#sorta? not that sure

[her-canine-teeth]

ALRIGHT SO.

circa one and a half months ago i was listening to the song spiracle by flower face and I thought 'omg this is so jackieshauna im gonna edit this' (or smth like that idk what i thought. but I did think smth like this is so jackieshauna and I did edit it soo)

then, a few days later i was listening to cornflower blue by flower face and was like 'actually. this is really jackieshauna too'. and THEN I thought 'wouldnt it be funny if I edited the whole album to jackieshauna? i bet i could do it. I can relate EVERYTHING to jackieshauna and I know back to you is in this album which is very jackieshauna'

so yeah. thats finished now.

which is weird bc I spent one and a half months editing them (mostly) back to back.

during that time ive discovered a love for editing which is amazing news for me and equally amazing news for anyone who likes them bc youre not gonna get rid of em anytime soon. Also I got better at editing.

I once read a story (Idk anymore where. maybe on here?) about a pottery class that was divided in two groups; one had to make as many pots as possible, the other one was supposed to make the perfect pot in the same amount of time. the ones who made as many pots eventually made the better ones. I think the story was abt writing, but every time I see spiracle i have to think abt it.

like, ive made like 5 edits total before that, and oke was literally just 'putting girls judt wanna have fun over the team eating jackie', so that's my real life progression omg. I mean I didnt know how to change velocity then (figured out somehow though)

my point is. actually I dont have one im just telling u what happened so im just gonna keep doing that

editing The Shark In Your Water was hard at times bc there are a lot of instrumental parts that are absolutely amazing to listen to and absolutely hard to edit bc I didnt know what to put there (was running on like 3 scene packs and 25 screen recordings so that was limiting too). isobel wasnt that jackieshauna too (i think im not sure which song) so I had to interpret a lot there lmao

ANYWAYS im not sure what to say now. theres probably more somewhere inside of me but cant find it rn. I just want to say im proud of myself thank you! for anyone who watched an edjt of mind and maybe reposted or smth and Idk i just wanna thank god for the opportunity

[satsuha]

11/23 is いい兄さんの日 (good older brother day) in japan 💐

[1smolbean]

barbie movie: is marketed as “haha barbie has to go to the real world with ken and mattel wants them to go back to barbieland haha funny adventure movie!”

me after watching it: is sobbing hysterically and undergoing an existential crisis, a breakdown, and a metamorphosis into a more confident and secure individual with the knowledge that under the patriarchy it is next to impossible to appease others and that you just have to go “fuck it” and be your genuine self while doing what makes you happy

[time-woods]

EMOTIONAL WIN ! ! the bug lets his emotions make decisions for once !

[bunnieswithknives]

Wow Dale I didn't know you liked entomology! 💕

[anbaisai]

First day on the job at Mostro Lounge was pretty rough (she panicked)

(Reference is from the manga Dandadan)

[wolfythewitch]

late night confession

[doctorsiren]

Also I must know, is Fiddleford in the Monster Hunter Pines AU at all? I ask because I love him. He seems like the kinda guy who would have loved to stay in the lab and make cool adventure gadgets. That man was destined to be The Guy In The Chair.

I am obsessed with the idea of the Stan Twins and Fiddleford being a weird little trio it delights me.

Okay okay okay okay so my main issue with having Fiddleford there is the whole Emma May situation. We all know how highly Stanley thinks of family, and I don’t think he’d be too keen on this science guy abandoning his wife to help them out, so he makes Stanford make Fiddleford make Emma May come along and she actually turns out to have skill in hunting and such, so she gets to join the twins and gets to use the crossbow :)

This is also because the original concept for this AU was made on the idea that Stanford and Stanley make up much sooner (because them fighting makes me sad ☹️☹️☹️) and I don’t like the idea of Fiddleford still abandoning his wife (and in canon, his son, who doesn’t exist in this AU because uhh its earlier in the timeline) and I thought she deserved to come along 😁

Stanford and Emma May bond over Fiddleford, Stanley and Emma May bond over being good with weapons and not getting what their respective nerds are saying, and Fiddleford and Stanley can bond over Stanford I suppose HAHA

[cubbihue]

With fairies roughly being the size of a pencil, I gotta ask how ITTY BITTY was baby!peri? I need to know how TINY he was 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Here's a size comparison! Very tiny. About the size of the tip digit of your pointer finger!!!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[bittasol]

smile, iruma! | hey ive been here before

[kyonshi-8610]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOSHIROOOOO 🙏🗣️🎂‼️ (6/13)

(additional incoherent doodles under cut)

[fear-no-mort]

favourite thing: his new habit of saying uhuh/mhm and also this

[blasphemousclaw]

concept

[chaikachi]

i like your new gloves oscar. very wise choice.

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

happy to say i am working on some pretty big superhero au plot stuff right now!! not sure when that'll be out, but. it is Cooking!! have some doodles in the meantime 🫡 some of which may or may not be inspired by said plot stuff, heehee...

i had a LOT of fun with xenia's room in particular, i've been wanting to draw it out for a while because she's a huuuge superhero fangirl and has been since she was a kid. it's still a bit difficult for her to adjust to being a superhero now herself...!! the fact that the solarflare is her closest friend sorta complicates that as well...will she ever be able to keep up with her...?

[heich0e]

The troops file into the capital city in a slow, splintered march.

What's left of them, anyway.

It's a stark, bitter difference to the way they'd filed out a fortnight prior, dressed in full regalia and their heads held high as they set off to serve their people under the eye—in the name—of their king. The same king who watched on placidly from the palace's main gate as their procession filed past, a sight that only made the soldiers' valour swell as they marched away into battle.

Compared to that departure, with its fanfare and optimism, this seems almost a different group of men entirely.

And their beloved king is nowhere to be seen.

You're the only member of the royal family, or even the higher court, who witnesses the return of the troops at dusk. Pressed against a pillar near the gate, bathed in shadow, you watch the men trudge past the palace towards the military armoury on the other side of the city with your breath caught in your throat.

It's quiet as they pass, just the sound of boots shuffling lethargically over cobblestones, and the occasional warble of pain from one of the sick or injured. The city hasn't come to welcome them home. You wonder if these broken men are grateful for it.

Towards the end of the short procession, a sudden incident causes the group to slow. A soldier has collapsed to the ground, the few behind him stumbling over his pitiful figure, cursing at him as they go. You watch a few men kick the already suffering man, whether by accident or maliciously you can't be sure. The small, wounded man rolls onto his side, and you catch a glimpse of his face in the waning light.

You gasp.

"Stop. STOP!"

You throw open the gate before you, rushing out into the street.

There's confusion for a moment in the wake of your exclamation, but as the group of soldiers realize just who is racing towards them—the hood of your cloak falling back in your haste—they freeze in shock. The men drop (at least as much as they're able) to their knees when you reach them.

You crouch over the supine body in the street, your heart in your throat.

There's blood on his lips and up close you can see it's staining his shirt at the base of his throat, an unsightly rust brown streaked with fresh crimson. Old blood dried and wetted again with new. He's either ill, or gravely wounded—possibly both—but you can tell he's been coughing up blood for days.

You try your best to ease his head into your lap without harming him, bringing him to rest upon the pillow of your skirts rather than the filthy stone of the street.

"Your majesty..." you look up at see a higher ranking officer dismounting his horse hastily, his face stricken with fear. He dips in a stiff bow. You can't help but notice how unharmed he appears. "Whatever brings you—"

"This soldier—" your voice breaks, and you pause to suck in a breath. You run a hand across the face in your lap, wiping some blood from his lips with the edge of your sleeve, and take a moment to collect yourself. You look up at the officer again, meeting his gaze resolutely. "He's just a boy."

The officer looks shocked; less remorseful than he does guilty.

"He's a foot soldier, your majesty... there are many young men his age who serve the—"

"He is not a young man. He's but a boy. A child."

It's true, the figure you cradle in your arms is a boy no more than twelve, his body slight in every way but for the baby fat still clinging to his bruised cheeks. The child groans, still clinging to consciousness by its final fraying threads, and more blood trickles from the side of his split lips.

You hold him closer, patting his cheeks again, unsure of how else you can possibly soothe him.

"What's wrong with him?" You ask the increasingly nervous officer above you as whispers begin to circulate amongst the surrounding troops.

"H-he's... the battle was... our enemies outnumbered us."

"Is he injured?" You press, unsatisfied with his reply. "Or has he taken ill?"

"I-" The officer stutters. Looking around for support from any fellow soldiers, though none come to his aid. "He's—"

"His name, then?" You ask again, your fury growing. If this commanding officer cannot relay the details of this soldier's health, the least he can tell you is this.

The officer struggles to meet your gaze.

"Your highness—"

A familiar voice sets your teeth on edge, bile creeping up your throat.

You turn your face towards the side gate of the palace where you'd previously been hiding, and see a crowd of household staff watching you with their hands over their mouths in dismay at the impropriety. Before them stands Geto, with that same infuriatingly even expression on his face he always seems to wear. A smile with no warmth behind it.

"—whatever are you doing out at this time of night?"

You say nothing, your teeth locked together under the vice of your jaw.

You cradle the boy in your arms closer to you.

"The king will grow worried if you do not soon return to your quarters," Geto goes on to say, stepping slowly towards you.

The king.

The man Geto Suguru and every one of these brutalized men serve.

Satoru.

"Take this boy to see the court physician," you tell Geto.

"The military doctors are highly skilled, your highness," the advisor standing over you replies, still smiling blithely. "All of our soldiers are in their expert care."

"I want him to see Shoko," you repeat yourself, your voice trembling not with fear but with indignation.

"Shoko is unable to see to this soldier," Geto replies easily, brushing off your request again. "She's traveling north at present, and will not return for at least three nights."

"I want him to see our doctors," you hiss through your teeth. "He needs to be seen."

"Your highness," Geto crouches down to your eye level. Your hands shake as you hold the boy in your lap. "There is no help that our doctors can offer this young man any longer."

You look down, and feel a rush of nausea.

The boy in your arms has gone utterly, terribly still.

It's all a blur after that.

Other soldiers gather around, prying the boy from your unwilling grip. You're helped up off the street, wracked with tremors that threaten to ground you again, and a touch—heavy and unpleasant—supports you at your side.

There's blood drying to your hands. To your sleeves. To the rustling fabric of your skirt.

Inside the palace, the staff who had watched the ordeal unfold all quickly scatter, scandalized whispers spreading in their wake. There's not a corner of the palace that will not know what's just transpired by the time the sky goes fully dark.

Geto stays by your side as he escorts you back to your quarters, his hand still at your waist, treading slowly down the sumptuous halls of the palace. Bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, you can feel the cold, crystalline eyes of the royal portraits which line the walls watching.

"Unhand me."

Your voice is flat when you find it again, but it still rings clear without waver.

Geto obeys your command, his touch slipping from your waist as he takes half a step back from your side.

"Your maids are preparing a bath for you, your highness," Geto's tone is far too conversational for the circumstances. Too silky for the tackiness of blood between your fingers. Too gently for how rubbed raw you feel. "A doctor will be by shortly after to offer you a sleeping remedy."

"I do not need a doctor," you reply, a lump forming in the back of your throat and bitterness coating your tongue. "That boy is the one who needed aid, and was denied it."

When Geto says nothing, you stop walking and turn to face him.

"Take me to see the king."

Just for a moment, the man before you's expression slips. His smile falters.

"The king is—"

"Suguru," you cut him off before he has the chance to make an excuse. Before he has the opportunity to deny you something you did not ask. "Take me to see my husband, now."