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almost home

if i look back, i am lost

shark vs the universe
KIROKAZE
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

occasionally subtle
Monterey Bay Aquarium

@theartofmadeline

Kaledo Art

Andulka
Jules of Nature

Product Placement
trying on a metaphor

#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from Belarus
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
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seen from Germany

seen from France
@all-thingsstrange
Asks and prompts are open!

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I just realized that three of the main characters have PTSD but from different causes.
Eloise- PTSD from being held captive and continually having her life threatened
Jaime- PTSD from being raped and sexually abused
Oliver- PTSD from having served in WW1 and losing his friends
A Little Time
Eloise didnât like Jaime and Jaqueline going off on their own. Something was bound to go wrong. Something was bound to go wrong in Russia to be honest.
Uncle Adam had told her the truth of her Uncle Frankenstein. Now Eloise feared Richard and Oliver would find out. They would known eventually but for now it was best.
Oliver.
He comes and sits next to her, and offers a peace offering in the shape of tea. Oliver smiles ackwardly. âI thought you might-â
â- Thanks.â Eloise says, accepting the drink begrudgingly. She wasnât much of a tea fan, but the weather was turning cold the more they traveled north.
Outside the train widow the city gave way to countryside and frosted hills.
âDo you think weâll find what you need in Russia?â Oliver asks hesitantly. It amused Eloise that he was still a bit nervous around her. After everything theyâve seen together, and their circumstances and disagreements. But also the small moments they shared. Eloise had grown- dare she say- fond of him.
âRichard seems to think so.â
âWill be much longer?â Eloise asks, now noticing just how close Oliver was sitting next to her. He wasnât like Richard or even Jaime. She didnât mind his closeness.
âNot to long.â Olive says, carefully offering her his hand. âWe have a little time.â
Prompt night
send them in
One of my greatest hesitations about this book is that someone is going to ship Jaime with his rapist

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People are puppets held together with string There's a beautiful sadness that runs through him
I watch him, while he works. Every movement is mechanical, puppeteered by his determination, his doubt, his fear, all together, flowing into and through each other, as the three of us do. The other is just as silent as myself, but he is biding his time. Waiting, as we all are, for the coming end. Â
I mourn him, while he works. Each of his feelings melds into a grief - for those he has lost, for those the other has taken, and, finally, for himself. He is not gone yet, but he will be, soon. We all shall be.
As he asked me to pray to the god he doesn't believe in
Perhaps, once, he was a religious young man, or perhaps that was just his fatherâs influence. Yet now, when his thoughts turn inwardly to me, he wants to pray. He desires it almost as much as he desires rest, desires an end. Yet he does not pray. I do, of course, and perhaps in some aspects we are the same, but the prayer is not the same. It rings hollow, without his faith, and I grieve that, too.
Time and again, boys are raised to be men Impatient they start, fearful they end
Heâd been so eager to become more than himself when he started, a we rather than an I, that he did not expect the consequences. He has everything he set out to find - and it has left him a shell of himself, despite the more that he has found along the way. He lost everyone, including himself, and now, he feels, he may as well finish it entirely.
But here was a man mourning tomorrow He drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow
The cowardâs way out, they call it. He tells himself it is fitting, that he is a coward, and this is right. He fled the war, he fled his family, his friends, betrayed and abandoned them. He may as well flee himself - and flee her. She cannot touch him with her silk gloves if we are gone. She doesnât know we are in here, hung over the sink, staring into a strange tincture that blends all the research together. He prays - no, he does not pray, because he does not find praying worth the time with what he is about to do. The sin he is about to commit is unforgivable, he assures himself, for there will be no time for repentance. Not that he has repented before.
He raises the strange, bubbling serum to our lips, too much, far more than ever before, and drinks it in its entirety.
Oh, he could not break surface tension He looked in the wrong place for redemption
The pain that rocks us calls her in. The other and I both struggle against it alongside him, but when it is over, he is all that is left, racked in pain, weak, broken. The softness of silk runs over our skin, and he is powerless toe stop it. He failed, and he knows it.
But in failure, he makes his last discovery, even as she takes him against his will.
Don't look at me with those eyes
Years later I will stare at another young woman, my gaze uncannily like hers, as she demands him back. She will be so desperate, and she, too, has grieved him. I can do nothing but stare back.
I tried to unheave the ties Turn back the time that drew him
No. That isnât true. I can tell her. I will tell her that I did as much as I could, but I have no power over him, not like the other, at least. I tried. I dabbled in his dark arts, I mixed his chemicals, for months after he was gone, not my first sin against his free will, but certainly my gravest.
I still feel him, I still sense him, but it has been too long, now, years later. Perhaps I am capable of sin - the worst sin, the inevitable sin of despair.
But he couldn't be saved
That was his sin. He despaired of himself, fled from her, fled to us, afraid and broken. And I was helpless to stop his end.
No, he couldnât be saved
She may try. And, perhaps, if I truly still sense him, perhaps she may succeed. But I am resigned to the role of our penitent, of sacrificing my joy for his soul.
A sadness runs through him
________________________
⢠Dress.
Date: 1900-1905
Medium: Silk, lace
Eloise would wear this
Sometimes family is a dumbass Scot, a quiet German chemist, an american vampire and their Homunculus chaperone
Eloise handling Jamieâs mistakes (1922, colorized)
âWar Injury?â Mina motions to my crutches.
âPolioâ

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Oliver Kidnapping Jaime Hunter (1920)
Victor Frankenstein: I have made a Monster.
Everyone: You fucked up a perfectly good corpse is what you did. Look at it. Itâs got anxiety.
All Things Strange (publication tbd)
@scholarlypidgeotâs chapters: 20 pages of Jamieâs delightful internal ramblings
@lavinia-love-officialâs chapters: 6 pages of Noraâs realistic and engaging dialogueÂ
someone help us find a middle ground
Itâs their characters though. Nora is a get to the point, no nonsense German woman and Jaime is a rambling academic
#4. âI canât believe you believed meâ
The first thing I could do through the pain, as my consciousness jostled its way past Johnâs, to the forefront of our mind, was laugh. It hurt, as it always does when youâre trying to do something in the middle of the transformation - but I still laugh, as harshly and loudly as I can manage, until the pain subsides.Â
âI canât believe you believed me! Bleeding hell, this is rich!âÂ
If Adam was here, Iâm pretty sure heâd hit me for laughing at the bit of trouble I stirred up for Nora. She was so looking forward to seeing her friend, too. Real shame that I couldnât give her what she wanted - but might as well have a little fun with it.
Somethingâs not right, though. She doesnât look⌠she doesnât look angry, or even sad. Just disappointed, like Father Butch sometimes gets when I drop by out of boredom. Like sheâs worried about me, or something.Â
âYouâre doing what Jamie does,â she said, solemnly.Â
She knows full well that mentioning him stings, but I try to cover up the pain of the reminder. âOi? And whatâs that?âÂ
âLaughing to hide that youâre hurting. I know heâs in there, Jacob.â
âWhy? Because you saw him when I did theâŚâ I point my fingers in the shape of a gun at my temple, and then chuckle again, shaking my head. âThatâs just fear of death, Nora, plain and simple. Everyone with half a brainâs got that.â
She shook her head, slowly. There was pain behind her green eyes as she looked deep into my face, and for once, I couldnât force myself to laugh at it.Â
âBecause I still see that youâre nothing but the worst in him.â
@distance-does-not-matter @that-catholic-shinobi
Conversation Prompt
âRemember when we were friends?â
âWhat you fondly remember as friendship, I remember as a month long abduction.â
This is it. The plot to ATS

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One of my greatest hesitations about this book is that someone is going to ship Jaime with his rapist
Jaime
Eloise