hi! i’m leah, she/her, 25. this is a semi-selective multimuse blog for mainly original but also a few canon characters.
guidelines
muses
always accepting memes. d*scord available on request. let’s be friends!
h
YOU ARE THE REASON
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$LAYYYTER

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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

if i look back, i am lost
art blog(derogatory)
Misplaced Lens Cap

Origami Around

JBB: An Artblog!

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Xuebing Du
Sade Olutola
Peter Solarz

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@sidusignes
hi! i’m leah, she/her, 25. this is a semi-selective multimuse blog for mainly original but also a few canon characters.
guidelines
muses
always accepting memes. d*scord available on request. let’s be friends!
And somedays I miss everyone - who has ever left, all at once.
Donte Collins (via quotemadness)
pushing daisies taken from the 2007 - 2009 tv show.
i’ll be in the kitchen rationalizing my panic attack.
we’re not at that stage in our friendship yet. please don’t cry in front of me.
i’m gonna dose the both of you with a scoop of shut the fudge up.
your eye is twitching.
we all have childhood issues. okay? believe me. i got the full subscription, okay? horror stories.
i think it’s brave to try to be happy. you’ve gotten so comfortable being unhappy.
listen to you, all judgey-judge.
i think it’s brave to try to be happy.
way to ruin a good apology.
the terrifying bee man.
a hug can turn your day around. it’s like an emotional heimlich.
could i just say that i know you can take care of yourself?
that’s not as much fun to remember.
or cash. cash is good.
been hiding.
you’ve gotten so comfortable being unhappy.
you framed someone for murder, you ass!
everyone wants stuff. we wake up every day with list of wishes a mile long and maybe we spend our lives trying to make those wishes come true, but just because we want them, doesn’t mean we need them to be happy.
why love something? because we can.
i’m ripping off the band-aid!
musing on the idea of setting someone on fire doesn’t mean you really want to set them on fire. it’s just the thought of it that makes you happy.
candy might be sweet, but it’s a traveling carnival blowing through town.
pie is home. pie always comes home.
being honest is fun!
we make choices and we live with the consequences. if someone gets hurt along the way we ask for forgiveness. it’s the best anyone can do.
i’m having awkward silences with god!
but lying to yourself about love never works.
been looking.
clearly not the right choice of words.
nun on the run!
but, you know, messages are like nuts. who wants all the same kind? mixed is the best.
i’ll be mad at you if you lie to me.
Langston Hughes, from ‘Tired’ featured in Selected Poems
suresaint:
@sidusignes
It was by chance that her boat found itself in the eye of Poseidon’s rage. He took its bow and stern in his strong hands and tore the vessel in two, scattering the bodies of the crew like grain for the birds. Aphrodite watched as the waters claimed her daughter’s body, and with terror in her heart she raced from her seat on Olympus to plead with the sea God who loved her most of all. She found him on his throne and fell before him, placing one hand upon his great knee and reaching to take his chin with her fingers. She implored him to save her daughter’s life, and because he loved Aphrodite dearly he listened and went immediately to rescue Zelda, the daughter of the goddess of love and beauty. Gathering the young woman in his great arms, Poseidon cast her body from the depths of his waters and lay her gently upon the shores of the Island of Chiros, on a bed of sea foam, and she slept there peacefully, unscathed and undying, as though the storm had all been a terrible dream…
She was roused awake by a woman’s voice, but when she opened her eyes she found that she was alone. She lay in the cool, wet sand in a daze, confused, until the ocean rushed upon her in a flood of saltwater, and she started in shock, and pulled herself to her hands and knees with a ragged breath in. At once the air filled her lungs and the life she had almost lost rushed back into her. Blindly she groped her way up the beach until her hands met with the hot, dry sands, where she stayed, palms and knees burning, until her heart calmed.
Spitting the sand and grit from her mouth, she got to her feet and looked around. Somehow she had been spared, but she did not know where she was, or how she would return home. She had lain unconscious in the sun long enough that her skin was raw to the touch, shoulders as red and glowing as a hot poker. She was thirsty, and sun burnt, and needed to find shelter or she would die. So she wandered into the forest, dripping in sand and saltwater, and prayed that this was not the will of some spurned God who desired to see her suffer.
At the first sound of trickling water she gave out a small cry. Tears would have fallen from her eyes had she any to spare. She rushed onwards, following the musical notes of running fresh water like a sailor maddened by the beautiful song of a Siren. She burst through the canopy into the opening, and was greeted by a glorious spring, so clear that she could see herself reflected in its surface.
Right away she dropped to her knees and stooped eagerly over the water’s edge, scooping the water into her palms and slurping greedily, unawares of her surroundings. She splashed the cold water onto the back of her burning neck, and washed the sweat from her face and chest, and would have laughed aloud at her luck had she not looked across the pool and met the black eyes of a vicious guard dog.
Her heart shuddered and she went still, unable to look away from the animal. His jowls were pulled back to reveal its sharp canines, a low growl in its belly. Slowly, she raised a hand, and leant back on the heels of her feet, ready to flee should it give chase. Then from the corner of her eye she caught the flash of movement. Something hit her hard in the temple, knocking her down, and everything went black.
Her days were spent roaming the hills of their island, bow at her side and dogs in tow, rarely seeing another soul. Her sisters were too light on their feet to make much noise; they knew every twisting root and thicket, every rock and ledge and hidden dip that might hazard a stranger’s path. If there was sound it was an animal, or an intruder. Prey. Years ago, Marielle would have found a pit of shame burning in her stomach, hand in hand with fear, at the thought of blood on the tip of her arrow. But Artemis had hardened her heart and nerves and now she felt only excitement.
The distinct rustle of clumsy human feet through underbrush came from the left. Her hounds whipped their heads and waited for a command. Low, slow. They crept together, a pack, quiet as mice.
Ah. There. The spring lay just beyond a smattering of juniper bushes that hid the hunting party from view, and through the gaps Marielle glimpsed a woman. Red skinned, sand matted, golden haired, delighting in the cool, clear waters before her. A shipwreck, she guessed. Victims such as she were common enough on Chiros, though often they were not welcome. They were usually men, who found themselves in the company of women and hounds and believed themselves conquerors.
Still. Woman or not, a stranger begets caution. Slowly Marielle raised herself up and took a step, stringing her bow in a fluid motion. The muscles on her arms lay taut and steady, familiar in the motion while she aimed. Her dogs slipped through the bushes, hackles raised, until they were mere feet across from the woman, who finally seemed to hear their low growl.
“If you do not tell me why you’re here,” Marielle began, calling attention to herself, “I will shoot you in the eye.”
@suresaint
Omega.
C-Sec had been threatening her with this for years. Every time she ended up in an interrogation room it was tales of Aria T'Loak and her gangs, of the mercenaries and thugs and every unsavoury type that lurked there. The tactic sometimes worked on the younger kids; the duct rats. Scarlett had been one which meant she'd heard the same spiel a hundred and one times, usually from the same faces. The words started to lose their gravitas as she got older and made the kind of friends who could protect her from consequences.
But in Icarian fashion she had strayed too close to the sun and done something even well placed words and bribes couldn't save her from. It was either prison or Omega, and having no desire to rot behind bars, Scarlett chose the latter. A little money and precious few names to drop were the only things of value in her possession now. She would need them if her initial plan didn't go quite right; get on Aria's good side. Fast. And failing that? At the very least try not to piss her off.
Trying to find an in proved more difficult than anticipated. Not that Scarlett thought it would be easy - she was barely a blip on the radar here. There was no chance she could manage to see Aria, nor did she have much to offer or any reputation to back her up. No, she would need to find a way to catch Aria's attention and make herself useful. But for that she would need a little help.
The name Zelda had been heard around a few times. Personable. Charismatic. Helpful. Whether any of that was true remained to be seen, but Scarlett decided to seek her out anyway, and found her in Afterlife - alone, for the moment, in a booth. She wasted little time in sliding into the seat opposite, as casually as if they were old friends.
“Hope you don’t mind the intrusion.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “Zelda, right? Heard a lot about you.”
❝ long way from home, aren’t you? ❞ / marielle (medieval)
@suresaint
The boat journey had been difficult. It wouldn't have been pleasant even with the creature comforts Marielle was accustomed to; the passenger cabin, the plush bed, the tea brewed with calming herbs. Those luxuries had to be discarded if she was going to make it to England unfollowed. Nobody could know her name or even truly what she looked like - she wore her hair pinned back beneath a veil, and a too-large kirtle beneath a shapeless cloak to conceal as much of her body as possible. Her face remained shadowed behind the hood as she boarded.
A storm had hit two days into the crossing and she could feel every rolling wave beneath the thin straw mattress the captain had scraped up. A pregnant woman shouldn't be on the floor, he'd said, though Marielle had thought it was barely an improvement. She'd found a bucket, luckily, by the time sickness arrived, but the remainder of the journey was still miserably cold and uncomfortable. At the very least the crew paid so little mind to her she might not have been there at all.
Six days later the ship landed at Dover and Marielle stumbled from it grateful to see land. The feeling did not last very long - as turbulent as the ocean had been, it was not going to be the steepest hill on her path. The fee for crossing had taken a considerable amount of her savings and she had to keep moving inland. It wasn't safe to stay too close to port. She had hoped that there might be enough left over to secure a horse in England, but now it seemed obvious if she wished not to starve she would have to find another way.
Most people she spoke to understood her, but were not so helpful. Marielle, alone and visibly pregnant, clearly seemed an easy target. Some kinder folk pointed her in the direction of the priory, stating that she ought to be resting before the baby came and the nuns there would help her. Truthfully she could think of no worse place to go, nowhere more conspicuous than a priory hospital, but as the hours passed and the sun lowered in the sky the temptation began to outweigh the growing sense of urgency.
Her very last hope was a woman driving a cart, just as alone as she. Surely if anyone would help it would be her. Marielle had all but thrown herself in front of the horse, prepared to beg and bribe, but in the end she hadn't needed to. The woman had agreed quite happily. Zelda, she said her name was. I can help you.
The bumps of the road were not nearly as bad as the rolling ocean, and so the cart felt practically leisurely. As Dover grew distant behind them she could feel herself settling. The exhaustion of the journey so far must have shown clearly on her face.
“Quite a long way, yes.” Not long enough. “But hopefully not much longer to go.”
Czeslaw Milosz, Notebook.
Sooner or later, I’m going to have to think about it, and then I’m going to be a real mess.
Unknown (via qvotable)
I had no idea that love could be as reliable as the sun. The daily rising of love.
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson (via decreation)
Le passé devant nous 2016
c'est quand l'enterrement? il ya trois mois.
Don’t Delete the Kisses (2017) Directed by Sophie Muller
alice for clothing style. before bed routine. eating habits. and concept of home and family
clothing style
Alice wears a lot of suits/blazers, basically business wear in her every day life. She rarely wears jeans and you will never catch her in loungewear outside of her own home and definitely not if she has visitors. A lot of her clothes are white and shades of blue. She almost always wears heels of an appropriate height, unless she’s working out. Her jewellery is simple and elegant.
before bed routine
Once the kids are in bed she and Alistair probably watch a couple of episodes of whatever show they’re currently working through before they go up to bed as well. She’s usually already in her pyjamas but will have a quick shower and change into new pyjamas because that’s just how she is. Then she’ll brush her teeth and do her 12 step skincare routine. Once she finally gets into bed she’ll usually read a couple of chapters of whatever book she’s reading at the moment and goes to sleep at a sensible time and doesn’t struggle to fall asleep because her body would never dare to disobey her by keeping her awake.
eating habits
She eats very healthily and makes sure her family does too. She loves to cook and bake but she’s one of those people that makes ridiculously convoluted recipes with a bunch of special ingredients when it would be easier to use a standard recipe because it ‘makes it more nutritious.’ In general she’s not a snacking person and just eats her three square meals a day. Part of her eating habits are influenced by her need for control over everything, including what goes into her body, and also her weight/appearance.
concept of home and family
I think years ago she had a very traditional concept of home and family like your home is where you live and it’s a place to be decorated and shown off and your family is your partner/kids/parents/siblings and she still does kind of think that way, but it’s changed over time. With the war bringing her closer to people that she’s not related to her concept of family has shifted. She sees Zelda as her family even though they aren’t technically related and the rest of the gang as a sort of... extended family because of everything they’ve gone through together. Her concept of home has also changed since the war displaced everyone and she realised that ‘home’ for her is not necessarily whatever house she owns, it’s wherever Alistair and her kids are. She’s still very house proud though. Compliment her decorating skills and cleanliness.
habits and mannerisms for marielle
She’s a very animated talker and she talks with her hands. The more excited/angry/emotional she is the more wild her gestures get.
Has a bad habit of getting sucked into online shopping and ordering too much and then forgetting what she’s ordered so its a surprise when stuff shows up.
Almost always falls asleep halfway through a film.
Even though she spends most of her time speaking in English now and that’s what she’s used to when she’s talking to herself she speaks in French.
Christmas decorations go up on the 1st of November in Marielle’s house!!!
When she’s talking on the phone for a long time she likes to doodle.
When she’s concentrating very intensely she frowns and her tongue pokes out a little bit.
She likes to cut up a bunch of fruit in the morning and leave it in the fridge to snack on through the day.
When Marielle really likes someone (aka Zelda) it’s very hard for her to hide it because she becomes an absolute DORK with NO CHILL around them and will laugh at anything even remotely funny they say.
She hums random tunes to herself whenever she’s doing... anything.
Loves playing with Zelda’s hair!!!
The Anti Mutant Organisation (A.M.O.) ‘Scientists and their facilities…’