returne - Tumblr blog

[returne]

updates [evil, untimely, not again]

heyyyyyyy hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii <3 i actually managed to transfer all my muse info over to gdocs like i said i would!!!!!! bad news is, it felt so nice to put everything in a new place that i got to thinking.... maybe it would be fun to start over on a new blog too 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 atp you must be thinking oh no she did not...... but yea.... she did 🙊🙊🙊🙊 i am once again moving the multi to a fresh new blog, but not just that, i've revamped (haha) ana's blog too!!!! wish i could say this'll be the last time but it very well might not be so i won't make any promises, but i'm going to try my best to stick to just these two blogs, for a while at least anyway (lol). if you would still like to write with me you can go ahead and follow me on the new blogs <3 let's party?????

[returne]

updates [evil, untimely, not again]

heyyyyyyy hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii <3 i actually managed to transfer all my muse info over to gdocs like i said i would!!!!!! bad news is, it felt so nice to put everything in a new place that i got to thinking.... maybe it would be fun to start over on a new blog too 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 atp you must be thinking oh no she did not...... but yea.... she did 🙊🙊🙊🙊 i am once again moving the multi to a fresh new blog, but not just that, i've revamped (haha) ana's blog too!!!! wish i could say this'll be the last time but it very well might not be so i won't make any promises, but i'm going to try my best to stick to just these two blogs, for a while at least anyway (lol). if you would still like to write with me you can go ahead and follow me on the new blogs <3 let's party?????

[returne]

The chill in the air bites at Odette's exposed skin, demands attention. She's far too busy watching the shadows of the treetops bend around this strange man's figure to pay it any mind. He remains far more interesting than the sharp sting of the frigid air. “I suppose there's nothing to be done about your lack of armour, but there's still time yet for you to become my saviour. The night is young, and these woods have no lack of beasts. If they come to bite you'll help me, won't you?” Odette has spent much time inventing endings for herself, ways to leave these trees behind; in the more fanciful ones someone always arrives right as she's about to lose hope, to finally break her curse and whisk her away. Here and now she is holding no expectations, for fear of disappointment. But wouldn't it be nice, wouldn't it be so easy, if this man could be the one?

“Embrosyn.” She repeats his name just to test how it sounds from her mouth. The vowels seem to fit rather comfortably between her teeth. “All this talk of corpses and cadavers... you're quite morbid, aren't you, Embrosyn?” She wonders if he'll feel she's getting overfamiliar with his name, whether he'll offer up something else she can address him by. Or should she come up with something herself? Would he protest if she did? “Not that I mind, of course! You're much better company than the rabbits. They're sweet, but... dreadfully boring at times. Conversation is much easier with someone who can talk back, wouldn't you agree? And you'll not find another soul in these woods as companionable as me, so it would be best if we stuck together for the rest of the night, I think.” Grinning, she offers him no chance to decline. Though, with his height, she'd be at a disadvantage if he decided to run and leave her behind.

“Oh! And I'm Odette, incase you were curious too.”

"OUGHT I?" TERRIBLY STRANGE, WASN'T SHE? A PALE WISP OF WHITE AGAINST THE LUSH VELOUR OF THE MID-NIGHT. HER SKIN, AS IT REFLECTED BEFORE HIM, WAS NACREOUS AND PALE AND SHE GLITTERED LIKE A WET PEARL FROM HER BED OF MOSS AND LICHEN. THE SHADOW CAME AT ONCE TO HIS FEET, MINDFUL NOT TO TROUNCE UPON THE SULLIED HEM OF HER BROCADED SKIRTS, BESTOWING THE GENTLY-RIPPLING WATERS BEYOND A CURSORY GRIMACE.

THE FAIR LADY CURTSIED IN ALL HER DRIPPING GRANDEUR, THE DAMP CROWN OF HER HEAD REVERENTLY (OR IRREVERENTLY; IT WAS TERRIBLY HARD TO TELL) LOWERING WITH RESPECT TO HE, HER IMPROMPTU GUARDIAN. SHE IMPLORED HIS NAME AND THE SUBSEQUENT RETORT WAS TERSE. "I AM NO KNIGHT." FOR HE WAS NOT. "NOR A SAVIOUR FOR I'VE SAVED NO-ONE. ONLY A STRANGER PASSING THROUGH THE WOODS." THE FIEND BRUSHED A STRAY LEAF FROM HIS DARK SHOULDER AND DARKER CAPE, OFFERING HIS SILENT IRE TO THE TREE WHO HAD ABANDONED IT THERE. "I AM ONLY RELIEVED THAT I NEEDN'T HAVE FISHED A CADAVER FROM THE LAKE."

her lashes, wet and matted, sparkled with diamond dew and he, an unworthy witness, averted his glacial eye. "embrosyn. if it is imperative that you know." the imminent silence resembled that of a question woefully unreturned.

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i miss u come back from the war

i miss u too. i've been here waiting for ur return 🥺

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goodevemorn friendly reminder that you're the bees knees

🥺 and a happy good morneve to youm!!!!!!!! U 🫵 are the cat's pyjamas 😻

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Droplets of water make a trail down her neck, pooling where her collarbone juts out. Her gown, stark white against the dark backdrop of the evening, clings tightly to her skin. It's been so long since she's had company outside of her flock, she forgets which rules to follow. “You ought to open your mind, gentle stranger. There's no such thing as a poor time for a swim. The lake, you'll find, is much kinder than the trees; less likely to mislead you and turn you around in circles.”

Laughter escapes her mouth clumsily, tumbling out unprepared until her throat remembers how to shape it right. “Ah! So you wandered over here because you thought I was in need of help?” Her feet still weak, she rises up on her knees, picking up the wet hem of her dress and dropping into a half curtsy. The action comes to her before she can recall the reason for it. “I thank you, most well-intentioned knight, for coming to my rescue, even if it was not necessary.” She raises her head again, mouth smiling, eyes curved, lashes dripping with moisture.

“May I have the name of my gracious saviour?”

"SO YOU ARE." WHISPERED UNTO THE VELVET NIGHT. A ROGUE GALE SWEEPS HER SILVER HAIR AND AT ONCE THE MOONLIGHT KISSES THE TENDER DIAMOND DOWN OF HER ARMS. " SO YOU ARE."

A SERIES OF SCATTERED STORMS BEFELL THE LAND OVER WITH WAVES OF CEASELESS RAIN; MISERABLE MONTH. AS HE KNELT IN THE SUEDE GRASSES, PLIABLE AND DAMP, IT WAS AS IF THE EARTH ITSELF RELENTED BENEATH HIS ENORMITY AND SANK UNDER THE HEEL OF HIS BOOT. THERE WOULD BE NO OUTRUNNING THE HUMECTATION. SHE, HOWEVER, SEEMED CONTENT TO WADE IN THE WETNESS OF THE LAKE SHORE, FINGERS ENVELOPED AFFECTIONATELY WITHIN THE ABUNDANT PEAT AND LOAM. "AND YOU." HIS TERSE REPLY ACCOMPANIED BY A DARKENED GRIMACE. THE HAND HE HELD OUT DROPPED FORTHWITH AND RETURNED FAITHFULLY TO HIS IMPOSING KNEE. "SEEMS A POOR TIME TO HAVE A DIP IN THE LAKE BY YOUR LONESOME. I WAS PASSING THROUGH AND THOUGHT I HEARD ONE DROWNING. WAS PREPARED TO FIND A CORPSE."

[returne]

Emerging from one type of darkness into another, bone first, flesh second, animal to animal. The first sense to revert is always sight—before sound and before taste, one has to open their eyes to understand. Tonight, the moon is not alone. The darkness of night is draped over a man like a coat.

Her hearing returns next. “Me? Oh, I'm alright!” Odette flattens her hand against the wet grass. It always feels a little strange at the start, always takes a while to recognise what sensations are hiding behind the pain and the aching. “I'm wonderful. I'm human.” Her mouth remembers the shape of her smile finally, and she turns back to face the man who cared enough to ask after her. “And so are you! These woods aren't very nice, especially not to creatures who don't call it home. You ought to be careful, kind sir.”

A TOUCH OF MOONLIGHT OF THE ETHEREAL AND PRETERNATURAL, @returne. RIPPLES OF WATER, LIKE THE UNDULATING GLASS OF A MIRROR, REFLECTS THE POIGNANT PINCH OF HER FRAGILE BROW AND HE, UNDESERVING OF DESCRYING SUCH TENDERNESS, ARRIVES LIKE A SULLEN SPECTRE TO HER SILVER SIDE. "ARE YOU HURT...? YOUR HAND."

[returne]

writing down and posting things i want to do in hopes that it'll somehow motivate me to actually try and do them

revise muse list (maybe add all my old muses back for the lolz, maybe add fifty ocs just to spice things up)

do some writing.... mayb reblog a meme or two.... send some out (i should be better at this)

re-do carrd, maybe move over to docs (as in one doc per muse, incase i have a lot to say about somebody)

socialise (it's been weeks)

i really want to write a cowboy actually. cowboy oc, add it to the list

stop putting off answering ur emails. at least open some of them

be a person.... cmon u can do it

[returne]

Self-sentenced guardianship, then. Noble, or stupid. Maybe both. Caroline shouldn't try to unravel his character just yet — it's still early, and she promised herself she would put her best foot forward in this new-old place. “ You're not doing a very good job at convincing me that moving here wasn't a huge mistake, you know. ”

The pictures don't shy away from the tragedy. Caroline is looking at what's come to pass and what awaits and she is ... out of places to run to. She can work with ugly. Her friends used to say, you love a good project, don't you? like it was something to be wary of. Caroline wonders if Gotham will fold first of if she will.

“ This is, as of now, my official introduction to Gotham. ” She came in here looking for a story, and wonders now if other people would flinch at the one being told. “ No one's tried to mug me or anything yet, so I guess all those rumours about the big bad city must be wrong. ” The people here can definitely read the ' small town girl ' off her clothes and shoes and face though. Caroline isn't sure if that's something that'll just wash off in the shower.

Is there a word for used-to-be homes? Left-behind-abandoned homes? “ Virginia. Mystic Falls. The name makes it seem like it's a lot more interesting than it actually is. ” She's not quite lying, but not exactly telling the truth either. She has a feeling it'll always be like this when talking about her no-longer home. “ It's one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. You break up with your boyfriend and suddenly you're uninvited from every party and founders' event because his dad's the freaking mayor and apparently breaking his son's heart is a criminal offence. ” It's been too long for her to still be bitter about this, but she can still remember how even at her mother's funeral Mrs. Lockwood wouldn't let up on the passive aggressive poking and prodding at Caroline's private life.

“ I'm guessing I won't have to worry about that kind of thing here. ”

her words are akin to opening curtains on a bright day , one has to adjust ... eyes squinting ever so as the light floods a space that had been previously been held by darkness. bruce wayne has become unnaturally talented at hiding his true nature ; he finds that reflecting whatever those around him truly seek has a way of putting them at ease ... of gently lulling whatever qualms.

❛ i don't think anyone in the city has had a vacation in the past two years ... --- well , people have flocked to homes that sit on coastlines away from the city , it's ugly here ❜ his tongue gently cradles that last phrase. ❛ misunderstood perhaps ❜ nodding towards the photographs , ❛ maybe i want to make sense of it all , logic is what we crave most behind stability ❜ there's a melodic quality to his voice , accented by warm tones and an honesty that he pulls upon.

❛ a house ? ❜ he asks as he then looks down at her , he doesn't touch upon death (an occurrence in gotham that is daily). ❛ and you haven't ever been to the city ? ❜ the questions coated in genuine curiosity ; perhaps also realizing that she has no clue as to who he is.

nothing in gotham is serendipitous ; the city calling to those who she needs ... she a lighthouse and we the ship out at sea. even now as we talk in a crowded gallery i can't help but feel as if the walls themselves are leaning in to listen , that the wind outside is an accompaniment to whatever exchange we're having. i raise the glass of tonic water with a lime to my lips , to somehow add an interlude to the moment. i then ask another question , realizing that i rather enjoy not being the object of interest for once.

❛ where did your mother move you to ? ❜

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🌺 send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful 🌺

me... a mere goblin... receiving ur love and appreciation omg 🥹

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i'm still green.

to the young who want to die, gwendolyn brooks / sunstone, octavio paz / green, sarah kinsley / meanwhile, richard siken

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look between g & j and u & o on your keyboard 😏🩵

[returne]

She liked him once. She remembers that. It was pathetic even then, before she knew better. It should've been Scott. But Stiles, with his skinny legs and shaved head and his penchant for embarrassing himself in front of everyone made him sort of ideal. Attainable. Epilepsy Erica and Sarcastic Scrawny Sad-sack Stiles. Match made in heaven.

“Nope. Can't get rid of that stupid face no matter how hard you try.” Erica bites down on the end of her french fry, smiles around it. Strange, to think that once upon a time she would've loved to have Stiles send just a single glance her way. God. If only it was possible to scrub memories out of her brain. “And that personality... I'm just worried you're going to end up spending the rest of your life alone.”

@returne tee hee !!

For all that his attention span is lacking, Stiles has spent a remarkable amount of time trying to figure out what the look Erica is giving him means. Has he been on the receiving end of this one before? Certainly not from her. It's not the meek one that he would sometimes catch, before Derek decided to take a big ol' chomp out of her... wherever he bit. Not that he had a fuckin' clue what that had meant at the time, either. It's definitely not the sexy face, nor does it seem distinctly angry. So. He's at a loss. "Do I have something?" He wipes a hand across his own face, bewildered and potential covered in gogurt. "Did I get it?"

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I’ve heard it in the chillest land and on the strangest sea — yet — never in extremity, it asked a crumb of me. [Odette, written by Day.]

[returne]

🏹 I'VE BEEN THE ARCHER . . . an independent, selective, & highly canon divergent ALLISON ARGENT of TEEN WOLF focusing on life post - beacon hills . as loved by liz .

[returne]

It's bleak, is what it is. Caroline sticks out like a sore thumb with her bright yellow sundress in a city that seems to be made up of nothing but shades of grey. The longer she's here the more she can feel it leeching into skin, her hair, attempting to sap up the spark of life she's been trying to preserve for all these years.

“So you've made it your responsibility to keep looking?” Why is it your cross to bear? She wants to ask, but doesn't. She doesn't pretend to understand the inner workings of a Gotham native. “It's not like you made it this way.” Responsibility is a treacherous thing. Caroline had felt it wrapped around her ankles like a chain for so long. Mystic Falls. Gotham. Maybe she knows more than she thinks. “You should consider a vacation. Some place with lots of sun. You look like you can afford it. Plus, you are in desperate need of a tan.”

Caroline twists her lips at his question. The answer is more complicated than she wants it to be. “Technically no. My grandparents, they lived their whole lives here. My mom left the second she could, but she brought me back to visit once or twice.” They stopped coming entirely by the time she turned seven. She never understood why before, but she gets it now. “Anyway, they died and left me a house and now I'm here. Where I was always meant to be, I guess.” Just a trail of dead family members following her from the south all the way to the north, and a city that welcomes her with an open maw—waiting to swallow her whole.

your world doesn’t make sense. from caroline?? 🤍

there's a thickness , a heavy haze that lingers within the air. the streets still slicken with the remnants of a downpour from minutes ago. does it ever stop raining ? the two of them currently stand looking at photographs on display in the latest exhibit at the gotham museum of art ; the images that greet eyes are harsh to say the least. the aftermath of the flood , the desperation upon the various subject's features as they are met with the carnage from the night before.

i can smell it , the smell of death , flesh that had been no match for water that swept through the city ripping apart everything that had been in it's path. my head lolls to the right , examining as my eyes do not dare blink --- i cannot look away from such a scene. though , i know this scene well. i have intimate knowledge and in one of the photographs you can see why. he's carrying a small child , cape ripped as face remains concealed .... secrets , so many secrets.

he controls himself , pulls himself back as he realizes he is no longer alone. the words that invade are words that he's heard all too many times before. his brow lifts , and he then turns head to acknowledge the presence beside him. ❛ no it doesn't does it ? ❜ agreeing with her words as he then returns gaze to the various photographs , ❛ but looking away i've learned does not help nor does it absolve you of what the city has become ❜ exhaustion skirts wording as he then inhales ( ribs bruised ever so ) , and the marks of another life do their best to remind him of his duty to the city , ❛ is it your first time visiting gotham ? ❜