A Shadamy Zine : A passion project dedicated for the bond of Shadow the Hedgehog and Amy Rose. Coming soon!
pfp by @deadrabbithq
Banner by @nodulemodule
We are beyond happy to announce that the wait is over. The Shadamy zine 'Under the Light of the Moon' is finally here! Given we've had the privilege to collaborate with so many talented artists and writers, we have no doubt you will enjoy the zine.
Within two days from now, individual contributors will start posting their pieces. Please look forward to them and give them lots of love - they deserve it! Thank you so much for your interest in our zine. Enjoy and until the next one!
Please be sure to read the disclaimers carefully!
You can access the zine through this link or by scanning the QR code in the image below. Happy reading!
Attention all passengers! The flight to the Shadamy zine is delayed due to some unforeseen illnesses in the mod team. Please stand by at our socials for further information, and accept our apologies for the delay!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
When the Anti- Amy (Rosy) strikes a deal to help the Freedom Fighters rob Scourge and his castle of a power source in the basement, she thinks it's an Anarchy Beryl. The inverse versions of the Chaos Emeralds are certainly powerful enough - But that isn't what's down there.
And what's down there is hungry.
My second submission for the 2023-2024 @shadamyzine ! This fic also contains artwork from the wonderful @mysuperlaserpiss, who did such an incredible job!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
When Rouge's birthday rolls around, Shadow enlists Amy's help to prepare the bat's one food related request. The conversation turns to birthdays and Amy surprises Shadow in more ways than one.
My submission for the 2023-2024 @shadamyzine ! This fic also contains artwork from the ever so lovely @enthusiastic-nimrod , who I am forever thankful for.
With @shadamyzine 's release, I wanted to post my personal piece for it! I had a bit of trouble with the hands and did some experimenting with their faces, but I really do love this piece, and had such a fun time working on it.
If you want more shadamy goodness, check out the zine!
And here's my written piece from the @shadamyzine! Massive thanks to @scruffiberri and @shadowsfascination for their illustrations (spot illustration by Shadows, page illustration by Scruffiberri) too! They made me so happy when I saw them, and really capture the tone of the piece so well!
I've had this sitting in my Google drive for months and I can finally share it! This is the illustration I made for the @shadamyzine that I helped Mod for!
Ok so now that the zine is out I can post the comic! Thankyou to @shadamyzine for giving me the opportunity to work on this and meet so many cool people! Please enjoy cause this took months! 🥲
Also check out the zine for all the other cool art and stories! Not just mine.
As many of you know, I had the pleasure of being a guest writer for @shadamyzine this year! You can check out my piece, "A Starry Interlude," by accessing the zine here. I will not be cross-posting to ao3 this time – I want to make sure you guys go see what everyone worked hard so hard to achieve!
I would also love to extend a huge thank you to the zine mods for all the time and effort hey put into this passion project. And the beautiful illustrations the talented pair of @nvrfearthefall and @ochako999 did definitely add so much more to my writing than I could ever hope to achieve on my own. You can enjoy their art both in the zine and at the end of this post!
As well, I owe a big and special thanks to @killingthecringe for helping me review my work and for always being one of the biggest voices of encouragement I receive when it comes to my writing.
This piece wouldn't exist without any of these wonderful people, and wouldn't exist without any of you either! Thank you for supporting me and the fics I write. Looking forward to what the rest of 2024 brings!
ANYWAY HI I'VE BEEN REALLY EXCITED TO SHARE THIS!
This is the piece I wrote and submitted for the @shadamyzine!
In fact, @deadrabbithq on tumblr did illustrations for it! They turned out awesome! alskjdflsj I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE GONNA DO THAT AND I'M SO HAPPY!!! THEY TURNED OUT GREAT <3 <3
Okay so this piece is weird. You know that Jacket Shadow has in that calendar piece? The one where ShadAmy fans, accustomed to crumbs, lost their shit because Shadow and Amy were next to one another on the calendar and had matching cherry blossom motifs and Shadow had That Fucking Cherry Blossom Jacket??? THAT JACKET??? It has a GRIP on my SOUL can you tell can you fucking TELL?????
BECAUSE THIS WHOLE PIECE- IT'S AN ABSTRACT PERSONIFICATION PIECE IN PURPLE PROSE... FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE JACKET.
(I can't find the actual official art but in lieu of that PLEASE go check out @kuroiyuki96-art amazing piece here and maybe you'll understand how I went Fucking Feral over it.)
Anyway XD
Hats of and huge thanks to @shadowsfascination and @killingthecringe! They are the ones who beta-read this!
YOU CAN READ IT ON ARCHIVE HERE! (but I REALLY recommend reading it on the Zine which you can find HERE!)
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It comes about in a slow series of moments, the act of Becoming.
Like the rain that drums its lazy fingers atop the roof of the warehouse, then the attic window, then the storage shed. It is a measured tattoo across the decades of time just as much as the footsteps of the mice, the fluttering of the moths, the creeping of the yellow across pristine white leather and gentle fading of brilliant reds.
It is moved from box to box. A game piece in the shuffling and settling of affairs. Something to be bartered and sold. It’s neat and tidy for a while. Then, a business closes. An estate liquifies. The box is suddenly adrift on tides of time and paperwork.
This Prenatal Dark seems to stretch forever, but then, it always does. That is the way of things. The Becoming cannot happen yet. The Wait must occur. It is the silence Beforehand, the Eternity predating the Infinity, and the Infinity is the Rest of Existence in Becoming.
Because eventually, there is light. Eventually, there’s a young woman who peels back the cardboard and runs her hands down unyielding buttons and a stiff wool front, and the smile she gives outshines the sun.
That’s where it starts.
Infinity unrolls in the hours she has taken to looking at the future, walking around still-creased edges thrown over her mother’s dress form. Sometimes she’s sketching on scratch paper, face scrunched like all of the discarded waste around her bare feet. Sometimes, she’s holding up threads against the faded reds and yellowed whites, clicking her tongue as she checks the morning, the afternoon, the evening light against the colours of what is and the colours of what will Become.
But Infinity is a long time. Becoming is not easy, and eventually, the Becoming takes on the tune of maple seeds pelting her open bedroom window in a breeze that smells of coming summer. Meanwhile, the ground outside is littered with browning pink blossoms.
She wears it, thinking of the Past, thinking of Eternity, and she’s crying. Her tears are salty on musty cuffs.
When her mother comes in to ask what is wrong, she talks about being Late, about taking too long, about overthinking everything.
But there is never a Too Late in Becoming.
Her mother says this to her, and it can be felt in every Fiber of Being. It sinks into the Stitching of Everything, along with the salty tears, along with the heavy smell of late spring.
There’s Hope in Becoming.
She tries again. Tries harder, truly, this time. There’s a shaking in her hands against the flat of red wool as she traces her twirling thoughts out in soft chalk against the wide expanse of space, Immortalized as a part of the Becoming, taking form one stitch at a time across Being.
Her Learning Hands guide the Change, to a point.
Some things, they happen Intentionally, with Purpose. Some things, they happen by chance. Perhaps they could be called Accidents, but she has Learning Hands. She leaves no Accidents.
She adapts, and just like the branches she stitches, she Grows.
There are no silken threads. They are solid quilting threads, this shape of Becoming that spreads out between her fingers. From limb, to branch, to twig. From each petal, stamen, anther. They are built to last with a Heart that wields Love like a hammer.
Sturdy. Strong. Real.
There’s mass to that sort of Love. It sits in the chest and in the palms of hands as a comfortable weight. It solidifies the Infinity of Becoming in a way nothing else can.
It rests astride the shoulders like a set of warm hands.
It says, ‘Become whatever it is you will to Become. I will Love you anyway.’
And so, such things happen.
And eventually, they are Blooming with so much Becoming that they put the spring outside to shame. Gilded in brilliant Colour and Texture, they are so Full that they threaten to burst from it. When she wears them outside one day when the world is Pristine and Still under moonlight, they blister like a solar flare against the white.
And she’s whispering. It’s the darkest night of the year, here out in the cold, and she’s whispering into the cuffs.
“You will take care of them.”
She keeps repeating, gripping them tight in her hands as she holds them to her mouth. She keeps repeating with her eyes wide on the moon, watching the movements of something that cannot be seen. She keeps repeating. It’s something between a hope and a wish and a threat.
“You WILL take care of them.”
And it’s Love.
Love. It’s all Love. That’s all it ever was, the all of it, the everything, of Love. It makes so much sense now, the Everything of it All.
It rings in the still silence of deep winter. It shakes the snow from distant trees and sends the night birds into the sky.
But then, there is more Wait.
And it is a long Wait.
So busy and bustling was the Becoming that they had almost forgotten the Waiting part of it all. But there’s a Fear that must be thawed out.
It could almost be missed, but it is there, slow-moving in deep waters, far below where the sunny disposition shines. It is there and it drifts but slowly, all husk and tatters and old wounds. It takes a long time before bravery can thaw those waters. There are many talks over the kitchen table. There are many hours of baking in the kitchen, of turning the eggs into frothy whites, stiff as snow drifts.
She wears her Effort and her Love through it all, as though her own Becoming takes place from the outside in, but that’s not how this works. It has to come from inside first. That’s one of the core tenets of Becoming.
Nobody can Become for you. You have to Become for you.
The Planning, the Stitching, the Waiting. Maybe they were the acts into which she thrust herself, threw herself upon the task, but the Becoming still happened on the inside of all of that.
For every Action, there is an equal and opposite Reaction.
For in your path of Creation, you Become.
Snow drifts melt. Spring is brave.
All the world comes into a dawn of oranges and pinks and baby greens, all dig deep down one last time before leaping up, like a heart in a throat, like a pitched voice, like a question, like a-
She never Plans when she holds her Heart out, not really. It’s just the brute force of her thrust forward, stitched there in red wool, where each thread rises like a crocus from the frozen ground. What is done cannot be taken back.
You cannot un-Become.
The Still that follows is deafening. The Waiting of an instant feels like a lifetime, a cable of steel splitting it down the seam between their wide and watchful eyes.
And for all their winter, for all their waiting in the silence, in an instant, it becomes so clear-
Of course they Love her.
Love her, Love her, for she is Becoming, as they are Becoming.
And it gilds the shoulders, protects the back and arms, shields the heart by splitting it wide open down the forward facing front, towards the sunrise, towards her bright and shining eyes.
