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Number six is my number.

Today, November 6th, I went to take a written exam and have an interview for a position as a researcher on a project at my uni. I received the results and scored a whooping 95/100 points, making me the top candidate they will take on the project. I had a good feeling in the morning regarding it, and an even better after it was all done. This is why I was gone for a long time, to finish my Master thesis, defend it, finish my last exams and apply and prepare for this job.

Hard work paid off, and I will likely start working this December. I will get the opportunity to enjoy a book fair next week, treat myself and write some too.

December 6th, though, is another wonderful date as Wind and Truth gets published. Moral of the story, 6 is my number. 666 is Doffy's. Hope to spend more time here now that I can finally breathe again.

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Sosuke Aizen has no right looking as good as he does in the latest Bleach episode.

HE HAS NO RIGHT.

Is it a surprise that my favourite Bleach character is another villain? No, of course not.

BUT MY GOD AIZEN IN THIS EPISODE.

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Take a breath of fresh air, Young Master.... by @gadozzp

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Congratulations🎉🎈 by @mlgdhh

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Hi! I love the way you role play Doflamingo and it inspired me to want to write as well. I just turned 18 and this would be my first role play blog. Any advice for a newbie?

Oi, oi, oi! Welcome to the rpc! I do hope you have a good time.

Basic things for the start: do have a rules page (otherwise people aren't likely to follow you back) where you'll state general rules, your age, triggers if you have any, anything important to note to your fellow rp partners, etc. You can go around blogs to get the general gist of it, but don't feel pressured to write extensive and long rules unless you want to. Short and concise is as good as long and detailed. Secondly, an about page about your character. You get more leeway with this if you're roleplaying a canon character, but it's a must if you have an original character. Thirdly, not a necessity but trust me makes life much easier, is a tagging system. It will help you filter out things you want or don't want on your dash, as much as help with looking up things and headcanons on your own blog.

Everything else, icons, headers, aesthetic as people refer to it, carrd, is not mandatory and is personal preference and desire. If you want to make all these things, by all means go for it, if you don't want to spend hours on it and just enjoy writing, avoiding all of this is more than fine. In that case, make your rules and about page as posts on your blog and link them to a pinned post on your page. You're all set.

Now, darling, here comes the part many won't actually tell you about but I will, just so you're prepared. If you take anything from this post, take the things below.

Do keep in mind that you're dealing with people, not fictional characters. What I mean by that is not the fact they have lives apart from tumblr (goes without saying), but the fact social interactions here are the same as in real life, but with the veil of anonymity and distance between you and others. In real life, you can sort of tell what someone may think of you through their body language, interactions with others, etc. Online, that's much harder to estimate. You will have people pretending to be on good terms with you while talking behind your back with their clique. The more influential they are, the more likely they will turn others away from you. They will project their own insecurities on you (without telling you, of course) and will see you as a threat to their status in the rpc. Highschool drama behaviour but make it adult version, I'm not joking. I wish I were.

Granted, there are people who don't fall into that category. Those people are kind, genuine and will remain friends with you for years to come. Some of them you'll meet in person, some of them will be continents away but you'll hear with them daily, some of them will get to know the real you and you'll get to know them too. I hope you have as many of these encounters as possible.

Goes without saying, but treat others the way you want to be treated. However, do know when to draw the line once your trust has been betrayed. You're worth more than suffering someone's betrayals over and over again. Forgive them like Doffy does (block their ass don't use bullets). Additionally, don't let others and especially tumblr to determine YOUR self worth. I've seen this way too many times over three years I've had this blog, but people (much like with any social media) get focused on number of likes, notes and comments on their posts. If they have more, they're instantly worth more, and if they have less, then something must be wrong. Some people even post about the lower activity on their posts as if it's a big deal. Point being, don't seek validation through something as small as notes on a website. That's the most insulting thing you can do to yourself. Do your thing, write your posts and headcanons unapologetically, without worrying if there are notes or not. You make posts for yourself, not others.

This may all seem harsh and as if you need to guard your heart and not let anyone in. Keep a safe distance, so to speak. You can do that, for sure. However, I'm not trying to make you distrustful and paranoid of everyone here, just to be able to evaluate situations before they escalate (because you will find yourself in one of many mentioned scenarios. You just will, this is tumblr) or to properly evaluate people you're in contact with. Social media is messy, you will get a fruit basket in which you'll have good and rotten fruit alike. You just need to sort them out and throw away the ones which are bad for your mindset, ergo the need to not be naive.

Also, remember that you're easily manipulated. Age has nothing to do with that, people are easy to manipulate. Just like that someone might influence people to not write with you, or get to write with people they want because they've noticed you're friends with someone they like, the same can happen to you. You might be someone they'll try to keep away from those they paint as problematic. You might be someone they'll want by their side. You might be someone they don't want to share with others.

Keep a cool head on your shoulders, think critically, remember that screenshots they share with you are carefully chosen bits of conversations that can be interpreted the way they want, remember there are two sides of the story. I'm not telling you to go and play detective to find out the truth, that would be a waste of your time. My advice, stay out of it. Don't put one over the other, don't pick sides. It's not your mess to clean.

Final last piece of advice, don't trust blindly. I'm not saying to not trust others, just to not do it blindly. There's a difference. Trust is built over time and everything you read is not bulletproof. Good people will invest in the relationships with you and build that trust (source: trust me).

To demonstrate my point: your question. You hold me in high enough esteem to ask for my opinion and advice. You don't know what type of person I am, you don't know my motivation for answering it either. I may be doing it out of kindness of my heart and wish to make sure you don't suffer from tumblr trauma like many people before you, maybe I actually want to spread paranoia online and enjoy the misery, maybe I just want to feed my ego because I know some of my mutuals will read this, leave likes and comments and maybe agree with me. Maybe it's none of the above and the reason is a mystery.

Truly, darling, who knows? Only I do.

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しむらー@sim2matu

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Birdsong fluttered through the open balcony door, Sun's rays warmed the skin where they dared graze it, a gentle breeze caressed the lovers while bodies glistened with sweat and bed sheets rustled. His lips were in the crevice of her neck—hungry, TAUNTING. Her nails were marking his back, adding MORE to the count since last night. A sigh, a moan, a thrust, a BITE. He wanted to eat her, to DEVOUR her and possess her completely—knowing he never could. He could bite pieces of her heart, hold them between his teeth and lick the blood, yet be DENIED of claiming her as his. She was never to be claimed, never to be CAGED as one's obsession. It made her even more IRRESISTIBLE ( if that was even possible ). However, every time his name parted from her lips amidst passionate nights and mornings, even if for a mere few seconds, she was HIS. The moment tasted as sweet as ambrosia and nectar, it replenished his soul.

He couldn't think straight with her around. He couldn't close off his heart either when it YEARNED for this. Doflamingo was aware how DANGEROUS being vulnerable with someone was, how it opened gates to SUFFERING in the future. Alas, HE WANTED HER. He was selfish and greedy like that. Despite his mind's warning of the consequences, the only thing he could focus on was Viola's tongue against his. Her taste, her scent, her voice, her warmth against his. Hand wrapped around neck, she arched her back as the line between life and death blurred within his fingertips ( he lived for moments where it was under his full control ), and with a clench of her walls she evened out the play field, taking that control BACK. He loved it.

Fingers traced the curves of her body while they rested and continued upwards into her dark mane. With a tilt he had her eyes gazing into his, and his lips kissed her again. A SLOW, patient kiss. He was savouring the moment. He savoured them as greedily as he did the most passionate ones. Viola's fingers reached into his golden hair, caressing his scalp in the most intimate manner. Outside of her apartment life was already buzzing, temperature rose and summer heat invaded their privacy. As he got up to close the open door, his lips quirked upward at the memory of the two of them on that balcony few hours prior.

❝ This is the last time. ❞ Viola said as he joined her in bed again, her auburn eyes firm, amused and serious.

❝ You said that the last time as well. ❞

❝ This time it will be our final. ❞ He knew the day when it would all end was near. He was aware, despite their mutual attraction in more ways than one, it wouldn't last forever. AMBITION would stand in the way of DESIRE, PRIDE in the way of LOVE, DEATH in the way of FUTURE. They could pretend every time they met up the world was theirs, and that dream lasted for only a few days at best ( with the exception of his current visit lasting for two weeks ). The choices made prior would dictate the outcome of current events, and each time they did, they never ruled in THEIR favour. ❝ You know what I want, Doffy. A partner, a family, an honest life—life with integrity. We both know you can't give me that, and I don't demand you to. I demand of you to respect my choice. ❞

He remained quiet. He didn't want to let go, not yet. He NEEDED this, and Viola indulged his needs for years. Now, finally—some would say, she put her own needs above his. Despite the momentary happiness she felt with him, she had decided to move on. The THRILL and DANGER which wrapped around him like a cloak had long since lost their charm. If he wanted to, he could spin the story. He could manipulate her anew, he could, by all means, give her reasons to STAY. She would see it coming, though. She knew him as well as he knew her. She would see past it, and the memories made would fade into nothingness. FORGOTTEN as if they had never happened. He didn't want to be forgotten by her. He also thought too HIGHLY of her to attempt such maneuvers.

He had one option, really.

❝ How about we postpone this farewell of ours? ❞ The small lift of her lips implied she knew where this was coming from. Viola always knew. She had made it clear before how LOUD his thoughts were. ❝ If I had known this is a goodbye, I could've brought more toys with me. We could've gone to a BDSM club. I would've wine and dined you properly. Don't you think this feels a bit... unsatisfying? ❞

Her hand held his chin, knowing he would put on a performance otherwise. It was gentle, her gaze was also calm. DEFINITIVE. She surely thought long about this. ❝ You just don't want it to end, Doffy. ❞

❝ Of course I don't. Neither do you. ❞

VERGO was the first to realise something was amiss upon his return. Something in Doflamingo's smile simply didn't seem GENUINE, and he wasn't wrong. Usually, whenever Doflamingo returned from his trip to Spain, he returned HAPPY. This time, however, he returned with more questions than he wanted to consider, and an uncertainty if he'd fly BACK again. The BLISS he'd naturally experience after his quality time with Viola was clouded by a RESOLUTION of hers to bring everything to an end. It was something for him to ponder in the early hours of the night when books weren't enough to sate him.

❝ Everything alright? ❞ A CALCULATED concern from his best friend. A mere poke to determine Doflamingo's mood. Doflamingo found it equally adorable and amusing.

❝ Why wouldn't it be? ❞ Feet carried him to the liquor cabinet in his study room, and he poured himself a glass of red wine. Château Lafite. The wine's rich, earthy and spicy tones soothed his soul. ❝ Has anything important happened while I was gone? ❞

One thing Doflamingo loved about Vergo was his unapologetic directness. He never tiptoed around a subject, he never tried to paint a NICER picture, no—Vergo ALWAYS said it as it was. ❝ Three devil fruit users have been slaughtered in your absence. One of these murders happened on your turf. ❞

❝ Have you found this modern Jack the Ripper? ❞

❝ No. We, nor the cops, have any concrete clues to follow. ❞

❝ Either someone very calculated and careful or a devil fruit user themself. ❞ Vergo nodded. It was a reasonable hypothesis to have, one that the police surely had as well. ❝ Or a group. ❞ Another possibility. New groups hungry for power and influence popped up every other month in the city. Some remained, most were ERASED from existence by those they tried to threaten. ❝ The one killed on my turf, was it someone of importance? ❞

❝ A mere civilian, Doffy. She kept to herself, her record is clean, lived a normal everyday life. It isn't certain whether she ever revealed her devil fruit power to anyone other than her family members. They claim she kept it a secret. ❞ Hearsay. There was no way of telling whether she DID share it with someone else, just as it was pointless for the cops to question the family in mourning whether they mentioned anything to anyone.

Vergo's silence felt RELUCTANT. When Doflamingo turned to look at the raven's face, he knew there was something ELSE. ❝ And? ❞

❝ Caesar has requested your attention once you're back. He said it was important. ❞ With a slight nod Doflamingo dismissed his best friend. Taste of wine on his tongue washed away the nectar and ambrosia, making him momentarily forget of his private matters.

He knew Caesar wouldn't request his presence unless it was connected to SMILEs. Doflamingo could've let the man wait if he wasn't that IMPORTANT to him. Caesar was the most intelligent scientist out there, and while Doflamingo demanded a lot from him, he was GENEROUS enough to give the scientist special treatment.

The initial thought was that Caesar wouldn't be able to make the latest batch of the drug. While that was UNFORTUNATE, it wasn't something Doflamingo couldn't work around. He had good relations with those buying from him ( with a roller coaster of Kaido's emotions being the only UNPREDICTABLE factor ), and while they would be DISPLEASED by late shipment, there were ways for Doflamingo to SWEETEN the deal.

It had to be something more IMPORTANT than that.

[22:17] I'll be there shortly.

With a sigh he swung his head back and drank the rest of the drink, then grabbed his coat and had a lackey drive him to Caesar's place.

Watch a man in times of adversity to discover what kind of man he is; for then at last words of truth are drawn from the depths of his heart, and the mask is torn off. — Titus Lucretius Carus

He was no longer a cohesive machine of blood and bone. By now, even his mind sojourned in planes beyond his existence; clinging to dulcet memories of his egregious mistake. A smile he had never been able to decipher, words uttered against lips, the taste of whisky and cigars, tangled sheets and golden skin, laughter, golden hues and eternal promises, bloodstained wings veiling the night sky… Reality blended with fiction, truth got lost in lies. Anything to keep the mind from shattering as the cracks rapidly spread.

The heart of it struck him in an instant, while chained to a wall, bruised, battered, barely alive. There had never been a mask; he had always been genuine—genuine chaos which he had embraced and wielded as his greatest weapon. Signs and subtle hints were ignored precisely because the darkness inside was real. To deceive his enemies, he had first deceived his allies. Crocodile trusted him even when it went against everything he stood for. He had trusted them both, to make matters even worse.

“Knavish fiend,” the grunt echoed off the walls, pounding in his head with hammer-like strikes. Shallow breaths, neither painful nor pleasurable, trapped his mind in a looped cycle of the events that had transpired. From the first moment their paths had crossed, to the current one where nothing but doom awaited. A sudden jolt of pain left him panting, intensifying the more he dwelt on it. Sweat ran down his cheeks, his teeth clenched, wishing they were biting into flesh—a visceral thought fuelled by rancour, yet so deep and real it confirmed his existence—or what was left of it.

Was there anything left at all?

Broken bones and derisive numbness affirmed there was a perception of sensation, a testimony of one’s physical presence. It was painful to exist in those restless hours. Sleep never came when summoned, and when it did, it was his own mind that kept him awake. Eventually, someone would open the doors of his current prison. That someone was more likely a foe than a friend, yet even then, Crocodile wanted to properly greet them as the quintessence of wrath. He wanted to beshrew their existence, but mostly his. Of that son of a bitch who had brought nothing but destruction with him.

His mouth ran dry, his chest throbbed from the impact of the knife embedded in his heart, and his body quivered vehemently from the sheer surge of emotions. His pride refused to let them escape. His teeth bit into his lower lip to remind him of the physical pain, yet his eyes remained defiant, misting over reality. The image before him was ephemeral, but it was more than enough to break him.

How did it all end up like this?

It was the type of city that drew people toward it. Those seeking very small yet very large miracles, adventurers longing for a new thrill, those hoping for the beginning of a new story, and those wishing for nothing to begin at all. A place to find oneself and a place to lose oneself completely. A place to evolve and a place to be devoured. A place to seek an ordinary life and a place to search for the extraordinary. A place of blinding lights and fastidious darkness. A city of wonders, lies, hopes, troubles, joy, and despair—a symbol of abnormality.

The city’s charisma and double-sided allure were why Crocodile came. It was a chance to start anew, to forget the past and the demons he had left behind, and to create something empyreal. Over ten years had passed since he had made that choice, and over eight since he had started building his underground empire. Baroque Works was a criminal organization, one of many in this city, which owed its rapid growth to its devil fruit users, Crocodile being one of them

No one was certain why people were born with unique abilities, but it was no surprise when governments took an interest. These abilities became a person's most important secret. Once awakened, some kept their powers hidden even from their families. Those who couldn’t were presented with two options: a life as the government's product or a life as a criminal. Interestingly enough, these two factions weren’t at war with each other, even if they sometimes stood in each other's way. They lived in a parasitic symbiosis, constantly feeding off each other. At times they were partners, at others they were enemies. What had become clear early on, much to Crocodile's expectations, was that no one was to be trusted. In an ever-changing city with swarms of ever-changing faces, offering trust meant immediate death.

[9:32] All done, Mr. Zero.

The text message came from his secretary, Miss All Sunday. A short, concise report on the last shipment of weapons to the Ganmi group, just as he was used to. The Ganmi group was a relatively new presence in the city, having appeared two years ago, but they were loyal customers. Calling them a "group" was generous—they were more of a local gang battling other small fries in their neighbourhoods. Normally, he wouldn’t care much about them, but he knew how useful connections could be when most needed. Even if Crocodile never intended to ask for anything in return for his services (other than money), he planned to use the Ganmi group as required. A neutral group with no specific ties to bigger organizations in the city was always useful if a distraction was necessary.

He didn’t respond to the message, merely left it as read. Miss All Sunday was accustomed to his lack of communication through the phone. She knew his paranoia, his habits, and his preferences. She had been by his side for seven years, and despite everything they had been through, Crocodile still believed she would eventually betray him. She was a lot like him, after all, and that was possibly why they made such good partners.

[10:03] Mr. Five’s task?

A hit job requested two weeks ago, another service his organization offered. Depending on the severity and importance of the job, Crocodile would sometimes send his elite officers to the front lines. Each of them excelled in specific areas, and so far, they hadn't performed below his expectations.

[10:05] Being worked on. [10:06] Results will be in in a week.

That was adequate. He preferred clean jobs with no strings attached. Hasty kills brought too many questions; protracted kills erased their significance and meaning. A balance was necessary, and his elite operated according to the balance he dictated. Those under them were sent out for insignificant hits meant only to bring in more money.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He had been in the city long enough to develop a sixth sense for impending trouble. The other organizations had kept a low profile for the past few months, performing their services and patrolling their turfs out of habit, merely keeping up appearances. Even the brats who often got caught up in the city's whirlwind were unusually quiet. Sometimes there were street brawls between gangs; other times, the kids were simply enjoying their youth and school days while they lasted. But they were always loud and noticeable. Even the police weren’t as active, likely in response to the other side’s subdued behavior.

He didn’t like it.

It felt as if everyone was waiting for something. It almost seemed as if the city itself had altered its abnormal lifestyle. Or perhaps it was just about to begin. Crocodile’s hand reached for the tin with cigars and the guillotine cutter. He took a cold taste after cutting the tip, and once satisfied, he lit it evenly, rotating the cigar and taking the first puff of smoke. The mild flavor graced his taste buds, lightheadedness crept up as it always did with tobacco, and for a moment, he was able to relax his nerves and forget about his worries.

“I’ve just arrived at Calm Belt. I’m not in a rush, so take your time.” The man took a seat at the nearby table with his back turned to Crocodile, still engrossed in his conversation. Usually, he didn’t care about the lives of others, and normally, he wouldn’t have paid attention to this man either, if it weren’t for his laughter, which was simply too boisterous for Crocodile’s taste. “So, you lost her again? Fwahahahahahahahaha! I thought you were going together—”

Golden eyes lifted to judge the man behind his back. A fairly tall individual, young, white-haired, tanned skin, dressed in comfortable yet expensive clothing, with a loud, continuous laugh and an aura of arrogance that reminded Crocodile of a certain blond.

As he took another puff of smoke, Crocodile knew his perfect morning had come to an end. The unease he felt had found its source. According to Mr. Three, Doflamingo had returned to Spain to sort out personal matters. He would be back soon. / @umbrx

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❛ ...the world as a whole isn’t so bad. If you destroy it completely, what will you have left to live in? ❜ 

Rustling and the sound of scribbling on paper made him lift his gaze from the history book in hands. A few mere silent second were needed for curiosity to be sated and the book closed—marked with a bookmark for further reading. The question posed wasn't as surprising by itself as much as the chosen MOMENT of its musing or WHOSE lips it came from. He assumed Rosinante's commentary upon Doflamingo's thoughts stated over a family dinner were delayed only due to the SPEED at which the conversation kept going. Unless his younger brother wished to be more open with him, and had decided to open the discussion in private.

Doflamingo looked him over, the face and makeup, the EYES which were so similar yet different to his own. Sometimes they seemed as equally COLD as his, sometimes they seemed as if Rosinante's were even COLDER. A trick of the mind, surely. A caught glance which wasn't ACTUALLY directed at him.

A chuckle filled the space, melodic and low. Someone might even mistake it for an amused one, while it was anything but. He was hoping his brother would UNDERSTAND. He hoped his flesh and blood, having experienced the world on his own for YEARS, having gone through the same fall as Doflamingo had, would KNOW the answer. A part of him hoped they were the SAME.

Perhaps there exist wishes so profound that even godhood is unable to bring them to reality.

❝ It's not a matter of what I will have left, Corazón, it's a matter of what I will create in MY name once I destroy it. ❞

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🎲 (for tesoro)

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 “🎲” (𝐨𝐫 "𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞") 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 (not accepting anymore!)

➤ an old church

In order to measure a person's worth one must do more than just push them. The real way to test their worth is to give them POWER. When they gain the freedom to act outside the boundaries of law and ethics, that's when their souls can be seen.

A tactic used since days long gone and remaining true to that very day. Tesoro had for a very long time been in his GRACES, but was equally a THORN in one's eye. From the day of auction of goru goru no mi to the day they had become business partners, it was apparent Tesoro had chosen to be someone Doflamingo would use, but also someone who would BETRAY him. Or attempt to do so.

There were rumours ( when weren't there rumours? ) of Tesoro trying to REMOVE Doflamingo from the top position he had acquired with a few enemies of his. While these could be LIES, he fully knew where there was smoke, there was a fire. Doflamingo didn't like fires.

Granted, when he called Tesoro over for a business meeting—which the man knew better than to refuse—he was sure the Casino King didn't expect it to happen in an old, abandoned church.

The doors were opened for him at the appointed time of his arrival, with Pica and Diamante remaining outside. Doflamingo was seated on one of the pews, his gaze directed upward towards a biblical painting, and humming a tune as Tesoro came closer.

❝ Do you have an idea why I've summoned you here, Tesoro? ❞ He slowly turned his attention towards him, SMILE in place. He surely had an idea.

❝ Either you start talking or pick a god and pray. ❞

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He's so nasty, I'm madly in love with him

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🎲 for Aeon one as well

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 “🎲” (𝐨𝐫 "𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞") 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 (not accepting anymore!)

➤ an 80s/90s themed mall

The ECCENTRICITY of the place was a perfect fit for someone like him, even if a mall was the LAST place one would find Doflamingo at. Bright neon signs, indoor plants, arcades and the buzzing of people amidst stores almost made him stop to merely OBSERVE. However, his legs carried him forward to Alveare, a vintage shop on the second floor.

CURIOSITY had brought him there, and the clues which were left behind on crime scenes. An unusual mess, a shift in power balance, a new group which wanted to make a name for itself—it was PROMISING. His time in Spain was well spent, but the mess which was unfolding in New York made it clear how the city itself kept constantly adapting and evolving, with or without his presence. ALMOST insulting, were it not as amusing.

Doflamingo went through the clothes while trying to discern which one of the few present people was the one he was looking for. An elderly woman trying on a coat, a young lady looking at vintage dresses with appreciation, a young man trying on fedoras or the older gentleman going through tuxedos.

His eyes caught a large pink coat which seemed to be calling out to him. Upon trying it out, it was clear the coat fit him PERFECTLY. He should buy it.

❝ Question, good sir. ❞ It was the young man with fedoras. ❝ Which one of these fedoras fits me better for a 1930s party? ❞ The man tried out a beige one then changed it with a pearl green one.

❝ Beige, definitely. ❞

❝ You think so? Hmmm... a shame really. I was really digging the green one. Alas! ❞ Doflamingo wasn't sure if it was the manner in which the younger man spoke, the THEATRICS or the glint in his yellowish eyes, but something told him he was the one he was looking for.

❝ You mentioned a 1930s party. Is it a private one or of a larger audience? ❞

❝ Larger audience—naturally, half of the city's been invited. Didn't you hear about it? Rumour has it actual gangsters will be present. Talk about a proper spin on a 1930s party, mwahahaha! ❞ He looked himself in the mirror, adjusted the beige fedora on his head, smiled in triumph.

❝ Most interesting. Who's hosting this large party? ❞

❝ You, of course. Who else knows everyone in this city? ❞

❝ I thought you LESS eccentric from your letters, Lukurra. Now, why should I ever throw such a ridiculous party? ❞

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Your blog is so pretty!

Awww, thank you so much! I assume you're referring to the website I made (I'm going off on the timing of your ask) and I'm really happy how it turned out too! Took some time but it was all worth it!

If you just like the general aesthetic of the blog, then again, thank you!

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Three days have passed since the birthday of once dear little brother. Such a shame to have missed it. Truly. ❝ Fufufu, maybe next year. ❞ Too bad dead men can't receive presents, even if said presents would send them back to their grave.

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Pinned post!

independent, selective, private & mutuals only Donquixote Doflamingo from Eiichiro Oda's One Piece. Strung by Nabi ( she / her ). 21+, please be wary of triggering content.

✘ | palace | verses | relationships

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a doffy i realized i never posted anywhere teehee

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His jail time is over.

[umbrx]

Heads up to people. Doffy's blog has been flagged and my dms don't work at all. I can't send messages, I can't receive messages.

From what I gathered on the Internet, it was likely because I posted 7 replies in a short amount of time with same or similar tags, aka my responses to the memes.

So, for everyone to be safe, when you do memes do queue your answers to them. Don't be me 😂