Written for the NSFW add-on for the awesome and flashy @buggy-zine!! It's a free digital project that's now available to download right here!
Please go look at the amazing spot art done by @/LoverboiArt (Twitter)
CW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE & GORE
[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI | COMM INFO ]
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There weren’t many things that could have a seasoned marine frozen in place, unable to move, fear reverberating through every cell in their body. Their breathing shallow as they gasped for air, chest raising up and down a little too quickly—getting too much and not enough oxygen in their lungs, both at the same time. Head spinning, stomach turning, consciousness slipping.
But this…
The situation the marine found himself in this time… It was that and worse.
How did it end up like this? He had no idea.
It was supposed to be routine; a routine day, a routine run-in with pirates, a routine battle. Cutlass meeting cutlass, sails flapping in the wind and cannons going off, creating a crude symphony of sounds together.
A symphony that was familiar to each and every person on board the G-18 Marine Base warship, as well as the pirate ship—a ship that was so ridiculous, so ugly, so colourful that it should have been a funny sight. But instead, the elephant the Big Top donned as a figurehead had eyes that appeared to follow you wherever you went, its soulless gaze haunting. Chilling. Watching, always watching. The hull was painted in purple, the colour of the most base fear… with accents in the fiercest venomous green and orange. A poison that seeped through your skin to paralyse you from within.
A ship—a seafaring circus where death was the greatest show.
What could one marine do against that? Fight… or flight?
But there was nowhere to run.
Gripping his cutlass tighter, the marine took a deep breath. There was nothing left but to fight.
He dashed forward, swinging his weapon at the nearest pirate invading the navy warship. It went through the man without any resistance; cutting the flesh in one smooth motion, the steel never once catching on the hard bone or tendons. A single slash across the back, from the right shoulder to the left hip. A human cut in half like it was nothing. So simply, so easily… too easily.
Blood gushing forward like a pipe bursting, covering the deck and the marine in warm, red liquid. Metallic taste, metallic smell, stomach turning—
Except it didn’t.
No blood was coming, no hot, uncomfortable, slimy feeling on his skin, no dead body dropping to the ground.
Instead, quiet laughter reached his ears; getting louder with each second, carried by the waves like a charm… or a curse. It echoed around the two ships, running through the marine like an icy knife. Freezing him to the bone. Paralysing him.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t breathe.
He could do nothing but stand there in silence, his cutlass slipping through his fingers and clattering against the wooden deck. His hands were shaking as he watched with wide eyes while the pirate, the man, the devil… stood in front of him even as the upper half of his torso became detached, floating in the air like a balloon carried by an excited child. It was a bizarre sight; the pirate’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, the lower half of his body not moving at all while the top of him turned around to look at his marine assailant.
The moment their eyes met, the moment he saw the disparaging look the pirate was giving him—one made even more intense, more cutting by the sharp make-up—the marine knew. He knew this was it for him. He could see it in the way the pirate’s head tilted to the side, lips covered in blood-red lipstick curling into a teasing smirk.
And there was nothing the marine could do.
“Now, that was a bit rude, don’t you think?” the pirate said, voice shaking with laughter.
He didn’t wait for an answer before he closed his eyes, his head falling back as he threw his arms open… and waited; waited for applause, one that didn’t come. Yet somehow, the sound of fighting seemed to get louder, almost deafening. Was that the applause he was asking for?
“Let’s get this flashy show going!!”
The moment his loud voice finished echoing in the marine’s head, the pirate’s eyes flew open and he grinned wider. And then—
He fell apart.
First, his hands detached themselves at his wrists, then his forearms, his arms… his head.
Bones bared and split open to the marrow, skin and flesh and tendons in clear sight. He kept falling apart as if cut up by an invisible knife on a butcher’s chopping board.
His chest opened up… and still, no blood gushed forth. There was no pool of deep red underneath the pirate’s feet, no thick, dark liquid pouring from the open wounds to obscure the view of his ribcage. There was nothing to cover the sight of his beating heart and expanding lungs—lungs separated by the marine’s own sword, one floating in the air above, the other still sitting snugly in the grounded half of his body.
But even that didn’t last long.
The show must go on, after all.
And now—
Now—
Now, an eyeball was staring straight at the marine, suspended in the air—held up by nothing but its owner’s will. Its gaze was intense, intent, immovable. Absent of eyelids, it simply hung there motionlessly like a hummingbird without wings.
But it was human, wasn’t it?
It had to be.
Just like the bodiless hands stroking the marine’s cheeks were human; just like the pieces of meat dancing to soundless music all around, like the guts writhing like a nest of snakes in bloodless wounds, like the taunting, loud, oh-so-loud laughter.
When would this end? When would the eye stop staring? When would the applause come, signalling the end of the show?
If curtain call meant death… the marine would give a standing ovation.
Anything to escape the mouth whispering sweet nothings in his ear while the tongue hung exposed by the opposite side of his head; wet, moving and squirming like a fat slug making its way across the garden after a heavy rain. Was he about to get eaten, a helpless leaf on the ground, waiting to be devoured?
That was fine with him.
“You’re looking mighty pale, my guy,” the voice in his ear drew out. “And here the show’s barely just started!”
With each word stressed by a tap of a severed finger to the marine’s chin, a weak whimper escaped him.
Written for the awesome and flashy @buggy-zine!! It's a free digital project that's now available to download right here!
I have a fic in the side zine too, so look forward to that one soon~
[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI | COMM INFO ]
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When Oden asked Buggy and Shanks to watch the kids, Buggy thought nothing of it. How much trouble could a three year old and an actual toddler be? They could play cards and pretend it was all about the kids, while Buggy would rip Shanks off all his money. Then, Oden and Toki would bring some treasure back from their date as payment for babysitting, making Buggy come out of this rich and happy.
The plan was perfect.
It was supposed to be perfect.
“Red-taro, tea! Buggy-jirou! You shall entertain me!” Momonosuke dared to order them.
Buggy took a deep breath. He could be mature about this. Absolutely. Momo was just a little brat, there was no point getting angry. “Why the fuck should I?!” he snapped, baring his teeth at the cheeky brat.
“Buggy, language,” Shanks hissed, making a show of covering Hiyori’s ears. As if the girl would be able to make any sense of Buggy’s cursing even if she were not currently sleeping.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Shanks. He didn’t make you a flashy court jester with a big red nose—” Buggy froze as the words sank in— “Who said I have a big red nose?!”
Shanks rolled his eyes, muttering, “You said that…”
Buggy puffed up but before he could growl something back, the currently most offending party crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, giving Buggy a look as if reprimanding him.
The gall.
“I am the shogun! It is but natural that you, as my retainers, do as I say!” Momonosuke announced.
“Retainer?” Buggy repeated. “I am no one’s retainer!”
“It’s just a game, Buggy,” Shanks sighed as he stood up, holding a sleeping Hiyori in one arm while grabbing Buggy’s shoulder with the other in a calming gesture.
Buggy clicked his tongue, throwing a dirty look at Shanks. “It’s a shitty game.”
The corner of Shanks’ mouth twitched as if he was fighting back a laugh, the bastard. But again, Shanks had no right to chastise him! He was ‘the right-hand man’—making tea and ‘protecting the princess’. While Buggy…
Buggy was made into a goddamned clown.
It wasn’t fair; as if Shanks being ‘taro’ while Buggy was stuck with ‘jiro’ wasn’t enough! He wasn’t even younger than him, as far as any of them knew at least. But even if—it just always made Buggy feel less. He knew it wasn’t Oden’s intention but even so, the implications were there.
What useless thoughts.
Quickly shaking his head, Buggy focused on the matter at hand. He might have had weird devil fruit powers but he wasn’t a goddamned clown, alright?!
He opened his mouth to say just that but he was interrupted before he could so much as take a breath to speak.
“What’s ‘shitty’?” Momo asked, blinking up at the two of them with his big, curious, and oh-so-innocent eyes.
Buggy and Shanks exchanged a look.
This is your fault, Shanks’ eyes seemed to say and Buggy bristled. How was it his fault? It was true the game was shitty, okay?
“It means—uhh…” Shanks stopped talking, his eyes veering off to the side and flickering all over as if looking for answers in the sails, the sky, the barrels of booze sitting on the deck, and finding none.
“It means your game’s stupid,” Buggy finished for him, not bothering to play nice. Even though it meant a painful kick to the shin from Shanks.
“What’s ‘stupid’?” Momo asked immediately.
Now it was Buggy’s turn to be rendered speechless. How did he explain that?
“That’s…” he started slowly, wrecking his brain for anything to say that wouldn’t bring forth more questions from the kid in his ‘why’ stage. “It’s when something doesn’t make sense?” he tried.
The response was immediate. “Why?”
Buggy groaned. He knew it was coming. He knew it was unavoidable. But that didn’t mean he didn’t hope…
Man, how did parents everywhere do this? How did you explain shit like this without making it worse and entrapping yourself in an endless, vicious circle of 'why'? Buggy was already on the verge of ripping his hair out, and they barely started. It was a wonder Oden hadn't jumped overboard yet; the man could deal with uncomfortable situations even worse than Buggy...
Oh..., Buggy thought as sudden realisation hit him. Was this why Oden automatically answered every other question with "Try asking your mom," lately?
"You know what, try asking your parents when they come back," Buggy told Momonosuke. After all, if Oden could get away with it, so could he.
Momo nodded, an enthusiastic “Alright!” on his lips, and Buggy sighed in relief.
"Oi."
Buggy rolled his eyes at the unimpressed call; of course this guy would complain... "What?" he hissed as he turned to glare at Shanks. "If you want to explain it to him yourself, be my fuc—freaking guest."
Shanks looked at him blankly for a moment, but then a wide smile spread on his face and he quickly turned to Momonosuke. “What do you say we play some Wicked Grace?”
Ha! Buggy knew Shanks wouldn’t know what to say either.
Now it was time to go back to his original plan of flashily ripping him off all his pocket money in cards—after all, that was what he got for looking down on Buggy of all people.
“What’s a wicked graze?” Momo asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.
Buggy blinked, exchanging a quick look with Shanks once more. “You don’t know it?”
Momo shook his head in answer, looking decidedly unhappy.
“It’s a card game. Haven’t you ever played it with the Whitebeards?” Shanks questioned as he kneeled down in front of the little boy who only shook his head again.
Well, that was weird. Buggy had thought everyone knew the game; it was the best game ever and could make you so rich. He could scarcely believe the Whitebeards of all crews never played it… Now what did they do? What kind of games could this brat know that weren’t boring as hell? What a headache…
“Should we teach you?” Buggy wondered, touching his nose as he considered their options. “Or do you have any other flashy games you can play?”
Momo hummed thoughtfully. “Shogi and Go but I’m not very good,” he answered quietly, almost apologetically.
Was this kid really Oden’s son? He was… kind of cute.
Buggy startled at the thought, quickly chasing it away. He did not just call the snivelling little brat cute.
“Oh! Also beer pong!” Momo announced.
Buggy froze as his eyes went wide. Staring at the three-year-old beaming up at him proudly.
“What the hell have they been teaching you?!” Buggy all but screamed in horror, making Momo jump and Shanks shush him aggressively. But seriously, what in the actual fuck did Oden teach this child? He really hoped they had taught him that game with like… milk or something. And didn’t get too thrashed while at it…
“U—Uwaahh!!”
A baby’s cry pierced the air, running through them all like a knife as they simultaneously turned to look at Hiyori, the little girl who was now squirming in Shanks’s hold, tears streaming down her chubby little baby cheeks. She looked and sounded so very ugly and Buggy cursed internally.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you hold her, Shanks. Look, you made her cry!” Buggy snapped, throwing a dirty glare his friend’s way—a glare which Shanks immediately returned.
“I’m not the one who yelled bloody murder for no reason,” he hissed before turning back to Hiyori, clumsily rocking her in his arms in an attempt to calm her down while Momo rushed over to his side, worried for his baby sister.
Ugh. Was it really his fault? It wasn’t… was it?
What did they do now? Buggy had no idea what to do with a crying baby!
“Mother always sings when Hiyori cries,” Momo suggested helpfully.
Buggy looked at him, then turned to Shanks expectantly. ”Well? Try singing to her!”
“Why me?!” Shanks’ eyes were wide with horror.
“You’re the one protecting the princess,” Buggy said, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s not—ugh, fine!”
Finally, Shanks started singing, a lullaby that Buggy vaguely remembered from his own childhood. Except…
“You suck,” Buggy groaned.
Lord save them.
—————
With a deep sigh, Buggy flipped through the newspaper. Wasn’t there any moderately good news at all? Lately, it had been nothing but Straw Hat this, Black Beard that, Sabo, Alabasta, blah blah blah… and reports on him that were more full of lies than anything that would come out of Buggy’s own mouth. Reports that only made Buggy’s new… business partners even more mad at him.
Seriously just bad news after bad news these days and Buggy was so very tired of it all.
Damn Morgans for making his life so much sadder and more complicated than needed be. He had it so good too! Had all these loyal henchmen at his every beck and call and for what? For it all to fall apart because of one stupid decision made at the top with neither Buggy nor any other Warlord having a say—or so much as a warning. It wasn’t fair.
He clicked his tongue, ready to slam the newspaper shut, but then something caught his attention. It was a photo of a big group of people, all of them smiling wide and happy. He wasn’t sure what about it stopped him, however, and he frowned, studying the page closer.
LAND OF WANO—A FREE COUNTRY
Buggy stared at the headline for a moment. Wano… Oden’s country. Wasn’t Kaido sitting there like the place belonged to him up until last week?
Turning back to the photo, Buggy studied the faces one by one until his eyes reached familiar smiles—Cat and Dog, standing there and grinning like the day they found them stowing away on the Oro Jackson.
“I can’t believe they’re still alive,” Buggy said to himself with a small laugh. How nostalgic. Were these the remaining Kozuki retainers then?
Suddenly, Buggy realised what had made him pause earlier. The two people in the centre, the young man and woman—they looked remarkably like Oden and Toki. Not exact copies, of course, but it was abundantly clear who they were.
Momonosuke and Hiyori… it felt like yesterday that he and Shanks were watching them while their parents went off on a flashy date but now, they were standing there, all grown up. Buggy could hardly believe the snivelling little kid who was terrified of heights was so strong and big now, carrying just as much charisma as Oden used to.
And Hiyori had become so beautiful; elegance was radiating off of her and Buggy… felt a strange sense of pride as if it were his own little sister who had grown up into such a heartthrob. He would bet she had men and women falling at her feet without so much as looking their way.
…if anyone broke her heart, Buggy would have things to say. And legs to break.
Man, how many years had passed? He could swear he had changed her diapers just yesterday but it’d been, what, twenty, twenty-five years? Unbelievable.
Suddenly… Buggy felt so old.
“Buggy? What are you doing over there?” Alvida asked in confusion as she passed by.
Buggy didn’t even bother lifting his head from where he had slumped over the table, completely drained of energy. “Having a midlife crisis, leave me alone,” he simply whined.
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