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Discoholic 🪩

oozey mess
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
🪼
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

shark vs the universe
RMH
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline

Andulka

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
taylor price
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Origami Around
No title available
occasionally subtle

No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from United States

seen from China

seen from Malaysia

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

seen from Russia

seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@dismalice
| BLOG | CARRD |
CUPPING HIS CHIN, LUKE READS the updated train schedule with growing displeasure. Looming above him and slightly swaying from the breeze, the departures and arrivals board throws a wrench in his plans. It wasn’t his instinct that lead him to check, but his mother’s. He didn’t mind, grateful for the opportunity to leave their flat. Adjusting to London is still difficult, and he misses Misthallery. It was so simple there when you didn’t take The Specter mystery into account. He wanted to visit for a while now, but time is not on his side.
THE POUT ON HIS FACE is replaced by surprise when someone speaks behind him. “Ah!” Luke startles, jumping in place. He turns on his heel to admonish the rude stranger only to pause at his appearance. His not-human appearance, his not-anything-Luke-has-ever-seen appearance. What’s more striking is his choice of words.
“Uh . . .” Luke’s slack jaw and wide eyes settle into a firm, disapproving look. Hands balled on his hips, Luke leans forward and frowns. “There’s no need for that kind of language, The Original Starwalker.” Once he aired his own truth, Luke’s posture relaxes and his expression turns into confused sympathy. “I’m sorry you’re upset. Are you new to London?”
Starwalker doesn't at all notice that his sudden appearance has caused the boy any distress. Instead, he simply stares at him with perhaps the most unamused set of eyes that the world has ever seen. Nothing against this kid--he seems pretty nice--but Starwalker just can't get behind whatever this place is. City life isn't for him unless he's being famous in it, and he's starting to get tired of appearing in random places. This has to be at least the fourth or fifth time just this week alone.
"Never heard of it." Sounds pretty stupid if you ask him. He takes slightly too long to decide how to respond, unsure of how to proceed from here if he can't describe his experiences in terms of how much they do or do not piss him off. He may be a rude star creature, but he doesn't fancy upsetting a human kid with his language. Surely there must be a way...? Think, star thing, think!
"...You're a Lightner. Tell me about Lond Onn."
will get to things here soon. gran died very suddenly so ive been dealin with all of that
girlfriends
and the universe said you were a wonderful experience
“In Dutch Protestant paintings of the 15th and 16th centuries, meat often referred to ‘the weak flesh.’ In my paintings, the beauty of the flesh is shown, and the ornate frames emphasize the non-Puritanical content. People call the frames ‘over the top’ or excessive. They’re often painted to match the meat. When viewing the paintings, some say they have a gag reflex while thinking at the same time they’re beautiful.”
Victoria Reynolds on her raw meat paintings
KangHee Kim (tinycactus)
🧪 "Were you always this insufferable and irritating?!"
to spamton.
"[DID YOU MEAN:] AS MUCH AS YOU? I [[#&@×ING]] HOPE NOT!!"
EMMY JUST MET FLORA, BUT a strong feeling in her gut insists they’d get on well. One-on-one small talk is hard to botch—though not impossible—to truly know someone, you must experience the world with them. Perhaps that’s too grand for most people, but they both know Hershel Layton. He’s not most people, and he finds outliers to spend his time with. What does he see in Flora? Would she see the same?
HER HUNCHES WERE UNRELIABLE BEFORE, but since she shed her Targent mindset, Emmy’s learned to trust her honed instincts. She could befriend Flora, assuming all goes well. Why not! Free as she may be, Emmy hasn’t truly connected with anybody in quite some time. Again, the professor finds his ilk naturally. Emmy does not. Reinvigorated with purpose, she smiles wide.
“To be fair, most people wouldn’t think to combine food and puzzles. You’re not suppose to play with your food, but I believe all rules have exceptions.” Emmy says, then hums in contemplation. “I’ve been traveling the world for a couple years now, and I see puzzles everywhere. All kinds, too. I find myself distracted trying to solve every single one of them instead of doing my job, sometimes.” She laughs a little at her own expense.
“Luckily my supervisor is very understanding. Oh!” An idea struck her then. “I should mention, I’m a journalist for the World Times. If you go through with making puzzles into bakes goods, I could write a piece on it.” Emmy opens her pocketbook and takes out her sleek 35mm camera. She turns it around in her hands, showcasing the popular model proudly.
"I always thought that rule was silly. Since becoming a baker, I swear I spend most of my time playing with food!" Indeed, a surprisingly large part of her job is more about arranging and decorating than actually baking. Once you have a recipe down and you have the right equipment to make it consistently, it's just a matter of being meticulous about following the proper steps. Presentation is, to her, much more difficult--and much more rewarding--to excel at. You can make the most delicious cake in the world, but if it looks awful, most people won't be willing to pay for it. That is, unless looking awful is the whole point and it's some sort of themed creation, though that, too, ultimately comes down to presentation. A puzzle theme could both be entertaining enough to attract curious customers and look visually appealing...
"The World Times?" Flora echoes, tilting her head slightly to the side and placing a thoughtful finger against her cheek. "Isn't that a rather prestigious paper?" It's hard to imagine such a publication would be all that interested in her little shop for any reason, but then again, puzzles are all the rage these days... But all thoughts of marketing potential are derailed the moment Emmy pulls out that camera. Flora's eyes widen, genuine excitement immediately replacing anything else she may have been feeling.
"Oh, what a lovely device!" Without a second thought, she skitters around the counter to get a better look. "Isn't it amazing how compact cameras have gotten? When I was small, the camera they took our family photos with was huge!" She holds up her hands in an exaggerated show of how large she remembers them to have been. She doesn't realise that her larger adult size is probably distorting that memory. "I've always wondered how they work!"
finally got some things going again here yippee!!
Layton began quick, almost lightning-speed deductions about Alastor's description of the club's patrons. He wouldn't be surprised that people deemed as a threat wouldn't be allowed here, especially once their true nature had been exposed to the keepers of this safe space. Not so safe it would be if there were snakes and other fiends that only intended to harm and strike for the kill. The professor picked up the notion that Alastor was somebody who at least assisted in the disposal of these remnants. It was commendable, but then begged the question of how they were taken care of. What had his eyes seen, what has his hands had to do, and was that ever-so-persistent smile always there to shine upon the fiends who burnt to a crisp under its glimmer? He would've considered the assumptions he currently made about Alastor to be quite rude, but he felt it necessary in order to keep himself in his good graces. To not overstep and find out what happens to those that don't see their return to the club. He had to think about what that meant for his actual investigation, too. The professor came up with two theories. One, was that he had been purposely mislead. It was the least ideal scenario, but in a place where his face belonged to that of an out-of-states stranger, he wouldn't be terribly shocked. Then again, no one had pulled him to the side and tried to terrify him or put him in a box going back to London. Had his persona as Honey kept him out of harm's way? He hoped not, considering that would imply this display was a disguise, which it most certainly was not. Honey was handed the olive branch to express herself in a city -- a whole country even -- where any other faces or names had no reputation. He had been requested here, not the other way around. Despite the walls around him being very thick, it was easier to breathe down in New Orleans. Her eyes searched around the club as she danced along with Alastor. No one eyed her back; no one else wished to steal the air from her lungs. Then that meant that this patron had to be one of the aforementioned problematic people who could never see themselves in with the desire of coming back out. Honey's gaze lowered from Alastor's, brows furrowing and eyes eventually closing. Alastor was closely connected to this club and would otherwise know whoever was on the unspoken blacklist. Her eyes opened and matched with the radio host's again, something sparkling behind the small, black beads. Still, the two of them still had some of the night remaining to put the investigation on pause. Layton may have realized that Alastor would be an important asset in his current affairs, but Honey still wished to be herself. Honey wanted to have fun for once and be allowed a dance or two more before this side of the professor would have to be put away for who knew how long. There was clearly no work to be done here, so that meant that this could be her night. The stage was garbed in the red of her dress.
"So I've been told," Honey replied with a smile that was almost curved into a smirk. "Someone can tell you how to do something surely, but what good does it do if you have no way to do it? You prime your technique through practice alone, which is especially true for dance like this." She clicked her tongue and grinned. "Though, I wouldn't be anywhere near to where I am now without you. You've been such a sweetheart, taking your time to teach me the right way to dance. I'd debate on taking it home with me, but I'll have no one else to dance with!" Could you picture Professor Layton breaking out in dance that was completely foreign and somewhat revealing in its nature? Ha. The two of them danced along to two more songs, Honey finding herself more and more into the flow of the dance floor, the song, and Alastor's movements. She was beginning to pant slightly; she was used to physical exertion but not of the dancing variety. Honey sheepishly chuckled at her dance partner when she did so, but she carried on as if nothing bothered her. Nothing did bother her, until the end of the second song, and when she would have to retreat for the time being. The night was long, but it was only growing shorter. Honey's voice dipped again.
"This has been a pleasure, but I do have something I must inquire on. I have a feeling that you're close with the owners or overseers of this club. Has there been any recent patrons that have been banned from this place? It may go to answer why I can't seem to find them." He was ignoring the possibility that he was intentionally lead here. He would cross that bridge should he come to it. "I understand that we can't keep this conversation here. Is there anywhere you'd rather us speak? A middle ground for us both?" Layton didn't trust Alastor enough to bring him to his hotel room, similarly to how Alastor much very well feel about taking him to any of his spots. New Orleans was big, though. There had to be at least one area that they could converse further that weren't frequent stomping grounds for anybody wanting to give them trouble. Surely. Could Layton evade anything that the radio host may try to pull on him there? Unbeknownst to Alastor, Layton had been able to get himself out of powers much more deadly than just himself on his lonesome. Surely! "I would be eternally grateful for any information you could provide me."
Alastor smiles--genuinely, this time--at the compliment to his dancing skills. It's one of few things he takes truly innocent pride in, and for a moment, it shows. "I must say I have enjoyed being your teacher, even if only for a single lesson! I hope you won't forget once you've returned to your home!" Though Honey may never learn any new steps, there's no reason she can't continue to enjoy what she already has. Though Alastor is a future-oriented individual to a fault, living in the moment and reveling in things past are not beyond him. He wonders how his ancestors would feel seeing him dance with such skill and freedom, even if only in a precious few places.
In contrast to Honey's growing exertion, Alastor is no worse for wear than when the dancing started. His small frame may lead one to assume that he is weak, but decades of hunting, foraging, and farming have made him much stronger and more full of stamina than he looks. He's almost disappointed to end this part of his night so soon, but he can hardly fault a beginner for needing a rest, nor a curious investigator for wanting to move things along. Alastor follows her lead, placing himself at her side to give the impression of casual conversation between two friends.
"You feel correctly!" No reason to hide his connections here; he's implied more than enough for the conclusion to be obvious. "There is always someone trying to cause trouble for us, though most often those people are on the 'right' side of the law. They don't take kindly to the gathering of our sorts, even if fun is the only item on our agenda." Naive about this city as Layton may be, Alastor is sure that he has at least some experience with the ways in which the authorities typically deal with those whose identities and politics they don't support. "For reasons I'm sure you understand, we don't keep a guest list here. But I never forget a face, nor a name."
Alastor smiles sweetly. An implicit agreement to help, but also a reminder of what he might do if it turns out that his tentative trust is misplaced.
"If your suspect has been here on my watch, I can guarantee you they won't be repeating whatever it is they've done. I gather it must be more than some petty crime. You don't strike me as the sort to go chasing small-time thieves and vandals." It's definitely something more sinister. He can sense it. All the more reason for a change of venue. "I know of a spot not far from here. Small, quiet, open late... And they serve tea! I'm sure you will appreciate that!" A cheeky jab at his obvious Britishness, but a sincere offer nonetheless. Or, no, not quite an offer--Alastor has already taken hold of Layton's arm and began tugging him along toward the exit.
"The sort of place we won't be thrown out of for looking like this, though we won't want to linger too long. You will tell me more about your suspect there." A basic description of appearance and behaviour may be enough for Alastor to start with. It's a big city, but if someone is encroaching upon his territory, they must have shown themselves at least once. "I will tell you what I know, or at least what I don't!"
i fear i may have said too much
@sharedpast
In this moment, Starwalker is perhaps more miserable than he has ever been in his life. One minute he's starwalking around their little castle town minding his own business, and the next he's somehow stepping out into what he assumes is the Light World based solely upon how much of a headache he's getting. There are a bunch of big people around--humans, he's pretty sure, even though they look freakier than any humans he's ever seen--but none of them seem to notice him under the hustle and bustle of wherever the Hell this is. He, however, notices one of them. A smaller one, like the human he knows, but... smaller. On this basis and this basis alone, Starwalker approaches the child from behind, looks up, and speaks his truth.
"This city is Pissing me off. I'm the original Starwalker."
...He genuinely doesn't even know what he's even talking to right now. It's possible that this is a NPC that doesn't know he's an NPC, but usually Caine doesn't just put those in the Circus unless they served a purpose.
Eh. Should he really care though? This guy was just a star looking thing with legs. It wasn't that serious.
ꕥ✧∘* “…I can't show you jack squat, dude. I don't make the adventures." His eyes roll. “Can you at least tell me why you're even here? You didn't even answer that the first time I asked you.”
"I just appeared." That's all he really has to say about that. If anything, Jax probably knows more about how Starwalker most likely got here than he does. However, unlike many others before him who found themselves in the circus, Starwalker is pretty used to showing up in unfamiliar settings at random. That's not too uncommon a thing for Darkners like him. "Show me who makes the adventures. I'm gonna be a ⋆˙⟡ star⋆˙⟡ walker." He turns his "head" slightly to the side and sticks out a little leg fruitily.
My friends made me draw this while playing the worst board game ever
Soooo... How exactly does one trans their gender? A certain deer is very visibly interested in this information.