#a'queue'rate

positivity! for @lucxsnorth​ from @duvessamiyashita​ and I

Send me a username + ❣ and I will say something positive about them.

wow. do you mean I have to be creative and say nice things about the nicest person to ever nice? that’s a friggin’ challenge right there!

do you ever just meet a person and you think, hey, they are polite and then it turns out that nah, it’s not just about manners. I think it’s one of the few cases when I can say, yeah, that person has the heart of gold… and it’s a big heart too, so… damn. also, in my experience, @lucxsnorth​ ( aka @icekingloki​ / @soldierwithoutaname​ ) always has something interesting to say/tell. so, not only the sweetest mun to sweet, but also a great conversationalist.

then there’s the matter of all the extensive work put into the muse - Lucas, who, to me, is pretty much an OC by now and, unlike many, I use that parallel as a compliment because, yes you can take a character someone else created but then you work, and work, and work, and breathe life into them— and voila! I always respect the hard work that is character development. the creator is strong in this one!

ironically the nice mun is known as Satan or SatanFish but!! it’s about the angst in the written work, which is applied so very… properly, I’d say. because yes there can be too much angst, and it can be there for the wrong reasons. never the case with @lucxsnorth, always the right feels, the good vibes. a gem for your dash!

Air Writer

Exploring the darkness and light in the human soul is a delight, to you. You don't fear writing about MCD, Hanahaki or that suffocating angst. You are a master in flexibility, creating stories that can go from slice of life to mystery.

You're the horror story that starts lightly, and the reader just can't stop reading. Before you know it, the air in the room has disappeared and the reader is choking on their tears, while an invisible hand dries them.

Your style is simple, and really nice to read, a word takes you to the other, and then the other, and it's 3 in the morning and sleep is clinging on you, but you just can't stop.

Your prompts are *chef's kiss*, the absolute perfection. You mix every emotion like colors on a palette, and paint the whole world with the bluest smiles, and the prettiest golden eyes. Your readers can't be other than allured in by you, and once in, they have no escape.

tagged by, and stolen from: @ensnchekov ❤️

@algrimthestrong​:

When his attempt to barter his way into the deeper parts of the dwarven fortress had proven a spectacular failure and no amount of coin had managed to buy the compliance of the two sentries guarding the entrance to the mines (if there was one thing dwarves had in abundance, as the pair of stone-faced guards had informed the mismatched trio seeking entrance to the caves below the city, it was gold), Algrim had been forced to resort to threats. Intimidation had never been his preferred tool of the trade, but the situation had called for radical measures. The Accursed’s name carried enough weight to open doors for his envoys that would otherwise have remained locked, and Algrim was as high up the political tree as one could be. Though he could not say he had enjoyed recounting the story of Painted Xan, the philosopher warrior made famous by his discovery of how many pins one could press into the eyes of a dwarf saint and how hard one could laugh while doing so, the threat of what could happen to whose who kept Malekith’s servants from carrying out his commands had served its purpose and cleared the way for them.

Algrim sniffed at Helena’s wording, but he recognised her remark as the compliment it was intended to be. He even thought he could detect the tiniest trace of awe in the woman’s voice, a mix of bewilderment and incredulity, which he found he rather liked coming from her. “The end justifies the means,” Algrim informed her matter-of-factly as they descended the roughly hewn steps leading downards into the torchlit darkness of the mines. “I thought that was a credo you lived by?”

She was struck by a wave of an overwhelming and even childish impishness. It seemed that Helena wanted to contain her smile to a certain degree, but she had failed in such an endeavour, and it grew wider, wider. Until it reached far into the area of slightly surreal and remained on the creepy side as well.

'The credo is for me, not I'm for the credo.' She responded and graced him with a wink, implying that the Machiavellianism she often displayed was but a tool. Conveniently tools could also be discarded. 'It's more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules.' The increasing intensity of the mischievous light in her eyes suggested that she was going on with her initial intention to tease him. Even though, as always, Hel managed to mean every word turned into a joke.

To herself, she considered, and a lot she did for there to be such a display. Many details about the situation made her feel coincidental delight. The resemblance to a classic quest where bribery had failed as an option. And the party had to resort to picking another line of dialogue, which strongly reminded her of home and board games. The interest was piqued due to the story he recounted. And how well he told it - captured her attention entirely while making the correct impression on the guards. Another welcome consequence was Per's response: he fell quiet for once, then distanced himself from his companions.

The thought process that went through her mind made her content and simultaneously caused pain. It was unlikely that a friend of hers would ever be anything but an asshole - how fun! A friend Algrim, indeed, had become. How dangerous - that. For a brief second over the realisation her eyes dimmed, and the expression in them turned morbidly dead. That reaction she contained expertly, however. Having moved and allowed herself to sway a tad more than is usually required for walking, she let the force guide her back. It led to her gently colliding her arm with Algrim's, rewarding him lightly in passing with a quick, playful push.

the holiness of the kitchen, the warmth of a shared meal

there is beauty in the nourishment and love found at a table of food, and those you eat it with. you are the laughter and joy of shared stories, of reminiscence. the comfort of knowing you have a home among the clatter of plates, a dish being passed between people, a full stomach.

stolen from: @escapedartgeek

so notifications aren’t reall y working. from time to time nothing shows up. like srsly. if i didn’t like a post you tagged me in? i most likely missed it. I’ma liker, I like all the posts. i may unlike them sometime during the week tho. anyhow.

my dis cor d is sohelish#4830

*   bolded aesthetics appeal    /    apply to muse.

smoke escaping a dark alley.   speckled lights up a skyscraper at night. the business of the morning rush to work.  the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries from bakeries in the early morning.  the crack of dawn walk of shame.   lines of cabs and buses filling the main streets.   sunrise breaking over the skyline.  neons flashing against brick.   lightning bolt cracks in the pavement.   sunset streaming through buildings.  a theatre district full of tourists and performers.  night time rain hitting long glass windows.   activity on every street corner.   shattered glass littering the concrete.  wind tunnels passing through a maze of buildings.   churches nestled within high rises.   breakfast on a small balcony.  sirens echoing and bouncing off the inner city walls.   dirty rivers breaking up the concrete jungle.   season changes :  burnt orange of autumn trees, light white snow of winter,   midday sunshine of summer,   blooming flower bushes in spring.  crystal canals littered with houseboats.   dusk falling and lights flickering on.  lightning striking the tops of skyscrapers.   vague reflections in the water of fountains.  cigarette ashes in the gutter.   darkened and empty side streets.   lines of people and chatter outside of clubs.   fire escapes trailing down the sides of buildings.   high ceilings in industrial studio apartments.  rainbow hues reflected in glass.  cityscape views from monuments.   rain gutters swelling during heavy downpour.   a park oasis in the middle of the city.   new years fireworks lighting up the night sky.   airplane trails littering the sky.  polished corner offices.  strip club pamphlets strewn across the damp footpath. rooftop gardens.   oil pools staining asphalt.    sky scrapers protruding thick cloud.   helicopter spotlights.  litter piles surrounding dumpsters nestled down alleyways.   window displays of designer stores. streets lined with thin trees.   the contrast of the white paint and asphalt at crossings.   street views from the bathroom windows.   lowlit bars permeating red light.