Only his haki and his devil fruit powers had allowed him to survive his flight from Mary Geoise. The blood drops along his strings, the way the guards fell to his waves of haki– he'd always remember those things. And every use of his powers sharpened them. He'd hidden on one of the huge tribute ships leaving the sacred land, and fled that ship too as soon as it had made landfall..
Running through the alleyways of the unfamiliar island he found himself on, Doflamingo knocked out some men, and stole the coin in their pockets. He spent it on a nervous meal, and passage on a merchant ship back to the North Blue.
There was nowhere else for him to go.
Doflamingo had stayed with Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Corazon for three days while they looked for his brother. Searching and waiting and hoping for his return. Even sick with worry for Rosi, those three days had been the happiest he remembered since being pulled from Mary Geoise. It wasn't only the good food, and the comfortable bed, and care for his wounds, though all of those would still have been enough to make it so.
It was the way they treated him; enjoyed his company, praised him, seemed to actually like having him around. After so long being told that everything he did was wrong– when he stole food for Rosi it was 'wrong to steal', when he tried to defend them it was 'wrong to hurt others'-- it was a sharp relief to feel understood. To feel accepted.
Bold, flamboyant Diamante talked to him like an adult and had shown him a better way to hold a knife. Friendly, forthright Corazon had shared his cigarettes– though Doffy quickly learned he didn't like the way too much made his head spin– and talked with him all the time. Quiet, determined Pica never stopped looking for Doffy's brother. And soft, crafty Trebol lavished him with attention and praise, listening to all his thoughts and troubles and giving his advice while brushing his hair, taking care of his wounds, even bathing him.
If Doffy could never go home– if he had lost everything, miserable, and cast out— he wanted to go back to that. He wanted to go back to them, where he was loved and accepted and treated like a person, instead of like a demon or a naughty child.
It was all he wanted, and the thought that he could have it— the hope that they would still be there when he arrived— was the first thing that sustained him from despair on his lonely voyage.
The second thing was his burning, ceaseless rage.
-A Song for Ragpickers and Urchins, chapter 5 (excerpt)
I think I'm obsessed with making these. Winston and Julia!
yeah I had Will Wood sign a Will Wood doodle page what of it
sacrifice
I was kind of just going about my business today when I had a sort of... revelation, I guess? About Burning Spice. Looking back, I'm not really sure why it took me so long to think of this, but I like to live by the ideal "the best time was then, the second best time is now", so here we go.
Burning Spice was once the Herald of Change (or History, in the original Korean text). He was said to have fought for and defended fledgling civilizations in the distant past, protecting people and helping them in dark times. His throne decor even says he used to let people into his palace and allow them to engage in honest discussion with him about their problems, after which he'd get up and go out and do something about those problems. He sounded like a pretty swell guy... until he got bored with everything and went insane, of course. But here's the thing.
I think I understand why he ended up this way.
To put it as vaguely as possible, I do stuff in real life that may or may not have something to do with history as a subject. And I will gladly tell you all point-blank: history is fucking horrible. History is bleak. History is dark and cruel. The more you dive into it, the more it appears to you as a joke without a punchline. History is a drama, a tragedy, and a big fucking farce all at the same time.
Of course Burning Spice got tired of it. I get tired of it sometimes. Because sometimes, all history ever seems to be is a bunch of delinquents writing "I'm a bad kid" on the chalkboard repeatedly forever and ever. Just a bunch of bad people hurting each other for reasons that'll only come across as stupid long after they've all died at each other's hands. I'm sure Burning Spice started to think "what's even the point of building anything if someone is just going to come tear it down?" And it's hard to not think that when that's what ALWAYS happens. That's what history is a lot of the time. Brutal competition. A war of all against all.
The cure to the cynicism and melancholy history can and will inflict on you, at least in my opinion, is... to stop dwelling on it, honestly. At the end of the day, you have to remember that the past is gone. What's done is done. Things happen and sometimes, you can't do anything about it. You can't go back and save Lincoln from being assassinated. You can't go back and stop the Holocaust. You can't go back and save the world from all those wars and famines and disease epidemics. History both changes constantly and is unchanging at the same time. You have to make peace with what you cannot change - the past - and move forward, because time won't wait for you. We have to remember these things, these dark times; we all have a duty to do so, for the sake of those that came before us and those that will come after. But we also have to remember to live for the sake of those around us here and now. It is the present that shapes the world the most. It is in the present that we find true happiness. Not in the yellowed pages of old textbooks about the past and not in the pie-in-the-sky fever dreams we have about the future.
I think that's what fucked Burning Spice over. He forgot to live in the present. He was so focused on bringing about change, so absorbed in giving everything he had to everyone else, so invested in preserving the past and paving the way for the future, that he started losing sight of what was already there in front of him. His friends. His people. Too much time spent on the bigger picture and not enough spent on the tiny details that don't seem important at first glance, but when you look closer, you realize are what made the whole, entire picture as big as it is in the first place. He, like many do, like I do, began to see how cyclical and futile history can really be. He just saw people looking for reasons to hurt one another and destroy anything good they'd built together. Civilizations that were once grand and prosperous falling to anarchy. Clans with close ties turning against one another. Friend groups fracturing. All this hard work, undone, over and over again. And for what? What did they do any of this for? What did HE do any of this for?
I think his descent into villainy was slow, but sure. A little piece of his soul crumbling to dust with every person he felt like he failed because whatever great change he enacted was undone and everyone else suffered for it. And no one was ever really there to help steer him back onto the right path. Not his friends, not his family, not his people at large. Whether this was because they didn't know he was hurting like this (he seems like the type to keep things close to the chest anyway), they didn't know how to help or comfort him, or they didn't care, ultimately does not matter; regardless, it boils down to Burning Spice never being reminded to find solace in those around him right now, instead of constantly fretting over those before or after.
Maybe if he did remember, if he paid more attention to what IS and not what WAS or what WILL BE, he could've been saved. If he'd let Shadow Milk tell him more about his books and the little puppets he liked to craft. If he listened to Eternal Sugar play her harp more. If he sat and played a few more rounds of Go with Mystic Flour. If he had a friendly sparring match or two extra with Silent Salt. If he ate and drank and danced with his fellow spices like he probably used to like doing. If he stopped thinking he always had to be this larger-than-life figure who lorded over and protected society, and just let himself breathe and be a normal, happy person. It wouldn't make the ultimate folly of history sting any less, but he could have at least made peace with it and continued onward in spite of it.
But he didn't. He succumbed to history's poison, like so many have and so many will. And in an ironic twist of fate, which you will also often find throughout history, the tide of change swallowed him whole and drowned him. He let the failures of yesterday color his perception of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. More and more people came across to him as bad actors until the whole world was just a devil's stage play, and it was being performed at his expense. Hard work and self-sacrifice lost their flavor. He tried to keep going, tried to keep pushing. Maybe he knew what was happening to him on some level and fought desperately to save himself. Put duct tape over the cracks in a dam, because that's probably all it amounted to, because the wisdom he needed didn't exist within him at that time and he didn't/couldn't find it anywhere else. Pushed forward even when he couldn't see where he was going anymore. Until every muscle in his body hurt. Until he'd lived long enough to see everything he ever lived and worked for be taken apart for scrap, for a vendetta, for shits and giggles.
Until he started looking at those bandits and warlords and terrorists he used to help put away and thinking... "hey. Maybe they're seeing something I'm not. If nothing else at all, they sure look like they're having fun. Way more than I am right now." Until he gave in to despair and grew bitter, and thought "well, if nothing I do really matters, if destroying it all is what makes people happy, then maybe I should give it a shot."
And then he became a bandit, a warlord, a terrorist. He turned into all those people he hated and continues to hate today. He cut out the middle-man and just ended lives before they could begin. Razed civilizations to the ground because that was what was going to happen anyway, whether it be by his hand or someone else's. What does it even matter? What does anything matter? This is all history is. Pain and suffering. He's only doing what's natural. He's solving problems before they can even occur, really. He's doing everyone a REAL favor. Destruction truly is the only way.
The best way to make the world a better place is to make the lives of those around you better first. Even just helping the one person makes a difference in its own way. Think less about making history by winning a war or toppling a regime and more about making history in an old person's life by helping them up when they fall down. Or making history in a dog's life by volunteering at an animal shelter. Or making history in your friends' lives by having a fun day with them that they'll remember and cherish even on their deathbeds. Change doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't need to be an all-consuming tide that rises above the tallest buildings. It can just be gentle waves and seafoam, washing over the sand and kissing one's feet. That's enough, more often than not. More than one might realize.
Maybe if somebody made sure Burning Spice kept this in mind, he wouldn't have turned into a Beast in the end.
Basil Hallward my love why must you die
would you be interested in some gay people plagued by horrors on this fine October evening?
GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSS
I was looking for any posts about the Outrage webcomic but I couldn't find any so here's my
Outrage appreciation post
One Piece AU where Doffy and Rosi both Live, and not only that—they get to interact peacefully without worrying about the law or being on different sides:
(I just read a 200k fic tagged tragedy, okay—let me have this.)
In this fic, Doffy's not quite as bad—he is still a notorious pirate who is powerful and cruel, but it isn't to the point that the Marines go so far as to send Rosinante undercover to take him down from the inside, no.
In this fic, the DonQuixote brothers don't get to interact until Doflamingo is offered the Warlord position—strangely, or not so strangely—a lot sooner than he was in canon...
Could Rosi have something to do with this?
He absolutely did; He begged and pleaded and bartered with Sengoku so much...
They first meet when Doflamingo is brought in to officially accept his position as Warlord, and Rosinante nearly gets himself sautéed when he throws himself at Doffy if it were not for the fact that, one: slicing up a Marine Commander within moments of arriving would not do well for Doflamingo's goal of becoming a Warlord and gaining immunity, and two: moments before the Marine made contact, Doflamingo swore he heard his baby brother calling out his name—the voice was different, very obviously different, far deeper than little Rosi's ever was, and yet...
There was just something about it that rang true and familiar—in his chest, in his heart, in his soul—somehow he knew, could feel it in his bones, in every fiber of his being, that that was his little brother's voice, all grown up.
Doflamingo showed up alone, and thank god he did, thank god the only people around for this first meeting are Sengoku, Rosinante's adoptive father, and Tsuru, who was the one to escort Doflamingo in.
Thank god, because otherwise Doffy may have acted differently, put up a colder or more arrogant, more cruel front—but with just his baby brother and two soft-bellied Marines...
Doffy hugged back.
—
In this AU, Doffy and Rosi would be able to meet up whenever they want as technically-allies and neither of them would hesitate to abuse this.