#Unseen Shadows

[chernobog13]

Unseen Shadows, a portfolio of 50 cover concepts by Jim Steranko for paperbacks featuring The Shadow.

[alexturner2005]

The Last Shadow Puppets at Shangri-La Studios By Zackery Michael, 2015

[bisexuallycanthrope]

Like shadows in the night

Completely unseen

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

The Unseen (Lewis Allen, 1945)

[shisasan]

by Zoltán Boros & Gabor Szikszai

[adam-trademark]

Bell Demon's Temple

(April 13, 2019)

[bladesoflightandshadow]

rereading blades and still so upset they introduced mal as tall. you are full of shit if you believe that man is any taller than 5'7 on his best day on tippy toes

[bougonia]

ok I'm not saying that if nandermo doesn't happen its queerbaiting because I feel like it's genuinely not but I will say that it would be the closest thing to queerbaiting in recent years. vibes wise.

[thylionheart]

Ah yes, the 4 Silver Sisters: Artemis, Melinoë, Hermes, and Charon

[astral-crescent-gaming]

These moments were everything, to me. . . (both he/him)

Happy Birthday, @zglitch.

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I cannot afford my medication or surgery: -> Ko-Fi | PayPal | Art Shop | Aether Adoptable

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Genshin Impact muse list #3||

Lyney (Genshin Impact)

Lynette (Genshin Impact)

Freminet (Genshin Impact)

Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact)

[im-all-out-of-ideas]

just binged the majority of the idw storylines for sonic the hedgehog

it's peak you guys it's so peak archie could never

[sunnyanddumb98]

ODE TO SOFIA

Sofia sits to my left in the office. It is big, but we crumple. That makes us close, at least in distance.

Sofia likes horror and dresses in full black. Her favorite color is pink, she hates yellow because it’s too bright, too happy, leaves no space for much else.

I really admire her. She is an enthusiast for cooking and reading, collecting figurines, and making perfect gifts: baskets with your favorite character plushie, sewn by hand. She sends you a birthday cake to your new apartment in Japan. She is considerate and remembers everything I say.

Sofia is violent. She tells the truth. Diplomacy exhausts her; she wants more. She is angry at people she has never met. She is happy when someone expresses their rage.

When I think about her, the sound of my sister’s giggles comes to mind, in the backseat of my parents’ car, listening to Mr. Jones by Sui Generis for the first time.

She likes gore and blood, but she rejects the passive violence of societal expectations. Day to day, she fears the real horrors of self-destructive, evasive methods. She is soft and sweet.

She is critical thinking skills, getting kicked out of class for laughing way too hard. The pride of growing up when no one is watching. Learning something basic as a full-grown adult, in a quiet street on a Wednesday morning. all alone.

It is the strength you need to protect your identity. It is showing your new sneakers to everyone. Forehead kisses to say goodbye to your friends. Going shopping in pajamas for fresh morning bread. It is the wonderful thing we find in the dark, hidden away from the horrors of the light and polite.

Catching a complicit smile at a funeral. The catharsis after breaking your favorite vase. Spending your last penny on a mistake. The friendship I form with my paralysis demon. A scared kid ready to attack. A tale, a hug, a cookie, and we both say good nigth.

The moment you are forgiven after screaming. Being loved after being wrong, mistaken. The comprehension only a child has: to cry over the doomed one— the serial killer and the rapist, the goner — not for their imminent death, but for prohibiting themselves a slow day, a warm afternoon in bed, tea, toast, and a good book to read.

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: The Lesser of Two (1.7, Thames, 1971)

"You don't understand, do you, you never did. People round here -"

"People! People are stupid."

"No, they're not, they're ordinary, they're just simple people."

[shisasan]

Twin Tribes - Monolith

[ladylilis]

I found myself, at its bidding, scrutinising the shadowy corners of the room, but there was nothing there, and all the time some strange darkness, blacker than that which pressed in upon the house, began to grow upon my spirit.

E.F. Benson, The Temple, from Circles of Stone: Weird Tales of Pagan Sites and Ancient Rites