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Does Beleg have a favorite plant or twenty? What is his favorite plant and does he do anything extra for the plant (move it into more sunlight every two hours or something)?
Beleg's doesn't exactly have plants, he'd have to have like a proper home for something like that I think. But he does adore marigolds ✨ he's not really picky though, he could love anything
Wombo Dash Game!
Enter the name of your blog into the dream by wombo art app, choose a theme that best suits your blog's aesthetic, and post the results!
Tagged by: @malkuvoitenoldoran
Tagging: If you want to pls tag me <3 I legit have no clue who is active or not lately orz
If you had to describe Beleg as one thing in nature (eg. A blizzard or a calm lake) what would you say he is?
Dappled sunlight, like in the spring and it’s that soft version of the sun filtering down through the new green leaves. It just feels very fresh and cozy at the same time
WRITING AESTHETICS
JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bedsheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. mahogany wood, crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favourite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction
FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head
H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends
JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive
EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret
TAGGED BY: @sorrowssinger
Please feel free to fill this out too~~
MUSE PREFERENCES. PLEASE REPOST, DON’T REBLOG.
open curtains / closed blinds ; stray dog / house cat ; people / pets ; outside /inside ; half-empty / half-full ; tv / radio ; sing / dance ; shoes / sandals ; cash / credit ; hike /drive / fly ; casual / elegant ; center / corner ; sword / shield ; airplane / boat ; fizzy /flat ; garnished / plain ; extra salt / extra pepper ; spicy / mild ; record player / digital media ; opaque / transparent ; white lies / complete truth ; blunt / subtle ; loud / silent ; books / music ; familiar / new ; youth /experience ; spoon / fork & knife ; knife /baseball bat ; space / ocean ; bow & arrow / blow dart ; love at first sight / slow burn ; freckles / dimples ; long lashes /long fingers ; soft lips / sensitive neck ; slow dance / intimate conversation.
tagged by: @sorrowssinger tagging: Anyone who wants to~~~
😘+ Mablung or 💔 + Mablung
😘 + a character: How could they get your muse to like them more than they already do? Beleg is just blinking confused xD I think in canon if Mablung had gone after Turin and him. That probably would have helped a lot of things actually– But it would have been a solid reassurance and safety for Beleg to have Mablung backing him up.
💔 + a character: What must they do to ruin their relationship?Insulting Beleg’s spinach puffs? xD Hmm if Mablung showed a disinterest and coldness towards him. For whatever reason. It wouldn’t make Beleg hate him but it would make him back off.
Beleg: *tearing up* I love her so much.
Mablung: Who?
Beleg: Belthronding.
MUSE’S FATAL FLAW.
✵✵✵✵
You got I) Fatal flaw: You’re an idealist in a cruel, callous world.
You want the world to be good. Here’s the problem: it’s usually not. At best it’s subpar. At worst it’s a nightmare void, and your naiveté is simply a plot device used to emphasize this point. Your inability to accept the world’s present darkness will lead to your untimely downfall, but not before your dewy-eyed idealism and rosy visions of utopia erode away. You will become a shell of your former self. Sorry about that. Yikes
TAGGED BY: @sorrowssinger TAGGING: Anyone and everyone~
