#doflamingo lookin outfit

[ruelin024]

Slayyy ✨Lust Snas 💅✨ yassss

Just a less bright surrounding. Below. 👇

[latinoluffy]

doflamingo has the dumbest name and outfit in all of one piece and im expected to take him serious. ur goofin. have you seen his gay ass pants?? tight HOT AND BARBIE PINK. ZEBRA PRINT capris... and a pair of ballet flats. you are pullin a silly on me my guy. ur a comedian. a jokester. the mans is walkin around in a gigantic feather jacket lookin fresh outta party city. clown maneuvers. absolute clown maneuvers. his name is  fucking (homer simpson voice) D’OH! flamingo?

[snxwbird]

The woman beside him crooned about the latest book she reading, boasting its 'sexual energy, representation, and grit'. Shikamaru, flute of champagne in hand, hummed a noise of acknowledgement over with the din of conversation before he made his escape for more stimulating company. There was a pause of consideration before he approached his colleague, whose name took a second longer to roll off his tongue, drawled lazily, "... Ms. Karjlinen, wasn't it? Great party it's lookin' like."

@beyondshadow

The venue had to be able to fit a few hundred people, and be fancy enough for some of their very distinguished guests, so in the end they chose the Renaissance Museum, which was able to fit the whole forensics department and some of the most renowned policemen of the force. She could see Sengoku and Garp from where she stood, and Smoker, looking like a monkey dressed in a tuxedo and sporting an expression that read just how much he disliked the outfit and the event altogether. After all this black tie events were not for everyone. 

They had turned their Christmas meal -hence the christmasy decor everywhere- into a fundraiser for SCVC, Supporting Child Victims of Crime, and Monet could not cease to see the irony of it, since many of those children were now victims due to police bullets going astray, or getting caught in between gang fights that the police couldn’t protect them from.

 There was some of the very dignified public characters in there: the mayor and his wife, a few of the counselors, the public prosecutor, and a few of the most renowned lawyers in town. A couple of bestselling authors that had already retired to a corner to discuss matters of their clique, and a few minor celebrities. The building had so many relevant people in it that there was a police line of defense outside, as a double layer of security, but that meant that the police presence in other areas in town had been depleted. 

That was what she had told Doflamingo. That if there was a better time to be moving things from one place to another, or finishing some tricky business, it was tonight. She had found the party boring, at best. This kind of parties always were. Some of her old professors had approached her and she had had a chat with some of them. Truly remarkable academics, but they had gone to their partners now, to enjoy the rest of the eve. She had spoke to one of the writers before he went away: a Czech author that said that he wanted to pick her brains for the next novel he was writing, but for someone as smooth with the written word, he had failed to impress her, because more than picking her brain he had made clear that what he wanted was to take of her panties.

      Monet got herself another glass of fizz and spoke to one of the archeologists for a long time, a conversation she did actually enjoy. The lady, Robin, worked there, but after a bit she had to excuse herself and tend to other guests in the party, which left her on her own again. And there was a trend she was starting to observe. The moment she was alone, it didn’t take long for a guy to come and save the day to give her some conversation that was, most often than not, unwanted. 

     Monet was dressed in silver, a beautiful intricate dress, and minimal jewelry since she wasn’t a big fan of that, but she had a very elegant Rado watch on her wrist, for she needed to know what time it was at all times. Her hair was up in a premeditated messy bun, and she wore heels, making her tower over most men.

       And talking about most men. Just as she was wondering if she’d be better off going home and spending some time with her dog instead of waiting for the afterparty she heard steps coming her way. Monet turned to face him, and recognized him as one of the special consultants of the force. What was his name again? Mr. Nara?

          “It’s Karjalainen” She corrects him, bringing the glass to her lips. “Is this your first Christmas with us, Mister Nara.” she takes a sip, but she does not stop looking at him. “..do you know what to expect?”