"I haven’t seen you in forever!"

You’re here! But why are you still here?

A stone lies in Dolores’ gut; the fine hairs at her nape bristle. She senses the Venus flytrap’s jaws are closing, knows she needs to leave before it’s too late already too late yet won’t. Not without Becky. Oh, how her eyes sparkle. Yes, you are alive!

@doloresalbinsson

Buggy has never let someone who interrupted his thing live. Never. They all ate shit and dust and whatever. That might have been overkill, admittedly. But if any judge had any empathy of any human being ever, Buggy would walk free from any trial, because OH did it hurt his feelings every time.

This time, however, it’s Dolores who does it. So Buggy is left to stand in the limelight. Alone. He vaguely hears the word “dad”, and it dawns on him. His father-in-law in the audience. The audience that wasn’t forcibly brought into the circus tent, one has to give that one to Buggy. No, it was a regular act. Buggy almost can feel his face drooping as he is hit with two mortifying thoughts at once: he is in the middle of an interrupted act AND his father-in-law is looking at him.

He almost wants to reach for Dolores and say please no, don’t abandon me. Not even for your father. But that’s too egoistical of him, so he makes a small gesture for the crew to wrap it up. The lights go out, and the audience is starting to thin out, whispers and weak laughter among them.

Buggy keeps standing in the middle of the ring, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Is.. is it really your father, Dolores?”

She and Buggy are in the middle of a routine he’d arranged especially for the two of them, a sort of interlude between the grander spectacles. Maintaining forever that she is not the sort of misfit well-suited to circuses, Dolores prefers to take smaller roles in their performances, or ones which demand much more of her Devil Fruit powers than her charisma. Still, Buggy’s persistent encouragement has always been touching.

Then, something distracts her. An errant spotlight catches an audience member’s round glasses, making them glint like a predator’s eyes in the dark. Dolores isn’t sure what compels her to keep looking, to discern their features through the murk of the shadows, but the longer she looks, the more her heart begins to race, until she can’t help but shout in wild hope:

“Dad!”

Overwhelmed at once by suddenly regaining what she’d accepted was lost, Dolores doesn’t mean to hurt Buggy’s feelings by rushing from the ring and bounding up the benches between startled onlookers to nearly topple the wisp of a man who’d stood up the instant she called out.

Those surrounding them who know the Star Clown’s infamous temper move the quickest to avoid stray flying knives. Dolores’ father seems to sense the same danger a beat later as his eyes, clenched shut, snap open again, alert, on Buggy. It’s Dolores herself who never seems to consider it, whether forgetful in her moment of joy or under the naïve (although, thank goodness, correct) assumption that she would be an exception to her lover’s wrath.

“Buggy! Buggy!” Dolores bounces on the spot, facing the ring now. “This is my dad!”

Let's say you're getting anonymous hate for... Whatever reason. And part of you doesn't want to turn off anonymous completely but people who are dumb enough to send anonymous hate thinking it makes their side look better often have too much time on their hands.

You may have heard of the term 'IP blocking', but are unsure how to do it. Here's a quick step by step;

Buggy puts his elbows on the table, a thick fan of cards in his hands.

"We'll teach ya," Mohji insists, and Buggy knows the First Mate is just excited about having to strip their scullion girl down.

"You really think she's gonna play a game she doesn't know well with that kind of stakes, Mohji?" He asks, narrowed eyes looking merrily between the two, then says to Dolores, "Come on here, you'll just watch."

Truth be told, Buggy's been thinking of undressing Dolores himself, but perhaps in more fitting circumstances. They make another round, and Buggy loses again. Yeah, the bastards are cheating, but Buggy actually finds it flattering.

"Welp," he slaps the cards on the table. "Nothing can be done about it. I lost. Walking around the port, was it?"

Her focus is less on the game, though, and more on chewing the inside of her cheek to stop a goofy grin from spreading over her flushed face. At least the captain doesn’t seem like the sort who would take offense to her stealing glances at the toned thigh covering his groin. Certainly not, if he’s playing such a game in the first place, but she tries not to stare.

Each bettor takes their turn, and when it’s time to show their hands, Buggy doesn’t seem upset by losing. But upon hearing the stakes—oh, she should thank him for not letting her join after all—Dolores’ eyes snap to the captain just in time to catch a sly wink before he rises from the table.

Well, it seems the blue may be natural. She doubts that the arrow shape is.

does your muse like the taste of cilantro/coriander, or are they part of the roughly 20% of people that think it tastes like soap?

does your muse consume more caffeine or less caffeine than the average person? how do they typically consume it?

does your muse have a cleft chin? is this trait visible in their parents?

does your muse love to dance, or would they rather avoid dancing altogether?

is your muse's ring finger longer or shorter than their pointer/index finger?

does your muse have freckles? if so, where are they placed? does your muse like their freckles, or wish they had some?

does your muse have a birthmark? if so, where, and what does it look like?

does your muse get "hangry" when they haven't eaten in a while?

would your muse consider themselves an extrovert or an introvert?

is your muse a morning person or a night person?

is your muse a particularly picky eater? what foods do they refuse to eat?

when your muse wakes up in the morning, do they remember their dreams, or completely forget them?

does your muse play a musical instrument? did they play one at some point?

would you say your muse is a risk taker, or do they prefer to play it safe?

what are your muse's thoughts on spicy foods?

what are your muse's thoughts on sweet foods?

what are your muse's thoughts on dairy products? do they have an intolerance?

is your muse a habitual nap-taker? how often do they take naps? how long do their naps usually last?

does your muse's face get flushed after they drink alcohol?

what type of hair do they have? how thick is their hair? do they like the way their hair looks and feels?

#TRASHCOLLECTED

Indie multi-muse RP blog. Features characters from various media, such as, but not limited to: Batman, ANOES, Disney, Vampire Hunter D, MCU, Death Note, ASOIAF

it’s my muse’s birthday !  what would yours say to them ?

1.     ❝ Congrats on not being dead yet ! ❞ 2.     ❝ One year closer to granny panties ! ❞ 3.     ❝ Free cake !  I mean, happy birthday ! ❞ 4.     ❝ I’ll always be younger than you. Ha ha ! ❞ 5.     ❝ In whiskey years, you just got more delicious ! ❞ 6.     ❝ For the record, you’re not old. You’re a classic ! ❞ 7.     ❝ A late birthday card is better than a late period ! ❞ 8.     ❝ Candles aren’t the only thing getting blown tonight ! ❞ 9.     ❝ Happy anniversary of your umbilical cord separation ! ❞ 10.   ❝ Another 365 days since you fell out of a vagina. Hooray ! ❞ 11.   ❝ This is an annual reminder that I’m super glad you were born ! ❞ 12.   ❝ The older you get, the better you get !  Unless you’re a banana… ❞ 13.   ❝ I’m really glad your parents had unprotected sex !  Happy birthday ! ❞ 14.   ❝ Today we celebrate the only time you won a race. Happy birthday ! ❞ 15.   ❝ I’m glad you were born, my life would be pretty boring without you ! ❞ 16.   ❝ Age is merely the number of years the world has been enjoying you. ❞ 17.   ❝ Happy birthday to the love of my life, and the biggest pain in my ass. ❞ 18.   ❝ I wanted to give you something amazing, but I didn’t fit in the gift bag. ❞ 19.   ❝ Thanks for being born !  It’s a great excuse for us to get drunk and eat cake ! ❞ 20.   ❝ I wish you happy birthday with all my butt !  I’d say heart, but my butt is bigger. ❞ 21.   ❝ You suck… at aging !  Can you at least try to look older ? Happy birthday, anyway ! ❞ 22.   ❝ Happy birthday !  We’ve been through a lot together, and most of it was your fault ! ❞ 23.   ❝ Let’s celebrate your birthday the way you came into this world — naked and screaming ! ❞ 24.   ❝ Birthdays are good for your health. Studies show that people who have more birthdays live the longest ! ❞ 25.   ❝ Happy birthday to the funniest, prettiest, classiest bitch I know… other than myself, of course ! ❞ 26.   ❝ Happy birthday !  Always remember that if you fall, I’ll be there to pick you up… after I finish laughing, of course ! ❞ 27.   ❝ Happy birthday to the smartest, funniest and most beautiful person in the world !  Wait, did I say “to” ?  I meant “from” ! ❞ 28.   ❝ This is not a birthday card !  Because if it was, then it would be late. But it’s not a birthday card, so it’s not late ! ❞ 29.   ❝ I think me being your [friend/girlfriend/boyfriend/etc…] is enough of a birthday gift. You’re welcome ! ❞ 30.   ❝ Good things take time, just like me remembering your birthday. Happy belated birthday ! ❞ 31.   ❝ I didn’t get you anything, but I thought about it. They say it’s the thought that counts ! Happy birthday ! ❞ 32.   ❝ I wanted to send you something sexy, but the postman told me to get out of the mailbox… anyway, happy birthday ! ❞ 33.   ❝ Happy birthday to a [brother/boyfriend/husband/etc…] that has the world’s greatest [sister/girlfriend/wife/etc…] !  You are so lucky ! ❞ 34.   ❝ There’s two things to remember on your birthday. First, forget the past, because you can’t change it ;  second, forget the present — I didn’t buy you one. ❞ 35.   ❝ For your birthday I wanted to give you something that was both funny and charming, but then I remembered you already have me in your life. ❞

Eddie Noack - Dolores (1970)

He places his feet on the table, leans back into the vinyl sofa. He scrapes a plastic container from his pocket, pours a handful of tablets into his palm and pops them into his mouth. The waitress gives him a daikiri, and he downs it whole, calls for another one.

It’s the start of the day, when salary men are crawling out of their box apartments and go to kiss asses of big corp. Pyg hates daylight. His eyes are used to the artificial shine of stroboscope or the surgical lamps. Nevertheless, he folds his arms on his chest, looks surly at the stage.

“Number one, walk in baby, I won’t eat ya.”

Maybe he will, but he has to see the build first. He can judge the quality of the meat just by looking at the carcass while it’s still intact.

As a creature seemingly made of dandelion fluff walks onto the stage, Pyg narrows his eyes.

“What brought you here, sweet little goat?”

It’s doubtful that she’s what they’re looking for. Dolores is no more skilled a dancer than the next person, not accounting for the ability to cope with an audience watching her. Appearances may be equally important, and even if Dolores doesn’t consider herself as repellent as her cruelest former peers would say, nor does she suppose her looks would compensate for any lack of talent. On that note, Dolores is sure that past this point they’ll hold her to stricter standards of presentation than she’s used to. Makeup, depilation, maybe other things that haven’t crossed her mind. Though willing to compromise, she’s not keen on the idea, in practice or principle. Another chore is no fun, and even less so when it is performed to suit the tastes of others.

Dolores has come prepared for the possibility that they’ll want to see her undressed, partially or fully. That’s fine. If she can handle putting her feet in the stirrups at the doctor’s office, Dolores tells herself, then this shouldn’t be a great deal more difficult. No, it’s the chance that they’ll want to see her dance that’s most daunting. While Dolores believes in an elusive frame of mind which could allow her to overcome the stage fright, reaching it under these circumstances won’t be easy. It also won’t guarantee that they’ll like her.

Somebody calls out her number. Dolores’ eyes dart between the other waiting auditionees, in hopes that she’s somehow misheard, but no. She’s up first. Dolores swallows hard and makes her way to the stage on boneless legs. Already, a nervous sweat is breaking out in her underarms, and across her back.

With her hands clasped, Dolores puts on a smile for the little man lounging in the gloom, and—is he wearing a pig mask? Bewildered by this, the use of goat as a term of endearment(?) completely flies under her radar. She stares, for much too long, before speaking.