#lense flair

[thethirdman8]

Westerly, Rhode Island night falls

[sakitenmaenjoyer]

trying to plan future pulls is agony bc there's no shot im gonna have enough crystals for all of this. also i'll have to skip a lot of banners i love :(((

[cryptiddeer]

Barbie fashion fairytale starting with a world famous actress getting fired by a power-tripping director, the director's yes-man assistant leaking it to the gossip sites, and Ken breaking up with her over the phone? girl should've crashed out tbh

[personallaptop]

:-I

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

🌵👽The Juno Collection - A Collaboration with Juno Birch and Surely-Sims👽🌵

🚀Download🚀(Patreon - Free)

PAUSE!!!

YES TODAY, the absolutely stunning collaboration between @surely-sims, the alien queen herself, Ms. Juno Birch, and I is finally here 👽!!!

Surely-Sims and I have both been longtime fans of Juno, so getting to do this collab has been an absolute dream, and we're so excited to finally get to share it with you all!

Let's get into it!!

Alien Glam Hair - There's nothing more camp and fabulous than a full head of rollers, other than perhaps a roller behive! Get ready in style with this gawjus hairstyle! Not hat compatible.

Swatches - 24 Polys - 26786 (so demure)

 Incognito Hair - Who is that absolutely stunning woman? It's just Juno doing her shopping and looking like a completely normal human woman with this modest behive in a scarf! Not hat compatible (other than the scarf overlay)

Swatches: 24 (hair) 35 (overlays) Polys: 2432 (actually demure)

More after the cut:

 Attack of the Stunning Gown - A glamorous take on Juno's glamorous take on Alien Girl's gown from Mars Attacks! Check off floor length fishtail sequin gown from your Ice-CreamForBreakfast bingo cards!

Swatches: 20 Polys: 9460

Katelyn Dress - A typical Juno silhouette with an a-line shape, bishop sleeve and a feather trim! This dress comes in a variety of swatches and is sure to turn heads!

Swatches: 50 Polys: 8182

 Kristen Outfit - Another Juno go-to is this blouse, skirt and waistcoat combo! Show your friends who's the true alien fashion queen (still Juno, sorry diva) in this 70s get up!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5144

 Erin Outfit: Sister to the Kristen outfit, and probably one of Juno's most recognisable looks. Make a statement with this giant collar!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5606

Untitled Sausage Dancer Costume - Juno reaches full power in a hotdog costume, so it only felt right to include one! True to the original, this features realistic bread textures and lettuce that isn't quite lettuce... Oh and who can forget the stunning flippy fringe? She's technically a hat!

Swatches: 6 (costume) 24 (fringe accessory) Polys: 4998

Attack of the Stunning Boots - Where would an alien queen be without a pair of patent platform boots? Probably in some other type of shoe, but perhaps not one quite so stunning! These quintessential boots will really complete any alien's look.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 3244

Vivienne Heels - Inspired by a particular pair of 1990 Vivienne Westwoods, these heels really make an impact...especially if you're landing from space!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 786

 Stunning Sunglasses: Aside from the blue skin, Juno is known for her very specific sunglasses with the incredibly realistic painted highlights that allow her to blend seamlessly with the Earth's population. Also available in regular tinted and clear lenses.

Swatches: 38 Polys: 1876

 Gawjus Gloves: Your regular kitchen gloves made better with some stunning nail polish! An important piece of the human disguise. Comes in fitted and loose versions.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1748 (loose only)

Cucumber Eye Mask & Facepack - Look after your gawjus blue skin with this hydrating facemask, paired with some ominously floating cucumber slices! Swatches: 12 (mask) 1 (cucumber) Polys: 192 (cucumber)

Juno's Sickening Makeup - She's a makeup queen now...well no, I'll probably never do makeup again, but it would be truly rude to deliver a Juno set without her stunning drag makeup! This includes brows, eyeshadow, blush, lips and highlights.

 Pop Earrings - Are they popped gum, are they shiny brains? Answers may vary, but these earrings are iconic and bring some 80s flair to an outfit!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 7788

 Cyberslut Ear Stretchers - Lovely, and very shiny hoop ear stretchers when you want to make a statement, but a regular hoop just isn't doing it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1461

 Circe Earrings V1 - Simple button earrings in a truly 60s/70s style!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

Circe Earrings V2 - The same Circe earrings, but bigger!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

 Noodlesoother Earrings - Oversized, abstract 60s/70s earrings for that truly mod look!

Swatches: 41 Polys: 4584

Stunning Cat Glasses - A pair of sunglasses for Juno's sweet baby Cyril! Now they can blend in with the humans together! The space cats are gatekeeping these glasses from the space dogs. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1476

Gawjus Wall Paint - 35 Plain paint swatches with white crown and skirting in the expanded Juno palette! Gawjus Wallpaper - A collection of camp, kitschy, mid-century and mod patterns to brighten up your spaceship or home. Country Carpets: Yes, the 'r' is silent. Lovely carpets in the same swatches available for the wall coverings!

 Juno's Stunning Artwork: Juno's art explores the world as an alien, often pulling inspiration from the trans experience. Add one of these statement pieces to your home for a truly unique talking piece your neighbours will covet but never own (apart from Sylvia-Marie Mashuga. She would totally own at least one). Also comes in a SFW version for the streamers among us...and also anyone who likes a PG experience.

Swatches: 10 Polys: 3036

Joy Despret Begone Sign - The most wretched and cursed vermin in the Junoverse, the Joy Desprets! When they see that you have all this stunning content, they'll come visiting. Head them off with this sign.

Swatches: 4 Polys: 246

Mind Boggling Mirror - Want to feel like Juno is always watching you? Perhaps even judging that outfit? Of course you do. Bring that feeling home with this mirror fashioned after her iconic glasses.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1437

Judith Louise Doll - What Juno set would be complete without the Christina to her Joan, Ms. Judith Louise! Judith comes in a somewhat clean swatch, as well as a trashed swatch. That's not all, she also comes in a flying version as an oscillating fan!

Swatches: 2 Polys: 14910

 Juno in the Moon Neon Light - What is your house/ship missing? This. Why wouldn't you want a neon light version of Juno's face in your living room?

Swatches: 1 (adjust with the light options) Polys: 8566

And that brings us to the end of my part of the collab! If you're not following Juno, check out her socials here! Go check out @surely-sims' part of the collab here (preview below)!

[glassrowboat]

Lights! Camera! Headcanons! Reca.

SFW collection of silly HCs!

- Little Miss Frog is only ever oiled by Reca. He doesn't trust anyone else to be as thorough with her joints as he is.

- Reca has multiple hats for his favorite assistant director, it's just the one we see her wearing all the time is her favorite

- If for some reason you ever needed to switch shoes with Reca, he would gladly do so. After all, what kind of love interest would he be if he couldn't even do that much? The only problem is that he looks better in your heels than you ever have.

- He has a pair of shades with a print of old TV static on the lenses. They are not practical at all but he still uses them.

- This man does not know the meaning of the word subtlety

- You're getting atrocious petnames 24/7, to the point you even begin to think he's forgotten your actual name. It's always love muffin this, honey bear that- and if you ever jokingly refer to yourself as one of them it might as well become a part of Reca’s daily vocabulary.

- He has had multiple people in the past pointing a remote at him to see if they could pause the YouTube play button in his eyes. Now, whenever he sees someone holding one close to him, Reca just snatches it because he's that fed up.

- The button can change, but he's never telling you how it works.

- “The mystery only compels you further to my character, sweetie pie.”

- Please do not trust this man with cooking. He's more of an order in kind of guy and trust that that's preferable over letting him near a stove, oven, or even a microwave on some days. However, he will set the table and clean the dishes for you- it just might take a while because he's busy editing a script.

- Has picked up tons of little facts over the years from all the research he's put behind films. You could ask the most random questions and he'll undoubtedly have an answer- even if it concerns you how he knows how to dispose of a full body.

- On that note, Reca knows a good handful of the meanings behind names, so when someone introduces themselves to him, he usually ends up deciding if that “meaning” fits their character.

- Usually, it doesn't.

- Aka: Crew members

- It's easier that way.

- Those who are a regular part of his filming crew all carry earplugs with them now as a habit after having to listen to Reca's …excited shouting.

- He disapproves of relationships amongst the cast. There's always going to be issues working with people, but he doesn't need the entire film getting pushed aside because one couple had a fight! It’s utterly nonsensical to bring that onto his set. Save that for after everything has wrapped up.

- Anyone listen to Distractible and Markiplier’s entire stunt with lenses? Reca's worse. That's your only warning.

- After your first kiss, when Reca was walking back home, all self accomplished, he jumped up and cracked his feet together- completely unironically. He's not even ashamed about it, either.

- If Reca didn't start on Broadway as part of the crew, then he at least had some experience with it. (He was the theater kid in school). He knows a good couple of songs off the top of his head at this point, and when this one particular song comes on, he always has to stop himself from dancing.

- Owns a gramophone, but it only works half the time. Reca claims it's part of its charm….

- You've watched him mix redbull and coffee together only to drink it all down in a single sitting, then walk away without an explanation. That entire night he was yapping in your ear excitedly only to fall asleep on top of you as soon as it hit 4am.

- Reca tends to repeat the stories he's told you. He just loves them so much that he gets a little ahead of himself and forgets which ones he's shared, that's all. Plus, with his flair for the dramatic and tendency to add in a new line or two, it keeps things fresh.

- Reca affectionately pinches your nose using that baby voice of his. It’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, in his own way, but it just comes across as annoying.

- Reca will pick you up and spin you around (just like the movies) but at the same time this man will happily let himself flop into your lap with a hand to his forehead so he can lament to you about his woes. Usually, this just means he wants attention.

- He gets busy with filming a lot, to the point you both can go up to a month without really getting anything more in than a one minute call. Usually, Reca is running around during these, or he's so close to passing out after a long day that you're left with the sound of him snoring on the other end of the line.

- Because he's famous, there are actually a good couple of edits and images of Reca made into memes you see when scrolling online.

- His handwriting is comically large. To the point it takes up so much space, Reca might as well be writing a signature instead of scrawling down notes to ensure he doesn't forget a fantastic idea.

- He writes his 7's with that little line crossing it.

- Reca is the type to grab your shoulder while he's laughing. And he does this whether you know him well or not.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[star-light-artist]

Something I love about the prequels and original trilogy is that it feels like a very long fairy tale set in the stars or a complex mythology. We often view it through the lenses of our modern world, myself included, saying - oh, the Jedi should've allowed marriages & oh, the Jedi should have stopped using child soldiers - and it's true, but if they didn't have the accpeted sins of their own world and only had the accepted sins of our world than it would no longer feel like "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away."

Why do the Jedi think marriages are wrong? Well, why did so many monks think marriage was evil? Why are their child soldiers? There have been many child soldiers throughout history. Does that make what they were fighting for not worth fighting for? No. Every side in every war that has ever been, no matter how many good points they had, always did some evil. There is no perfect cause.

Anidala feels more beautifully poetic than a realistic relationship, and that's something I love about them. A love that he burned his world and culture down for.

When we insist on looking at what should be a moral fable about learning to let go when we should let go through the modern lenses, we are taking the space opera fantastical worldbuilding out of Star Wars.

Not that I'm complaining about that side of the fandom! I like to look at it both ways. Where the characters have sense and are down to Earth. And when they are legendary heroes and villains who ended an era with flair, heartbreak, and a duel.

When we take the flaws and odd bits and magic out of the characters, it isn't the same world anymore.

[thethirdman8]

Taylor Pond sunset January 17th 2024

[violetmuses]

Bright Lights - R. Reigns 📸

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Pairing: Roman Reigns + Female Reader

@miss-kuki-nz 🏷

======

2025

Hired as one of the photographers for WWE, you quickly worked almost everywhere and captured highlights, watching greatness within this era.

“Thank you very much…” Working around Royal Rumble weekend, you almost smiled behind that lense while Jimmy and Jey Uso stood close.

“Hold up.” Lifting his hand, Jimmy faced you while sporting another jersey set. Even his dark hair slicked right back. “What's your name again?”

“I'm sorry?” Music and different noise overlapped in this venue hallway, but despite experience, you just couldn't hear him.

“What's your name?” Jimmy tried once more as his brother Jey topped vibrant sunglasses.

“Oh!” You realized this simple question and would introduce yourself to Jim, but someone from that production team interrupted the session.

“We have your last talent ready before we start rolling…” This staff member almost whispered to you, but guards turned Jimmy and Jey elsewhere for the show.

“All right.” You agreed and quickly pulled yourself together because there's no other choice.

Before anything else could happen, footsteps moved along and you recognized this special pair of custom-made Jordan sneakers.

Wow! Roman Reigns made it back to the Royal Rumble. Despite acting professional, you can't help thinking for a moment.

Roman's laughter would echo near Paul Heyman as both men entered this space and quietly introduced themselves before the show began.

Once everyone else stepped back, Roman took charge and just walked forward, surely noticing the snap of your camera without instructions.

Deep brown eyes locked every snapshot as time dwindled. Even while concentrating, you feel absolutely grounded by his character's power.

Walking shirtless, lighting almost shined down Roman's muscular frame as tribal ink marked one end of his body.

Dark tresses shadowed near that chiseled face and pants clothed both legs while the big-time sneakers kept marching along.

“Last one…” You would Roman's final shot before the television broadcast kicked off, but ended up surprised this time around.

Breaking character, Reigns offered the most genuine smile and your heart almost backflipped.

“Hey….” While gently revealing the Southern accent, Roman cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Welcome back…” You took this opportunity and captured his smile.

“Let's do it!” Jimmy and Jey Uso caught Roman from the hallway and the sound encouraged staff members before work picked right back up.

Here we go!

*****

Once Charlotte Flair returned as expected and brand-new champion Cody Rhodes retained against Kevin Owens, you buckled up, still taking pictures throughout the Men's competition.

“Wait a minute. CM Punk just eliminated both Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins!” Commentators panicked right behind the announcement table.

As televised chaos leveled higher and higher, you can't believe what's going on. Even your camera almost trembled between various snapshots.

“Helped us out months ago!” Barking through his Southern accent, Roman favored laying on the floor and chided Punk.

“Oh no. Get out the way, Roman!” Announcers tried to warn Roman, but you caught the exact moment where Seth had curb stomped Reigns!

“Reigns ain't going to Vegas!” Lifting his middle finger near your camera but thinking of Mania, Rollins turned away and scrapped with Punk.

Venue security guards hurried all over the place to settle madness, but Seth Rollins just hadn't finished causing problems this time around.

“Another brutal move! Rollins just stomped Reigns right off the ring stairs.” Commentators looked flabbergasted while relaying this shockwave.

While officials planned to calm down ringside madness, you stepped wrong and nearly fell back, but your favorite device just shattered.

“Fuck - my camera!” You can't even think straight, hustled by others to avoid more drama, yet catching Roman's attention as security held him back.

“Wait! Let me go. What happened?” This harsh bruise from the match would deepen his own expression as Reigns noticed you around here.

“I'm okay, but my camera broke!” Your voice called out just before guards turned paths from Reigns.

Unable to finish watching the match, officials escorted you away from this building.

******

Once Jey Uso made history by winning the Royal Rumble, work picked right back up and big-time this road to Wrestlemania shortened even more.

Following the chaos of an Elimination Chamber match, you booked another episode of “Monday Night Raw” and snapped with this new camera.

Seth Rollins and CM Punk bawled during this vengeful cage match as that rivalry continued to burn. Nothing could stop absolute madness.

“Rollins is contemplating. Punk feeling exhausted. Hold on! What the hell? Someone just pulled Seth Rollins from this cage!” Announcers scrambled out of nowhere.

Thousands of fans shrieked beyond happiness when Roman Reigns emerged from the captivated audience and stood in front of you.

As this black shirt and athletic pants clothed that muscular physique, dark tresses scaled once more while his chiseled face looked disgusted by Rollins. Known sneakers returned of course.

Yet while noticing your camera, Reigns almost beamed that perfect smile and just wanted to greet you, if only for a moment this evening.

Staying in character, Roman turned in your direction as subtitles caught the movement of his lips.

“Watch this, baby girl.” Arching his own brow, Reigns pulled the Southern accent and noted your camera through shadows of curly hair.

Within seconds, you braced an upcoming snapshot and Roman charged forward, stomping Rollins down for the very first time!

Countless voices nearly erupted through shockwaves this time around.

“My goodness. Reigns returned with another curb stomp for Seth Rollins!” Professional announcers can't believe what just happened right now.

“How dare you take me out!” Roman fired up as Seth laid on the floor. “You wanna change things here? Change it now!”

Given no other choice, you handed this camera elsewhere and greeted Roman's path, easing when his arm looped around your shoulder.

After trading glances together, you both looked down as Seth Rollins just looked absolutely terrified. Even Punk didn't know what to expect.

“See you in Vegas.” As you left Rollins behind and joined Reigns, your voice welcomed the impromptu moment as credits rolled to end this broadcast.

*****

“We died a long time ago…” Breaking hearts while referencing The Shield, Roman Reigns arrived once more and chided Seth Rollins during this special edition of “Friday Night Smackdown.”

While building guards surrounded the ring to avoid drama at the contract signing, you took pictures and worked as this segment continued.

“You made one crucial mistake of leading CM Punk back to the spotlight. Now, I need to clean up your mess again!” Seth charged words.

“Thank you, my Tribal Chief…” Punk cleared his throat near Reigns tonight and still faced Paul Heyman. “I'll meet you and Rollins at Wrestlemania, but Paul? My spot for this match isn't the favor that I'm owed.”

Leaving that ring behind, Punk walked off and noticed the snap of your camera. Thousands watched everything play out in disbelief.

As this show ended once more, that glaring cliffhanger would loom in the distance until further notice.

_____

Backstage, you gathered essentials and planned to leave, but Roman's laughter still picked up nearby. Black attire stood out again as this bun styled dark hair.

“Hi.” You spoke once more.

“Hey…” Despite another simple greeting, his tone somehow became even more gentle as you faced each other. “Look, if you're not interested, it's okay, but I was wondering if…”

Before Reigns could ask you something, Roman's cousin Jimmy Uso almost shouted.

“Uce! We gotta go, man.” Jim quickly announced this moment to everyone. “Building's shutting down for the night.”

Damn! Reigns thought.

Catching on, you quickly think of another plan because Roman wouldn't come back until Wrestlemania.

“Call me.” Slipping your business card, you turned around and exit, giving Roman butterflies as security turned him away.

[lena-thinks-too-much]

Hi! I’m super curious about your WIP with Tim at comic con!

So I gave a little synopsis here but I'm also really proud of the cosplays I came up with for yj so have this little spoiler

If Tim had to pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong in his life, it would be Metropolis Comic Con. Bart had been the one to suggest they go. He had also been the one to suggest they go as each other. And, because they were who they were, they had all agreed to surprise one another with their choices. Cassie had opted for Kon’s classic Young Justice look instead of his current T-shirt-and-jeans aesthetic. She’d turned the suit into a sleek romper, pairing it with knee-high red boots. She’d topped it off with a pair of shades and Kon’s favorite leather jacket—both of which she had almost definitely stolen from Conner at some point. Bart, meanwhile, had somehow shown up wearing one of Tim’s discarded Robin suit designs—the one with the green vest and bandana instead of a cape, which Tim was pretty sure had never even made it past the sketch phase. He had no idea how Bart found out about it, but somehow, he made it work. Conner had taken the theme in an entirely different direction, going as a punk version of Impulse instead of Kid Flash. His pants, belt, and shirt looked like a scaled-up version of Bart’s old suit, but he’d added his own flair: a white leather jacket and red-rimmed sunglasses with yellow lenses. And Tim, of course, was Wonder Girl—"A true Boy Wonder," as Cassie liked to joke. Inspired by her original suit, he wore a tight black shirt with the Wonder Woman logo under a dark denim jacket. He’d paired it with red cargo shorts, knee pads, and white gloves. As a finishing touch, he'd added a short black wig with choppy bangs and Cassie’s iconic goggles, which he had permanently “borrowed” from her locker ages ago. When he arrived at their rendezvous point outside the convention center, he found Kon and Bart scrutinizing each other’s costumes while Cassie, upon seeing him, immediately made a face. “Did you have to pick my biggest fashion fail, Wonder Boy?” she groaned. Tim shrugged. “What can I say? The original look was iconic.” Cassie shuddered. “Gods, that wig was not it. I’m so glad I stopped wearing it—my scalp was always sweating like crazy.” Kon laughed, but Bart practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes. “Rob! Rob! What do you think of my outfit? I broke into the Batcave to find your suit schematics—pleasedon’ttellBatman—butIfoundthisoneinsteadanditlookedsocool—whydidn’tyoueveruseit?!”

For reference I got Bart's costume from the back of Chuck Dixon's Robin Volume 1. I'm so sad we never got to see this look in action but I think Bart would totally pull it off

[doffysbirb]

Reclamation of the Porcelain Rose

Synopsis: In the shadowed ports of North Blue, a young rising pirate king, Doflamingo, sets his sights on a glittering prize, driven by a memory from a lost past. As his crew prepares for a daring raid, a reunion long buried beneath years of hardship looms on the horizon. Amidst chaos and fire, a dancer’s grace, Valerie, defies her chains, sparking a clash that will reshape her fate and ignite a bond forged in the ashes of youth. Warnings: Violence, Implied Slavery/Human Trafficking, Child Abuse/Neglect, Emotional Distress

Notes: Doflamingo may appear slightly OOC in this chapter due to his deep bond with Valerie, a unique dynamic shaped by their shared past. This is intentional to explore his character through her lens. Thank you for understanding! Please read at your discretion. One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda. Valerie is my OC, created for non-commercial fanwork.

( ၴႅၴ➡ Masterlist

Spider Miles, a squalid North Blue port, thrummed with the Donquixote Pirates’ rising shadow. Their base, a fortified warehouse cloaked in gloom, stank of gunpowder and salt, its walls scarred by ambition. The Donquixote Pirates' jolly roger, a crossed-out smiley, fluttered above, a terror etched across the seas. At seventeen, Doflamingo commanded with divine menace, his lean, towering frame—stretching over nine feet—sprawled on a throne of splintered crates, legs crossed. His medium-length blonde hair, slicked back but wild with the day’s chaos, gleamed under the warehouse’s dim lanterns, sunglasses with red-tinted lenses glinting over hidden eyes, masking a storm within. A pair of goggles rested on his forehead, their dark frames a rugged accent to his youthful flair, framing his sharp features. A shorter pink feather coat, frayed from early battles, draped his shoulders, its edges brushing an open-collared shirt that bared his lean chest, loose pants cinched with a bold silver belt swaying as he twirled a pistol in his hand. A beaded necklace with dark purple beads hung low, a single gold earring catching the light, a punkish echo of his Celestial Dragon roots twisted by pirate grit. His sharp smirk radiated menace, his posture a god surveying his domain.

Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Vergo stood bound by Downs’ blood seven years past, their silhouettes framing the scene. Before Doflamingo knelt the last survivor of a rival crew, battered and quivering, his pleas drowned by Trebol’s grating cackle. Trebol, his mucus-slick form hunched with sadistic glee, jabbed his staff at the man, his laughter echoing off the warehouse’s rusted beams as he relished the pirate’s fear. “Heh! Spill your guts, worm, or I’ll roast ya with a flick of my goo! Been too long since I melted a fool like this!” His sticky tendrils dripped, pooling on the blood-streaked floor, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Diamante leaned against a wall, sword idle in his hand, his grin widening as he twirled the blade with theatrical flair, the steel catching the lanternlight. “Boring,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain as he paced a slow circle around the prisoner, “but I’ll carve him up quick if you say the word, Young Master. Let’s make it a performance—blood and silk, a masterpiece for your glory!” His flamboyant swagger hinted at his eagerness to impress Doflamingo with a showy kill.

Pica’s massive shadow loomed, his granite-like frame motionless yet radiating a silent menace, his massive fists clenching briefly as if testing the stone beneath his boots, ready to crush any resistance. Vergo’s stoic gaze bore into the man, his black coat blending with the shadows, his posture taut with a predator’s patience, assessing the pirate with cold precision. The pirate rasped, hands raised, “Mercy! I got news—gold, a noble’s hoard!”

Doflamingo’s head tilted, his voice velvet over steel. “Gold? Fufufu, you think I care for scraps? Speak, or this bullet’s your reward.” His pistol steadied, glinting.

The pirate gulped, voice cracking. “Word is, Tobias is coming back to North Blue soon, flaunting his wealth after years away! A noble—swimming in berries! His daughter’s doll, a girl called the Porcelain Rose, dances like a dream. Packs theatres across the Blues, raking in fortunes. They’re headed to Goldhaven’s grand theatre in two days, his vault stuffed with her earnings—ripe for you!”

Tobias’ name struck Doflamingo like a lash, his grip tightening, knuckles whitening beneath the pistol’s gleam, a raw fury flaring behind his red-tinted lenses. Val. The Downs hill—her stubborn grin, twirling for Rosi, calling him Doffy—burned in his mind, unburied after seven years. Dared to enslave her still? The pirate’s words—Porcelain Rose, dances like a dream—ignited a blaze of rage, the insult to his claim a personal affront he masked with a cold smirk. His jaw clenched, his feather coat swaying as he leaned forward, concealing the storm within. “The Porcelain Rose, huh? A noble’s toy. How quaint.” He paused, his gaze narrowing on the pirate. “Tell me, does this Porcelain Rose have a name?”

The pirate, trembling under Doflamingo’s scrutiny, gulped again, his voice cracking. “Y-Yes.. they call her Valerie. And there’s a rumor—she once punched a noble square in the jaw, bold as brass!” His words hung in the air, a spark igniting Doflamingo’s memory. Vergo’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift. “Doffy?” he murmured, probing.

Doflamingo rose, his towering frame casting a shadow, his coat billowing. “Goldhaven, two days,” he said, voice sharp. “Tobias—his wealth, his head, they’re mine.” He fired, the pirate crumpling, blood pooling. Turning to his crew, he snapped, “Trebol, Diamante, Pica—ready the ship. We sail at dusk.”

Trebol’s cackle rose, his mucus-slick form quivering with delight as he clapped his hands, the sound wet and ominous. “Heh! A noble’s skull and gold? Oh, Doffy, this’ll be a feast! I’ll melt their defenses to slag—let’s make it a sticky end for that fool Tobias!” His enthusiasm bubbled, his staff tapping the floor in rhythm with his glee.

Diamante’s grin stretched, his sword flashing as he sheathed it with a flourish, his voice rising with excitement. “A spectacle it is, Young Master! I’ll slice through their guards like a dance!” He spun on his heel, already envisioning the chaos.

Pica’s high-pitched voice broke the silence for the first time, a startling chirp cutting through the warehouse’s tension as he shifted his massive frame, his granite-like fists slamming into an open palm with a resounding crack. “I’ll smash Goldhaven’s defenses to dust for you, Doffy!” His bulky form quivered with eager resolve, the warehouse floor shuddering faintly under his weight.

Vergo lingered, his voice steady and measured as he studied Doflamingo’s tense posture. “The girl, Doffy. What’s she to you?” His tone carried a quiet intensity, his keen eyes tracing the flicker of emotion behind his captain’s sunglasses.

Doflamingo paused, his sunglasses hiding the storm, his earring glinting as he turned to the warehouse’s grimy window, Goldhaven’s horizon faint. “If she’s there, she’s mine,” he said, final, his tone brooking no questions. Goldhaven would bleed, and she’d be his again.

The crew dispersed, the warehouse’s shadows swallowing their steps. Doflamingo stood alone, the sea’s murmur beyond the walls echoing Downs’ lost hill. “You better still be you,” he muttered, his voice a blade in the dark. The Donquixote Pirates would sail, their jolly roger heralding ruin. Tobias’ fortune awaited, but so did a girl who’d defied a god. Fufufu.. time to collect.

The Numancia Flamingo sliced through the night, its jolly roger snapping against a sky strewn with silver stars, the sea a restless mirror reflecting the moon’s pale glow. The vessel, a sleek brigantine rigged with white sails, creaked under the crew’s hurried preparations—ropes coiled, cannons primed, the deck alive with the clatter of boots and the sharp tang of tar. Below deck, the Donquixote Pirates lay in restless slumber, Trebol’s mucus-slick snores rumbling through the hammocks, Diamante’s sword propped idly against a crate as he dozed with a faint smirk, and Pica’s high-pitched murmurs punctuating the quiet as he shifted in his sleep, dreaming of Goldhaven’s ruin. The air was thick with salt and the faint burn of lantern oil, a stark contrast to the warehouse’s gunpowder stench left behind in Spider Miles.

Doflamingo stood alone at the ship’s stern, his towering frame leaning against the weathered railing, his sharp smirk absent, replaced by a rare stillness. His gaze pierced the horizon where Goldhaven loomed, a faint silhouette against the dawn’s edge, his fingers gripping the wood with a tension that belied his calm facade. His mind churned, images of Valerie flickering like ghosts in the sea’s reflection. Seven years had sculpted him into a god of the seas, his hands stained with blood, his heart hardened by conquest, yet her memory lingered, a thorn beneath his divine armor. Valerie, he thought, his grip tightening, still chained to his will after all this time? The pirate’s words still stirred a quiet fury, mingled with a gnawing guilt for letting her slip away. Not for love, he told himself, but for the honor of his claim, a god’s duty to reclaim what was stolen. Yet beneath the veneer, a flicker of longing burned—her voice, her defiance, buried under Tobias’ chains. Will she even know me? The question gnawed, unbidden, as the ship rocked beneath him.

Footsteps approached, deliberate and steady. Vergo emerged from the shadows, his stoic face unreadable under the starlight, a spoon inexplicably stuck to his cheek, glinting faintly in the moonlight. He stopped beside Doflamingo, his gaze following the horizon, then shifted to his captain. “Doffy,” he said, his voice low, “you’ve been out here since we set sail. Hours now. What drives you to this vigil? Is it the girl—Valerie?”

Doflamingo’s head tilted, his red-tinted lenses catching a sliver of moonlight, his smirk returning, sharp and deflecting. “Fufufu, Vergo, always the observant one,” he drawled, his tone masking the storm within. “She’s a debt, a piece of my past. Tobias took her—stole what’s mine. That’s all you need.” His fingers twitched, a subtle betrayer of his calm facade.

Vergo’s eyes narrowed, his silence a weight. “A debt?” he pressed, his voice steady but probing. “Or something more? You’ve not spoken of Downs like this since we left. She stirs old wounds, doesn’t she?”

Doflamingo’s smirk faltered, his gaze dropping to the churning waves. Old wounds. The hill, Rosi’s tears, Val’s stubborn kick—memories he’d buried under blood and power, now unearthed by a pirate’s whisper. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice a low growl, “but it’s my business to settle. Tobias will pay, and she’ll be mine again—whole or not.” He straightened, his resolve hardening, then glanced at Vergo with a faint, mocking chuckle. “And Vergo, lose the spoon—looks like you’ve been raiding the galley, not the horizon.” He smirked again, his tone lightening. “Focus on Goldhaven. The gold’s ours, and her fate is mine to decide.”

Vergo nodded, his loyalty unshaken, though his eyes lingered a moment longer, a flicker of amusement crossing his stoic face as he reached up to remove the spoon. “As you command,” he said, retreating into the shadows, leaving Doflamingo to his vigil.

Alone again, Doflamingo stared at the horizon, the sea’s murmur a dirge for Downs’ lost days. Valerie, he thought, his grip tightening, if you’re broken, I’ll mend you—or break Tobias twice over. The Donquixote Pirates sailed on, Goldhaven drawing near with every wave. His heart, a god’s heart, beat with vengeance—and a whisper of something softer, buried deep.

Two days later, by dawn, the Donquixote Pirates’ ship anchored off Goldhaven’s coast, the island’s opulent skyline a glittering prize of spires and gilded domes basking in the first light. The kingdom’s grand theatre, where Tobias planned his show, rose like a jewel at its heart, its marble facade etched with seashell motifs, windows aglow with the hum of preparation. Doflamingo gathered his crew—Trebol, Diamante, Pica, and Vergo—in the captain’s cabin, the air tense with the creak of wood and the faint scent of sea moss clinging to their boots. His orders cut through the silence, crisp and unyielding. “We hit at midnight, when the show’s at its peak. Tobias’ vault, his guards, his stage—take it all. No mercy.”

Trebol’s eyes gleamed with a manic hunger, his lanky frame swaying as he rubbed his hands together, a wet squelch echoing in the cabin. “Oh, a theatre drenched in chaos? Doffy, I’ll smother their screams with my slime—turn their fancy seats into a sticky grave!” His voice quivered with delight, his staff tapping a jittery beat against the floor, his anticipation for the bloodshed palpable.

Diamante’s lips curled into a sly smile, his fingers tracing the edge of a velvet curtain as he leaned closer, his voice a smooth purr. “The spotlight’s mine, Young Master—I’ll weave a dance of steel through their ranks, leaving a trail of elegance in the carnage!” His confident stride suggested a performance as much for Doflamingo’s approval as for the raid’s success, his sword gleaming with intent.

Pica’s towering form shifted, his broad shoulders rolling as he let out a high-pitched giggle, the sound bouncing off the cabin walls with an eerie lilt. “I’ll topple their grandstands with a single shove—bury them under marble for you, Doffy!” His massive hands flexed, the wood creaking under his weight, his quirky zeal adding a surreal edge to the plan’s brutality.

Vergo stepped forward, his presence a steady anchor amidst the fervor. “I’ll scout ahead, confirm the layout. We need to know Tobias’ defenses.” His tone was calm, his eyes sharp with focus.

Doflamingo nodded, his smirk predatory. “Go. Don’t get caught.”

Vergo slipped into Goldhaven under daylight, blending with the bustling crowds of merchants and nobles, their chatter a hum of excitement for the evening’s show. Posters plastered every corner, showcasing a girl in a rich crimson velvet bodice with a sweetheart neckline, framed by gold embroidery and shimmering beads, flowing into a tutu of crimson tulle with gold appliques and white stitching, its lower layers soft white tulle edged with gold sequins. A matching crimson velvet choker with ruffles and a crimson gemstone adorned her throat, concealing a bomb collar, while white tights and soft pink ballet slippers with satin ribbons, paired with a delicate gold-accented tiara on top of her head, completed the image. Porcelain Rose: One Night Only! the text blared, her crimson eyes—even in ink—burning with a fire Vergo recognized from Doflamingo’s rare silences. He tore the poster down, tucking it under his coat, his mind registering the choker’s oddity.

Inside the theatre, Vergo moved through shadowed aisles, the grand hall’s chandeliers dimmed for rehearsal. On the stage, Valerie, now fifteen, danced alone, her light blonde hair in a messy braid swaying with each step, her outfit a light pink leotard with a matching skirt and leg warmers, her pink ballet slippers scuffing the boards. The bomb collar, its red light faintly glowing, encircled her throat, a stark contrast to her graceful moves. Guards loomed nearby, their eyes cold, while Karina, stood with arms crossed, her sapphire gown shimmering. As Valerie paused, Karina strode forward, her face twisted with jealousy, and slapped her cheek with a sharp crack, her voice a venomous hiss. “You think you’re the star now, dolly? Keep dreaming!” She shoved Valerie, who stumbled, her braid unraveling further, her stoic mask cracking under the sting. Guards nearby shifted uneasily but did nothing. Vergo’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he memorized the scene, then slipped away.

By dusk, Vergo returned to the ship, finding Doflamingo on the deck, sharpening his pistol. The crew was below, prepping weapons in hushed tones. Vergo approached, unfolding the poster. “This is her,” he said, his voice low.

Doflamingo’s fingers stilled, his gaze hidden as he took the poster. Valerie’s image stared back—older, poised, but unmistakably her, the girl who’d teased him on a hill. Her crimson eyes, though captured in print, burned with a defiance that hadn’t broken. The choker, he knew, hid something worse—a collar, a chain. Porcelain Rose. A name that mocked her fire with fragile lies. “I saw Tobias’ brat lashing out on her,” Vergo added, his tone grim. “She struck Valerie, hard, with guards watching. And that choker—there's a bomb collar behind it, Doffy, rigged to keep her in line.”

Doflamingo’s smirk faded, his fingers crumpling the poster’s edge, a cold fury igniting in his chest. The choker’s secret confirmed, his rage sharpened—Tobias had not only stolen her but bound her with that vile device. “His fortune, his life, his cursed stage,” he growled, his voice a low thunder, “they’re mine. And her.. she’ll be free of that collar, under my command—no one’s puppet but mine.” His resolve hardened, his mind racing with plans to shatter Tobias’ empire.

Vergo stood silent, his face unreadable. Doflamingo tossed the poster aside, his smirk returning, edged with steel. “A caged bird for his spawn. Fufufu, he’ll choke on his regret. Tonight, Goldhaven falls.”

As Vergo nodded and turned to rally the crew, Doflamingo leaned back against the railing, the crumpled poster fluttering to the deck. Goldhaven’s lights blazed brighter now, a stage set for blood. Tobias would fall, and Valerie—whether the girl who’d called him Doffy or a shadow forged by cruelty—would be his again. The Donquixote Pirates would strike, and the kingdom would kneel before their king.

Midnight cloaked Goldhaven’s grand theatre, its opulent facade—gold filigree and sapphire spires—silent as the Donquixote Pirates moved like specters through the shadows. Doflamingo led Trebol, Diamante, Pica, and Vergo, his sunglasses glinting under the moon, their blades flashing as they slit the throats of Tobias’ guards outside, bodies crumpling without a sound. The balcony seats, high above the bustling crowd, were empty—a perfect perch. Doflamingo settled into a velvet chair, his smirk predatory, his crew fanning out beside him, weapons concealed but primed. “Fufufu, let’s enjoy the show,” he murmured, his gaze locked on the stage below.

The curtains parted, revealing Valerie at the stage’s edge, poised in the same elegant outfit depicted on the posters—rich crimson velvet and layered tulle, crowned with a gold tiara, her light blonde hair in a tight bun. The crimson choker gleamed at her throat, hinting at the bomb collar beneath, while her movements soon began to tell the rest. The orchestra swelled, a haunting melody filling the theatre, and she launched into her dance. Her movements erupted in a tempest of grace—a grand pas de chat soaring with fierce leaps, each bound a silent rebellion against the collar’s weight, her legs cutting through the air like blades of resolve. She spun into a series of fouetté relevés, her body whipping with controlled fury, each turn a heartbeat of defiance, her crimson eyes blazing as if channeling a fire buried deep. Her attitude turns flowed like a mournful tide, arms weaving with ethereal precision, every step a plea to a past she’d nearly forgotten. She glided across the stage, lost in the music, as if the world beyond her dance melted into shadow, her spirit unbroken despite the chains.

Doflamingo leaned forward, utterly captivated, his smirk softening into a rare intensity. She was no longer the clumsy girl from Downs, yet every soaring leap and spin carried her. Her grace was a blazing defiance, a fire Tobias hadn’t crushed, each movement a testament to the spirit he’d known. His fingers twitched, strings aching to sever her chains, a silent vow swelling in his chest, fueled by the dance’s unyielding power.

As the music crescendoed, Valerie unleashed a final, electrifying grand pas de chat, her legs slicing the air with fierce leaps before landing in a poised attitude turn, her arms outstretched in a gesture of raw resilience. The audience erupted in applause, white roses raining onto the stage like a soft storm. She stepped forward, bowing with practiced elegance, her movements mechanical, but as her eyes lifted to the balcony, she froze. There, among the shadows, was a figure she’d thought lost to time—sunglasses glinting, blonde hair catching the light, that unmistakable smirk she’d glimpsed in her nightmares. Doffy. Her heart pounded, memories crashing like waves: the hill in Downs, Rosi’s shy “Val,” her childish vow to dance on a grand stage. He found me. Disbelief tangled with a fragile hope—had he braved the seas to save her after nine forsaken years? Or was he here to ruin her world, a rising pirate king forged from Downs’ ashes? Fear clawed at her, battling a spark she’d buried beneath the collar’s weight, her breath hitching as she stood, rooted in the spotlight’s unrelenting glare. Could this Doffy, shrouded in danger, still be the boy who’d grudgingly thanked her for saving him from Scrabby, his scowl etched in her memory? Her hands trembled, caught between the urge to rush toward him and the instinct to flee the chaos she felt brewing in his presence.

“Doffy..” Valerie breathed, her voice a whisper lost in the crowd’s cheers.

Doflamingo’s grin widened, predatory yet warm, his eyes locked on hers through his sunglasses. “Fufufu. Looks like my ballerina hasn’t forgotten me just yet.”

From his private box, Tobias noticed Valerie’s stillness, his gaze following hers to the balcony. His face paled, recognizing Doflamingo’s silhouette—the Donquixote Pirates, scourge of North Blue. “Guards!” he barked, his voice trembling with panic. “Now!”

Vergo’s eyes flicked to the box, his voice low. “Doffy, they’re moving.”

Doflamingo stood, his coat billowing. “Show’s over, rats. Scram.” He raised his pistol, firing a single shot that dropped a guard mid-step, blood pooling on the polished floor. Chaos erupted—screams pierced the theatre as nobles and merchants scrambled for the exits, shoving past each other in panic. Karina, caught in the crowd, gaped at the balcony, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the pirates’ intent.

Doflamingo’s strings flickered, a subtle web of Parasite weaving through the air. With a flick of his fingers, he seized control of several guards’ bodies, blades slashing through flesh and audience alike. Panic escalated, blood spraying as controlled guards cut down others, their movements jerky yet lethal, a chaotic dance orchestrated by Doflamingo’s will. “Fufufu, let’s thin the herd,” he chuckled, his strings tightening the grip on his puppets.

The Donquixote Pirates descended like a storm. Trebol lurched forward, his mucus-slick hands conjuring a thick, adhesive wave that engulfed a fleeing noble, pinning him to a wall as Trebol sneered, “Stay put, you gilded pig!” His laughter boomed, the adhesive igniting into a smoldering trap, the noble’s cries fading into the blaze spreading across the tiered seats.

Diamante surged onto the auditorium floor, his Hira Hira no Mi rippling his cape into a whirlwind of steel blades, slicing through a cluster of guards with a flourish. “A dance of death, eh?” he crowed, his voice ringing with delight as he spun, his cape shredding armor and flesh, leaving a trail of glittering debris in his wake.

Pica’s massive form surged from the balcony, his Ishi Ishi no Mi merging with the theatre’s stone, his granite fists smashing into the auditorium’s pillars in silent fury. Cracks spidered across the walls as the structure groaned under his weight, trapping panicked nobles beneath rubble, his towering presence a wordless harbinger of destruction.

Vergo moved with lethal precision, his Busoshoku Haki hardening his fists as he struck a guard’s chest, the man collapsing with a gasp. “Secure the vault,” his voice calm amid the pandemonium, clearing a path through the fray.

Valerie stood rooted on the stage, the bomb collar’s threat paralyzing her. She watched, helpless, as the theatre became a battlefield—flames climbing, blood staining the aisles, the crowd’s panic a deafening roar. Doflamingo’s crew was a force of nature, their violence a brutal symphony, and at its center was Doffy, his strings weaving chaos.

“Get her off the stage!” Tobias yelled from his box, his voice shrill over the chaos, his hands trembling as he clutched a velvet curtain for support.

Two guards stormed the stage, seizing Valerie’s arms. “Come on, let’s go!” one growled.

“No, I’m staying here!” Valerie snapped, wrenching free. She drove her elbow into the first guard’s face, knocking him out cold, but the second grabbed her wrists, his grip bruising. She struggled, her ballet-honed strength flaring—Doffy was here, and she wouldn’t be dragged away again.

Doflamingo vaulted to Tobias’ private box, strings flickering like a spider’s web as he landed with a predatory grace, the velvet floor trembling beneath his weight. Tobias stumbled back, his face ashen, hands raised in a frantic plea, his silk robes trembling as he cowered against the gilded railing. “Wait! Spare me, Doflamingo! I’ll give you gold—half my fortune, the vault, my estates in Vellum! Take it all!” His voice cracked, desperation pooling in his wide, terrified eyes as he sank to his knees, clutching the railing with white-knuckled fingers. “She’s just a tool, a dancer—I raised her, trained her! I’ll free her, release that collar, let her go to you! Please, I beg you, don’t let your pirates burn my legacy!”

Doflamingo’s grin twisted into a sneer, his voice a venomous purr laced with divine disdain. “Fufufu, beg all you like, Tobias. You dared chain what’s mine, parade her like a puppet for your greed, turning her fire into your profit. Your gold, your estates—they’re dust to a god. Your life ends here, and your legacy crumbles with it.” His strings lashed out, a blur of shimmering threads slicing through Tobias’ chest with surgical precision, the noble’s gurgling cry echoing as blood sprayed across the velvet walls, staining the opulent decor a dark crimson. Doflamingo stepped closer, his boot pressing down on Tobias’ collapsing form, savoring the man’s final shudder as life faded. He rifled through the noble’s coat with deliberate care, his fingers brushing past trembling flesh to pluck a small, tarnished key—the bomb collar’s release—from an inner pocket. He held it up, the metal glinting in the chaos’s firelight, his eyes blazing with triumph and a flicker of relief, his hand lingering on the blood-soaked fabric as if claiming victory over the years of her captivity.

The stage below was a warzone, guards falling like chaff to the crew’s onslaught. Trebol’s flames now engulfed the upper tiers, chandeliers crashing in showers of glass. Diamante danced through the fray, his steel cape skewering guards who advanced through the crowd. Pica’s stone fists pulverized the theatre’s wings, trapping reinforcements, while Vergo secured the vault, dragging sacks of gold to the crew’s rally point. Doflamingo leaped down, landing beside Valerie as she wrestled the second guard. A flick of his strings yanked the man back, slamming him into the stage’s edge, unconscious.

Doflamingo stepped forward, his presence a storm of charisma and menace, the air around him crackling with unresolved fury. “So, you really did pursue performing on stage, Valerie,” he said, his voice low and almost tender, yet threaded with a possessive edge that betrayed years of pent-up longing. He reached out, cupping her left cheek, his thumb brushing her skin with a gentleness that clashed with the blood on his hands, as if reclaiming a treasure lost to Downs’ ashes. “It’s been too long, my ballerina.”

Valerie’s breath caught, her crimson eyes meeting his through his sunglasses, a shiver racing through her—warmth from a boy she’d known, now laced with the danger of a pirate. Doffy. The boy who’d scoffed at her dreams, yet shielded her from Downs’ scorn, his scowl etched in her soul. She pulled his hand away, her voice trembling with guilt and disbelief, raw from the weight of nine years. “Why did you look for me? I disappeared.. I left you and Rosi to suffer when they burned our home. I abandoned you to that fire, to the streets, while I danced in chains.” Her mind flashed to Karina’s slaps, the collar’s shocks, Tobias’ cold commands—each a scar on her spirit.

Doflamingo’s smirk softened, a rare flicker of humanity breaking through his godly facade, his eyes darkening with a guilt he’d buried since Downs. “You didn’t abandon us, Valerie,” he said, his voice firm yet laced with a tremor of regret. “You were stolen, torn from us by that bastard Tobias. You fought—sneaking scraps for us, facing those brats with that fire in you. Don’t bear their sins; they’re mine to avenge.” He gripped her chin gently, tilting her face to meet his gaze, his strings hovering like a protective shroud, trembling with the memory of her courage on that hill. “You were always ours. Mine.”

Her eyes widened, tears welling as his words shattered the walls she’d built against nine years of despair. Ours. Rosi’s shy smile, Doffy’s grudging thanks after Scrabby—proof she hadn’t failed them entirely. But the weight of her captivity cracked her voice. “I thought you were gone, Doffy. I thought.. I’d never see you again, not after the fires, the collar, her cruelty. Why now? Why risk your empire for me?”

Doflamingo’s laugh was low, a blend of amusement and a fierce resolve that echoed the boy who’d once stood by her through Downs’ chaos. “Fufufu, risk? I’m a god, Valerie, but even gods reclaim their own. Tobias stole you, turned your fire into his profit, and I let Downs burn without you. I came to ruin his world, to bring you back where you belong—beside me, where no chain can touch you.” His fingers lingered on her chin, his gaze piercing through her pain to the girl who’d teased him, a spark he’d never forgotten.

Valerie’s heart ached, hope and fear colliding in a torrent. Where I belong. With him, with the family forged in Downs’ ruins, beyond Karina’s lashes and Tobias’ vaults. But could she embrace this Doffy, whose hands bore blood as well as salvation? Her tears fell, tracing paths down her cheeks, her voice steadying with a resolve born of her stage fights. “I.. I want that. To be free, with you, away from her hands, his greed.”

Doflamingo’s grin returned, fierce with pride and a hint of redemption for Downs’ loss. He produced the key, his fingers gently removing the crimson velvet choker from her throat with a tenderness that belied the chaos, then unlocking the bomb collar with a soft click. It fell to the stage, a clatter against the wood, and he crushed it under his boot, the sound a sharp punctuation amid the crackling flames. “You’re free,” he said, his voice a solemn vow, heavy with the weight of their shared past. He stepped closer, his hand resting on her shoulder, a silent promise of protection. “No one chains you again—not her, not him, not ever.”

The crew regrouped near the theatre’s smoldering ruins, hauling sacks of Tobias’ gold from the vault, the grand structure groaning as flames licked the rafters and sapphire tiles crashed to the ground in a shower of sparks. As they exited, the night air cool and sharp with sea spray against the heat, Valerie stayed close to Doflamingo, her legs unsteady from the night’s chaos and a lingering ache from her flight, her resolve a quiet flame amid the chaos. The ship waited at the docks, its white sails soft against the moonlit sea, but a sudden commotion erupted from the theatre’s side entrance. Karina emerged, her frilly dress torn and char-streaked, her eyes filled with rage. She lunged forward, seizing Valerie from behind with surprising force, pressing a pilfered pistol to her temple, the metal cold against Valerie’s skin, a desperate last stand born of the raid’s confusion and her crumbling status as Tobias’ heir.

“You think you can steal my doll and walk away?” Karina snarled, her grip trembling but fierce, her voice cracking with desperation. “With Father dead, she’s all I have left—my legacy, my control! She’s done dancing forever unless you back off—my father’s empire ends with her!”

“Karina,” Valerie said, her voice steady despite the gun’s press, her crimson eyes narrowing with a defiance honed by years of her tormentor’s cruelty, her body tensing against the familiar pain.

“This little wench!” Diamante spat, his sword flashing as he stepped forward, but Pica’s massive form shifted silently, his strength a quiet deterrent as he loomed protectively. Doflamingo’s raised hand halted Diamante, his smirk calm yet edged with menace, his gaze assessing the standoff.

Karina’s voice sharpened, venomous and shrill. “That’s right! She’s mine—my father bought her, molded her into the Porcelain Rose! Why would she choose you, a filthy pirate, over the stage I forced her to shine on, the crowds I made her please with every scar?” Her free hand clenched Valerie’s messy bun, yanking it painfully, a final act of possession.

Doflamingo’s gaze locked on Valerie, his tone smooth, almost teasing, but laced with a dangerous undercurrent. “She’s got a point, Valerie. That stage was your dream, wasn’t it? All those years, dancing under her whip, shining for her father’s gold, bearing scars for their applause. Why throw it away for a pirate like me? Choose your path—freedom with us, or this cage she clings to with her last breath.”

Valerie’s eyes met his, her heart steady despite the pistol’s chill and the strain of the night’s chaos, the weight of Karina’s grip a familiar ache from years of torment. The stage had been her dream, but it was a gilded prison—Karina’s slaps, Tobias’ chains, the collar’s shocks a constant reminder of her lost hope. Doflamingo’s crew, their chaos and blood, were her family from Downs—Rosi’s memory, a gentle laugh on that hill, Doffy’s grudging protection. “The stage was a cage,” she said, her voice clear, resolute, cutting through Karina’s rage. “I danced to survive, not to live. I choose you, Doffy. Our family—me, you, Rosi’s shadow. I want to be free, not her puppet.”

Doflamingo’s smirk widened, a glint of triumph and pride igniting in his eyes, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. “Fufufu, that’s my girl. One last question, Valerie—would you give everything for me? Your life, your past, your every step—would you lay it all at my feet?” His gaze bore into her, a mix of challenge and a flicker of guilt over Downs’ flames.

Valerie’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion, her voice steady with a resolve forged on stages of pain. “For you, Doffy, I’d give it all. Seeing you again.. it’s a dream I buried under her lashes and his greed. I’m with you now—freedom, family, a new stage.” Her body swayed, the night’s toll weighing on her, but her spirit held firm.

“You filthy wretch!” Karina screamed, shoving the pistol harder against Valerie’s temple, her finger twitching on the trigger as Pica’s shadow loomed. “I’ll end you both!” Before she could fire, Doflamingo’s strings snapped out, his Parasite technique seizing her. Karina’s arm jerked violently under his control, the pistol twisting in her grasp and discharging with a deafening crack, the bullet striking her own chest. Valerie’s breath hitched, a surge of surprise washing over her as she realized she hadn’t been shot, her heart pounding with relief at Doflamingo’s swift intervention. Karina staggered, blood gushing from the self-inflicted wound, her eyes wide with horror as she fell, her legacy crumbling with her final, gasping breath.

Doflamingo stood in front of Valerie, his voice low, steady, yet warm with a tenderness rare for him, a shadow of Downs’ loss crossing his mind. “I didn’t cross seas to lose you now, Valerie. You’re too precious—my spark from a hill I failed to save.” He offered his hand, his smirk softening into something almost gentle. “Come with us, join the Donquixote Pirates. We’ll forge a new world, one where you dance free.”

“Doffy..” Valerie’s knees buckled, exhaustion from the night’s chaos overtaking her. She sank to the ground, her body trembling, tears mingling on her cheeks, the night air chilling her skin.

Doflamingo chuckled, scooping her into his arms, her head resting against his chest, the steady beat a lifeline amid the fading chaos. “Rest now, my ballerina. We’ve a ship waiting, and a stage of our own to build—beyond their chains.”

Valerie nestled closer, her voice a whisper barely audible over the crackling flames. “I really missed you, Doffy.. more than the stage ever did.”

Trebol lumbered past, dragging a sack of gold, his mucus-slick hands leaving a trail as he chortled, “Heh heh! Got the girl, the loot, and a fine blaze—perfect haul, Doffy!” His bulk swayed with satisfaction, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the night’s plunder.

Diamante sauntered behind, wiping his sword on a fallen guard’s cloak, his grin sly as he admired the burning theatre. “Stole the star and the scene, Young Master! A performance to remember!” His voice carried a note of pride, his steps light despite the weight of their spoils.

Pica trudged forward, his massive form steadying a toppling gold sack, his gaze fixed on the path to the docks. His strength bore the crew’s haul with quiet determination, a pillar amidst the flames.

Vergo led the way, his silence a steady guide as he cleared debris, ensuring their escape route to the docks remained open. His precision cut through the night, a shadow ensuring their victory.

The theatre burned behind them, flames roaring into the sky, a pyre for Tobias’ greed and Karina’s cruelty. The Donquixote Pirates vanished into the night, their ship waiting, gold heavy in their hold and Valerie safe in Doflamingo’s arms. She was no longer a doll, but a spark reborn, ready to carve her place in a family of pirates—a path that would one day crown her Queen of Hearts.

────୨ৎ────

divider by: @uzmacchiato

[biodegradableriot]

🌿 GEAR UP: PROTEST WEAR UNDER FASCISM 🌿

An Ecopunk Guide to Staying Safe, Smart & Untraceable

We are living in a time when surveillance is constant, eco-collapse is accelerating, and governments are increasingly cracking down on dissent. When fascism tightens its grip, resistance becomes not just necessary — it becomes sacred.

If you're taking to the streets, defending the forest, or showing up where you’re not “supposed” to be:

You need to be protected. You need to be unidentifiable. You need to blend in and strike smart.

🌿MASK UP — COMPLETELY

★ Not just a COVID mask. Full face concealment.

★ Layer a disposable surgical mask under a bandana or balaclava to disrupt facial recognition.

★ Avoid bright colors, logos, or anything unique.

★ Stick to earth tones, plain black, or blend into your surroundings.

★ Wraparound sunglasses help, but avoid reflective lenses that attract cameras.

🌿WEAR YOUR DAMN GLOVES

★ Fingerprints = evidence.

★ Wear lightweight, grip-friendly gloves (mechanic’s style are great).

★ Do not take them off — not for phones, not to fix your mask, not for anything.

🌿BLEND IN WITH YOUR ENVIRONMENT.

★ Urban action? Go normcore — hoodie, jeans, plain sneakers.

★ Forest defense? Camo, greens, browns — dress like the terrain.

★ Avoid any outfit you’ve worn in photos. Burn it if necessary.

★ No logos. No slogans. No flair. You are not a brand. You are resistance.

🌿GO SCENT-FREE, STAY CLEAN

★ Wash clothes in scentless detergent.

★ No perfume, cologne, essential oils, or deodorant.

★ Dogs and thermal tech can track your scent and heat signature.

★ Think animal. Think ghost.

🌿LEAVE YOUR PHONE BEHIND.

★ Seriously. Do not bring your smartphone.

★ If you must have one, use a burner bought with cash — no accounts, no contacts, no selfies.

★ Better yet: Faraday bag it, keep it off, and never unlock it at the scene.

🌿BE THE FOG, NOT THE FIREWORKS.

★ No unique patches. No one-of-a-kind bandanas. No flashy signs.

★ Uniformity = safety in numbers. Ego gets people doxxed.

★ You are not there to stand out — you are there to stand together.

🌿ECOPUNK ARMOR, DIY-STYLE.

★ Layer cardboard and hemp under your hoodie for padding.

★ Upcycle rubber, denim, or leather into forearm guards or shin shields.

★ Reinforce clothes with natural fibers, not synthetics that melt.

★ Protection should be defensive, not aggressive. Know your limits. Know your risks.

🌿KNOW YOUR RIGHTS — AND ACT ACCORDINGLY.

★ Memorize legal aid numbers. Write them on your body.

★ Don’t talk to cops. Period.

★ Don’t bring ID unless your local laws absolutely require it — and hide it deep.

★ Study the difference between stopped, detained, and arrested.

Knowledge is armor. Don’t wait until you need it.

🌿 FINAL WORD: YOU ARE NOT POWERLESS.

Fascism wants fear. It wants faces. It wants silence.

We give it none of that.

We are rooted in the dirt.

We are wind through cities.

We are the mycelium under empire.

They can’t stop what they can’t see. They can’t kill what keeps growing back.

And to those who can’t attend, be loud, silence is the enemy of progress.

✊ STAY SHARP. STAY HIDDEN. STAY WILD.

[vivabluess]

Aggressive Devil Eyes Car Headlight

🔥 🚗💀🚗 Transform Your Ride with the Aggressive Devil Eyes Car Headlight 🚗💀🚗 🔥

Elevate your vehicle's appearance with the 7th Devil Eyes Lens Lights! These headlights are designed to enhance your car's style and boost night visibility. With a striking devil eyes design, your car will exude an aggressive and bold look that turns heads on the road. 💥

Equipped with advanced 📱 Wi-Fi control technology, you can easily customize the lighting animations directly from your smartphone, adding a personalized touch to your ride. 🌟 While these lenses are dedicated solely to devil eyes usage, they offer unparalleled flair, making your vehicle truly stand out. 😈

[paulsbettanys]

Paul Bettany Brings Cinematic Flair to Eyewear With Codesigned L.G.R Capsule Collection

MILAN — Paul Bettany designing a limited-edition capsule collection for Italian hip eyewear brand L.G.R was pure serendipity.

The British-born but U.S.-based Bettany — best known for his roles in “The Da Vinci Code” and as Vision in the “Marvel Cinematic Universe” Avengers franchise — has been a fan of L.G.R frames for a long time and the brand’s founder and chief executive officer Luca Gnecchi Ruscone was of course taking note, until he slipped into the actor’s DMs on Instagram.

“When I first came across an L.G.R sunglass, I was in Capri and I was in this little boutique, looking for a pair of sunglasses. I can’t remember what model. I think they were a black, aviator [style]…and even before I put them on my face, you could feel the quality and the care in the hinges….That’s when I fell in love with L.G.R,” Bettany said, Zooming in from a movie set.

Since then he’s been wearing the brand’s eyewear with gusto until “Luca slipped into my DMs, I think is parlance of the modern era,” Bettany said.

“I threw an arrow, hoping that Paul would respond. And he did,” echoed Gnecchi Ruscone. “I saw he was wearing various models. He loved them. He was sharing them with his family, his children, his wife, in his private life. I said, maybe we could take it a step forward and do a collaboration, and maybe he can design and make his own model. And then it happened,” he said.

The four-piece L.G.R x Paul Bettany capsule is based on the signature Jambo design, a rectangular, slightly chunky acetate frame.

We just started to discuss what the frames could be, and also design new frames. And we thought the most expeditious way of doing it was to pick a frame that I already loved. And that was hard for me, because there are a lot of frames that I wear, [but] the Jambo has sort of a timeless elegance that I really love,” Bettany said.

The design was reinterpreted in two bold sunglasses options, an amber frame with blue mineral lenses and a quartz rose iteration with brown lenses. Playing by a more understated playbook, the two prescription versions feature Havana and see-through brown frames.

Bettany described the result as “cinematic.”

Somehow these frames feel iconic, and I can imagine them in a movie,” he said. Which one, he had no doubt about: the 2000 British crime drama “Gangster No. 1” in which he played the role of Young Gangster.

“I think in my job, creatively, you make something, and it ends when the film ends, and with this, the idea that somebody will be wearing this in their life and having experiences and building their own story, a story that I won’t know, I find [this] really exciting. That’s a very new thing for me,” Bettany said of the process — for the most part conducted remotely, Gnecchi Ruscone added.

“Paul has real experience about eyewear. He knows and speaks about details, about other brands, about shapes, like a true connoisseur of eyewear. So, him appreciating my product, it was great. Collaborating with a personality, a celebrity like he is, but also somebody that knows about eyewear quality and recognizes it was very gratifying,” Gnecchi Ruscone said.

“He created some models that will be a great addition to the collection, because they are this very classical model — thick, masculine — but he twitched it [into designs that are] very commercial, but sexy, cool at the same time. I was very happy that he didn’t go for the traditional route…we created something exciting that the market, I think, will really appreciate,” he enthused.

The collection is to debut on Thursday at L.G.R flagships and on the brand’s e-commerce site, as well as at select retailers globally. Prescription frames retail at 320 euros, while sunglasses come in at 380 euros.

The Hollywood star fronts a dedicated ad campaign shot in New York by Max Montgomery, who is known for his portraits of leading international actors. Bettany describes his fascination with eyewear as a real addiction — “When I travel…the sunglasses and glass frames are my one indulgence. I bring a whole box of glasses because things look different with different clothes,” he said. "I love looking through vintage glasses stores…going through those drawers of old glasses [at vintage stores]. And actually, one of the stories that Luca first told me…of him finding all the frames he found, [was] sort of reminiscent for me, of when I love looking through drawers and drawers and drawers of glasses,” the actor said.

L.G.R was officially launched in 2008 by Gnecchi Ruscone. The Italian entrepreneur visited Asmara in Eritrea, where his family and particularly his grandfather Raffaello Bini, who had had ties with the African continent throughout his life, ran a small optician business named Ottica Bini. Gnecchi Ruscone discovered a handful of vintage Italian eyewear at his grandfather’s warehouse, brought them back to Italy and jumpstarted his eyewear brand aimed at resurrecting and repurposing those styles.

[simplyghosting]

The worst part about wearing glasses is that I can’t dramatically flop face-first into my bed like a tragic heroine whenever the need arises. No. I have to take my glasses off and gingerly place them on my desk so that the lenses are face up so that I can continue seeing lest they be scuffed. Zero pizazz. No style. Dramatic flair ruined.