22 : 18.

jane doe,      by róisín. regarding jane doe. guidelines for interaction.

[janeduoe]

i’m sorry to nancy i;m about to torture her mom so bad 😔

[onebyonerp-blog]

Liminal Space Meme

Send me a random number for a starter/drabble with our characters in the setting of a liminal space #1-104 (some repeats, mostly taken from this list)

a playground at night

rest stops on highways

deep in the mountains

churches at night

abandoned 7/11’s

your bedroom at 5 am

hospitals at midnight

warehouses that smell like dust

lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore

empty parking lots

ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods

rooftops in the early morning

inside a dark cabinet

A pond on a roof

early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed
trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
schools during breaks

those little beaches right next to ferry docks

bowling alleys

a cornfield next to a country road

your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep
laundromats at midnight

hospital waiting rooms 


airports from midnight to 7am

cemeteries 


abandoned penitentiaries 


hilltops at night in full moonlight 


empty barns 


marshes 


really anywhere quiet at midnight, the air vibrates 


old stones and henge 


the ocean when it’s still quiet with fog over it


train tracks that go through the middle of the woods 


bridges 


ancient places 


stands of old growth forest 
rabbit paths off hiking tails 


trails between the main ski hills 


winter twilight


back allies between houses


logging roads


dirt roads on fall evenings with leaves falling off the trees 


libraries before closing


anyplace where it’s snowing before sunrise 


the woods during a rainstorm

roads covered with snow with trees on the sideways while snowflakes are falling out of the sky


train stations after 10 PM


outside, right before a massive storm


the woods just after twilight


the beach in winter


the bottom of swimming pools 


empty beaches when its snowing

back part of a library 


late night empty streets 


highways late at night 


windy roads 


windy roads at night when you can only see the immediate road 


abandoned parking lots (office buildings, homes) 


anywhere immediately after a really bad fight 


little towns late at night when no ones awake and the only lights on are the street posts

the lakeside anytime between 2 and 6 am

firework shows when you’re sitting on the grass

House on a lake

being the only one downstairs on christmas  

stepping outside in the early morning when it has just snowed

when its dark and you see snowflakes falling down in the light of a lamppost on the lonely road

that one clear spot in the forest with trees surrounding it

a parked car in a snow/thunderstorm

corn fields with the wind blowing over them

malls when they’re about to close for the night

woods at twilight/dawn

being on a train after midnight

theme parks at night

winding back roads with rolling fog


seeing “open” signs when its really foggy and cloudy


being in a train that was crowded when you got in and now its quiet, looking at the seats knowing that there were people sitting there moments ago and now they’re gone


hiking trails that have nobody on them 


being alone in an elevator for a few minutes 


looking down at the forest when you’re standing somewhere high and seeing the top of the trees with fog lingering over them


the ferry about to take off in the middle of the night 


tree houses


empty seats on the late night train


4-6 am on a winter morning

Feeling chased

the clouds/damp coming out of your mouth when its really cold in the morning 


stepping out on an unfamiliar metro/train stop


greenhouses that have been left to grow alone


cemeteries in the middle of fields


biking/walking on the main road when its dark without cars


swamps with fog 


hotel corridors in the middle of the night


anywhere where you can hear a train whistle in the distance but you can’t see it or know just how far away it is


foggy mornings in a meadow 


that flickering streetlight


working offices at midnight

long, dark hallways

the middle of a park when its snowing

being in a forest where there are train tracks not knowing if the train may even ever approach

bonfires

a little lake in the middle of the forest

lonely swings

overgrow field/yard

the woods on a night with a full moon

empty stables

rest stops

empty metro stations that are usually crowded

gas stations on long mountain roads

the old part of a city when you’re the only one in the street

[janeduoe]

wee little interest tracker as it will actually be more important here than nanc LMAO 

[janeduoe]

wee little interest tracker as it will actually be more important here than nanc LMAO 

[janeduoe]

      22  18   22  18   22  18     /      Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

[janeduoe]

any1 have any minimalist theme recs ..

[acearson]

[janeduoe]

in the process of a major overhaul of this blog

[janeduoe]

@michaelwheeler     asked:                   an old tree with trunks like knives

           unknown  force  is  lingering  in  the  air,  making  the  atmosphere  heavy.  a  little  suffocating.  it’s  like  a  damp  presence  with  something  tangible  to  it,  but  intangible  all  the  same.  equally  there  and  not  :   it  can  be  attempted  to  be  spotted,  but  it  always  goes  as  such,  with  your  eyes  flitting  to  the  tree  only  in  time  for  the  black  mass  of  something  to  hide  itself  behind  it,  to  dissipate.  to  fade.  (   that  is  the  nature  of  death,  things  which  escape   our  material  realm  with  no  more  than  a  sweet,  short  breath.  it  is  a  sudden  transformation  from  at  once  being  here,  to  being  not.  to  pinpoint  the  essence  of  death,  not  the  cause  and  not  the  scientific,  logical  explanation,  but  the  very  essence  of  death,  leaves  us  with  feelings  and  truths  which  prove  as  such  –––  TANGIBLE  &  INTANGIBLE.  paradoxical.  completely  understandable.   what  a  riddle  this  state  of  existing,  this  end  to  all  things,  could  present.  )

                the  overwhelming  energy  of  the  woods  surrounding  a  boy  from  a  nearby  small  town,  a  place  of  no  consequence,  a  town  within  which  the  corpse  herself  had  made  her  life,  before,  is  clear  to  be  closing  in   ––    that  energy  sinks  the  air,  tightens  the  chest,  makes  it  harder  to  take  a  step  forward  or  backward.  that  the  corpse  was  a  living  thing,  that  the  thing  beneath  the  woods  was  a  walking,  speaking  girl,  was  a  fact  true  only  a  long  time  ago.  WHEN  SHE  DID  KNOW  THE  NAME  HAWKINS  (  THE  NAME  BRENNER  )   before  her  ribcage  turned  playground  for  worms  /  before  her  hair  tangled  with  roots  so  thoroughly  that  she  could  find  herself  stuck  to  the  earth,  body  sent  deeper  with  every  ounce  of  force  exuded  by  the  tree  above  her  body,  pushing  itself  to  grow.  farther  towards  the  center  of  the  world.  the  depth,  the  abyss  of  a  tainted  underground,  poisoned  by  bones  and  strange  entities  of  another  world,  ushered  all  in  by  the  same  orchestrator  (   that  good  doctor  :    he  wasn’t  here  anymore,   was  he?   she  couldn’t  feel  him  near.   but  then  again,  who,  even  of  the  undead,  could  be  so  trusting  of  their  own  senses  when  six  feet  under   . . . .  )

              above  her  is  that  tree,  that  tree  growing  wide  and  ominous.  stretching  itself  not  so  far  upwards  but  across,  limbs  lingering  closer  to  the  ground  than  towards  the  grey  sky.  there  was  a  reddish  hue  to  it,  just  beneath  the  surface  of  its  bark,  that  made  it  stand  aside  from  other  trees,  at  least  to  a  cautious  observer.  there  was  something  to  it,  a  natural  sort  of  unnatural.  that  paradox,  working  itself  out  physically,  tangibly,  yet  again.  sap  drenched  the  ground  beside  it,  not  with  its  typical  amber  hue  but  with  something  leaning  darker,  a  little  brown,  some  hint  of  crimson.  it  became  stale  and  old  on  the  leaves  below,  turning  a  putrid  shade  that  matched  well  with  the  rotted  leaves.  with,  too,  the  unseen  rot  underneath  it  all,  but  a  passerby  shouldn’t  be  expected  to  be  aware  of  anything  so  rancid.

                    wind  and  will  of  the  corpse  makes  the  limbs  shift  very  comfortably  towards  that  boy,  the  acknowledgement  of  life  bringing  a  sort  of  spark,  glimmer  of  life,  to  the  corpse.  free  of  leaves,  now,  it  doesn’t  seem  so  welcoming  as  it  might  during  spring -   or  summertime.        it  looks  rather  like  the  type  of  sight  from  a  poe  story  :   outstretched,  those  hints  of  red  to  its  color,  its  sharp  branches  held  out  at  such  a  height  that  the  wrong  move  might  send  someone  tumbling  down  to  meet  another  branch,  and  they  could  very  likely  impale  themself,  slice  their  own  skin,  break  open  a  neck  to  slaughter.        it  would  be  a  weak  lie  to  say  it  wasn’t  craved  for.  but  then,  there  were  more  pressing  concerns  than  a  little  spilled  blood.  there  was  more  needed  than  what  some  kid,  lost  maybe,  or  dedicated  to  an  unfortunate  path,  could  offer  with  life  alone.  the  corpse  needed  something   :     hands  to  dig  at  the  ground.  to  pull  up  the  bones.  it  needed  it  badly.     

[afacelesschampion]

Visit Original Link

[janeduoe]

@galgher    asked   :           a bustling diner that never closes

          there  is  the  rot  of  egg  heavy  in  the  air    /     should  sensitivity  be  of  issue  for  a  corpse,  it  would  prove  a  problem,  but  for  now  it  was  of  little  consequence.  only  too  dark.  only  too  little  to  sustain  a  soul  buried  deep  in  scarred  organs,  lively  brain.  thoughts  gnawed  at  what  little  remained  off  her    :     22  18   22  18   24  07   24  07.   eyes  were  shut  but  she  could  see  the  atrocious  glow  of  blue  and  red  neon.  streetlight  seeping  in.  atmosphere  alluded  to  a  city  :   she’d  only  thought of  that  in  a  vague,  passing  way.  never  concrete.  she  wondered  where  she  was.  where  they’d  brought  her  this  time.  hidden  her.  dead  to  the  world,  she  remained,  unrotted,  in  a  dumpster  ‘round  the  side  of  a  fucking  dive.  wherever  she  was  smelled  like  shit.  thick  scent  of  maple  syrup  lingering  in  the  best  parts  of  it.

             sentience  moved  inside,   outside  such  fickle  constraints  of  a  body  ditched  for  dead.  GROWING  IMPATIENT    :     I,  ME,  THIS  UNHOLY  ENTITY  OF  MYSELF,  MY  SOUL  IS  GROWLING  AND  IT’S  HUNGRY  HUNGRY  HUNGRY   –––––––     there  would  be  a  short  ripple  in  the  consistency  of  the  fluorescent  lighting  as  she  passed  through,  sights  settling.  understanding  whatever  demons  lay  beneath  sweaty  skins  of  people  still  breathing,  people  with  so  little  time  on  her.   the  speaker  system  was  blaring  top  forty’s,  which  somehow  managed  to  be  significantly  less  appetizing  than  even  the  stench  of  old  eggs.  in  turn  it  shut  off,  after  the  flickering  of  the  lights   (  a  waitress  gave  pause  to  it,  as  did  a  cook  from  the  order  window,  but  it  wasn’t  long  enough  to  provoke  more  sincere  concern  before  sound  came  back  on  and  those  shitty  speakers  were  back  at  it,  except  this  time  sporting  less  irritating  noise ).   

♪    mommy  told  me  something !      a  little  girl  should  know !    it’s  all  about  the  devil  and  i’ve  learned  to  hate  him  so  !    ♪

             there  would  be  no  awareness  to  it,  not  obviously  so,  as  the  world  outside  grew  quieter.  windows  became  more  thoroughly  entrenched  in  shadow.  but  not  so  quiet  now  as  to  not  usher  those  inside  to  her  resting  place.        not  so  quiet  to  forego  a  sincere  interest,  desire,  desperation    :     TO  BE  KNOWN.

[karenpage]

Well, look what she can do… if she wanted us dead. When we cut into her. She tried to stop us each time. It’s like there’s something she doesn’t want us to find. 

The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016)

[janeduoe]

jane running into fellow beings of the other side is actually fairly rare, so even when she is able to communicate, given how very long it’s been since she was a human and used her voice, she’ll speak in very stunted short sentences, with language indicative of the time she was alive. she also will be quicker to communicate by way of signs, like radios/tvs/general inanimate object movement. it’s easier. speaking is a little strenuous because it requires a lot of effort – especially because, having had her (gore/body horror cw coming up!) tongue cut out before death, and just the amount of strength reanimating her entire body would be, she can’t do it phsyically. she has to project somehow, and that level of craft is extremely draining. it’s really only possible with other supernatural entities who are sensitive to her already – communicating with her voice to mortals/humans is almost entirely out of the question unless she’s become significantly stronger.

[janeduoe]

im watching the sack lunch bu/nch and this quote is a jane-ism,

“when i was a little kid, i would have nightmares, where like... they would, like, say my name, and then i would just get freaked out.” “do you mind me asking, who’s they?” “idk just like random people” “what is it about hearing your name that seems scary?” “it’s just like, i didn’t know that bad dreams could know your name. just stuff like that.”

[janeduoe]

part of jane’s motivation is to be moved from place to place. she wreaks havoc wherever she is, but somehow is always discovered, regardless of the methods utilized by the people she’s tormenting to hide or hinder her. her body proves indestructible, being burned in the film and recovering even from being cut into. at the beginning, she’s found buried underground at a house, implying the other people found dead there were trying to survive against her and attempted to bury her (maybe to stop her, maybe to bring her peace somehow). still the team investigating found her body, and i think that’s no accident. though i’m sure they would have been thorough anyway, i do believe jane will do her best to lead people to her. she doesn’t want to be alone, or to be left in a place. she wants to keep moving, being brought from one town to the next, to spread herself as far as possible. it also gives her more strength. the more life she devours for herself, the stronger she gets. i do think she’s working towards an essential full resurrection.