Flamboyant Vampire

(Most recently, it's been Numancia Fitness - but it is being released this week probably, so you can just wait xD)

I think I should rather address the 14K thing - Chasing The Warmth. It's my baby. It's my home. It's 100% self-indulgent. It's the reason I didn't post anything new to AO3 since February.

Main plot points and themes:

- Rosinante is autistic and neither Sengoku, nor any of the Marines didn't care to accommodate his needs (neglect, depression)

- He likes birds a lot. Like, a whole lotta lot.

- Rosinante agrees to be sent on a mission to infiltrate the Donquixotes, because a) he imagines he'll be killed in no time b) he wants to see if there's anything of his brother left. Either way he will finally leave marines behind and everything else is a bonus

- Doflamingo looking for his brother in vain for half his life, with grief and longing getting the better of him, so when Rosi appears he just- wants to pour all this care into him, while still being his vile self in any other aspect of life

- troubles with changing sides and revealing betrayal

- some sweet revenge

- Rosinante's journey to regaining his life and making friends.

So, not everyone's cup of tea, but I need it like breathing xD

Snippettttt incoming [context: after Rosi shows up in Spider Miles, Doflamingo tries to part with a keepsake he found many years ago on the shore - an item so special to Rosinante he assumed what must have parted them was death]:

Oh, it was Sunday.

Bloody Sunday.

Not that it mattered now, but old habits die hard. Maybe it was time to weed them out by force. To finally anchor himself in the new reality around him, around them.

His study greeted him with an air of uncertainty, reflecting his feelings.

Doflamingo sat by the desk, took a deep breath, watching the light dance on the slightly dusted curtain. He sighed.

Anything to postpone a deciding look on the tiny doors before him, wooden wings hiding a secret in the middle of his room, built in the shape of the furniture so neatly, did a stranger pay a visit, their eye would not care to record it.

A savored keepsake, beating behind them, filled with memories.

Somehow, he didn't want to rip it out from the cabinet. It felt wrong, almost like this small object has grown fond of its habitat, got used to the silent praise and attention. Would the wooden entrails allow to be parted with their heart?

Some people praised gods on Sundays.

Did Celestial who passed away count as one of them?

Finally, it didn't matter now, granted his second coming. A god returning to walk amongst the living.

Doflamingo took the tiniest doorknobs between his fingers and pushed the doors open.

He freed it out of its dark cage: a small, porcelain bird.

The final ritual before parting with it, before returning it where it truly belonged, where it deserved to come back to.

He tumbled the surface gently, caressing the uneven, translucent enamel with his thumb.

It wasn't in his own taste, but after all these years, it didn't even occur to him: by now its whole look was akin to sacred.

After all, Rosinante loved it at first sight.

Flowy gradients of blue and turquoise hues decorating a simple silhouette, some feathers accentuated by a crude engobe underpainting, probably done hastily by tired hands in a sweatshop far, far away from their former home, by a worker doing their best to please customers he would never be able to meet.

A cheap souvenir.

A young god's insignia.

The memory of getting it could have been easily abandoned, forgotten under piles and piles of pleasant attractions they were accustomed to as children, fraying and rusted or obliterated by the sheer abundance of their former lifestyle.

But Doflamingo held this one dear to his heart, as it was a special day to his little Brother. And on Sundays, he would revive it and polish it anew - to never forget the joy.

Will he be able to take this gem out of the bezel of grief?

It wouldn't hurt to try.

He closed his eyes, reading the cracks in glassy surface with his fingers, tracing the sculpted feathers, a tiny beak, a pendant hole-

He dived into the memory. One of their living rooms, bathed in soft noon light. Spring was only starting to begin-

"Children, would you like to see the new attraction?", their father holding a gilded leaflet, presenting it before them.

"What's interesting in it? Many people have aviaries at home." Doffy wasn't amused by the prospect, eyes tired after barely glancing at the title.

"Well, this one's supposed to be the biggest one in Mariejois! Many, many birds you haven't seen before, from all around the world!", voice unwaveringly cheerful.

"Birds?!" Rosinante spun around as if summoned right from the round carpet under him. "How many?"

"Over nine thousand."

Well, Rosinante didn't know how many it was back then, but everything over twelve seemed to be a lot, and a thousand probably sounded like a fairytale.

"Doffy, I want to go! Will you go with us?"

He remember those pleading eyes, so sweet and warm, looking from beneath the golden fringe.

"Fine. Just for you, Barnacle." He smiled in amusement and messed that hair a bit.

They got ready to go, Rosi practically vibrating with excitement for the whole way (Doflamingo remembered, back then, he was suspecting it was an outburst of a yet unknown type of haki, an idea anticipated by the fiction books fed to him; a funny thought).