𝔐𝘐𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 ₁₉₇₀

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝓢𝙰𝙵𝙴 ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 ₒ͟𝔣͟ ͟ₜ͟ₕ͟ₑ ꓘꓛⱯꓶꓭ 𝕳𝐀𝐍𝐃 ⸻

[shadowedvales-bye]

NO! I CAN DO IT ... a private, independent writing blog for janessa alexandra ives of netflix's stranger things. i am extremely critical of the source material, and tend to take canon inspiration primarily from the first two seasons. please note that reading my carrd is vital if you wish to interact. i also rely heavily on crossover verses, personal headcanons, and major divergences for interactions. cherished by frankie! a twenty five year old lesbian who uses she/her pronouns. * UNLIKELY TO FOLLOW ANYONE IN THE STRPC FIRST.

⤷  ゛ CARRD. PROMPTS. PINTEREST. SIDEBLOG. UPSIDE DOWN REWRITE.

Visit Original Link

AN EXPLORATION WITHIN : girlhood vs. godhood, cursed from the womb, you have your mothers eyes and her grief, the fate of the world resting atop your shoulders, going and finding home, love can indeed save you, cracked reflections, understanding your roots + acknowledging your past while fighting for your future.

jonathan byers sideblog. terry ives sideblog. multi muse blog.

pinned and album graphic made by the wonderful prayreturn!

mains, exclusives and affiliates in my carrd!

[shadowedvales-bye]

hi!!! jane is now on @shadowedvales 🖤 absolutely no pressure to follow! she’s still under major construction but just wanted to set her up a lil while i hang out at the airport. i’m also on @dragnese! logging out of this blog now and will catch u on the flip side!

[shadowedvales-bye]

hi!!! jane is now on @shadowedvales 🖤 absolutely no pressure to follow! she’s still under major construction but just wanted to set her up a lil while i hang out at the airport. i’m also on @dragnese! logging out of this blog now and will catch u on the flip side!

[shadowedvales-bye]

hi!!! jane is now on @shadowedvales 🖤 absolutely no pressure to follow! she’s still under major construction but just wanted to set her up a lil while i hang out at the airport. i’m also on @dragnese! logging out of this blog now and will catch u on the flip side!

[shadowedvales-bye]

this blog is officially archived. i won’t be moving anything from my drafts over, except for some select threads. i will message you to ask if you’re okay with me keeping said threads, and if so, will reply in the next few weeks! if there is a particular thread you would like to keep, feel free to let me know and i can definitely reply to it! it’s going to be a low key, plotting based writing blog, the way this blog was before i let myself fall back into the stranger things hype lmao.

[shadowedvales-bye]

hey guys! this blog is going on a two week hiatus as i am going on vacation with my family— we are flying out tomorrow!! i obviously won’t get any writing done during that time, but y’all are welcome to add me on discord if you’d like to chat while i’m away. hope everyone has a fantastic two weeks and i’ll see you when i get back!

discord handle: buttonhouse

[paralyziingfears]

the  club  had  been  quietly  lately  because  of  the  rumblings  that  have  shaken  the  supernatural  world.  only  a  few  demons  occupied  the  space.  a  couple  at  a  table  enjoying  their  strange  specialty  drinks,  one  singing  a  sad  song  in  a  deaf-tone  pitch,  and  then  there  was  lorne  sitting  at  the  bar  with  his  favorite  glass  of  seabreeze.  when  @shadowedvales  had  decided  to  come  take  a  visit,  he  wondered  if  she  wanted  to  be  guided  on  the  right  path  or  if  she  was  just  looking  for  a  place  to  hide  her  face  even  only  for  awhile.  he  had  slid  her  a  virgin  pina  colada  and  offered  a  friendly  smile  with  his  crimson  red  eyes.  ❛  bad  day,  sweetie  ?  ❜  he  asked,  noticing  how  her  face  has  fallen.

i’ve  been  having  a  bad  day  for  the  past  several  years.

a  soft,  kind  laugh  emits  from  the  green  demon's  lips  and  he  shakes  his  head,  ❛  oh,  kitten,  haven't  we  all  ?  this  world  isn't  made  for  kind  folk  like  you  and  me.  and  if  you're  green  ?  phew,  good  luck,  ❜  he  joked,  hoping  to  lighten  her  mood  even  if  only  slightly.  ❛  what's  your  name  ?  everyone  comes  to  the  caritas  looking  for  a  little  guidance  and  i  can't  help  if  i  don't  know  your  name.  ❜

[shadowedvales-bye]

los angeles did not breathe the same as hawkins. hawkins exhaled cornfields and cicadas, a humid hush stitched with telephone wires and secrets. los angeles inhaled smoke, and spat out starlight⸺ it glittered bright, like a smile with too many teeth. the air tasted metallic, restless... even the shadows felt crowded. THE LONELY CITY PRESSED AT JANE FROM EVERY CONCEIVABLE ANGLE: billboards like watching eyes; traffic snarling with endless impatience; palm trees lifting their fronds like indifferent hands. she left kali and the others with certainty clenched in her jaw. she would not exhume vengeance. she won't become what the world expected. said certainty wilted quickly under california sunshine.

when she uncovered the narrow doorway tucked between louder lights, it was like a sign from above. the glow of the signage trembled like a heartbeat, steady but unassuming. upon descending the stairs, she found the harshness of her predicament softened with each step. AND WHAT A SIGHT MET HER ARRIVAL! creatures of all kind sharing drinks, laughing, swapping stories; it's warm, a relieved escape from the bitter bites outside. a man onstage, broad-shouldered and earnest, sings off-key into a microphone like confessing a secret to the room, and no one seemed to mind. it was not a place which demanded perfection. SHE LIKED IT. although feeling extraordinarily misplaced, she slides onto a stool at the bar (more so, hops on it) and contemplates her next move. she comes up empty at every turn.

should she return to her small town? to the soft, complicated love waiting? or find becky, knock on a strangers door with blood in her history and hope in her future? she feels she's betrayed every version of herself⸺ the girl who needed family, the girl who wanted justice, the girl who deserved to be angry... THIS CITY NEVER ANSWERS HER CALLS. IT JUST CONTINUES SHIMMERING WITH THAT FALSE CHARM.

a slid drink across the counter breaks her from suffocating thoughts, followed by a pleasant grin and encouraging word. before her stands a figure both impossible and radiant⸺ skin green as new leaves, horns sweeping elegantly from temples, smile brilliant and theatrical. his presence doesn't startle her. after laboratories and monsters, gentleness in strange shapes is welcome. "oh. thank you. but i... i have no money." there's no second to consider pushing the beverage back, as his way of speaking immediately uplifts previously fallen features, utterly bewitched by his mannerisms and seemingly gentle soul. "you are right. the world is bad. very bad. it should be nicer." for the first time, she did not feel entirely adrift.

"ele⸺" not anymore! "jane." she corrects. "janessa alexandra ives." she says proudly, with squared shoulders and expressive eyes. it's only been four days since discovering her true identity, a name instead of a number, and how it delights her! though it'll take some getting used to. (jane is nothing but a good judge of character. she knows almost immediately he can be trusted with her dire secrets.) brows furrow as his words seep in, and she can't help but be intrigued⸺ quite clear in how she inches in closer, elbows now fully on the table. "g-guidance? you help people?" excitement bursts in her stomach, but she does her best to conceal it, not wanting to appear especially eager. "you will... help me?" a single brow raises, "how?"

[notmorbid]

mask of the deer woman.

dialogue prompts from mask of the deer woman by laurie l. dove.

my _____ is missing.

who else do i tell?

you look like you don't even believe me.

fear makes people unpredictable.

why wouldn't you want to get away?

so much for a warm welcome.

whatever gets you through.

you gonna give disrespect to me?

you've played your part to perfection.

your dad was a real son of a bitch, you know that?

were you there when _____ died?

_____ was my best friend, once.

enforcing the law and carrying out justice are very different things.

i'm not from around here. you?

waking up is still the worst part.

despair is better than feeling nothing, i suppose.

i don't need any of that weird shit today.

come. let me tell you a story.

danger doesn't always look like a wolf.

it's a little early to panic.

good to know you're still a call away.

been a minute. been a hot minute. been a lot of minutes.

so how are you, really?

nobody takes a job here unless they're desperate, delusional, or both.

you feeling alright? tell me what's going on.

i'm positively a ray of sunshine.

i've never liked surprises.

it's not that i like secrets, but i do find them necessary.

it feels like too much joy, all at once.

i knew, after a while, that i had to do something with that anger.

anything to escape that pain, right?

what do you think young people do, if they have no hope?

sometimes you don't really know a place until you leave it.

i've got one of those faces, i guess.

questions aren't something i'm too fond of.

you're trying to close the barn door after the horses are out.

who even smokes anymore? gross.

if it's important to you, it's important to me.

there is always more information than you think there is.

you got something to tell me?

i may have come on a little strong.

don't you ever go to school?

trust the fear. it will save your life.

you can't pour from an empty vessel.

you don't know what i've done to get this far.

whoa, slow down. you're hurt.

no one will ever believe me, but i don't care.

you don't have someone to drive you?

[f1stsarc]

𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐓! 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐓! 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐓! 𝐃𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄 ── 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊. the academy gymnasium is notably desolate aside from one; sometimes that was all it ever needed to make all the noise in the world. the air, permanently stained with a bouquet of stale teenage grit, beats like a heart. methodical thuds of fist-against-synthetic-leather as the lone occupant busies her hands by pounding away at a punching bag beat a war-drum tune which would be heard from outside the doors. even in her youth, she was always practicing for a fight.

the sweat of her labours was beading off pale skin [ ... ] her steely grey eyes are narrowed with focus. DEARLY BELOVED GUARD DOG, MEET NEVERMORE'S NEWEST OUTCAST. at first, she doesn't even hear @shadowedvales enter.

( too lost in your own world, ) ( too deafened to the approach of a young girl's tread over lacquered floor because she barely made a sound. )

but when lane does realize she was no longer alone in her own company, her attention diverts immediately. she smiles apologetically into one side of her mouth, and wipes the sweat from her brow on her shoulder as she catches the still swinging bag between both hands without even having to look at it. bracing it strongly until it's still, before it hits her back right in the side of the face.

❛ ────it's elle, right? [ ... ] vi. uh- wait.. sorry. call me mx. lane. strictly speaking, i don't exactly insist on titles unless principal weems is around. she's a stickler about that sort of thing. you probably noticed that too, huh? ❜ a puff of red-faced breath. another drag of her hand across her face. ❛ c'mon in. i was just passing the time until you got here. ❜

[shadowedvales-bye]

eleven stands outside the doorway, fragile form dwarfed by the vastness of the open space, seemingly insignificant in the face of the looming gymnasium. the woman currently inside is magnetic; the air bends at her every move and demand. clean strikes against the punching bag are hypnotic, a seamless dance of power and precision. it shudders under each blow, as if it, too, is aware of the raw strength coming with every strike. the child watches longer than intended, wide-eyed, as fists move like lightning. she seems to be someone whose entire existence demands respect, posture an embodiment of overcoming adversity, resilience forged in the crucible of hardship. yet, there's more to behold... a tenderness beneath rough edges perhaps, a vulnerability only those who knew her truly understood.

BUT ELLE DOESN'T KNOW HER YET⸺ JUST KNOWS THAT SHE FEELS BOTH SMALL AND OVERWHELMED IN HER PRESENCE. the unfamiliar voice breaks the quiet rhythm of the room, gaze catching eleven's as she shifts awkwardly on her feet, silently deciding whether to enter, or retreat into the familiar, comfortable shadows. she nods plainly, then quickly realises she needs to speak, "elle. yes." not a number. never again. "mx. lane. pretty. i will call you mx. lane. you are a teacher." the sincerity in vi's tone makes her feel a little lighter, as if the weight she carried for so long, the pressure of her past, wasn't pressing quite as heavily upon her chest. she glances down at the floor, unsure if she could do this, but something within her stirs. she can't help but smile at the innocent poke at her principal, ease vastly growing.

"i... uh... don't know why i am here. or what miss weems said." she drags herself inwards, closer; she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and tries to evoke some essence of confidence. SHE'S NOT VERY CONVINCING. "she says... i must be stronger. heh - healthier? i don't understand what she means."

[wizardslays]

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.   @shadowedvales!   ˎˊ˗

“   jane !   ”     THE  BLANKET  OF  NEWLY  FALLEN  SNOW  CRUNCHES  UNDERFOOT,   stirring  up  a  flurry  from  your  boots  as  you  trudge  over  to  her,   the  frost  nipping  at  your  nose  as  a  gust  rolls  in  through  the  crisp,   wintry  air.   for  the  first  time  in  months,   your  hometown  doesn’t  reek  of  smoke  and  decay.   there’s  a  reprieve  amidst  the  chaos  that  feels  foreign  in  the  face  of  the  literal  apocalypse ;   however,   the  bubbling  laughter  of  your  friends  playing  in  this  winter  wonderland  eases  some  of  the  tension  that’s  been  burdening  your  shoulders  since  your  return  from  lenora.   maybe,   if  only  for  today     (   THE  FIRST  WHITE  CHRISTMAS  THIS  TOWN  HAS  SEEN  IN  YEARS   ),     you  can  allow  yourself  to  indulge  in  its  whimsy,   too.   the  smile  touching  blotchy  cheeks  is  genuine  as  you  swipe  at  the  flakes  that  are  caught  in  your  bangs,   teeth  chattering  as  you  let  out  a  frosty  breath.     “   wanna  help  me  build  a  snowman ?   ”

⤷ ゛starter  call.   accepting.

[shadowedvales-bye]

snow has a way of lying. it appears soft at first glance, each flake a beautiful hush pressed to the mouth of the world. it successfully buries ancient scars: cracks in sidewalks, memories of guns and sirens, roads and paths once stained red— both beautiful and terrifying, a paradox of purity holding a dark secret. it makes even the ugliest things appear gentle. the sky drapes in a rich pearl shade, as endless rows of trees bow beneath crystal mantles like patient saints... AND HAWKINS, FOR ONCE, IS STUNNING. SOMETHING STRAIGHT FROM A WONDERFUL DREAM. however, jane's fingers do nothing but ache when the weather turns, a deep, remembering pain living stubbornly beneath the skin. she flexes them, feeling the way scars pull tight along her knuckles, frostbitten pads still faintly mottled, betraying her when the chill sets in. winter had not been kind to her. it swallowed sound and direction, pressed into her lungs; it taught her what it meant to be lost in a place where the bad crept in with infinite patience.

this remarkable thief that steals warmth, leaving behind nothing but frozen silence, masking dangers in an illusion of soft perfection... if she didn't have will byers acting as a guiding light, she would not have left the comforts of her bedroom. SHE TRUSTS IN HIS ABILITY TO LET HER EXPERIENCE SOMETHING FROM A BRAND NEW PERSPECTIVE. "yes! sounds fun." janessa practically skips in the white, prepared for the procedure ahead. she follows his gaze carefully, observes the flakes catching in will's dark hair, melting there, then quickly vanishing. he doesn't flinch like she does; he stands tall, even smiles in this little town that stole everything. he offers an open palm instead of a clenched fist. she doesn't know how he manages it. "i never made one before. what happens first?" she pulls her gloves a tad tighter, adjusts the beanie on her head, and awaits important instructions. today belongs to shared scarves and red noses; laughter puffing into the air; to fear loosening its grip as someone stands beside you and says: I'M HERE, I'LL KEEP YOU WARM. "need carrots? for his nose?"

[shadowedvales-bye]

stupid is the harshest word in jane’s entire vocabulary. she doesn’t understand what’s wrong with general cussing (fuck, shit, etc) but if she ever calls herself, or someone else, stupid, then you know it’s serious. she has a tendency to call herself stupid, especially after starting school— being someone who learns from the world around her, and mimics, she is called this more often than not by peers in her classes, and soon begins to believe it’s true. she doesn’t understand that she is actually very clever, merely expresses it in different ways. becky begins a swear jar in their home after jane gets into the habit of calling herself stupid, particularly if she can’t complete homework, or is stuck on a task that anyone else her age could easily accomplish. jane must deposit a whopping $5 every time she says this, and overtime it starts to derail the use of the word. becky even asks jane’s friends to report back if they overhear her say this when she isn’t around. at first, jane feels betrayed when they respect her aunts wishes, but soon comes to realise how bad the word is, and (not only thinking about the pocket money she’s losing) tries her best to stop. if her friends think it’s bad too, then she trusts their opinions. through this, she begins to learn patience in school, particularly in areas such as homework or assessments— if she doesn’t understand a question right away, it doesn’t mean she’ll never understand it! and it certainly isn’t an indication of her cleverness. she learns that it’s okay to not have all the answers immediately, and that other kids her age actually struggle, too. sometimes she’ll revert back to saying it, but quickly follows up with an apology, finally understanding how detrimental it is to her growth to fall back into bad habits.

[shadowedvales-bye]

so. i’ve ordered myself a brand new ds lite (i tried turning mine on a few days ago but the battery was totally gone), because i want to play nintendogs again!! i miss my doggies. but it’s got me thinking about jane with a ds, specifically playing games like nintendogs and you just know she’d fuckin love those dogs. she’d never be able to part with any of them. she’d cry when she has to put one in a shelter because you can only home three in the living room at one time. she’d make sure everyone always got even time in the main house and never spent too long in the shelters.

[shadowedvales-bye]

adding on to this. now i’m actually thinking about things like ds’s and arcade games and all that being so good for jane in terms of the limited mobility in her right hand. (the month she spent out in the snow, three fingers completely rotted from frostbite and are more or less immobile now.) constantly using her hand to press buttons and move sticks. and playing on a ds, using the stylus - something very small that she’d have to really wrap her fingers around - on tap-screen games like nintendogs…. it would actually be like her own little version of physical therapy. she’s extremely self conscious about that hand, so never really gets proper help for it. but it’s the whole… something she finds joy in slowly helping her gain back the use of that hand…. do u see the vision?

[shadowedvales-bye]

so. i’ve ordered myself a brand new ds lite (i tried turning mine on a few days ago but the battery was totally gone), because i want to play nintendogs again!! i miss my doggies. but it’s got me thinking about jane with a ds, specifically playing games like nintendogs and you just know she’d fuckin love those dogs. she’d never be able to part with any of them. she’d cry when she has to put one in a shelter because you can only home three in the living room at one time. she’d make sure everyone always got even time in the main house and never spent too long in the shelters.

[paralyziingfears]

they  had  gotten  on  the  wrong  foot  when  they  first  met.  when  lilah  had  caught  wind  of  someone  like  jane,  someone  that  could  be  a  potentially  powerful  weapon  if  allied  with  wolfram  and  hart,  she  had  no  hesitation  in  trying  to  swoop  her  up.  of  course  angel  and  his  band  of  do-gooders  got  to  her  first  and  corrupted  her  with  a  sense  of  goodness.  ugh,  how  annoying.  but,  now  @shadowedvales  had  come  to  her  in  desperate  help  to  get  any  information  she  could  on  portal  jumping  and  dimensions   —   to  help  cordelia  get  back.  why  the  hell  would  she  ever  help  get  her  back?  but,  when  lilah  had  pondered  a  little  further,  she  realized  she  could  use  this  little  favor  to  her  advantage.

so,  lilah  had  given  her  a  few  rare  texts  that  only  wolfram  and  hart  had  their  hands  on.  ❛  well,  here  it  is,  all  the  latest  on  the  fancy  portals  your  people  need  to  get  your  precious  cordelia  back,  ❜  she  stated,  sliding  the  texts  to  her  across  her  desk.

don't  think  this  changes  anything  between  us.

a  soft  laugh  escapes  lilah's  lips,  ❛  i  didn't  think  they  would,  ❜  she  first  responded,  arms  folded  over  her  chest  delicately.  ❛  but,  since  i  scratched  your  back,  you  can  scratch  my  back  ...  everything  comes  with  a  price,  jane,  ❜  and  then  she  places  a  protective  hand  on  top  of  the  texts,  a  single  brow  raised  inquisitively  with  an  accompanying  smirk.

[shadowedvales-bye]

THE IDEA HIT HER LIKE A BOLT OF LIGHTNING. they needed aid from someone who walked the fine line between resilience and power, who danced on the precipice of moral ambiguity. jane suggested her plan to the entire crew, but rejection immediately followed. (she's too dangerous. you shouldn't be anywhere near wolfram & hart, they argued. like ives hadn't been in constant danger ever since she was ripped from her mother's womb.) however, if angel investigations taught her anything, it's that janessa alexandra ives is her own person, now. not eleven, not a monster⸺ she is someone who follows her own instincts, and no longer waits to be told what to do. SAID INSTINCTS TELL HER TO SEEK OUT MISS MORGAN. jane met lilah briefly, just once... there was something about the woman, the smooth confidence that dripped from every spoken syllable, which made her flesh crawl. a wolf in sheep's clothing, remarkably aware of her own darkness and willing to sell it for the right fee.

the little girl in the big city is welcomed into the law firm with open arms; no one dares look at her wrong lest she flee. but while she's treated like some prodigal child returned... it's altogether terrifying. worse than the lab. the lab was pain made concrete. needles, men with clipboards who spoke like she was a malfunctioning weapon. WOLFRAM & HART IS PAIN REFINED. polished. monetized. it doesn't need to inflict directly⸺ it lets you hurt yourself, then charges interest. (cordy would risk it for you, she reminds herself over and over.) desired texts are shielded from her reach, and jane almost rolls her eyes. she watches lilah with a keenness she can't resist; her old hollywood face indeed a sight to behold⸺ JANE HAS TO ADMIRE HER DEDICATION TO THE PART, IF NOTHING ELSE. "i know. i am not stupid." she spits, taking a step forward, closer to the books resting under perfectly manicured fingers, showing she is not afraid. "nothing good is free."

wolfram & hart presses in tight around her; its black walls listen, record, catalogue her presence. she imagines her name filed away underground, attached to numbers and contingency plans. the mage pulls in a breath and squares her shoulders. (she thinks of angel, carrying centuries of guilt like a second skin. how hard he fought to become something better. she thinks of herself, the monster she had once been. if i shake her hand today, do i become that creature again?) "you help save cordelia. HELP ANGEL GET HER BACK. and i pay your price." you always do. somewhere in the building, an ancient evil shifts; her name is marked on a very long iou list. arms fold stubbornly across her chest, "what do you want?"

[shanehollanderilyarozanov]

JACK WOLFE Next To Normal

[shadowedvales-bye]

once again on my the ives family are basically just the goodman family from the broadway show: next to normal. was listening to this in the car on the way to work, and it really is just further proof that dan (the father) is becky, diana, (the mother) is terry, and gabe, (the son) is jane. it actually makes me quite feral to think about.

[shadowedvales-bye]

the only mother daughter duo that ever was….