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mandiemegatron · 2 months ago

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𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 [𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌]

𝖭𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖨𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖣𝗈𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 13 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖮𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖵𝗂𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖲𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿��𝖼, 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖡𝖺𝖽 𝖡𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖡𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖳𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗒 𝖱𝗈𝖾 𝖪𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺.

Shock.

Pure shock, immediately ravaged over by rage and a tinge of fear. Sweat gathers over an intricately plucked brow, though it never falls.

“You're supposed to be dead.”

Silence was the answer, as it always was, even so long ago. Fury only rose higher in Doflamingo's chest at it.

“You forget, I know you can speak.” The words were spat out like poison, betrayal and irritation laced in every vowel.

“...”

ᵂᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᶦⁿᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ

ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ

ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵃᶦᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵃᵈ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ

ᴼʰ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˀ

A tight string streaks across thin air and strikes the near spitting image of himself, just as a resounding BANG echos. The string embeds itself through the others left shoulder, only to disappear moments later.

Doflamingo looks down as agony rips through his torso. A large hand covers over a slowly seeping wound just under his ribcage, barely missing his heart.

ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᶦⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ

ᵀᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ, ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ

ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍˢ ᵈᵉᶠᶦⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘ

ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ, ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ

Doflamingo winces slightly, frowning as his strings refuse to thread the wound shut. His eyes flicker from his wound to his once dead brother not ten feet away, holding a gun that looked all too familiar, now resting in a steady hand this time.

A lit cigarette sat between painted lips, black sunglasses covering those same markings that he'd always paint, with that same deep purple feathered coat covering broad shoulders - though now broader than they used to be all those years ago.

Doflamingo smirked to himself, keeping his hand pressed against the wound as he decides to try a different approach.

ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵈʳʸˀ

ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ˡᶦᵉˀ

“You've grown into a fine man, little brother.”

“...”

Irritation flares inside Doflamingo again at the continued silence. He goes to snark a biting remark when the prodigal son finally opens his mouth, cutting off the Heavenly Demon.

“And you've continued to grow ugly, older brother.”

Doflamingo's smirk widens into a playful grin, unable to bite back the chuckle of remembering such simple sibling badgering. It had been too long, he'd almost forgotten how quick witted his clumsy brother was.

“Still snappy as ever, Rosinante.”

The gun in Rosinante's hand still smoked, a warning that a second shot wasn't far behind if Doflamingo didn't behave.

ᴵᶠ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵒᵒᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ

ᵂᵉ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵈʳᶦᵛᵉ ᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ᶦⁿˢᵃⁿᵉ

ᴬˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈˢʰᶦᵖ ᵍᵒᵉˢ, ʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵍʳᵒʷˢ

ᵂᵉ ʷᶦˡˡ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵒᵘʳ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ

“Come now, brother mine! Must you hold that thing in my face-”

Another shot echoes out, this one whizzing right past Doflamingo's sunglasses and cheek, cutting a thin line across a high cheek bone that immediately oozed red.

“What was it you said?” Questioned Rosinante, as his thumb pulled back the small mechanism for a third shot to ring out at any time he wished. “There's no way you can shoot me, you are too much like Father…?”

Doflamingo grits his teeth, both from the gunshot and unbridled rage. He hissed back,

“Clearly you've outgrown your cowardly ways.”

Rosinante huffs, a slight look of disbelief washing over his features as he asks, “Is that so?”

ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᶦⁿᵈ ᵘˢ

ᵀᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ, ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ

ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍˢ ᵈᵉᶠᶦⁿᵉ ᵘˢ

ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ, ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ

Sticky warmth seeps through Doflamingo's long, lithe fingers. “Sea stone bullets, brother?” He muses darkly, somehow both unimpressed and proud of the sneaky move.

“I've been keeping a close eye on you all these years, Doflamingo.” Rosinante lowers his sunglasses just enough that his eyes show, dark circles under his bottom lashes showing how many nights he went without sleep, knowing his brother was still out there causing chaos. He raises them back up as Doflamingo sputters out a low, mirthless chuckle.

“A shame I couldn't do the same for you, considering I thought you were dead,” the Heavenly Demon spat in return, digging a finger into the gunshot and feeling around for the bullet. He grunts as his fingertip just brushes against it.

“A shame?! You were the one to fill my chest full of lead! Or have you forgotten that in your years of slaughtering the innocent?”

The gun shakes slightly as the ferocity in Rosinante's voice raises.

“You shot me then left me for dead! A shame?! The only shame was my own, not having the strength to do what I'm going to do now.”

ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵈʳʸˀ

ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ˡᶦᵉˀ

A chill runs down Doflamingo's back at those words, his brow furrowing in mock curiosity as he comments in a thick voice, “Revenge, eh? A disgusting look for you, Rosi.”

BANG.

Doflamingo grunts again, feeling a second bullet enter his chest the same way his own had sunk into Rosinante's. Coughing up a decent amount of blood, Doflamingo roars out,

“You are a ghost! You are dead, and the dead cannot take from the living. The dead cannot tell lies, the dead cannot bring peace, the dead cannot change their mistakes-”

BANG.

Doflamingo falls back as a third bullet hits his navel, a through and through this time. His blood stains the gravel under him, even as he tries to shuffle his massive form backwards, long arms and legs tangled in the now soaked pink feathered coat he treasured.

ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉ

ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉ, ᵒʰ

ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉ

ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉ

“Brother, don't do this-”

BANG.

Another harsh cough splatters Doflamingo's wounded chest with his own blood, a pained grimace overtaking the irritated and snarky look under those rose tinted glasses.

Panic truly began to settle into Doflamingo's bones, his fingers frantically trying to tie the wounds shut to no avail. He gave a pathetic shout of rage, biting back angry tears as he demanded once more,

“You can't do this! I am the Heavenly Demon, and you are fucking dead!”

ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵈʳʸˀ

ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ

ᵂᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᶦᵗ ˡᶦᵉˀ

Rosinante kneels on his brother's chest and shoves the gun to his forehead, pulling back the mechanism again with a faint click. Doflamingo's whole body freezes as Rosinante remarks ever so gently,

“And yet, you're the one rotting in jail. See you again soon, brother.”

BANG.

With a shout, Doflamingo hits cold cement. His large body smacks the floor with utmost disgrace, tangled in chains and his own limbs, bleary eyes trying to make out surroundings only for a deep-seated agony to rip through his bones and muscle like a hot knife through butter.

Tricked? By his own mind? Nightmares flashing through his brain as if he were a child frightened by a lightning storm.

“Must you make so much noise, Doflamingo?”

The Heavenly Demon sneers through his jail bars at Tsuru, who stands with arms crossed and an unimpressed expression across her tired face.

“Calling out for your murdered brother will not help you,” she comments in a matter-of-fact tone, sighing deeply as she adds, “Or have you forgotten that you yourself killed him?”

Doflamingo remains silent, sitting up and resting his aching back against the cold stone of his cell with a hand covering his chest where he swore he'd been shot.

Right where that final shot hit Rosinante.

“...”

Tsuru simply sighs again, shaking her head and walking away from Doflamingo's cell. “Back to bed, Donquixote. No more shouting for dead relatives.”

The second the main door shut, Doflamingo cradles his head in his other hand, ignoring the stinging ache in his eyes as he blinks back angry tears.

“Still miserable and uptight as always, isn't she?”

ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐˢ ᵉᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ ʰᵒˡᵉˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵐʸ ᵐᶦⁿᵈ

ᴸᶦᵍʰᵗ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ’ˡˡ ᵏᶦˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᶦⁿ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ

ᵂᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᶦˢ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ

ᴰᶦˢᵗᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ʰᵒˡᵉˢ ᶦⁿ ᵐʸ ᶜʰᵉˢᵗ

Doflamingo freezes as a familiar voice echoes in his ears once again. Slowly, he pulls his hand down, wide eyed and slightly shaking as he takes in the very solid form of none other than Donquixote Rosinante, sitting with a leg casually thrown over the other sitting comfortably on his cot.

Doflamingo immediately shuffles across the floor, back dragging against the wall and digging into his delicate skin, ripping it open in some places as he tries to create more distance in the small cell.

ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᶠˡᵒᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ

ᵀʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡ

ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ʰᵃᵘⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ

ᴮᵘʳᶦᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃˢᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ

ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ

ᴰᵉᵃᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ

ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ…

“The dead don't speak,” Croaked Doflamingo. “The dead don't speak, the dead don't speak…”

Rosinante simply sits back a little further, a grin on his painted lips as he nearly purrs,

“And yet, I speak.”

ᴳʰᵒˢᵗ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵒᵒʳ

ᵈʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ʷʰᶦᵗᵉ ˡᶦⁿᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉᵉᵗˢ

ˢᶜᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᶦˡᵈʳᵉⁿ

ˢᵃʸˢ ʰᵉ’ˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ

ᴴᵉ’ˡˡ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᵀᵃˢᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ

ᴴᵉ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ…

Doflamingo cradles his head in his hands with a pained groan, wishing the image of his brother away as he continues to mutter over and over, “The dead don't speak, the dead don't speak…”

He refuses to look up for the rest of the night, even as the smell of burning cigarettes fills his senses.

ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᶠˡᵒᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ

ᵀʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡ

ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ʰᵃᵘⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ

ᴸᵒⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ

ᴮᵘʳᶦᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃˢᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ

ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ

ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ

ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ…

#mandies mumbles ; fanfics #Donquixote Doflamingo #Donquixote Rosinante #Donquixote brothers #ok to rb #v nervous to post this idk why #different from what i normally do so im just aahhhh #hope yall like it 👉👈

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