Forwarded from The Goblin Cave (+my art) (Giorgia)
Ho fatto tutto utilizzando un pennellino nuovo, molto simpatico
❤7
Quale pazzo vede una donna vestita di rosso in una palla di fuoco?
O un serpente piumato in una catena di fulmini?
(studi sulla magia di Isabél per Under the Black Coat)
O un serpente piumato in una catena di fulmini?
(studi sulla magia di Isabél per Under the Black Coat)
😍22
Ripensando al tizio sconosciuto che mi ha offerto un lime intero da mangiare a morsi quando ero a letto, devastata dal raffreddore, nella camerata mista di un ostello a Basilea
Così, senza nessun motivo, semplicemente perché mi aveva sentita tossire e scatarrare.
E il giorno dopo stavo di nuovo bene.
Ora ho di nuovo il raffreddore e casualmente ho dei lime in frigo.
Così, senza nessun motivo, semplicemente perché mi aveva sentita tossire e scatarrare.
E il giorno dopo stavo di nuovo bene.
Ora ho di nuovo il raffreddore e casualmente ho dei lime in frigo.
🤯12🙏3
Forwarded from The Goblin Cave (+my art) (Giorgia)
Old sketches from "Under the Black Coat". I don't remember if I've posted these here, so here they are friends
#UtBC
#UtBC
🔥6
Forwarded from distyx 🌿
celebrating trans visibility day with my girl Dorian 🤲 in modern AU she's a roboticist with a passion for fixing cars but she isn't the most compliant when it comes to safety measures
❤5
Forwarded from distyx 🌿
In 2023 my beloved grandmother of 82 years passed away. I've wanted to put into art how that has been making me feel but I could never really do it, until today.
Me and her used to sit on this wrought iron swing my grandpa build for their family. I saw it again today, as I do every Easter since I was little. She isn't sitting on that bench no more, reading her religious books about her favorite saints. I am no christian, my spirituality lies elsewhere. I know she was there today.
Grandma was our shared roots; she was my safe place, and even if we clashed (badly, even) sometimes in my adult life... I can't explain how weird it is that, despite that, she still *was* my safe space. I miss her. A lot.
Me and her used to sit on this wrought iron swing my grandpa build for their family. I saw it again today, as I do every Easter since I was little. She isn't sitting on that bench no more, reading her religious books about her favorite saints. I am no christian, my spirituality lies elsewhere. I know she was there today.
Grandma was our shared roots; she was my safe place, and even if we clashed (badly, even) sometimes in my adult life... I can't explain how weird it is that, despite that, she still *was* my safe space. I miss her. A lot.
❤8