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janey jane
...::.: ...::.: ..::.: .::

Yes. Well...
So, I've got about 15 notebooks full of stuff, and I'm going to try and dump them into here.

If it says Rough, I mean it. :P

June 2006
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Birth - Vine, Eli and Poghrah Dalen

Carapace - Black gleaming; a sea of carapaces with eyes

Gelatinous Mass - Gell medium

Bones under the skin

Baby in the scull cavity

Cesarean with teeth (tied to hold in)

Stone Baby

Walking stick with hands - 5 bugladies finished

Cleaved RT

Root Thing Prey/Hunter dynamics

Medical Theater w/ Bugs and RT's

Multiple Eyes - Work on a Spider Beast

Mummified Child in Roots - Roots growing through him
5 year old lost child remains - Host/Changeling
Burst chest cavity

Mixing humans in w/ RT bones

Hunters living in a human - (initial Birth thought)

Goblins with feeding tubes hooked to a parasite on their backs

Pregnant RT w/ a knapsack of bones on her back

Bones of a dead couple and child

What happens when a Hunter dies?
Camouflage leprosy - a peeling away of layers

Elementals - Earth Air Fire Water Spirit (Western)

Grumpy Gus is: workingworking
Caterwauling: wumpscut - Christfuck

Death Rite Written for suibhne_geilt's question: "How would you dispose of my corpse?"

When you die, I shall skin you and tan your hide with your brains, and use the leather to sew a memory journal with strands of your hair spun with fine wool.Collapse )

Grumpy Gus is: chipperchipper
Caterwauling: Type O Negative - Wolf Moon (Including Zoanthropic Paranoia)

Brain dump...

Yeah, I'm tracking down my many odd journals. this is Journal #4 of 8. ::sigh::

and I need to get a client so I can update all of them more.

I have several notebooks and half my brain to dump into here. All entries will be backdated to save people who have forgotten about me's flists. and to give me the illusion that I'm not writing for an audience.

I ::might:: make a Jane's Journals master list somewhere. it's a very definite maybe. Kinda in the "if I get around to it" stage.

Grumpy Gus is: sorehurty

Things are starting to form something. It's taken me long enough to figure out where I want to go with this, but here's a couple snippets from the beginning.

the blood artist - the second time aroundCollapse )

Grumpy Gus is: curiouscurious
Caterwauling: some german swirlie radio station...

As seen here... I'll see how this goes.

Her name was Sophia and she drove her vintage red Ferrari too fast for my taste. Her hair was black, her waist length curls tied back with a scarlet ribbon. Her shoes were patent red Gucci leather. She was always impeccably dressed.

The company parking lot was almost empty, all but the front two rows that morning. She had parked near the back, sideways taking up three spots. She was just asking for someone to run a key down the side of her door. Or something. I pulled into the next spot and waited for her to open the door and loudly tell me to move.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still sitting in the car. It was hard to see through the window tinting, but I think she could have been leaning forward, her head on the wheel. I got out and tapped on the window.

"Sophia? You alright?" She turned the car off and leaned back. The window slid down, slow and easy. Her make up was a mess.

"Pat. Don't park there. You know I hate it when you park there." I could see her face clearly now. She looked like she'd been in a fight with an animal. A Not Nice animal. I tried not to stare.

"You gonna be alright? Looks like you had a rough night." She grimaced. Her teeth were red. Rough morning, then. I shifted a bit uncomfortably. I mean, how else was I supposed to deal with the Boss' daughter showing up with hamburger for a face. And a damn fine face it was. Emphasis on the was. She looked like she could use several stitches. She probably shouldn't have been driving.

"Fine. Since you're here. I need you to do something for me."

"Sure. You need to go to the hospital or something? That cut looks pretty nasty."

She glared. "No. I want you to bring this basket to the third floor. Tell my secretary to send it up to the Big Office. Tell my dad I quit. I'm sick of this shit. Tell them they're gonna have visitors. You do that and I'll be nice and tell you to get the hell out of here afterwards. I mean it. Get yourself gone."

She looked weary. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly and she tenderly pressed the swollen skin above her eye. She winced and checked her fingers for fresh blood.

She opened the door and swung her legs out. One of her shoes was torn down the side and didn't seem as though it would support her. Not that she tried to stand up. her dress was covered in dirt and blood. I was starting to get a tingle at the back of my next. This wasn't any ordinary fight.

"You sure you don't need a hospital?"

"I promise I'll check with a doctor right after you deliver this. I won't wait for you. You need to go right up and give this to my secretary. Here's a note and my resignation. I can't walk up the stairs myself."

I took the plain wicker picnic basket from her. A red gingham napkin lay over the top. It smelled good, so I peeked in. Bread, cheese, a bottle of wine. Maybe some grapes, or some kind of fruit thing. And a letter sealed in a creamy white envelope with gold embossed writing on the front. I didn't peek long enough to read it.

"Promise me you'll leave as soon as you drop this off. Don't go to your desk don't talk to anyone. Just drop it off and get the hell out. Promise me."

"Yeah, I promise." Sophia was one weird chick.

She sighed and slammed to door. The window crept back up and stopped halfway. She lit a cigarette and impatiently waved me away. I heard the car start as I walked to wards the main building, but she didn't leave, just sat there smoking.

Her license said "LUPO 1." Damn straight.

I held the basket off to the side and walked into the building. I could hear her tires squealing as she left the lot. That's why I always parked behind her. She drives too fast for my taste.

Grumpy Gus is: rushedBus catching

okee dokee. Chapter 2 is up. now on to 3. :) It's getting there, even if it kills me. ;)

resumes mantra...

text hereCollapse )

Grumpy Gus is: chipperchipper
Caterwauling: tori amos - from the choirgirl hotel

So the whole of Chapter 1 is Here on my abomination of a website. :)

not I need to keep on keeping on and finish chapter 2. :D

::chants Collapse )

Grumpy Gus is: busybusy
Caterwauling: Delerium - Karma disc 2

Okeee. For what it's worth, here's what I've got before work. It's in a good getting there stage and I've got a lot more to work with now. All I need to do is get the stuff in my head out into the electrons on my screen. ;)

Chapter One - The Blood ArtistCollapse )

I think I'll really have fun editing in December. ;) I know I'm getting the jist of this universe and what's gonna happen. I've not thrown my outline out the window yet, but I'm definitely using it as a guideline and not a rulebook. eh. we'll see what we see.

Grumpy Gus is: accomplishedaccomplished
Caterwauling: tv in the livingroom

This is not quite right. just a bunch of images I jotted down while riding the bus the other day.

I have walked through the millennia. I have seen the rise and fall of civilizations. I have witnesses the creation of history, but it all seems as if it were a dream. I feel as though I am a woman without a past, cursed with a remarkably vivid imagination. There are times that I almost believe that this illusion I have created is indeed reality, but the scars tell me otherwise.

We take a human child, leaving in it's place the stillborn chaff of our own wombs. She'll drink from my breast, feeding on the elixir of immortality.

I stole my child from a woman in Paris. She was ragged and bedraggled or she was poised and elegant, I do not remember.

That night it rained. I was exhausted from the birth of the beast that had grown within me. I took the thing that I has expelled from my womb and wrapped it in a soft blanket. In the moonlight it almost looked human.

I ran hard and fast down the wet streets. The child stirred slightly, betraying it's first movements. I clutched it harder, tighter, and ran to the house I had seen that afternoon. I prayed that the woman would still be there.

I had finally given birth in a dark garden the night before, pulling a pile of brush over the creature before I collapsed into exhaustion. In a few short hours , that bloody mess would live, would begin to breath and would begin to feed. I needed my strength to carry it to another and take her child in it's place.

I climbed painstakingly up the drainpipe outside of her window. I was careful that I made no sound. The window was blessedly unlatched and open. As I listened, I could hear the mother moving down below. I crossed the room to the cradle in the corner and the burden in my arms grew heavier with each step. It struggled to be free from my grasp. It was less than a day old and already it was strong. When I approached the cradle, it stirred so forcefully that I almost dropped it, but the blanket was wrapped tightly and it struggled in vain.

She was a vision. A blond pale child lying in a bliss of innocent sleep. I clumsily fumbled with her blanket, desperately trying to keep her from the beast in my other arm. I held her against my shoulder and dropped the other into her place with a solid thud. He was growing too fast. He struggled within the blanket but he could not yet free himself. Soon, he would think to wail and summon the woman downstairs.

There was one more task to be performed in order to make her mine. I reached into my belt and pulled out a small knife. I covered her mouth to keep her from crying out and cut the palm of her hand, letting the blood fall freely onto him. He had freed one of his own hands and I caught and cut deeply into his as well. His blood mingled with her blood and it was done. I fled through the window and to the street below. When I reached the garden gate, I heard the wild cry of a frightened child following me away from the house and the sweet smelling infant in my arms grew deathly quiet.

I fed her in a nearby park, watching her face blush with life. I had not cut her deeply, just a scratch, but it would still leave a rugged scar. When she is older I will tell her how it came about, but for that moment I rocked her in my arms and dreamed.

Later, I walked past the garden gate and peered up into the window where I had found her. The mother will have only a slight unsettled feeling with her new child. For all that she and her family knew, he was always male. The birth certificate will be corrected as a typist's error. The clothes and toys will seem a mistake on the part of the givers. They had always wanted a daughter, but they will make due with a son.

He will grow quick and strong, feeding hungrily upon his mother's essence, sucking her life from her year by year until she has aged beyond what is natural and she will die quietly and alone. Her only legacy will be that she served him well.

He will move from her wing to a string of pretty young things that will flutter around him and feed his hunger for a while. Nothing will satisfy him. There is nothing that will save him. He will grow restless in his games and move on, traveling the world in a fruitless search for a thing that he cannot name.

It is then that I will call to him. I will make myself known and he will find us, his mother and his fair sister asleep in the ice, buried deep in the cold and he will finally know peace.

I haven't been doing much lately. Mostly a lot of catching up on sleep and gaming. I'm currently working on a Savannah by Night chronicle, but I shan't bore y'all with the details. I guess the main thing I've accomplished is a few weak sketches and a sad and scragglie idea bank for a web comic and a couple new ideas to add to my Mistress Nightmare story.

really, this has been a rather uncreative month or two. I'm really struggling, but eh. we all have our down times and mine will perk up come summer and light and camping season. :)

Grumpy Gus is: sleepysleepy
Caterwauling: mary shelley's frankenstein - the soundtrack
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