AHERI.

♛ ‘ this time, i am finally worthy. ’ EXCELLA GIONNE of バイオハザード.

[moirasburton--moved-deactivated]

Seven Deadly Sins

[arklay-manor-deactivated2018112]

[rosy-rpmemes]

Random headcanon meme!

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep? 

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? 

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

✝ : Is your muse religious?

[uroboroscrown]

WHICH FILM NOIR ARCHETYPE ARE YOU?

WHICH FILM NOIR ARCHETYPE ARE YOU?

quiz here. REPOST, not reblog!

RESULT:  the femme fatale

KEY CHARACTERISTICS:  mysterious, self-destructive, charming, subversive

you are capable of using charm, beauty, and wit to work for your own gain. you understand people's desires easily and know how to use them. you may find yourself relying on others too often, and have difficulty extracting yourself from a situation once it has begun. you may one day find yourself accused of something unjustly, but if you take a moment to step back from the driving force within yourself you may avoid destruction.

FILM RECOMMENDATIONS:  double indemnity, out of the past, murder, my sweet

TAGGED BY: no one.  TAGGING: @godlyright @weskher  anyone else who wishes to do this! 

[practicalal]

uroboroscrown:

A suite: nothing less for who had to be queen and goddess.

Excella spreads her arms, walking barefoot on the white carpet - smiles, and for a moment she is the nineteen-year-old girl he had met, corrupted, the first time.

“Do you like it?” She asks, and rotates on herself, a profile made of silk and gold.

A panoramic view of the heavy brocade curtains, the velvet armchairs, Egyptian cotton sheets that were dripping to the ground as blood.

Milan breathes quietly, a lump of lights and sounds that the walls of the room turn off - choke mercilessly.

Excella releases her hair by the elaborate coiffure which had supported the strands, pushes forward - sure he will follow.

Hopeful of being worthy - still, forever.

She stares at him over her bare shoulder, her pupil dilated, iris fading from blue to orange.

His symbol, his scar. 

Excella smiles, all teeth and blood.

Kill me, again and again. Because if this is the only way to find you, I will be your victim until (un)death do us part.

She is accustomed to nights like this, where he makes feel her weak and languid as if she were made of nothing, nights dedicated to her where the desire is so strong that suppressing it is a pain.

She is accustomed to nights when domination becomes a matter of survival and these are the nights when he bites and she scratches, a bleeding sky beneath them that have left more than a scar.

If she not tried to dominate, she would die, it is certain.

One of those bites and he can tear her neck apart, and she would become a beautiful dead doll.

Or his hands on her hips, ready to bend the bones of the pelvis; it would be enough to increase the pressure a little, press the right spot, and… crack.

It would be enough. 

And she would just plead, again. 

the act of touch is near sacred to a being who is otherwise repulsed by the mere thought of it. the black leather gloves he adorned like a second skin were peeled off, slowly, deliberately, as his keen gaze surveyed the palatial suite. why, he knew her well, he knew she would attain nothing less than a veritable temple where she would do her worshiping. and yet he would not vocalize his thoughts; that he hardly cared for earthly luxuries, not the way he once used to when his heart still beat, when red blood ran through his veins instead of black ichor.   

Continua a leggere

[uroboroscrown]

“I will always come back for you, Albert.” 

It is too late to be afraid - stopping was never an option. She stares into his eyes, tears of blood and gold - a baptism of fire. She slides between his legs, inviting him - her fingertips on the pale skin of his chest, slipping lower, around the navel and stopping.

"You'll kill me." she says, and she's never been more serious "So, kill me."

You have already done this, no?

She sinks her teeth into his lips and let the blood sprinkle her dreams and her heart, heedless of the danger - disdainful and arrogant as ever. She laughs on his skin and has the same consistency of the ice. “Kill me, Albert.” she repeats, the hair a beautiful knot and a rumpled suit on the floor (his.)  It is a dialogue unanswered what started Excella and then she sinks her nails into his back until she can feel the flesh give way beneath them - harm him: she loves try to hurt him. 

Excella claws the sheets, not remember one time when Wesker was nothing but a poisonous bite and a demanding tongue, his hands through her hair and the silence of the African night around them.

She is naked in his arms, parted and wet thighs, but Excella takes no steps back to his menacing look. 

A victim already sacrificed.

She approaches him without any fear, a soft fold that arches against the edges and the hardness of a man who knows no compromise. She touches his chest in an almost gentle caresses and squeezes, bites to his shoulder -  shameless as her smile. “I’m so flatter by your attention, Albert.” she whispers "I might even come to think that you love me." She laughs again to her own words, and it's a sound that engulfs everything - hopes, promises and illusions.

The Uroboros roars.

[practicalal]

uroboroscrown:

Excella was seeking his eyes, his mouth. Milan died - was born, again and again.

A circle destined never to break.

The parasite is rolled up around her heart, and it tightens. Excella listens to him (the parasite, it beats at the same time as Albert’s, her god who had descended to hell and returned back.)

And no, she would not commit the same error as Eurydice.

She walks away from him, smiling.

Fierce, beautiful: a little girl and a cruel predator.

The night is swollen, full: a sky that the dawn didn’t dare touch. Excella is soft skin, warm breath on his neck; a body that will bend to his cravings with embarrassing ease.

“Come.” She says, extending her hand (wet on the mouth, between the thighs.) “Una Maison is just a few steps from the Duomo.” She raises an eyebrow, tilts her chin at him. “You may even find the time to give me a rose, Albert.”

Stairway of the Sun.

Nomen omen.

dead inside and outside and yet, he looked quite the opposite, wearing a handsome flesh-suit held together by his own bitterness and rage. eyes became drowned out by blackness, and he regarded her words, bemusement carrying his thoughts forward.

little girl, the only rose i can give you is poisonous. do you still want it?

and yet he did know the answer: it would always be a yes, more, give me more.

she was a woman crawling towards the singular oasis in a black desert: him. but, what happens when one’s own sustenance is one’s own source of pain?

❝ you deserve more than a mere rose, do you not? ❞ he could smell his charge’s heady desire. ah, but would he be so wicked to be her biggest temptation once more? poor thing had only just returned from an ill-fated coma…! 

they stepped inside una maison and his lips twitched into an imperceptible smile. a god was nothing without his believers, his worshipers. he would make her fall apart, just as she wanted, and once he was done she would only hunger more. the drug running through their veins, after all, was all-consuming.

[uroboroscrown]

A suite: nothing less for who had to be queen and goddess. Excella spreads her arms, walking barefoot on the white carpet - smiles, and for a moment she is the nineteen-year-old girl he had met corrupt the first time.

"Do you like it?" she asks, and rotates on herself, a profile made of silk and gold.

A panoramic view of the heavy brocade curtains, the velvet armchairs, Egyptian cotton sheets that dripping to the ground as blood. Milan breathes quietly, a lump of lights and sounds that the walls of the room turn off - choke mercilessly. Excella releases her hair by the elaborate coiffure which had supported them, pushes forward - sure he will follow.

Hopeful of being worthy - still, forever.

She stares at him over her bare shoulder, her pupil dilated and iris that fades from blue to orange.

His symbol, his scar. 

Excella smiles, all teeth and blood.

Kill me, again and again. Because if this is the only way to find out your skin, I will be your victim until (un)death do us part.

She is accustomed to nights like this, where he makes feel her weak and languid as if she was made of nothing, nights dedicated to her and where the desire is so strong that suppress it is a pain.  She is accustomed to nights when dominate becomes a matter of survival and those are the nights when he bites and she scratches, a bleeding sky beneath them and that have left more than a scar. If she not tried to dominate, she would die, it is certain. One of those bitten and he can tear her neck apart, and she would become a beautiful dead doll. Or his hands on her hips, ready to bend the bones of the pelvis; it would be enough to increase a little the pressure, press the right spot, and... crack. It would be enough. 

And she would say just again. 

[practicalal]

uroboroscrown:

Excella tilts her chin, seeks him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Always beautiful; death suits you… Albert.”

The shadows move restlessly around them, absorbed by their presence. Excella advancing a few steps, approaches him - uncertain. Her eyes show the shade of an unusual feeling - something that Albert has rarely seen on her face.

Doubt. Insecurity.

It is a moment; a blink of an eye. Excella smiles, white teeth and full lips. Her iris fades, dissolves in the usual blue - calm, relaxed. She runs with her fingertips through his chest, soothes the curve of his shoulders, his jaw. She raises her chin towards him, breaking his breath - taste the lips of the monster, the god to whom she was sacrificed.

Oh, and she will do it again: now and thousand times.

She grazes his cheekbones, smiles on his mouth.

“I have a room at Una Maison; it would be a shame not to move this conversation in a more private place…”

She breathes on his skin - under her tongue poison and Uroboros, life and death. A reminiscent of another time, another life.

The heat of the hotel room, the wet sheets under their hands - of his mouth on her neck.

God, how she had missed him. 

the dark machinist allows his former student to touch him.

touch, such a simple word, with such a grandiose impact. the action of touch carries with it intimacy, and trust. both of which he seldom held for anyone…including himself. why is it that he should allow the bearer of the aheri to caress him so? ah, but the reason was simple.

he had already been inside of her, to take her apart and put her back together, as a machinist was wont to do. make her better than she was before ( make her such that she should follow his every command, even in death. ) she called him beautiful and in doing so, she was bold, anything but a demure woman – and he did so enjoy his women sharp, like a most deadly blade, so that they may be of use to him, so that they may be extensions of him as though they were to be held in the palms of eight arms like the indian goddess durga.

❝ —- you have proven your worth and value to me, excella. ❞ he susurrates, silky and quiet. ❝ i will go with you, and henceforth, your life shall be tied to my own. ❞ an honor, certainly, for her to become another head of the proverbial hydra.

[uroboroscrown]

Excella seeking his eyes, his mouth. Milan died - was born, again and again.

A circle destined never to break.

The parasite is rolled up around her heart, tightens. Excella listens to him, (it beats at the same time of Albert, a god who had descended to hell and returned back.)

And no, she would not commit the same error of Eurydice.

She walks away from his face, smiling.

Fierce, beautiful: a little girl and a cruel predator.

The night is swollen, full: a sky that the dawn didn’t dare to touch.

For her, for him: for them. A god and his devoted vestal.

Excella is a soft skin, a warm breath on his neck; a body that will bent to his cravings with embarrassing ease.

"Come." she says, extending her hand (wet on the mouth, between the thighs) "Una Maison is just a few steps from the Duomo." she raises an eyebrow, tilted her chin at him "You may even find the time to give me a rose, Albert."

Starway of the Sun.

Nomen omen.

[rpmememaker]

Headcanon meme - send me a symbol and I'll describe my muse's...

❣ - hands

❤ - voice

۵ - feet

❦ - lips

ø - eyes

ღ - nose

♮ - body type

♫ - singing voice

✮ - sleeping habits

✉ - texting habits

✿ - laugh

✍ - writing style

⌨ - time-wasting habits

❅ - keeping warm/keeping cool techniques

✎ - taste in music/literature

☤ - self care/first aid habits

✪ - favourite food/eating habits

☁ - ideal holiday

✄ - nervous habits

☂ - sadness

❈ - ideal birthday

[constantquibbling-deactivated20]

Send me '☯ + a scene from my characters canon' and I will drabble it from my character's POV.

[excellagionne]

[panashaa]

Monica Bellucci

[one-photo-day-deactivated202005]

Monica Bellucci, 1996 by Andrea Blanch.

[roseydoux]

Under Suspicion (2000)

[justanotherrpmeme]

My muse has been in a fight (and not fared very well) - send ❣ for them to react to your muse offering to patch them up.

[roleplaymemesforyou]

My muse cannot lie ! Send :

( feel free specify a context for each symbol )

💓  - And a name to ask if they would start a relationship with them. ⇕ - And a name to ask if they would sleep with them. ✮- And a name to hear their real feelings for them.< ☠ - And a name/ topic to hear what they hate the most about it/them. ✂-  For  one of the wrost mischief they did. ₪ -  For a kink. 回 - For a phobia they have. ✦ - For a guilty pleasure. ◎  - Next to any question to have it answered sincerely, no matter how personal or embarassing.

[rp-starters-ask-box-fillers]

Send me symbol for my muse’s opinion:

☠ : Opinion on death ➶ : Opinion on killing ☮: Opinion on peace ☯: Do they believe in karma? ✤ : Do they believe in luck? ✟ : Religious beliefs ♂ : Sexuality ☿: Opinion on gender ❤: Opinion on love ❥ :Opinion on love from the first sight ♞: Favorite animal(s) ☕: Favorite food(s) ♛ : Opinion on outer beauty ☀ : Favorite season(s) ☽ : Favorite time of day ☂ : Favorite weather ◎ : Opinion on lying

[resident-evil-world]

Source