#and i want it to be actually good

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Shadowstruck: Chapter One

The room had too many shadows. They filled the corners of Mama’s sick room, where heavy velvet curtains blocked the noise of passing carriages. They stretched from her bedposts, from the doctor’s medicines and instruments sitting next to the kerosene lamp on her bedside table. Sometimes one looked alarmingly human-shaped, and Clara feared the worst, until she saw the faint flickering heartlight around Mama’s form.

Mama’s heartlight, usually a bright, cheerful yellow, had faded to the color of old paper, barely visible in that dim room. Clara’s heartlight, as always, matched it to a shade, which made her feel like she was dying, too.

In Clara’s twelve years of life, she could barely remember spending more than an hour away from her mother. Mama had been her playmate, her caretaker, her teacher, her greatest friend.

Clara held Mama’s hand between both of hers, trying to rub some warmth into the cold fingers. Suddenly, Mama’s heartlight flared like a camera bulb. Her eyes flew open and she clutched at Clara’s arms. “Jeff!” she cried, as if watching him drown. “Jeff!”

Dr. Chambers' nurse rushed from her shadowed corner to Mama’s bedside; her comforting lavender heartlight glowed faintly around Mama’s head as she tried to calm her. “Your husband is well, Mrs. Lynwood. You should rest.”

Mama pushed away the nurse’s hands. “Where’s Jeff? I must speak to him!”

Neither Clara nor the nurse could quiet her, so at last the nurse called for the shade.

The boy--who seemed to be a year or two younger than Clara--looked pale and harmless, but he gave Clara the shivers. Papa didn't keep any shades--had never let any in the house until the nurse insisted she needed the extra hands--so this one, casting a shadow instead of a heartlight, looked like an unnatural intruder in this civilized room.

The nurse ordered the shade to fetch Papa from the Senate. The moment he left the room, Mama fell back against the pillows, exhausted.

Clara shuddered as the boy's long, black shadow slithered down the hallway before him. “Papa won’t come with a shade,” she said.

“He’ll come for your mother,” the nurse replied.

And the nurse was right. Papa burst into the room minutes later, the black sash of his senatorial robe still waving behind him, his orange heartlight as strong and vibrant as he was.

Jefferson Lynwood looked nothing like a famed, formidable senator as he rushed to kneel beside his wife's bed.

“I’m here, Minna!” he said, taking her hand.

Mama’s heartlight was dimmer than Clara had ever seen it, but her eyes were wide open and her whisper was strong. “Promise me, Jeff. No matter what happens, promise me you will care for Clara.”

Papa cast a quizzical glance at Clara. Clara didn’t understand it any more than he did. She was much younger than her brothers, and Papa stayed busy with senatorial work, but he was still as fond a father as she could ask for.

“Of course I will, darling,” Papa soothed. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Mama gripped his shoulders and looked into his face. “No matter what happens,” she insisted. “Promise me you will care for her as your daughter.”

“I would never do anything less.”

“Swear it!”

“I swear it, Minna, on my own right hand.”

Mama fell back against her pillows, satisfied. She was asleep within moments.

Papa shared a look with Clara. “Do you understand it, Clara?” His mustache twitched. “Has she given you reason to think you’re not--”

“No. Never.”

Papa shook his head. “Probably raving. Chambers warned me that might happen, near the end.” Papa scowled back at the doorway. “Probably comes of being around shades. I told Chambers I didn’t want those creatures near her!”

Clara had heard all his lectures about the dangers of shades—how they were soulless, shadow-casting creatures who fed off the heartlights of humans. Shades looked human-shaped to Clara, and Mama urged her to treat them with respect, but she never argued with Papa. Right now, Clara wasn’t sure she wanted to. The doctor kept a few shades as house slaves like most people did; Clara hadn’t thought anything of it when he left one to assist the nurse, but what if they were what kept Mama from getting well? The doctor had said that he couldn’t understand why she was fading—she should easily have been able to easily overcome this cold.

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither Clara nor Papa left Mama’s side. Mama never opened her eyes. Her breathing became harsher, but none of the nurse’s medicines helped. Sometimes she stopped breathing for almost a minute, but the continued glow of her heartlight assured Clara she yet lived.

Clara cried—she couldn’t help it. Sometimes Papa did, too. They both loved Mama. Without her, what would their little family become?

At last, Mama gasped, gave one last deep breath—then stopped. Her face went still and icy white. Her heartlight went out like a snuffed candle.

At the exact same moment, so did Clara’s. Her yellow heartlight—the comforting ever-present glow that was her—disappeared.

On the wall, black and menacing in the light of the kerosene lamp, stretched her shadow.

It looked exactly like a shade’s.

[carlyraejepsans]

tragic! trans person no longer merely tolerating the act of existing just now realising their entire wardrobe is ass

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[wardensantoineandevka]

is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

[lesbian-disaster-academic]

i used to be so good at writing strong, thoroughly-researched, thoroughly-edited essays.

as a kid in hs, my teacher literally came up to me, holding my 40 page essay on the intersection of the European witch hunts and capitalism/exploitation/gender roles (it was supposed to be 7 pages...whoops) and went like "this is literally a master's-degree level thesis. what are you doing?? you could literally use this as your final dissertation in a master's program, what the fuck."

NOW??? NOW?? you'd think I'd be oh so skilled. but alas. i can barely piece together two ideas. adhd skill-regression is so so real. im SOBBING

[katsinspats]

I think my copy of the game is broken they've been doing this for 30 minutes

Crop of the Biolizard edit I did bc it makes me laugh:

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

do you even remember the lives that you threw away like trash

continuation of this

[abandoned-quiche]

I LOVE ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS BTW. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR HATE FOR THEM ON MY POST

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[bogkeep]

there's something so deeply dystopian to me how tech companies don't understand that a forced convenience is not a convenience at all. i'm sure autocorrect is helpful for many, but a function that forcibly changes my actual written words and punctuation is taking away my language. photo filters can be nice but i need to choose using them myself or else i have lost the ability to take the picture i want. i don't want a machine to draw or write for me. taking away the option for me to do things manually feels like violence!!!! all this talk of endless opportunity, why are you RESTRICTING me

[noodles-and-tea]

Redrew a comic from AGES ago

[humming-fly]

was anyone gonna tell me shadow saved rouge's life in sa2 or was I just supposed to find that out playing the game myself

(this worked out as a rather fitting closer for the Final Day in Year of Shadow haha, hope ya'll have a fun new year! 🎉🎉🎉)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The peach tree beams so red, How brilliant are its flowers!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[chloesimaginationthings]

Man this scene in FNAF 2 movie is gonna be wild-

[ink-the-artist]

Video game I saw in a dream. It was in this low poly style like an older video game. You play as this character I think was meant to be a lamb, or maybe a weird mix of a lamb a mouse and a rabbit, (while not really looking like any of those things) and you’re running away from a wolf. Your objective is to last as long as possible before the wolf catches and eats you.

The house you’re running in is endless and bizarrely put together like most building interiors in dreams are (like the infinite toilet dream dimension on Reddit lol) the layout of the house is pretty detailed, you can stop and hide in places like closets or bins while the wolf looks for you, you can go up and down stairs and into rooms etc.

You never actually know where the wolf is or how close it is to you until it appears in your line of sight, it makes no noise and the game gives you no way of knowing where it is, and it’s pretty unpredictable it doesnt move at a consistent pace. When the wolf catches you there’s an animation showing it eating your character

[bean-spring]

Hot take and not to be a killjoy or the shipping police but people treating Viktor or Jinx's aroace headcanons as if they were canon is not the revolutionary take people think it is.

Headcanons are always all right but we have to acknowledge that they are somehow damaging when they apply to stereotypes. It might not be the case for everyone but most of the time people unconsciously assume that disability/mental illness=asexuality. These headcanons erase the freedom of attraction from people who are already seen as unable to have sexual/romantic experiences/desires, when it's completely untrue and harmful.

You can headcanon Viktor and Jinx as aroace, but I have seen people changing their minds once Viktor is no longer disabled (s2 with all of his other forms) and Jinx is no longer as mentally ill (alternate universe Powder). And it speaks wonders of how people see these characters.

"I never thought about Jinx being able to feel romantic/sexual attraction until s2!" To believe she's actually only capable of that when she's not "damaged" is incredibly disturbing. Especially since Jinx has always had a bit of a flirty personality too.

"I've always seen Viktor as asexual, I don't know why!" That's fine. You can headcanon him as ace. But I believe there is a reason behind it, most of the time, if for some inexplicable reason the "vibes" of the disabled character are making you think he's ace.

I say all of this being aroaspec myself, by the way. Headcanon all you want but going to people's posts commenting how "it's weird for you that they have romantic/sexual plots when they're clearly aroace" is not a win at all. It's a headcanon, after all, and it should be treated as such, and that's fine. But it also is damaging to spread stereotypes like these.

Of course the disabled character is asexual. Of course the mentally ill character is aromantic. It's not as revolutionary as you might think, tbh.

Fandom is not activism and it's all right to have any headcanons you want BUT some of them are filled with damaging stuff and perhaps we should look into ourselves more before treating these assumptions as something canon.