GRINS LAZILY, CATCHING HIS LOWER LIP BETWEEN HERS. She thinks she knows of the movie he's talking about, though she'd not actually seen it before. "Whatever your heart desires, lover. We can leave it for last." Ari sits up smoothly, watching him lounge beneath her with a twitch at her lips, and her hands cover his to drag them further up her thighs, to that plush point right before they crease at her hips.

"It's about a girl…" Smoothly and slowly, she rolls her hips just slightly, just enough; over that naked gap between his otherwise-clothed thighs to coax him to attention. Her movements are so lazy they're almost idle, like an afterthought. "Beautiful, glamorous… looking for belonging and happiness. She thinks she'll find it in money… but she doesn't." She sighs softly and tosses her long hair back, the first sparks of pleasure crackling in her belly. "She meets a handsome man, a writer, but she's afraid of her feelings for him. Thinks he'll cage her."

She takes hold of his hands and guides them from her hips, up her waist and to her breasts, encouraging him to touch, to grab. "Buuut... I won't spoil the rest," she murmurs with a glimmer of a smile, tongue peeking from between her lips. "You'll find out what happens soon enough."

He ponders visibly, his lips pursing and his eyes narrowing; artfully delighted by swift movements, soft sounds, becoming domestic in this flex of familiar crossroads; borne so quickly, and placing his palms astride her naked thighs.

"Ridley Scott's 'Legend', in particularity," says Roland primly. "But, yea, 'tis a magnum opus of all things fantastical and beautiful, and shouldst such a scroll of golden Words be saved for that lasting Note? Shouldst this become the Key, this mosaic of billowing white, and of gold, sprayed glitter?

"Of what is the plot of 'Tiffany's?" inquires he, nestling into the coverlet and the messy pillows; looking contented and connected with that haphazard sprawl of debauched Luxury, the modern, leather-smelling God purring in his lounge.

#✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #✗ — QUEST: GILDED UNDERGARMENTS ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #eritvita #usfw

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Ana De Armas

#✗ — VISAGE ｡

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WAITING FOR AN ANSWER PROVES FRUITLESS. Understandable considering, but it only concerns her in regards to his condition. It makes her step on the accelerator a little harder. "Okay," she mutters to herself, swerving into the underground parking lot beneath their destination and sliding the car into an empty spot. "Doorman it is then."

She drags him as carefully and swiftly out of the backseat and into the elevator as she can. She's panting by the time she smacks the button for the fourth floor, holding his arm around her shoulders and hunched under the weight of him, and grunting when she finally gets him out the elevator, down the hall and into her tiny box of an apartment, where she deposits him on the couch.

"Fuck," she gasps. One task down, several to go. She reaches for the first aid kit, taking scissors to the hem of his undershirt and tearing the rest open with her hands. She spills some of the contents of a nearby water bottle over his abdoment, then uses the torn edge of his shirt to carefully wipe his skin clean and find the wound — or wounds — causing all this blood loss.

Jie doesn’t kiss concrete, but the pain wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Not when everything whorls closer to the reprieve of nothingness, but his mind struggles against it. He needs to stay awake. Doesn’t remember why it’s so important when he’s hurt this bad, but a string of consciousness still swims before his eyes. So he clings to it. Clings to her despite the wheeze of agony that slips free upon contact. 

How she stuffs him into a car remains a mystery. There’s barely any energy to keep himself upright — much less piece together where he’s seated or what’s going on. He lags to understand the simple question. Finds it horribly nauseating to open his mouth for any sort of response. So he keeps it shut. Lets out a grunt that bleeds into a groan instead. Could she drive any more reckless? He’s actively bleeding out and it feels like the vehicle’s doing somersaults.

#she was absolutely driving like a maniac that is canon #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. JIE ｡ #✗ — QUEST: STREETS OF INJUSTICE ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #tw blood #tw injury

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THE RESTRAINT IS TO BE ADMIRED, even if it's needless now; with the inevitable all but assured. She watches Danila reach for the drink, the slight clumsiness about it endearing. It lowers her guard a little, makes her think he couldn't possibly be as dangerous as the contract made it seem. He was too... sweet.

The private rooms. Perfect.

Ari smiles. "You're right, they do." When she stands from her stool, she takes him by the hand on her way, a glint in her gaze before she turns to tug him along after her; weaving through the crowd toward the corridor leading to the rooms — but a wicked, impatient streak makes her stop before the destination.

She spins instead, pushing him against the nearest wall, hands full of the front of his shirt and her eyes a little wild in the silent pause before she kisses him, hot and fierce, like their time is short. Which it is.

The way Ari crossed her leg didn't go unnoticed, though Danila's eyes quickly darted to a safer zone as he focused on keeping his gaze on her face. It was as if she had read his mind and deliberately tried to get him flustered again. Was it working? For sure. But at this point, he was very much flattered, too.

And excited.

A shiver ran through his body at her touch. His hand fumbled towards his almost forgotten beer, and he took a gulp. All the possibilities, huh? He could certainly think of a few.

"I think they have private rooms here."

#shes going off-script a lil here hehehehe :v #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. DANILA ｡ #✗ — QUEST: ON THE PROWL ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #sociopathichero

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              SHE BEAMS WIDELY AND CRACKS A GIGGLE at his extravagant vow, watching as he leaves that trail of kisses along the soft inner side of her arm; like some Austen-esque gentleman. "Careful, 'might hold you to that," she murmurs with a gratified little hum to be the focus of his full attention.

"Of mine? Tiffany's, but I'd be keen to start with one o' yours first. We can watch mine second." His tongue is slightly distracting, as are the chaps he's still in. Eventually she rolls over, dislodging him from her shoulder but she doesn't keep him far for long as she manoeuvres him onto his back, plants her elbows and rakes her hands into his hair; laying a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, each cheek.

"What d'you think?" she hums, kissing his mouth once; then as if deciding in the moment that it isn't enough, kisses him again; slow and butterfly-soft. "What would you pick first?"

"My Darling, wouldst I place a bald cap upon my handsome crown and to paint my face as thus of the boldest, beautiful Drag Kings in their fantastic, artistic Quality if shouldst thou so wonderfully join me." And sleepy, soft with repose, dost he place kisses down her wrist; mimicking the great Artists of the silver screen for this sluice of a romantic Gesture.

"Which movie wouldst thou hath us watch, in firstly?" inquires Roland, murmured to that tender crook of her inner elbow. The gifted leather across his thighs creaks as he lavishes attention, bowing his body to better thread their limbs together, twisting in their sex-scented sheets. He drags his tongue along that defined bicep of her tantalizingly-strong muscle, ever-hungry for her.

He thinks of never-ending labyrinths, ancient quests to protect fae-born babes, unicorns tossing their brilliant-white manes. He grins against her skin, rubbing that burr of his cheek to her shoulder as like a cat ready for petting.

#breakfast at tiffanys is SO roliveth-coded <3 #✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #✗ — QUEST: GILDED UNDERGARMENTS ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #eritvita

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              EACH BLINK OF HER EYES IS SLOWER, lazy as he touches those loose wisps of her dark hair, nothing in the gesture but pure, indulgent affection. She savours that sensation, that attention.

Ari nods mid-sip of her coffee, reaching up to touch Roland's smiling cheek, to run her thumb across the crease of his jowl and mirror his grin. "Okay baby. We'll get pizza or sum'at. Two types. Easy." She almost wants to ask if he isn't going to be wanted by his management, or his fans, or if he really wanted to spend his precious time with her — but she opts instead to simply be grateful that he's decided to.

Setting the near-empty cup aside, she rubs his thigh idly ahead of her question, to draw his attention. "Why don'cha come shower with me first," she suggests, shrugging off the soft oversized shirt and tossing it onto the bed as she speaks. "We can figure out the day's specifics later."

Such Concept of familiar Comfort; Roland reaches to tender with one of the few strays of loosened hair from her sleep-glow'd face, leant together so closely, toying with it 'twixt his thumb and forefinger. His grin grows in beauteous amounts as dost she agree to his Offer, and a blush of such rosiness inflames upon Roland's face.

"Whichever thou wouldst acquire a taste, bodacious nymph," purrs he, and a snicker threats a fresh dimple. "But, prithee: something without the flesh of animals, if thus is fine with thee. I cannot compound that taste 'pon mine own meals and suppers, forsooth."

Yea, and his is aware of his stature as Celebrity for that roaring stalk for his own life and wants and hobbies, but, verily: how nice is that beginning flex to describe his own merriment? His own wants and needs without that predisposed Query of Roland's public sight?

#✗ — CONVERSATION ｡ #✗ — FT. ROLAND ｡ #✗ — QUEST: LONG SLEEVES & NAKED FEET ｡ #✗ — VERSE : quod debitum sanguine ｡ #eritvita

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Mirror Palais Holiday collection

#✗ — WARDROBE ｡ #✗ — PERSONA ｡ #these are SO ari

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Ana de Armas by Alejandro Piñeiro Bello, February 2018 — via Instagram

#✗ — VISAGE ｡ #there's my girl....my bby