#annella

[bunboygenius]

“Even all the way down here, we have heard of the Lord Speaker of Ishgard’s legendary beauty. How folks from all corners of the world dream of courting him.”

Based on “Beneath the Night Sky” by Annella

archiveofourown.org/works/40930713

[diamondcrownacademy]

RyuElla and AnnElla Aesthetics

[21chemicalfalloutdays]

New Discoveries 2023: April

Pitchfork Kids, AJR Perfume, Annella* The Kids Are All Rebels, Lenii Blood in the Wine, AURORA Holding Out For A Hero, Adam Lambert VANS, Arrested Youth You've Created a Monster, Bohnes* Nightmare, Saylem* That's Your Role, MELOVIN* Dogs, Magic Sugar Coffee* Walking With Giants, Rachel Sandy* Weight of the World, Shayfer James Sinners and Saints, Andrea Wasse* Mi Capitan, Kiltro Circus, Lindsay Mendez* Black Thunder (feat. Serj Tankian & DL), The Hu* Water Under the Bridge, Adele Injabulo, Juls, S.O.N Love Nwantiti (Acoustic Version), CKay* ADAUGO, The Cavemen

*top 10

[mercenaryg]

Oops, Sorry, didn't mean to make a mess of your life (Yes I did you fucking monster).

[bleachedduck]

"You had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, to pray that their sons land on their feet. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it. And if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out. Don’t be brutal with it. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything ― what a waste!"

—Samuel Perlman on Call Me By Your Name, by André Aciman. (Picture from the movie adaptation by Luca Guadagnino).

[pintoras]

Diana De Rosa, called Annella di Massimo (Italian, 1601-1634): Saint Cecilia (via Dorotheum)

[blackberryhexee]

"REALLY YOU GOT ALL THAT STUFF!?"

probably Flint

I literally saw the picture and could only imagine Annella accompanying Flint to his dad's shop lmao.

[aitan]

Grazie a Basquiat, Bruegel il Vecchio, Repin, Bosch, Caravaggio, Annella di Massimo, de Chirico, Capa, anonimo viennese, Ivanauskas, Millais, Munch1, Courbet, Munch2, Picasso, Munch3, Nolde, Munch4, Lowry, Munch5, Munch6 e Legros per le immagini, e grazie anche alla Banda Jonica per la Marcia Funebre di sottofondo.

Da

[xluxsolarisx]

🎶✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers/mutuals (obligated to offer this. If you've done this and didn't make it yourself, then i apologize for missing your lovely music taste.)

what if i answered this and sent you another and you answered it and sent me another and it continued forever and ever like ouroboros or perhaps sisyphus. what then. jokes aside, i'd love to answer this! so hard to pick only five :(

i wish i could just upload my entire playlist for this ask but alas... anyway, it's all mostly electronic music and pop! there's some electroswing in there because i'm a sucker for it :p i've also been listening to like rock and reggae and jazz lately but in the end these five are the ones i listened to the most often this week. if you liked them please go give the artists' other songs a listen!!! they're super underrated and they make some cool stuff :) what else...oh yeah!! try listening to words with headphones, there's this cool surround sound effect and it's neat :3

[lorenzospurio]

N.E. 02/2024 - "Alba struggente", poesia di Annella Prisco

Dimensione sospesa nell’attesa, bagliori di stelle cadenti, metafora di sogni per sempre infranti. Un addio senza se e senza ma, l’ineluttabile cavalca il palcoscenico. Dalla fessura di un uscio sulla vita pochi, vaghi sprazzi di flebile luce, e il silenzio dominante di un rimpianto senza confini, la mente tristemente s’annebbia, tra effluvi lontani e schegge di rabbia, in una sinfonia…

[archive-double-knots]

ASHWIN TAG DUMP/ PERMANENT INTEREST CHECK

Please comment on this post if you’d be interested in interacting with them. Liking this post gives me permission to:

Send asks/memes from them to your muse(s)

Like your starter calls/send you random starters from them

Pop into your IMs to plot or talk about our muses

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

He could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep.

THE ESSENCE OF PLEASURE (IS SPONTANEITY)

The ethereal glow of moonlight still swathes their Manhattan apartment when Oliver jerks awake at some ungodly hour, hard and disorientated from a particularly vivid dream. Elio’s sprawled on his stomach beside him. Slender arms secreted under his mountainous pillows. Nose buried so thoroughly in the striped material that his occasional snuffling snores are barely audible over the yowling tomcat in the communal courtyard, below.

Ever the perfectionist, his exhausted boyfriend has been burning the candle at both ends: taking full advantage of Juilliard's sound-proof practice rooms to cram for his upcoming assessments. Keeping him fed and functional is an uphill battle - Pro and Annella’s sage advice notwithstanding - so Oliver hopes he’ll rest for a good while longer, yet. In all honesty, he wishes the same for himself, but his erection shows no sign of flagging, and the pressure of the sheets alone is a marked distraction at his aching groin. 

He should get up, really. 

Satisfy his carnal urges in the bathroom across the hall. 

But the bed is comfortable, despite its age, the ill-fitting window lets in a draft, and for his sins, the familiar musk of Elio’s skin - the underlying hints of Marlboro cigarettes, bergamot shower gel, and Oliver’s own Drakkar Noir - throws a fierce accelerant on the molten core of his arousal.  

Discretion might be the better part of valour, but where there’s a will, there’s most certainly a way: as evidenced by his maestro’s miraculous presence at all. And he could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep. 

The lingering aroma of spent passion hangs enticingly in the air, and flicking his left nipple between thumb and forefinger, Oliver’s thoughts wander to the frenzied smacks of their bodies the night before. The whispered words of encouragement as he thrust inside him. Harder. Faster. Più profondo! The eventual pleas for mercy when it was Elio’s nipples he took between his teeth; working the sensitive peaks until they were red and puffy.

He can hear them still - those phantom cries ringing out like a tefillah - and Oliver’s heart trips over itself as he throws caution to the wind. 

Eases the rumpled bedding from his bobbing manhood. 

Gathers the slippery beads of excitement to ease his way.

A vehicle pauses on the street outside. A muffled rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird rising from its tinny speakers. Oliver closes his eyes on the guitar solo - wriggles to make himself comfortable - and focusing on his sensitive tip, pretends it’s Elio’s whip-smart mouth stretching to accommodate his glans. Unsurprisingly, the mental picture zips a molten trail up his spine, so Oliver proceeds to jerk his cock in earnest; swallowing the raspy groans that choke his tinder-dry throat. 

Imagination turns to need - already, this bears the hallmarks of his fastest orgasm in years - and fumbling blindly over the side of the mattress, he forces his fretful hips immobile as he snags a pair of cotton boxers from amidst tomorrow’s discarded laundry. Elio’s, he discovers, thanks to a surreptitious sniff; the unadulterated scent a powerful aphrodisiac as he brings it to his face.

Just like clockwork, his strokes grow frenetic. The tightness of his scrotum building exponentially as a blazing fire rages at the centre of his being. Beyond his control, the tense muscles of his thighs tremble with urgency - no less violent than the stuttering of his lungs - and the garbled syllables trapped beneath his ribs emerge via stifled whimpers until -

A pointy chin digs into his shoulder.

Blunt nails skim the fading scar on his side.

A second, unabashed palm encloses his fist.

He didn’t hear the tell-tale signs of Elio stirring: the unsubtle creak of their worn-out box springs as he shuffled to close the scant distance between them. Or maybe he did, Oliver debates, while Elio presses a soft, barely-there kiss to his jaw. Airy and teasing, and nowhere near enough. Maybe he’d simply deemed it part of the fantasy. But the shock - the livewire sensation of Elio pulling rank on his pleasure - strikes a deliberate chord, and with a strangled whimper Oliver’s shoved past the thin grey line labelled just about there to right fucking now; his climax exploding like a supernova as bright white orbs dance behind his eyelids. 

It’s devastating in its intensity, yet Elio giggles with clear delight as liquid heat coats their still-moving knuckles. “Better now?” he asks, voice gravelly over his thundering pulse, and Oliver barely has the wherewithal to nod when the other man wriggles southwards, seemingly intent on licking the pearly streaks from his heaving midsection. 

***

Happy Valentine's Day, Peaches... remember when I went through that phase of shameless Oliver wank fics? Well, I figured these two idiots deserved a happy ending ❤️

[riftdancing]

I thought I'd have my way with it. I only meant to play with it. I almost had a day with it. I couldn't get away with it...

[pintoras]

Diana de Rosa, called Annella di Massimo (Italian, 1601-1634): Sophonisba with the cup of poison (via Dorotheum)

[blackberryhexee]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ARCTIC MONKEYS AND THEM😭🫶

I've always thought that part of the song is Flint about Annella lol