#nico di angelo is a pirate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stackofstories · 11 months ago

Text

Nico was on his haunches. Slowly, he stood and took in the people under the strange jolly roger.

It took everything within Nico to not scamper over to Rebecca.

A little voice in his head, the same voice that told him to dodge, alerted him to the obvious. If their unusual appearance didn't give it away these people were bad news. They had his full attention.

"Who put these brats in our way?" screamed a guy in a yellow furry jacket with SNACK written in bold black letters. "Is this the welcome we get from Joker? Mama won't be pleased if his citizens don't respect their betters." Spit accompanied each word out of his mouth. Was he always so angry? Snacks usually lifted moods.

"Yeaaaah," chorused two sets of quintuplets, or were they decuplets? It didn't matter. There were ten kids his age wearing Pepto Bismol pink. Half of them were leggy brunette girls, and the other half were beady-eyed, purple-haired boys.

The youngest of the strange group was a girl around Rebecca's age. She stuck her tongue out at Nico. Nico would have stuck his tongue out as well if it weren't for the three extremely tall people hovering around Snack, the decuplets, and the girl.

The man in the middle, if he could even be called that, looked like a half-melted ice-cream cone. His beard appeared to be made out of vanilla ice cream and his body, large and round, was made out of goopy chocolate.

To the right of the ice cream man was a woman. She was slender and wore a white, wide-brimmed hat and a pale pinstriped dress with a wine-colored sash. Nico couldn't see her face. There was an air around her that Nico didn't like. But, all of them put together weren't nearly as bad as the man completing the trio of extremely tall people.

Towering over his gang, he was the most ordinary-looking of the group. A ragged, fluffy scarf covered his mouth and he wore tight leather pants and an open leather vest. His muscled arms were folded. His eyes were an intense crimson.

Nico gulped. He wasn't sure what exactly it was about this unassuming giant of a man, but every molecule in his body told him to run in the opposite direction.

"They are of no concern to us," the man said. "We have an appointment to catch and if we miss it, that makes us late for merienda. We will not be late."

"Big Brother," they chorused and followed him. Nico read Charlotte on the man's wide and proud back as he turned around.

With each step away from him, Nico could breathe, and he found his courage.

There was no way he was going to let them get away without first apologizing. Rebecca was owed that much.

"Hey!" Nico called. "Say you're sorry for bumping into us!"

"What?" Melty hissed with a dark scowl. "You must be stupid, brat! I'll show you!" he pushed his siblings out of the way only to be stopped by the slender woman pulling her nodachi from the black scabbard hanging at her waist.

Nico's eyebrows raised. He had never seen a sword as long as hers.

"What's this, Amande?" Melty growled.

"Shirauo hungers for blood," Amande interrupted, stepping forward. "Katakuri, I will take care of this brat."

Katakuri half-turned. He inclined his head. Once more, Nico was under his unfortunate gaze. "Do what you wish," Katakuri said continuing on his way.

Melty's scowl darkened, but he did not protest. Nico was given the chance to see the back of all of them and he was relieved. If he had faced that man, Charlotte Katakuri, he was certain that he would not have survived.

His relief was short-lived. Amande took a dainty step forward and with a single slash of her sword, Nico flew backward through a wall. A brick wall.

He laid in the rubble. Dazed didn't even cover what he was feeling. Coughing up a dust cloud, he sat up and brushed the dirt and bits of brick clinging to his shoulders and clothing. So, he was a lot sturdier than he expected, which was both good and cool.

"Whoa!"

Nico tucked into a ball and rolled to the left as Amande dived forward. Her sword dug into the ground with deceptive ease. It might as well have been cake.

"That could have killed me!"

Amande's droopy fish eyes were unmoved. "You say that as if that's a bad thing. People mightier than you have been slain by my sword. You should be honored."

"Well, I'm not! I'm feeling very unhonored right now."

Dodge! pounded in Nico's head and he was doing his best to follow the single command. Sometimes, he dodged. In most of the cases, he did not. He could not. His clothing was torn with thousands of rips and he was covered in a hundred crescent cuts. Knowing when to dodge didn't help when he couldn't keep up with Amande's insane speed. If he blinked, she already surged in front of him. Smoke from her cigarette billowed in his face, her sword gleamed in the sun.

Panting, Nico was on all fours doing an awkward scuttle away from her. "If I die, I just want you to know that smoking is terrible for your lungs. It'll kill you."

Amande didn't so much as blink. She swung her sword and once more; Nico tumbled through the air into a stone building. Distantly, he heard the citizens of Carta, screaming and running away. Groaning, Nico rubbed the back of his head.

"Is this all you have to offer?" Amande asked, displeasure in her voice. "I grow tired of this cat-and-mouse game."

"You could let me go and find a better opponent?" Nico suggested.

Amande's eyes widened. "Yes, you're right," she agreed.

Nico's eyebrows knit. Amande turned away from him and she walked toward Rebecca's body. She wouldn't.

"Don't touch her!" Nico yelled.

Amande loomed over Rebecca. Her pale hands wrapped around the handle of her sword. Nico swore he heard the air sliced.

He had been behind Amande, but in his next breath, he was a barrier between her and Rebecca. Amande's sword dug under his collarbone. She twisted the sword further in. His blood draped the shining metal. Amande's expression was unchanged though her eyes brightened with sadistic joy.

She was one of those types. She liked to inflict pain for the sake of it. Nico hated her.

"You care about this girl," Amande said. "That's good. Very, very good." Leisurely, she cut into his flesh, slicing down his torso inch by torturous inch.Nico shrieked nearly choking on his spit. Stopitstopitstopit. “I won't kill you. No. I'll save that for later. I will chop the girl up limb by limb and make you watch. Then, I will kill you at the height of your agony. After all, what is the point of killing another if their life ends instantly."

"You will not touch her," Nico hissed through tears.

Amande's lips curled at the corners. She yanked the sword from him. Then she threw him aside.

Her bloodied sword rested under Rebecca's neck. "Watch me," she said. She pushed the edge in and Nico let out a chilling screech.

Over the next few days, the battle came to Nico in spurts. He remembered the knell ringing shrill in his ears.

The ground under him growled with every bloodied step he took. Any sign of greenery stubbornly poking itself through the cobblestones shriveled black, and the air was cold. Frost and shadow crept over stone, toy, and person.

Still, Amande with her long neck did not look concerned with the change. "So, you are a devil fruit user. But you are young and you will learn your place."

Nico blinked. She was in front of him. He was too slow. He flung through the air with the force of her kick and he skittered across the stones before he came to a halt.

Absently, he touched the shallow hole where Amande's stiletto heel had been and he got to his feet. She came to him and he was prepared to meet her.

He thrust his right arm in front of him, his palm was wide and open. Slowly, he made a fist.

Amande, so tall and proud, dropped to her knees and clutched her sides. Her great sword clattered at her feet. Her trembling increased tenfold, but it had nothing to do with the cold. It was her bones. Nico felt all two hundred and six bones. They were his to do with as he pleased.

"What's the matter?" Nico asked. "I thought you liked pain. Maybe I'm not doing it right. You said there was no pleasure if the pain was drawn quickly."

With every minute wiggle of his fingers, he started to crush Amande's bones into dust. He began with her baby toe, then moving onward.

"Stop this! Stop this at once!"

"You know," Nico continued, "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

There were three sounds in his ears. A bell sound, his heartbeat, and the cracking sound of Amande's bones laced with her wet, gasping begs for death.

"Kill me, please, kill me!"

Nico laughed. Death was mercy. She did not get mercy until she paid for crimes. Nico demanded justice.

His hand was halfway closed. Amande's femurs and below were no more.

"Big sister Amande!" ripped through the air.

Nico paused.

Confusion bled into the cold and dark justice coursing through Nico. He had heard the horrified, maddening tone before, but when he looked down all he saw was the baby brunette girl in her pink dress rushing to Amande's side. He did not understand why he was disappointed. This girl's large brown eyes like chocolate pudding pinned Nico to the spot as tears spilled down her chubby cheeks and forehead?

"Big sister," Nico mumbled.

Cruel Amande was a big sister?

"What are you doing here? Stupid girl, go to Katakuri!" Amande commanded as she tried to shake the girl off her side and move in front of her. "Run, I'll hold him off, just go!"

"But, Big Sister, I can help-"

Nico held his head. A low, terrible moan escaped him. The air changed. Plunging to freezing temperatures, it was heavier and it carried his desperation and anguish. He missed Bianca so much. Responding to him, the earth between his feet split open and wobbled.

The girl screamed once more and clung to her sister. It was her saving grace.

Amande was a big sister. Nico couldn't take her away, though she deserved to join the nebulous, dark space of the underworld where millions of the dead chattered in his ear ceaselessly. He walked by Amande and her sister. He kept his mouth shut only glancing at them as he stole Amande's sword.

He found Rebecca. She was under the umbrella of a shadow.

Nico gathered her and the sword in his arms. He sank into the shadow, focused on getting back to the only safe place he knew, Rebecca's cabin. He didn't question how he got there so fast.

Gently, Nico placed Rebecca on the bed. He brushed her pink hair back. There was no ringing in his ears. Rebecca was safe.

Nico blacked out.

Stuck between the waking and dream world, Nico wasn't sure what was real or how long time had passed. Toy Soldier appeared before him, his cold wooden hands tight on his shoulders and he was talking to him. Trying to be comforting and not panicked. Rebecca's name clawed up Nico's throat, but he couldn't remember how to speak.

He felt somethings crawl up his body. Little, round people with threading needles held high in the air. Then, red-hot pain. Nico thrashed as he was punctured repeatedly. He was split into two and sewed into a whole. He was tethered to the blackness and shrouded in flames.

There was Rebecca's sweet voice. She whispered a story in his ear about the king of pirates. He was the only pirate worth mentioning. The best of them. He acquired wealth, fame, and power, but he cared about none of that. He only cared about his crew and adventures. When he was captured, he went to his death with an enormous smile and a cry that sent droves of people to the seas. Regret filled Nico. Why hadn't he met the king of pirates?

There was a shadow of a freckled woman holding a crying baby.

In a glittering palace of jewels, there was a man on an obsidian throne. He was long and lean like a sword and he was pale as bleached bone. His eyes were cruel and kind by turns. There was a pulse of familiarity attached to the man. Where had Nico seen him before? He tried hard to remember. Who are you? He wasn't able to ask.

It's not time yet.

It was the last push he needed.

Nico's eyes opened, and he inhaled.

#one piece x pjo crossover #nico di angelo is a pirate #nico di angelo #not a draft #big mom pirates #amande #spacing is weird #chapter four #you should see me in a crown

2 notes · View notes

stackofstories · 11 months ago

Text

He dreamed of fire and blood.

In his youth, he had a habit of not listening to anyone but his parents and his heart. But once his dumb Uncle Mjosgard said something of worth. He could not remember the occasion for his dumb Uncle Mjosgard speaking to him. He dimly recalled Uncle posturing at every chance he got when invited to dinner, especially about his slaves, for which he favored mermaids and fish-men. All beside the point. In this instance, he nearly fell over in shock because Uncle dispensed wise words. He had said, Gods should not fool themselves into thinking they were human. It haunted him in the dream when he found himself strung to the turrets of the island’s highest mud walls because his father, uncle’s oldest brother, hadn’t listened. Father had thought of himself, and his family by extension, ordinary as the filthy, and this was an extreme lesson on the contrary.

He was born a dragon, a god, forced upon the lesser. Cast from heaven at his father’s insistence, he had come into the strange habit of playing a human. Eating their rotting food, forcing himself to go through their mundane, low practices of socialization. But humans were keen on who was part of their community and who wasn’t. The humans proved their filthy, disgusting side and hunted his family as sport. He and his family tried their best to hide and threw themselves at heaven’s mercy, begging for their place back in paradise, but were denied. Heaven cursed them human and humans spat dragons, forbidding them from the earth.

For the crime of confusion, he and his family swung from the island’s ancient walls. The stone walls burned hot melting skin from his back. While the ropes rubbed his wrists raw and bleeding. He remembered a stinky human backhanded him before he lashed a thin cloth around his eyes as if he were a pig being led to the slaughter pin. Unlike a pig, he was not graced with ignorance. He choked on the swirling plumes of gray smoke and shadows sprouted from the sea of fire and people dancing in his shadowed vision.

The air splintered. A pain exploded on his side and he cried out, struggling in his hold; his shirt stuck to him sticky where the pain bloomed. I’m bleeding, he thought dully. His ears filled with the rising rabble of the rats. “A filthy noble took my daughter. She returned home to me broken. And she killed herself a week later,” one howled. Another voice layered “Where is justice for my son? He was only fourteen years old and he just smiled at the princess.” From the right side, “He bruised her so bad, her lily-white skin is no more, but yellow and purple and black; she’s afraid to go outside! Justice for Justas!” Swirled into the mix. “He didn’t do anything. I promise. He was a good boy. He didn’t know better. My baby, my poor baby.” Another. “Where is my child? Where is my baby? I know you took him. Stood right next to my boy when I heard a dragon say he has the prettiest brown eyes. He asked me how much my son’s eyes were, then warned if he didn’t get them, he’d scoop them out. The world government outlawed slavery, didn’t they? So where is he? I demand justice.”

Justice, the maggots culminated into one overpowering, grievous voice. Justice? Where was his justice? What was his recompense for the crimes committed against him and his family? Justice demanded their blood for so much as sniffing in his direction without his permission. Swinging above the mob, he saw the obvious answer-so plain; it was one of the few bitter truths of life. There was no justice in the world. If it were so, then he would not be a dragon and they would not be so astonishingly human, excusing their impertinence and begging to him, bound and helpless, for justice. And by that measure, he would not be a dragon defined by importance for most of his life, made to suffer such a humility. If there was any justice in the world, it was something intangible; he had to define it himself and then compel others to accept it as truth.

But his weak heart shamed him, crying. “The pain... Father... I just want to die already!”

And his father furthered the humiliation. “Please. They are only children. They are not responsible for these crimes. I will bear your hatred, but spare my children!”

And he could not handle it anymore. In his greatest moments of frustration, when he couldn’t buy a slave at the market, he had experienced the tang of power on the edges of his fingers that frightened his nannies and his parents into giving him what he wanted. But this surpassed frustration. Time disappeared and there was nothing in this very instant. To himself, he might have admitted it was a frightful thing to only know nothing but the pureness of emotion. It was neither fear nor anger. He felt nothing of his body. His pain at his side disappeared. The stones rested cool on his back. The maddened desperation of his heart froze. It was only him. The distillation of his contrary life. His vision. His justice.

He roared. “You’ll pay for this!”

Snot and tears soaked the dirty cloth and ran to his mouth. He could not see the filthy huddled below him, but he knew they were pushed together, small and frightened. His defiance cowed them. But it wasn’t enough. “I will not die!” he said as hard as he could manage. He fed on their terror, willing to believe they made deep obeisances as if that was enough to soothe the heavenly demon of their making. “No matter what you do to me, I will survive!”

A trickle of emotion came to him. It was madness. Pure madness as he readied his first edict in this rotten world. “And I will hunt you down one by one,” he vowed. “No one will be left alive!”

He dreamed of a world equal parts fire and blood when Law had come to them with eyes like death, vowing a similar vision. And he dreamed the same when the knock from his door awoke him.

“Doffy?” Trebol entered the room. Doflamingo blinked, his room was black as night, confused for but a moment, existing in the past and present. But then, there was light and Trebol was in his line of vision, slimy and barrel-chested, just as he had been all those years ago when he offered a helping hand. “Violet approaches.”

“And?”

“She has done what you asked. It has taken a month, but she has brought the boy to us. No struggle has been reported. He walks unencumbered beside her.”

Trebol took up Doflamingo’s right side as they exited his chambers. The hallways glowed with light from the fires dancing merrily in their metal wicks. Twisty shadows filled the pink columns and floor. Doflamingo stopped at the window. The realization came to him slow; it was late. Aside from Sugar and Trebol, most of his family retreated and slept in their rooms. The Toys were sent back to the Toy House and the citizens back to their homes, the island of Dressrosa was quiet at night.

“Something wrong, Doffy?” asked Trebol. His voice was distant, like the nattering of a fly.

“No.”

“Violet is quite presumptuous. She swore allegiance to us, but I think, she still holds loyalty to her father. The dead false king. Violet isn’t like the other girls. Beautiful, yes, very beautiful. We should have more beautiful women in the family. Nyeh, Nyeh, Giolla has certainly gotten fat sitting on her butt. But we have Baby 5. You’ve noticed her, haven’t you, Doffy? It’s fascinating. She was an ugly little thing when we picked her up. She’s sixteen now and she grows prettier every day. With that agreeable nature of hers--”

Doflamingo frowned. “Don’t touch her.”

“I would never dream of it, Doffy. It is only a joke. Do you see the way her face pinks and she hides behind her serving platter? It’s enough to draw any reaction out of a red-blooded man. She plays coy because she is a good woman, but it is only a joke. Nothing serious. We are playing. She is family.”

Doflamingo grunted. A joke. Trebol’s status as family, part of the inner family, protected him from his wrath. Though not as much as Trebol liked to think. Doflamingo required loyalty without question. If Trebol thought to pull a fast one because of poor reasoning, then Doflamingo would remind him of his place. Just as he had done with his heart before.

They entered the throne room. Doflamingo didn’t use it much. He preferred to greet guests at the pool. Blessed with pleasant weather, Dressrosa was free of rain for much of the year. Clear skies and comfortable heat it emphasized the life Doflamingo aspired to, a life of leisure befitting his status as king. It did not hurt he kept only the most beautiful girls swimming in the pool and serving his guests and he wasted no expense on music, food, and drinks. There was rarely a need for an ostentatious display of power, his associates and enemies alike knew who they dealt with.

But the stick before the carrot. If this boy was stupid enough to lash out against Big Mom’s pirates, then he would surely think to bite at the hand of his newfound family. Doflamingo needed the boy aware of the rules before he could have any sort of fun. It was a drag, but necessary when dealing with brats. He sighed as he sank into his throne. Trebol stood at his side, he clutched his golden staff tight in his hand, the head of the stick a golden club in laid with jewels.

“Violet has returned,” a henchman in fishnets announced.

“Open the doors! Let us greet her!” Doflamingo said.

The wide stone doors moaned as they pushed inward. Doflamingo beckoned to Violet and the boy to approach. They shared a single glance but walked, slow and measured. Violet remained much the same; beautiful as her namesake, though Doflamingo hadn’t seen her in a month. Her eyes were a glistening amber-brown like a drink to set his throat on fire, her full lips curled into a victorious smirk. The boy at her side was small, dwarfed by an abnormally long nodachi–Amande’s sword, Shirauo–on his back.

“Doffy.” Violet folded into a bow while the boy remained upright. “I have brought what you have asked of me.”

“Nyeh Nyeh Violet. Try not to look so proud. Doffy requested this task fulfilled awhile ago, remember?” Trebol pointed his scepter at her. “Were it anyone else, I would see you punished. When Doffy asks, it must be executed immediately. Not on your own time. This is your warning.”

Violet remained unperturbed as she asked. “Do you have any comments or concerns, Doffy?”

“I do not. You have done well.”

“As long as I have pleased you,” said Violet.

Doflamimgo noticed, swallowing back a laugh, Trebol shrunk by half as he let out a haughty sniff.

“I’m not here to listen to your squabbles, entertaining as they are. We have been rude to our guest. Violet, who is this you have brought to me?” Doflamingo asked.

The boy interrupted Violet, stepping forward. Doflamingo smiled at the boy’s insolence. It was clear he was brave, or maybe, more likely, he did not know any better because he was unafraid and brazen. “I am not a thing to be brought home. I’m not a toy, but a boy. And I came here on my own free will; my name is Nico.”

“Nico.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why I have asked for you?”

The boy curled his small fists at his side. The look on his face was resolute. “I met your shark-boy… and I hurt him,” Nico said quietly. “But he hurt me first. I wouldn’t have done anything if he had just listened and not bit me.”

“Dellinger can be eager when meeting new people, friend or foe,” Doflamingo said. “Forgive him. He’s mixed with an aggressive breed of fish-man, the fighting fish. Sometimes he makes mistakes as we all do, and when you see him, he will offer his apologies and we will leave it in the past. Family forgives mistakes.”

“Dellinger isn’t my family.”

“Not yet,” Doflamingo acknowledged. “But he will be. You don’t believe me and that’s no matter; you will see.”

Trebol pushed forward, his blueish-grey snot coat, left membrane trails on the waxed floor. No doubt he was eager to impress in the boy's mind the pecking order in their family. He had been his first supporter, thusly Doflamingo allowed him privileges that went beyond what he gave to his hearts, past and present. Trebol was allowed his own bit of power trip as long as he remembered his place. Doflamingo watched carefully. His mouth carved into a smile as Nico and Viola looked up at Trebol with identical faces screwed in disgust.

What observation would his old friend make?

“Hold on, Doffy,” Trebol said, “You have such a kind heart, but the boy does not know the importance of family, I fear. And hasn’t any awareness of our history. Hundreds washed ashore Spider Miles, remember; how many of those hundreds were able to endure?” Trebol looked at him, and Doflamingo inclined his head in agreement. “Hundreds died to be a family member at our beginning. How many come to us now hoping to be family, wearing our crest, fighting under our name?”

“Thousands.” Doflamingo laughed.

“Thousands. And out of the thousands, how many have we accepted as our own?”

“No one.”

Not to say he hadn’t allowed countless to wear his pirate symbol, pillage and raid on his behalf, with the stipulation they gave him more than half of what they stole. But that wasn’t the same at all to family. There was only Doflamingo’s family and the rest of the world. The rest of the world could burn as long as Doflamingo kept what was his.

“And so I ask, what makes this brat so special? When he can’t recognize the honor bestowed upon him.”

Doflamingo smiled. “A month and some time ago, who could forget when the ground beneath shuddered, then roared,” he said. “From the balcony, I witnessed chunks of stone tear from the mountains. Houses that have stood for centuries crumbled to dust. Waves swallowed our shores. And even the great Corrida cracked. A black shadow stretched the land and when I breathed I saw my breath; it was on this day, Big Mom sent a party to us and I thought she came to us finally, Kaido damned, but it wasn’t so. Tell me, Nico, how did you get the sword?”

Nico frowned. “The lady. She hurt my friend. I was angry, and I hurt her back… I’ll do the same to you too, all of you. I’m not afraid.”

Doflamingo threw his head back and laughed uproariously. Is that what he had done? Amande told a different story. With a curl of his finger, his power awakened and wrapped itself around Nico. Another twitch of his pinky and the hall echoed with the boy’s howls. He watched as the boy cried struggling, tangled up in invisible strings. His clothing was sliced and torn. In some parts, it was blotched red.

“Bet that surprised you, boy!” Doflamingo smiled. He jerked the boy to him. He leaned in. “I forget my strength sometimes.” He wiggled his index fingers. The boy tensed then straightened from his curled position, his body vibrated at its edges, fighting to hunch inward. “Stay still–you’ll do more damage to yourself–and I hate to draw this out when you’re just being cute. You flash your teeth at me and I wonder have they cut your gums yet? It does not matter. I can see it in your eyes. You hate me.”

Doflamingo rumbled with more laughter. “Good. All good. I give you permission.” Nico’s olive skin flushed. “Does that surprise you? Hate me all you want. In fact, test your mettle against me as much as you’d like--I only ask you don’t hesitate because when you cut your teeth and lose some of that precious cuteness, I won’t hesitate. But right now, you are weak and weaklings can’t pick what happens to them. I want you, therefore you are mine.”

“B-but he must learn manners first, Doffy,” Trebol stammered. “He can’t go around attacking like a mad dog.”

“Too right,” Doflamingo said. He shifted his attention from Nico to Violet. Her face remained impassive, and it reminded him all at once why she was an Executive despite her relatively new status in the family. She did the job and never complained. “Violet. Take him to the dungeon, where he’ll stay until he is trusted.”

“Yes, Doffy.”

Doflamingo cut his strings. The boy dropped to the floor. He didn't move. Violet hauled him up by the arm and set him upright. He is defeated already? I don't want a boring toy, Doflamingo thought. Trebol is right. I have been to hasty with this one. He looked at the boy. But Nico lifted his head, his dark eyes filled with madness and rage; glaring at him. It was beautiful. He puffed his stick chest out. "I won't forget this!" Nico screamed, Doflamingo might have imagined the way the castle of Dressrosa shook and lurched. "No matter what, I won't forget it, and I'll kill you for everyone, for me!"

Violet was swift. She slapped Nico hard enough to leave a bruise. "Impertinent brat," she said coldly. But Nico did not cower. He kept his eyes steady on Doflamingo. Cold as ice chips. "I look forward to it, kid." he laughed. Violet pushed a fallen piece of brown hair behind her ear before she bowed once more to him and blatantly ignored Trebol. She took Nico, and they disappeared into the shadowed halls. Doflamingo did not doubt when she threw Nico into the dungeons, she would also send Buffalo to attend to him. Violet didn't hide her heart as well as she liked to think.

Trebol turned to him. Words were spoken, but he failed to hear.

Doflamingo smelled smoke and flames reflected in his pink sunglasses.

#donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #you should see me in a crown #chapter six #nico di angelo is a pirate #nico di angelo #not a draft #spacing is weird #toy soldier one piece #rebecca one piece #violet one piece #viola one piece #one piece x pjo

1 note · View note