Store’s back open for 2023. gdbee.store or click here :)
Some prints are retiring! They are marked with a ***
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rewatched the cool cool scene and like yeah i kinda get why we all went crazy two years ago
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thinking of that one (1) curl like
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seeing people refer to hilson as old man yaoi when you’re literally the age wilson was at the beginning of the show and were watching on the day house’s head/wilson’s heart aired for the first time 😅
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Google Translations of the Octonauts Profiles I found (+another I found with original text!)
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Changed my mind this is what Leo’s Hidden City outfit looks like now
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I was locked out of my account but I finally got it back today. I guess now I can start posting again.
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I just got locked from two of my Instagram accounts (including my main one 👍🏻) whaaaat a great way to spend an already stressing night
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Omni’s female human form has very long hair, and I wanted to draw it :> (this is a bit of a mix of canon and my own human Omni drawing, got brown peeking in the hair lol)
also sorry I greened them again I just like the color on them with the purple hehe
The creator of Omni is @cereusblue
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You know, I'm not overly fond of god!Gale.
But you know what I AM fond of? The inherent angst. How Gale pursued godhood to be better for others. If romanced, how he did so to give everything, perfection, all the stars to them.
How, when romanced, they don't want to ascend with him. How he's no longer mortal or feels the way mortals should, but how that rejection somehow unmoors this deeply unsettling plane in his heart.
His heart? A last kiss, at the very least. A last kiss that drags on, that tastes bitter, should taste bitter, and warps something vulnerable and pained inside him. How they lay him down, how they gasp into his mouth, how he feels gods shouldn't bow to mortals. Shouldn't be made to. How asking, pleading them to stay with him is beneath his station, beneath a god, but—
It's okay, he tells himself. They card their hands through his hair, something urgent crowding in the base of his spine, something broken and empty and hungry and wrecked in his chest. It's okay. Maybe this is beneath him, maybe, he whimpers, but it's okay: he's beneath them, and they were his god anyhow.
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Me when I first moved to the city: I have enough cheap crappy polyester/acrylic clothes, I'm gonna save my money and get NICE clothes! I'm gonna get the good stuff made with natural fibres!
The "good clothes" in the city: still acrylic blends but now with a 100$ price tag
😐
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writing
It is an act of hysterical desperation
Ink is shed, like tears at a gravesite
Words are written and scratched through with feverish fervor
Behold all that I am
Prose is sculpted and slashed away with every breath
Behold all that I could be
Creation and destruction do battle between pale blue lines
Behold all that I wish to be
Take my words
Look at my wretched soul, scrawled carelessly onto paper
Take my soul
Look at my beaten heart, sketched in monstrous prose
Take all of me
Look at my very being, staining what was once pristine
Just don’t look away
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Your conscience (it’s too calm)
I’m not here (to be loved)
The blindfold is untied
Now I don’t wanna be anyone
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