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hello could i request for a close up on doflamingo's fucked up eyes
or maybe doflamingo as a WOMAN ♀️
i've thought about making a post on my take on dofy's eyes for a while now......let's go over the facts:
(i don't think oda would let the anime do the arrow thing if he didn't want to imply it. so we can be pretty damn sure that he has an injured left eye.)
so it's easy enough to mock up what his right eye would look like. but what does his left eye look like??? is it intact at all? is it functional or is he blind?
(i don't ever want to see his eyes in canon; i think his eyes never being seen is not only important to his character, but also to his character design. but it's fun to speculate...)
and as for the doflamingo as a woman thing... i do have ideas, but i'll save that for a different post if that's ok 🙂↕️
But not in a way it usually happens - super tight bond of kid preferring his mother over all other family.
In a way of a child that holds memories of mother so close to heart, because his father so utterly failed as parental figure in child's eyes nothing left of it.
Child who was pressed into position of a King and Man of the family so early it warped his worldview and doesn't allow him to be "weak" by seeking guidance from somebody else. But mother by lieu of being confidant and not superior in hierarchy falls into grey zone, where her care and praise are not shameful or sign of weakness.
So he looks up to how she acted(standing by her family even in their dumbest decisions and spoiled kids) and what she liked(pinks and purples) and follows it.
it’s been forever since i’ve posted something but just here to say i’ve been hooked on reading one piece fanfic about rosinante (corazon) specifically exploring the relationship between him and doflamingo or also arranged marriage between him and katakuri
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This is an illustration of a scene from chapter 10 of The Grasp of Gilded Strings, my Doffy/OC fic. In the scene, Saffron shows Doflamingo (at his very insistent request) the electric lights she's installed in her barn home.
Excerpt of the scene below the cut:
Saffron pushed the lever up and into place. The bulbs flickered once, twice, three times before bursting into brilliance. Saffron shielded her eyes with a hand and loosed a delighted laugh, joy illuminating the way to her heart — and it lay not along the path of pretty dresses, but rather the road to productive projects. What an interesting little creature his Saffron was. The lights were certainly an impressive piece of engineering, but to be more thrilled with them than with the attention of a king? She was a strange one, but he supposed her happiness was preferable, even if it wasn’t aimed at him just then. He could adjust its aim in no time, he was sure, and so he watched in satisfaction as she gazed at the lights with a happy smile — but then her smile faded.
“Oh no,” she murmured.
One of the bulbs flickered. Saffron’s smile dimmed in time with its unsteady heart. Doflamingo wanted to smash the bulb to pieces for daring to impede his plans, but he held his temper. Barely.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“Probably some loose wiring,” Saffron said, thoughts tumbling behind her eyes. “Let me shut the power off.”
She pulled the lever down, plunging the barn back into darkness. Gloved hands reached for the rope on its hook.
“I’ll need to lower the entire suspension to get to the problem,” she said. “Safer that way.”
Doflamingo saw his opportunity and seized it in a flash. Saffron didn’t even see him move from his couch and fly across the barn. She gave a yelp of surprise when he scooped her up by the waist and set her atop one broad shoulder. Although he kept his hand securely locked around her thigh, she instantly buried a hand in the collar of his feathered cloak, grasping the hand on her leg for purchase as she swayed in place. She gasped again when he pressed his face into her side and stared up at her with a wicked grin.
“Your m-majesty,” she stammered. “You don’t have to — ”
“This is much quicker than lowering the lights, Saffron.” His chin dug into her hip, fingers kneading soft flesh. “Now...”
She weighed next nothing on his shoulder as he carried her to her lights and stood just under the offending bulb. He was so tall, the light sat at the perfect height for Saffron’s busy hands. Doflamingo snagged her toolbox off her workbench and held it up and open for her. Saffron hesitated to remove her hands from his fingers and coat, but when Doflamingo gave her a meaningful squeeze (“I am far too strong to let you fall,” he chided), she selected a tool and tampered with the bulb. But even distracted by her work, she sat stiffly under his hold. Doflamingo gripped her thigh tighter, gratified to feel her shiver.
After a few minutes, she placed the tools back in their box and tapped the hand on her leg. “Thank you, your highness. I’m finished,” she said, voice tight and strained. “I need to pull the lever again.”
Doflamingo dropped the toolbox to the workbench before lashing out, strings arcing like gossamer through the air. He pulled the lever with the barest twist of his wrist; the lights flickered before flaring to life, this time holding steady even after a minute or two.
“How clever, to fix the problem so quickly,” Doflamingo said. “What a skilled little inventor you are, Saffron.”
“That’s very kind, your majesty.” The gloved hand on his coat tightened. Saffron’s voice sounded small and faint. “I can be put down now, I think.”
But Doflamingo gave a noncommittal hum. He rather liked the warm weight of her on his shoulder. He definitely liked the scents of jasmine and honey that clung to her waist and hip, into which he pressed his face with unabashed interest. Saffron cleared her throat, patting his back lightly.
“I should work on that vase you brought me.” She paused. “If you’d like, that is.”
“Forget it.”
“Forget — ?”
“Forget it for tonight.” He inhaled, long and deep, kneading at her thigh. “Isn’t this much more pleasant?”
Saffron squirmed. “I’m sure I’m getting heavy.”
“Nonsense. You weigh nothing to someone like me.” He turned in place to illustrate, steps fluid and light, gratified when Saffron’s fingers dug into his hair as she gave a frightened gasp. He liked it very much when she clung to him. “You’re my little, golden doll, Saffron. You fit in the palm of my hand.”
