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#nevica
godsoftheshell · 7 months
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Baby Come Back
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Chapter 1: muscle to muscle and toe to toe
Jacus was a living statue. Nevica didn’t know how he’d act for most days— often stuck in this perpetual state, frozen and occasionally walking around the house. His hair never stopped growing. He was beautiful, what with strong eyebrows, thick eyelashes, big eyes and full lips. His face was decorated with piercings— a septum, three studs beside each of his eyes, a single hoop on the center of his lip. His skin was painted with gold, but if the light hit it right there’d be hints of cyan and purple framing it. He never wore anything different, just the top that held a gap between his chest, the pants that halved with a draping curtain, cut out the side where it showed off his hips, exactly how Nevica had found him.
  He was the least of Nevica’s worries, but whenever he needed him he was useless unless he decided to be otherwise. Adam always wanted to play with him, wanted to get his attention, but one day he stopped. Gave up, it seems. 
Adam played by himself these days, without Nevica’s indulgence or Jacus’s attention. Nevica used to wonder what kind of powers the boy would develop later on in life; but it was starting to speak for itself the bigger he was getting. 
He was gifted with knowledge:
“Jacus isn’t here.”
Ever so often, the thought would occur to him as he spoke it:
“The butterflies are dying.”
And without questioning why, he would know reason immediately:
“Mama can’t come. She’s afraid.” 
Nevica found his knowledge useful when it came to that. Some level of reality grounded into his distant thoughts of earth, if he thought about it too much his imagination would come too far without him. It’s unfortunate that Adam didn’t have that level of childhood innocence to him like most kids did; he outgrew that the moment he started to have a personality and understanding of the world. 
Just at five. 
There wasn’t much for Nevica to think of when Adam went past that age. He was putting him through school with a little Caimoru to help him blend in with the humans, a Haenhaw to summon Nevica to pick him up, and he would take his hand as they walked home together. Adam would tell him about his day, and, mulling through the usual pain that Nevica harbored every day, he’d listen just enough to be distracted from it. 
That was one of the few things Nevica was grateful for staying for. He didn’t enjoy staying in one place, he was a traveler, despite having seen the same world for eons. 
He’s reminded, once more, that those eons still held a different world in them. That was what the Calyxphere was for. Adam told about the stories they tell in class, but as the years went by, Adam simply started dismissing his academics altogether. By the time he was 12 he’d been on the verge of skipping grade after grade with the knowledge he was garnering, but Nevica would ultimately refuse to let him up for the sake of Adam needing to have at least one friend. 
That day hadn’t come yet. Adam never told Nevica about his friends, and even if he did it was probably just noise for Nevica to distract himself with when the pain got too much to focus on Adam. On one particular day, though. 
The pain was sharp, piercing through his torso. For the first time in a long time the burn in his body had felt so immense it actively caused him to make a noise akin to a dying animal; stabbing, ripping, tearing, right into his body and causing him to collapse onto the floor. He didn’t know what was causing it, but as Adam helped him up, he heard the boy say it: “It’s from someone you know.”
“What?” Nevica hissed out. Adam took from the freezer a whole bag of raw chicken, holding it up to Nevica’s face. He clawed at it desperately, teeth tearing into the meat and swallowing down as the blood started dripping to the floor, up until blood was caking his mouth and all that was left had been bones, dropped to the floor. 
“You know him. His name is…” Adam paused, humming as he was trying to think for more of the knowledge being given to him. “Seresa.” 
Nevica stopped. He stared at Adam for a moment, the rumble of his agony still brewing at the pit of his core, just as he was recalling memories of Seresa. Seresa when they first met, Seresa when he left, Seresa when he was…
Adam tilted his head. 
“Aren’t you gonna go?” he asked. 
Nevica’s breath was shuddering as he let it out. 
“Yeah. In a bit.” He said, turning his head away. He was directing his attention to Jacus— he’d been sitting, staring blankly at the ceiling, third eye wide open. Nevica turned around completely and took Jacus’s body by the hand, pulling him up. 
“Lock the doors. Clean the mess. I won’t be long.” 
He’d nearly wheezed that one out because the pain hadn’t subsided yet— it had to be a human if he wanted a good few months away from the pain. Adam simply nodded, moving to get the mop. The humans can wait. 
Jacus didn’t respond, just walked along as Nevica pulled him out of the house. 
“Come on,” Nevica grunted, slipping from his hold. “We have to get this over with, Jacus.” 
No response. 
He stepped forward, finger tips brushing over Jacus’s palms, right before their fingers interlaced. Nevica muttered again, “I need you. You have to help me.”
No response.
Nevica brought his hand away from Jacus’s, instead holding him by his hair and swiping his thumb over his third eye— he felt energy radiate out of it, but that wasn’t what Nevica needed right now. He thumbed at his third eye once more, seeing Jacus’s expressions twitch in response, but just as Nevica dug his thumb tip under the eye it immediately shut and Jacus sprung back to life.  His eyes were wide, breath short from a brief stint of panic, but it melted into confusion as he looked back down to see their hands held together.
“What have you done?” Jacus asked, pulling his hand away.
“I—“
“Guessed.” Jacus finished for him. “You are in need of my company?”
“I need your,” Nevica gritted his teeth, feeling the little sting try its best to return, “assistance.” 
Whatever Seresa’s doing now, it’s going to hurt like a bitch when he gets to him.
“You may have it.” Jacus said, facial expressions completely immovable. 
“Tell me what you’ll see on our way there.” Nevica said, moving into his space to press his lips on Jacus’s cheek, passing his power onto him. His skin flared up in response, and Nevica pulled away as Jacus’s body started radiating with Nevica’s energy. 
Nevica turned away and stepped forward. “Come on,” he said.
Then leaped into the sky. 
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albertmarlok · 1 year
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💮💮💮 Livigno
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toshkakoshka · 2 years
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i was infodumping about my ocs again in the server
look at this mess
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this is an analysis on nevica
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an analysis on jacus
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and finally, jake ;u;
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copihueart · 1 year
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foto dell’autore
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Realizzazione Ghirlanda
parte 3
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Video realizzato con InShot
Musica: white christmas
Musicista: home for Christmas
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conilsolenegliocchi · 2 months
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~ E dentro nevica ~
Tante volte arrivano
trasportate da un'emozione.
Quante volte si ricacciano indietro
per difesa, o per pudore.
Ma quando intorno
c'è il gelo da troppo tempo
le lacrime ingoiate diventano neve
trasportata dal nostro stesso vento.
E la neve, a poco a poco
si appoggia tutta sul cuore.
E senti freddo, di quel freddo
che non va via con un po' di calore.
@conilsolenegliocchi 🐞
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ninna--nanna · 8 months
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Io stasera veramente non so che mettere.
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lonelysmile · 1 year
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sento odore di neve come lorelai gilmore
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godsoftheshell · 7 months
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Baby Come Back
Chapter 2: nakakabaliw lumalabas sa 'yong bibig
On their way there to El Nido, I’zhar kept his eyes on him. They had been leaping into the air and landing lightly on the waters, using it as a way to catapult them back upwards with the strength of Nevica’s power in their bodies.
Nevica’s braided, upwards pointing hair was a bright blond, reflective of the afternoon sun. The eyebrows naturally furrowed to an angle that pointed downwards, eyes chinky and, just like the sky, settled on a bright blue. The lines, the drawings on the face were called tattoos, symbols that I’zhar hadn’t recognized for anything familiar, but looked close to the “life” he was the god of. He had a top that had a hood to the side, silver armor in the shape of one of the Earth’s flowers on his body. The rest were fabric that draped down to his knees. Blue, most of his body was, except his skin. It was a deep warm brown. 
Their path wasn’t as far. It was much easier to blink forward to time, but I’zhar wouldn’t want to waste the extra power Nevica had passed on to him in this part of the timeline. It was a clean timeline, not like the other ones I’zhar kept going to. That thing had drenched them in its filth and none had ended the way I’zhar wanted them to end. This was the only timeline he hadn’t touched, but where it was going was different. He looked onwards, only to find many more branches of time split into unusual sections and shapes. Forks of those branches split the timelines, not in its usual manners but all were grouped in ways that I’zhar couldn’t find which one would be the right one to use. They were geometric, incoherent. He decided he’d pick the closest one to their current path— something covered in unusual lines. 
It wasn’t going to be stable, I’zhar tracked, he himself had doubts about what could happen even if he was going to guide them. He didn’t want to guide them. Then Nevica turned back.
  “What do you—“
“See?” I’zhar asked, then answered: “A cluster of timelines. They are not grouped the way they usually would be.” 
“What does that mean?”
“It means it is difficult to navigate what with our destination not being reached.”
“Are we going to be okay?”
“Not for long. Be prepared for the pain you will experience.” 
Then Nevica looked forward. “Like I’m not already,” he muttered. 
In his vision he’s witnessed the sight of a god with red hair and red clothes draped over the body. Another, a younger, darker, taller god had looked more like the humans; except white lines curled and framed his face and over the bridge of his nose. The visuals were as faint as fast as they had come— staying present, staying conscious, especially in one timeline was usually the reason they moved too fast. He was used to his body being projected through time, not in one place in one time. Then he looked at Nevica once more, just after glancing back at how he would later approach that red-haired god and found out that they had known each other. 
Or, that was what I’zhar understood. He looked through Nevica’s eyes, then moved backwards, only to feel a fist connect to his face and look back at the same red-haired god scowling at him, tears in the face. 
“NEVER APOLOGIZE— YOU DON’T GET TO APOLOGIZE!” The red-haired god yelled, but he felt Nevica’s body turn away and leave. His feet crunched the wet— what they called, sand, the ocean waves push and pulling against the grains. It all disappeared once Nevica had left the island, I’zhar unable to see the state of the rest of it because Nevica hadn’t looked back.  It took mere seconds before I’zhar returned to his own eyes. Nevica’s reaction— a small shudder, a few blinks, was the only evidence I’zhar had left as Nevica remained oblivious to the way he’d possessed his eyesight and seen his past timeline. 
“Do you feel that?” Nevica asked, landing onto the surface of the water, before they both sprung back up into the air together. 
“What do you feel?” I’zhar asked.
“Weird. Like my eyes felt like they were somewhere else.”
Their movement finally stopped as soon as their feet hit the ground. I’zhar’s first instinct was to stand on the tips of his toes— the pressure of the sand proving too much sensation in its little particles and grains. 
Nevica glanced at him, “you’re gonna have to get used to that,” he said, then his breath shuddered as he held his torso because of the sting. I’zhar looked back at him as Nevica clenched his teeth, “as will you.” 
“Fuck you.” He whispered, in his already soft voice. I’zhar still had no understanding on what that phrase meant.
They moved forward, just to what seemed like an extensive mansion came into view. I’zhar wasn’t sure if that had been the right word, he hadn’t seen habitats similar to what he was seeing, because a small array of houses decorated the same way had surrounded it, and a large, non-houselike shelter was at the center. 
“What am I seeing?” I’zhar asked. Nevica’s footsteps had begun to get heavier.
“That,” Nevica jerked his head forward, “is a resort. The god we’re looking for manages the place. It’s a place to stay for visitors not from around here.” 
“It is…”
“What?”
“Empty. There are no visitors.”
“It’s not—“
“—‘the season’?”
“A season’s a certain time of the year, made from changing months,” Nevica muttered, “nobody’ll be here until another few.” 
“What creates the change?”
“The weather— needs to be hotter if people want to be here.” 
Another pathway opened for them. Instead of following it, though, something strange happened. 
The air around them was cracking. It was as if they were surrounded by glass, except there was no way to contain it at all. Nevica’s throat let out various clicks and noises, straining from reacting to the tension definitely building inside his body. 
I’zhar moved towards the cracks, diverting the pathway for just a mere second— leading to a different timeline just as he decided to touch one of them. It was a small shift, but just as he ran his fingers over the cracks he saw one of the cluttered timelines show themselves.
“What are you doing?” Nevica asked, but both their heads snapped to attention to someone standing on the platform in front of the resort’s main building. It was the red-haired god. Unlike the previous appearance in Nevica’s past, the skin was blackening, filled with clusters of stars that went from the edges of the cheeks to the neck down, some parts of the limbs missing with bright white rings spinning on their ends, and a white void sitting in the middle of the body, the black spiraling down into it as if it was a wormhole.
“Seresa?” Nevica asked. “What…” 
Seresa’s eyes went wide. “Nevica.”
“What are you doing?” He asked, but just as that happened, Seresa had taken a step back, and the clicks and whispers of breaking glass were coming louder and louder. 
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Seresa said. 
“I am now.” Nevica’s face softened, moving closer to him. I’zhar went to grab the back of his shirt.
“No,” I’zhar said, “it’s dangerous.” 
“What?” Nevica looked back at Seresa, then, “Seresa—“
“You should listen to him.” Seresa hissed, and the wormhole in the core twisted inwards, and suddenly the air shattered until it was broken. The pieces of the atmosphere falling to nothing to reveal mirrors of the same place covered in colors and stars, and, what I’zhar could make out, massive differences from each other. I’zhar’s vision was starting to be understood now— the forked shape of the cluster of timelines were from these realities were dimensions. They didn’t belong to the universe they were holding. These alternate universes were from a much bigger scale, with their own beginnings, their own ends, their own timelines, and now with Seresa’s interference they were wide open and accessible.
Just before Nevica could reach Seresa, the cracked glass that suddenly appeared under his feet had shattered, dropping him into the next dimension. 
“NEVICA—“ I’zhar stumbled forwards, then looked back up. The realities were overlapping into his vision, the timelines proving too much to handle, but following blind instinct he’d drawn Etreeni from his wrist and charged at Seresa. A bright light beamed into his face, and just by that simple distraction he stabbed forwards, hearing a yelp that didn’t belong to him, pulling the one he’d stabbed back into his space before hands started to grab and push them both around. 
I’zhar’s stance broke in the process, and soon the god he’d stabbed and he, had fallen into the shattered entrance into the next dimension. 
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marcogiovenale · 1 year
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oggi, 6 aprile, a bologna: presentazione del libro "nevica sulla mia mano" (lucio dalla e roberto roversi)
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Oggi così....super sexi 😄
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toshkakoshka · 2 years
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recall
There’s a shock in her system that permanently stiffens her body. 
It leaves her eye wide, bottom lip quivering as the breathing escaping her mouth was turning shallow. She recalls hands pressed together, gold crossed signs and voices falling over each other. She was looking into the sky, the same way praying fingers would, trying to avoid His eyes despite being gifted with His sight. He was looking back into her, waiting for their visions to cross paths once more, because it will, because it was going to. Fire, iron and weak breaths fill her senses harshly, making her shut away the tears in her eyes, making her sob, making her agonize even further. 
“Why?” She asks, chest so riddled with holes that she wheezed it out. 
“You know why.” He answers. 
Hands pressed together. Gold crossed signs. Fallen voices that overlapped onto one another. To whom it may have concerned, she wondered if she could see him if she looked far enough into the sky. She knew one thing when it came to these rituals; the words they passed on were meant to be secrets sworn by the people, words of relief, words of pleasure, words of the blessed, thanking everyday for a gift that couldn’t be beyond that. 
Routine.
Curiosity. 
Confusion. 
That was her childhood. From the day she was born, to the bellowing screams that echoed throughout time and space, an eye that took over a quarter of her skull and a pair of wings on her head, childhood filled with dilapidated roofs, wide eyed stares, and the dark— she was made to be a gift among men. 
“The outside world isn’t a place meant for someone like you.” Her mother said, reaching to scratch under the surface of her wings before looking to the little altar they made in the corner of the room. God had a woman who watched them all the time, that part was true. She watched everything that happened in that house, bared witness to a birth of what they thought was a monster to seeing her nearly get killed. Mother Mary had a veil on her head, and when they would take their daughter out to the village she would have a veil over her face too. “It will protect you from the other angels,” her father said, “don’t let them bring you back to heaven.” 
Don’t let them bring you back to heaven. 
She didn’t really know what that meant— for it to be good, bad, or more than that, but that phrase stuck to her as they prayed to the shrines where he in the heavens heard from the farthest away. She knew what heaven was— what angels were, what the cost of going against the Lord meant, but it didn’t touch her like it did her family, the people around her. It was simply as natural as a breath, to be able to speak of someone so highly like this. They did this with the king, and they did this with her. 
She wondered if he had a face, just like the rest of them would. 
She had a talent with the sword. With every single vantage point at her disposal, her eye would catch the weak point of her opponent with ease and dig her blade straight to where she needed it— past the important parts, in order to keep the men alive. She learned how to flap her wings and take herself high enough to plunge down with a strength that terrified her men to-be. Wings spread, eye wide open, she saw the weaknesses and strengths of every opponent and soon, the palace they trained in. Prayers became training, hiding became showing off. She would fly high into the sky to scope out the location for their next raid and helped the army embrace the land in order to win over hundreds of times.
Nobody really took interest in her the same way she wasn’t interested in them. It wasn’t her who established the connections for everybody to work with one another after all; but she pretended that wasn’t something to think about. He was another, however much lower, general, unusual in his shiny dark skin and blue eyes. An immigrant from the farthest islands where no winters existed, living in a perpetual summer that traded with rich fibers from their native trees. She had no idea what the name as called— hadn’t asked to, really, but to know he was a good fighter, and that he spent many years in his teenhood here had been a cause for interest especially when he didn’t look right, just as she did. 
“You wanted to see me, general?” She asked him one day, knee pressed against the floor while the other raised to keep her balanced. Her sword was placed in front of her as she waited for his next command. 
“I know you are different.” He said, slowly walking towards her, “I know how others perceive you as a monster, despite being a gift from God Himself.”
“… Yes,” she replied, tilting her head up curiously, “what of it?”
“I think that deserves to change.”
“How?”
“I want to,” he began, drawing until he was right in front of her, “see what you are capable of.” He went down to her level, reached out to touch her shoulder and squeezed it, “General.”
She was a general at as young as 22. A leader of the army, a keeper of citizen’s lives; it was one of the greatest honors for them to bestow upon her shoulders and she carried it with her easily. Battles were won, there were many who survived, and soon they continued to build the empire and their trade routes had spread. Though, despite it all, she hadn’t spoken to many of those people between the raids. In order to keep herself company, she thought of mother, she thought of father. Sometimes, she thought of him, but never considered a conversation. To her, they’d always been divided by a window: seeing each other, but not quite. Unable to really meet paths as the glass continued to stain. Her fingers would tentatively grace their presence onto the surface, but nothing more had come toward it as she continued to look forward. 
The window would always follow her. So did his eyes. 
“May I sit with you?” He asked, approaching her as she sat alone in front of a fire. She remembered how the light of the flames reflected on his skin rather than absorbed, how there were visible, unnatural rings in his dark eyes that nearly glowed in the dark. She blinked under her veil, then shuffled in her seat on the log to make space for him to sit down next to her.
“It seems my choices went down the right path.” He commented, playing with a knife in his hand. His eyes flickered back to her. “Are you holding up alright, general?”
She exhaled, thinking for a moment, then tilted her head forward, “how could I not?”
His smile was soft. Peace-loving. “Good.”
He seemed content with the nothing their conversation was carrying. She hugged her knees towards herself, leaning her head against the tops as she faced him. The veil draped to the side. 
“Do you have anybody at home for you?” he asked. 
“I am not married, no. But I have parents who fuss about several things. And you?”
He looked at her. “Nothing for me to come home to. You seem as if you’re getting married with that thing.”
“Do I?” 
“I can imagine it.” He said, “there’s no need to hide.”
“I’d rather not have the eyes of everyone on me.”
“I’ve seen your face. You’re beautiful.”
“My, my,” She faced him, eye visible through the veil, “attempting to seduce your general?”
He chuckled. “I’m simply stating a fact.” 
For it was difference that allowed her to see such beauty. She found him beautiful too, but she was never really willing to say it— they made her a general, so she was acting like it all the way through. For years they fought alongside each other, drank together, spoke of long, deep conversations in the dark of the night where they were alone. Strangely, however, she would never find him outside of the warzone. Every instance she tried to search for him in the villages, the city, it seemed as if he disappeared without a trace. She tried using her eye, only to find nothing. 
In her return home, she was given gold and silver, enough to compensate for the lifetime of war she lived through, enough for her family to live another good decade. Her parents embraced her, Mary baring witness once more, as her mother cried out: “Our gift has blessed us yet again!”
Her eye twitched, to her own surprise. 
But in that stark realization, in blessing her own family, in blessing the military, being blessed had caused her to understand what it must have been like to be God— but perhaps that wasn’t the case. 
Perhaps she was indeed, God. 
And that’s what she told him the next time they met for another war— the military campaign against Halych.
“It makes sense, does it not?” She asked, smiling back at him as she held his hands in hers. She pulled him under the moonlight as she kept herself light on her feet. It was an exciting— an alien feeling. Something that made her heart race, the glory of the answers given to her finally making sense in her own world. She wasn’t just made to be the gift of The eye that had taken up most of her skull finally had its answers, and it was then that she realized that it belonged to God that way: that it belonged to Her, that She was the one they were worshiping all along. 
He looked at her, pursing his lips in a doubtful manner, but upon recalling it she should have known that it was a temptation to disprove her theory. 
“What are you going to make of it then?” He asked. 
“I shall continue to bless the people around me with this eye of god. I was born with it for a reason— I was born for a reason! I have to continue my purpose and that is to serve! I can't be brought back to heaven!” 
He looked at her with a small smile, then. She was happy to serve and be served; to be something that everybody else made her be rather than something she would build up for herself. 
It was disappointing.
But what good would a creation be without having to serve?
She tried it. She really did. He had to give her the benefit of it, after all, but he knew what was going to happen if she strayed down this path. 
Raising the halberd in his hand, he pierced it into the sky and she dropped like a dying bird. 
And that’s where they are now. With her men dead, her lungs pierced with several more spears, she realizes that as she sees into the sky that there was no God that was meant to be looked for. 
With the sun in His hair, the sky in his eyes, he looked down into her own eye as he began to strip from the facade of the mortal she grew to love. Her body trembled under His hold. For the first time, she was seeing God, up close and personal. 
At that moment, she knew why He had to take her. 
All she had to do was recall. 
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duecolori-kissy · 1 year
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降っては止み 止んでは降っての一日 #snow #雪が降る #winter #inverno #nevica❄️ #こんな日はお布団にもぐりこみたい #selectshop #セレクトショップ #due_colori #duecoloricom #ドゥエコローリ #fashionblogger #冬のにおいがした (セレクトショップ due colori) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn9RezQvn7m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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lilium-in-blue · 2 years
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Credevo fosse un pesce d'aprile ⚰️
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