shadowedvales-gone

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i’m officially moving this blog and starting completely fresh elsewhere. please like this post if you’d like to remain mutuals. even if we have twenty threads and talk frequently, i’m not assuming that you want to follow me on a new blog.

[shadowedvales-gone]

i’m officially moving this blog and starting completely fresh elsewhere. please like this post if you’d like to remain mutuals. even if we have twenty threads and talk frequently, i’m not assuming that you want to follow me on a new blog.

[shadowedvales-gone]

i’m officially moving this blog and starting completely fresh elsewhere. please like this post if you’d like to remain mutuals. even if we have twenty threads and talk frequently, i’m not assuming that you want to follow me on a new blog.

[shadowedvales-gone]

edward scissorhands taken from the 1990 film.

here, these should just fit you.

listen, it could keep me up all night worrying about you.

i think you should just come home with me.

it’s just a nick. there’s no need to be nervous, dear.

that’s a heck of a handshake you got there.

i want you to sit right down and wait for me to bring you some ice.

it’s just not my day.

this has a touch of lavender in it. give it a try here.

things feel strange now, but soon you’ll feel right at home.

oh, dear, you’ve cut your face.

wouldn’t you like a nice cool glass of lemonade?

stealing’s not the way to get it. stealing’s not the way to get anything.

i don’t get why you give such a shit anyway.

honey, you want me to help you clean that up?

people are scared of things that are different.

oh, that was so sweet of you to want to correct the situation.

why are you hiding back there? you don’t have to hide from me.

all that blood, sweetie, and it’s just a little cut.

it’s not polite to stare, dear. think how it would make you feel if somebody were staring at you.

honey, no, no, don’t. that’s dangerous.

how else am i supposed to get attention?

oh, my goodness. i’m surprised at you.

i’m not sleepy. tell me, please.

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and with that, i end my very brief hiatus by logging on to say that jane’s favourite christmas films are it’s a wonderful life, and the original miracle on 34th street. she will watch them each at least five times over the month of december.

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this blog is being placed on hiatus until the new year! i really want to be here but have absolutely no motivation unfortunately. at this point, i kind of want to leave tumblr as a whole, as it’s no longer sparking the joy it used to, but i am just going to wait and see how i feel come 2025. love you all, and have a very merry christmas to those who celebrate! and a happy new year to everyone! 💜

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@sequine: they're gone. and they're never coming back.

when it came from the mouth of michael wheeler, jane knew honesty was to be found in any opinion. her dearest friend, with whom silence was not scary but comforting, where the darkest patches of humanity turned bright with promise. “i know.” although, she didn't. nor did he. nothing was guaranteed, not to girls like her who were raised for slaughter from the very beginning, faceless amongst the other cattle within old quarters. do not lie to him— you know him well enough to know he'd never crave such a thing. it's a noisy life she led, tainted by the lies in her past and what-ifs of her future. she hadn't any reason to love herself, especially not when she was no more than a shaved skull and jutted bones; gentleness had been rejected to the point that to see it, to experience it, was uncharted territory. as she grew into girlhood each and every day, how could she not worry about it being stolen?

“but,” she pulled in a deep breath and silently counted to five, then released. she remembered everything from that time, more ghost than girl, and had not yet conquered the ability to move on despite best efforts. to think someone would appreciate her, without wanting something in return was still a slightly foreign concept. “sometimes i bee-leave they might come for me. and... and i will wake up there. be trapped. that i won't be able to find you, or max, or...” she forced her speech to halt, before embarrassing herself with superstitions. it was the slow rot that terrified her most— to continue growing here, in this life built by the skin of her teeth, only to be thrown back inside the prison once called home, for all development to be wiped away in a matter of seconds. sam assured her, becky revolved her world around jane's secured safety, now mike spoke it aloud: those people are gone, you aren't going back to that lab. why couldn't she trust it wholeheartedly? there was some trust in their words and affirmations, but she needed proof.

“sorry.” jane murmured with a short laugh, trying to bring some ease into the conversation, proving she understood she was acting foolishly; she didn't want to cause alarm even while these things haunted her. “i know it is stupid to think this way. they are bad thoughts. i should not feel them.” only on your deathbed, when the shackles of this place finally release you, you'll fathom the truth of this freedom. a half-smile offered, salt laced in her endless lesions— at least he was always a welcome relief, an antidote of sorts. she wondered if her weeping poisons could ever be fully cleansed, washed out. they are the price of her life, the arcane bustling inside her. jane ives could not live without the doubt.

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he's nothing like his brother— it didn't take a genius to recognise the sheer differences. he's gruff, loud, and intimidating all at once, but she couldn't look away even if she wanted to. strangers were still a thing of great concern despite the years progressions, riddled in unfamiliar territory. in light of first impressions, she could feel something else on him: the thick, raw emotion behind his stoic face which in other circumstances, she'd be in awe of. that, however, is completely clouded by his overall attitude, his quick beckoning to assume the worst; thankfully her personal horrors hadn't mangled her beyond salvation, as they seemed to maim him. it's a damn good story! your mother bled you onto your aunt's kitchen floor. they burned your cradle the same evening they threw you in your cage. think of sam, a voice in the back of her head urged, and she breathed in twice to ground herself, to rid the aggravation this man already caused in her insides. for a while she stood plainly, merely observing; her stance unnerving, unblinking, like trying to watch paint dry.

at last she shifted, gaze moving from him, to the weapon, then back again. without hesitation, the head tilts quickly to the left, just-so, and the gun is thrown from dean's hand, clattering unceremoniously in the opposite end of the room. a magnetic force coming as quickly as it departed their shared space. “i don't like guns.” stated as if it was common news, lips pursed, offended by him. her name had buried bullets into skulls, far-too familiar with their appearance, the art of destruction they carried. “no one sent me. you are very wrong. i am not playing games.” spoken swiftly, nearly rolling her eyes. the more he voiced his ridiculous opinions, the more inclined she was to leave him to his own devices, [jumping to rash conclusions and pointing guns at girls was not her cup of tea in companionship, after all] and then he may never find his missing piece. lucky for him, her patience ran bone deep in certain situations; an ever tolerant nature, the weight of two decades heavy in her body. there wasn't any place for his ill-mannered tongue, not when she was going out of her way to aid him.

“i am here, alone, because i like your brother. he is kind, and sweet.” tone says unlike yourself. “i saw he is lost.” she guarded her words, but raised her chin slightly, shoulders broadening— she was no longer a child, she'll push and pull for what she wants. right now, she wants to assist someone nice. “i do know sam, i know him well.” he's waiting for an explanation but she has none to give; janessa does not lie, prides herself on the fact. “if i was gone, he would look for me.” posture straightens, arms folded across her chest; any softness in regards to the youngest winchester vanished, left only with the elder, much to her disdain. “i can help. so you might want to start listening to me and stop being rude.”

send me 💬, and i’ll use a line from a sentence meme i’ve reblogged to make a starter. @shadowedvales.

❛ i got to say, i’m impressed. ❜ sarcasm seems to come easier to his lips when vulnerable, a caged animal becomes all the more vocal. years of practice have ensured there is no quake in the musculature of his forearms, yet he feels the tremor in his breath all the same. fear struck him as a young boy and never left. shotgun is held steady and aimed unto the girl — a strange sight should anyone pass by. dean has long since surpassed the peculiar juxtaposition of innocent features to a demonic origin ; more often than not that is the exact strategy they use to catch their prey off guard. sick bastards, never has it been said they played fair with their crossroad deals. like the fae, but worse, for demons certainly tell lies.

he has faith in the salt - loaded shells poised in their gun barrel ready to strike, but never underestimates the enemy. even if they seem to be offering crucial information on his missing counterpart, dangling the lure like a carrot for a donkey, a baited hook for the unsuspecting guppy. he wants to bite, desperation seizing his frame. the hunter is feverish with vacuous emptiness, the yearning to be whole again. ❛ musta done a lotta research to come up with that sick little spiel. you been stalkin' me 'n' my brother for a while, huh ? ❜ eyes flit beyond the girl cautiously, seeking her company. surely ( ? ) she's not alone.

❛ who sent you, hmm ? 'cause i'm not buying the psychic best friends mumbo - jumbo, kid. and i'm not in the mood to play games. ❜ the words ride a stirring growl, chest grumbling as those tremors make way for something more angry. the caged animal bares its teeth.

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hot take, but the "i dump your ass" line wasn't even funny and was just super ooc…….

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JENNIFER CONNELLY AS JENNIFER CORVINO PHENOMENA (1985)

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i am so totally fine about them x

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everything about them is light, whereas she existed as an incessant ache, sometimes dull, sometimes loud, but always prominent. hiding was not an option when three wonderful adults watched your every move, assuring safety bled into a being previously deprived, but it meant none were blind to that gaping wound, and how jane hated it. they saw her liberated from the belly of the beast, a mere shadow of who she's slowly becoming. since that crucial moment, she'd vowed to never again stare into the world through a two way mirror (to view but never touch / hear but never be heard). no stranger to the everlasting rot, but now attuned to the idea of help, assistance without expectation. four deep breaths were pulled inwards as she remained rooted to her chair, but the sudden urge to flee, to avoid his questions and glances was suddenly tempting. on the third exhale, she looked at him properly, silence stretched out while contemplation settled. she longed to sound smart, logical, in front of @chaoslulled but came up short. the tension finally let itself go, though her answer fell under neither category of intention.

“ i don't know. ” she shrugged, speech passing out the mouth fleetingly, embarrassment tugging at concealed heartstrings. “ i am different. maybe she wanted a normal baby. ” this is all you will ever be, a voice in her head urged, a weapon, a monster dressed as a child with no real grasp of girlhood. what parent would crave such a thing? her face dropped, the call of mystery a constant companion, lips locked in a straight line, shock sitting in the back of her throat like a foul taste. in another life she would've believed him, she might've even been blessed with rose coloured glasses, to see the good, believe the positive. could he be telling the truth? “ oh. you are saying... you think she did want me? ” perhaps this was the other life, having escaped the false one when ashley touched her frigid skin for the first time.

whatever makes you happy. rage is what she understood better than anything; she seemed to forget there was a lost little girl yearning for the embrace of a mother, right at the core of her foreign childhood. this was her chance. jane observed leon's actions carefully beneath the furrow of her brows, shifting to get a closer look at the pieces of unfamiliar equipment. “ okay. ” she did what was asked of her, not daring to refuse an order, no matter how gentle or open it was. she began with her thumb and worked outwards; when the left was finished, she took a quick glance at the substance coating her fingers, nose scrunched in an expression akin to disgust, tempted to immediately wipe it off on her sleeve. jane's other hand followed, and within a few minutes she had both hands, now black at the tips, awkwardly outstretched towards him, awaiting the next instruction. “ what is... fing-ah prints? ” words emitted softly, curiosity a fickle limb forever latched to her body.

he's easily become a welcome home for the broken  &  damned;   through so many years at this job, he's met far too many, he's put back together too many.   more than that though, he has sought to suture with the thought that the wound will never stop bleeding  ––  that some things cannot be contained, that some emotions will boil too high.   that he cannot save everyone.   ever since racoon city it's felt like it's his destiny to be the savior of them, to show them that this can all just be another nightmare.   but sometimes he cannot  ––  he cannot follow the path of light  &  falls into his own nightmares  &  comes back in the morning with caffeine in a cup that promises nothing.   sometimes he thinks that he'll get over it  ––  that it'll start making sense one day.   that he'll stop bleeding all over their files, their faces  &  names burned into his very being.  it never works though  ––  leon kennedy will always bleed.  he will always see their names  &  faces  &  remember the ones that he couldn't save.   he will remember all the horrid things that have happened  &  the ones that he hasn't been able to stop, the monsters that haunt him day in  &  day out.

jane is a strange case  ––  he's had people working on this day  &  night in case she does have relatives out there.   she's attached to ashley without a doubt  &  ashley to her.   it reminds him of that damn island  &  saving ashley, of the fire that had sparked in her eyes  &  the way that she has never looked back.   he's proud of who she has become.   he looks at the mere child before him, the one who is so careful with her words  &  her wants,  &  he knows that he would do anything to help her.   HE WOULD DO ANYTHING TO MAKE SURE SHE DIDN'T END UP AS ONE OF THOSE HAUNTED NAMES.    she is precious to ashley, so therefore he protects harder  ––   (  if there is a chance that they don't want, then they will become her family  ).    brows furrow  ––  could someone not want someone like her?   would someone willingly give her away?     "  why do you think your mother doesn't want you?   do you think that she gave you to miranda?  "      she remembers nothing  ––  holes in a memory that was trapped, heavy in the way that there is no way forward.   but he's worked with amnesia victims before;   sometimes they need a trigger, but they do not need to be upset  &  pushed into it.

heart breaks at something so simple.    a question that no one should have to ask.    "  i don't think your parents had a choice.  i've worked this job for a long time  ––  kids don't just get given up to people like miranda.  "    he wants to reach out, to tuck hair away from her face, to reassure with a touch to her shoulder.   he doesn't though;   she is a wild spitfire   &   he doesn't wish to invoke discomfort.    "  i think something happened  &  miranda took you.  "

ah, the thousand dollar question.   he can't speak for ashley or her emotions;   she's been coming into her own at this job, but he doesn't know much beyond that.   "  i think she'll be happy with whatever makes you happy.  "     he gives her a gentle look, then settles as he grabs the ink pad  &  the form.    "  i need you to press each of your fingers into this, one at a time.  then i'll press it down into the spaces so we can run your fingerprints, okay?  "

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at long last, jane’s future verse has been published to my carrd, and you can read it here, if it interests you! i am quite excited to start developing this verse for her more— thank you to everyone who voted on my last poll in relation to my final decision!! ily all. thank you for always loving me and jane and putting up with my constant changes and rants about how she was done so dirty in canon. i never expected to be writing her for so long on tumblr, with so much support from such wonderful people! just makes me a little emotional sometimes. you’re all the bestest. ❤️

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Mia Sara photographed by Sheila Metzner for Tatler magazine, 1985.

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think real hard. it’ll come to you. (remember us talking about math whiz max tutoring jane? 😭)

"I am thinking." She spat, left hand curled into a fist beneath the table, frustration a boiling coil in her belly ready to burst. Anger was not aimed towards her friend (teacher, in this instance) rather poised against the unfamiliar work before her, sheets and textbooks filled with content she should have known years ago. Intentional isolation forbade her from such intricate knowledge. The tragedy cannot be wiped away as tears threaten to spring— the only way to rid them, to save herself further embarrassment, was to bite down hard on the skin inside her mouth, a small touch of pain to keep grounded. Yet, the pages remain blurred, numbers unreadable behind the glistening in her eyes, brain unable to comprehend presented equations. She threw the pencil on the desk in an act of defiance, a statement that she was finished for the day.

"I cannot do it, Max. It's hard. I'm too stupid." She and Becky worked together to stop saying the "S" word... but Becky wasn't around to hear it, so no harm done! Gaze refused to return to the girl beside her in fear there'd be some kind of judgement upon her face, or worse: she'd be laughing. "I won't ever understand it. There is no point trying."

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okay, i’m so glad y’all are vibing with witch jane for her adult verse, because i have always loved the idea. with her powers becoming more organic over time rather than science based, as she learns to heal / her abilities becoming a part of her rather than a burden she has to carry. but i always thought it might have been a bit of a stretch (i know we say fuck canon in this household, but i still didn’t feel right about it for some reason). but now that y’all are voting for that i am definitely gonna use that as my default adult verse! thinking very heavily about miss ives having a bohemian / hippie aesthetic in her late twenties today. i just think it’s what she deserves. <3

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hey besties!!! i am conflicted about which adult verse i should make default for jane's timeline!! this or this??