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inkskinned · 7 months

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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

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acescorazon · 4 months

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Title: Changes

Chapter: 11/?

Word count: 5875

Warnings: Crocodile, panic attacks, and Buggy's back to thinking his suicidal thoughts.

Chapter except:

Buggy has honestly never met a more infuriating man in his life. Crocodile is so cryptic and hard to please at times, and Buggy just… Whatever. He doesn’t care. He’d just be wasting his time if he gets annoyed by Crocodile. He finishes what little work he has left and then sighs in content afterwards, “Okay, i’m all done.” He announces to Crocodile who for some reason looks slightly disappointed…? Is that the right way to describe his face right now? It doesn’t matter, he asks Crocodile if there’s anything else he wants Buggy to do while he’s still around, and Crocodile shakes his head in response. “...No, that’s it…Thank you.” Thank you? Did Crocodile just say…

Buggy glances over at Crocodile, and he’s unsure of how he’s even supposed to respond at a time like this, “...What…?” He asks.

“....Thank you…” Crocodile repeats quietly.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|

Contrary to popular belief, Buggy is actually a leader and has a crew of men to oversee. He can't afford to spend his entire day organizing and cleaning up Crocodile's mess from the past couple of weeks, and yet, that's the exact situation Buggy finds himself in. Instead of letting Buggy run his island like he should be doing right now, Crocodile keeps him holed up in the meeting room all morning and well into the afternoon.

It's awkward and stressful, and Buggy hasn't been able to relax for even a minute. Every little move or sound Crocodile makes causes that feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach to grow worse, and every part of him is telling him to get the hell out of the meeting room, and fast before Crocodile’s mood can turn sour, and he ends up hurting him again.

And yet, Buggy remains seated uncomfortably close to Crocodile. He wants to leave more than anything in this world, but he can’t muster up the courage to do so. They sit in silence for the most part, with the occasional sounds of Crocodile yawning or lighting up yet another cigar and exhaling deeply, but Buggy didn’t expect to chat and gossip all day with Crocodile. He’s actually glad things are somewhat still normal between the two. Crocodile seems less hostile, sure, but that’s probably because he’s just exhausted.

It’s not enough for Buggy to simply put away all the documents and folders on the table, no, Crocodile wants things organized into three separate categories: Business plans, contracts, and intel, and anything else can be considered miscellaneous and can be properly organized later. On top of that, he wants all the documents in the boxes on the floor looked through and properly sorted as well, and he even wants all the boxes properly labeled. It’s a lot, and Buggy still doesn’t know how Crocodile managed to clutter up the meeting room in such a short amount of time, but he doesn’t question it, he simply gets to work, starting with organizing all of the data and information Crocodile has somehow managed to compile over the course of god knows how many days, weeks, months, or even years.

To make matters worse, occasionally Galdino stops by even though Crocodile said that Galdino had other important things to do and that he couldn’t get him to do his bullshit tasks for him instead, and whenever he does, he’s always overly nice, and extremely dedicated to Crocodile as always. He brings him frequent cups of coffee, but never offers Buggy anything, hell, he doesn’t even look in Buggy’s direction, and part of Buggy wants to call Galdino out again, but it’s pointless.

So much for being friends.

It’s around three in the afternoon when Crocodile finally breaks the silence between them, “Hey… why don’t you go get lunch?” He suggests quietly. It’s a little late for lunch, but Buggy’s sure that he could get a couple of his men to fix him something up. He is a little hungry, and he’s so damn tired of looking at papers. He’s been organizing Crocodile’s crap all day, and he’s hardly made any progress, but he thinks he’s gotten at least the intel part of his filing done, or at least he hopes he does. Crocodile didn’t ask for any, but Buggy really thinks they need to invest in some file cabinets. He didn’t think they’d need any before, but after seeing just how many documents Crocodile has, he thinks they definitely need them now.

Buggy finally stands up again after sitting for hours and hours without hardly moving. His back hurts slightly, but he doesn’t dare complain to Crocodile, he just wants to get the hell out of here, and is about to do just that when Crocodile speaks up again, “And come back after lunch, okay?” He orders.

Jeez, can’t they just call it a day? Buggy still has other things he has to do, most of which are for Crocodile himself, he really doesn’t want to have to come back here and do more filing. He holds back a groan and gives Crocodile a small nod, “Sure thing…” He mutters, and after that, he makes his leave.

“Be back in thirty minutes, Cl… Buggy!” Crocodile calls out to him just before he can get too far away, and Buggy cringes slightly now that he’s out of Crocodile’s view.

Well, there goes his appetite.

This sucks. Thirty minutes isn’t enough time away from Crocodile. Usually, he only spends an hour, maybe two hours tops with Crocodile during meetings and afterwards he has all day to recover. Yet today he’s just supposed to stay all day with him or most of the day with him and only get a thirty-minute break to mentally recover? God, what did he do in his past life to deserve this?

Buggy decides to skip lunch altogether. He hates to admit it, but Crocodile’s right. The crew have been living more or less off Sea King these past couple of weeks, and Buggy isn’t in the mood to have any today, or really eat in general anymore, so instead he takes a walk around the island in an attempt to clear his mind a little bit.

He greets and waves at various members of his crew as he walks by them, and every time he sees one of his men sitting around or goofing off, Buggy once again wonders why Crocodile couldn’t have one of them do his dirty work. Buggy’s sure, no, he’s positive that any one of his men would eagerly organize and file all of Crocodile’s important documents, but nooo, of course, Buggy has to be the one to do it.

It just doesn’t make any sense… But whatever.

As he continues his little stroll, eventually he ends up running into Alvida, who grabs him by his elbow and pulls him to the side. “Hey! What was going on last night with you and Hawkeye?” She asks, and Buggy can see the curiosity shining brightly in her big brown eyes. She looks around before leaning forward and lowering her voice slightly, “Are you two… you know?” Are they what? Buggy thinks, frowning.

“No, I don’t know. Just what exactly are you asking right now?”

“You know…”

“No, I don’t know!”

Alvida sighs loudly. She looks around again, almost as if the two of them are discussing something they shouldn’t be right now before whispering to Buggy again, “Dating, or maybe hooking up?” she asks in a tiny voice, chuckling afterwards. “C’mon, you can tell me, I won’t tell a soul.”

Buggy’s eyes damn near pop out of his skull and, despite his devil fruit powers, those are some of the only things that are supposed to remain attached to Buggy at all times. Buggy repeats the question in his head once, twice, and then a third time. Are he and Mihawk dating or hooking up…?

Ew.

“No! Why would you even think that?!” Buggy screams horrified and slightly appalled at the mere suggestion of Buggy being romantically involved with Dracule Mihawk of all people. He loves Alvida dearly. She’s like a younger sister to him, really, but at this moment he just wants to throttle her. How in the hell could she possibly think that Mihawk and Buggy were an item?!

“Buggy,” Alvida calls out. She places her hands on his shoulder and looks into his eyes, “You can tell me the truth, I won’t judge you.”

“Alvida. Look, I don’t know what you thought you saw, but–”

“I saw Mihawk making heart eyes at you, Buggy The Clown.”

The hell is she even talking about right now? Mihawk must have been with someone else named Buggy The Clown last night because he sure as hell wasn’t looking at him with heart eyes or anything like that. Not that Buggy was looking at Mihawk, though, because he tried to avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but he just knows Mihawk, he’d never be interested in Buggy like that. In fact, Buggy’s still surprised Mihawk wants to be his friend or whatever."

Buggy exhales a loud sigh of his own, “Vida, look me and Mihawk don’t have that kind of relationship, and you know it.”

“I don’t know,” Alvida replies, dragging her words out and sounding almost playful as she talks to Buggy, “You two look like you’ve made up quite a lot.” They haven’t. Buggy still hates the guy! He’s… he’s just tolerating him more or less at this point!

Buggy shakes his head. He looks down and checks his watch, then groans when he sees what time it is. “Look, I don’t have time for this, i have to get back to the meeting room and help organize Crocodile’s mess.”

Alvida raises an eyebrow, “Why are you helping him?” She asks. What does she mean, why is he helping him? He has to! He’s in debt to him, and when Buggy explains that to her, she gives him another strange look, “...But Galdino and I offered to help him clean the meeting room up earlier, and he said he didn’t need any help, and told us to go away…”

Huh? Buggy thinks, confused yet again, this time by the sudden revelation. “I don’t know, Alvida. He just called me in early this morning and told me to help him, so that’s what I’m doing. Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He gives her a quick hug before hurrying back to the meeting room but swears he hears her mutter something along the lines of, “Hm…interesting.” while he’s still within hearing distance, but Buggy has no idea what that could even mean or if that’s what she actually said in the first place.

If that’s what she actually said, what’s so interesting about Crocodile ordering Buggy to do some work? Crocodile’s been bossing him around since the moment he stepped foot on Emptee Bluffs Island, what’s different and interesting about that now? Whatever, Buggy doesn’t get it, and he definitely doesn’t get why she suddenly thinks Mihawk and him are seeing each other, but he doesn’t want to get any of it either.

Buggy makes it back to the meeting room a little early and finds Crocodile resting his head down on the meeting room table, perhaps sleeping quietly. Buggy isn’t quite sure if the other man is asleep or not, but he hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should leave or if he should continue to work like Crocodile instructed him to. In the end, though, he decides to quietly turn back and just leave, but before he gets the chance to do so, he hears a deep voice call out to him from behind, “You’re back already?” Crocodile asks, sounding a little dazed.

Buggy spins around on his heels and forces a smile onto his face, “Yeah, I decided to come back a little early...” He tells Crocodile in a hushed voice, and then after that he quickly takes his seat at the meeting table again, still avoiding eye contact with the exhausted man.

Crocodile slowly raises his head and runs his large hand over his face, “By the way, after you get done, can you ask Hawkeye to drop by and see me?” He asks. What the hell? Why can’t Crocodile just… Ugh, whatever. Buggy is just going to stop questioning Crocodile and focus on his work instead.

Buggy nods silently in response. He doesn’t ask any of the questions that are lingering in his mind, instead, he resumes his work from earlier, moving on to sorting through all of Crocodile’s business plans, and, boy, does he have a lot of them. He really thought this whole Cross Guild thing out, and it looks like Crocodile is serious about their little organization (not that Buggy ever doubted him.) and he has long-term plans for it for the next five, maybe even ten years.

God, will Buggy even be alive in five years? Maybe and the thought of having to spend the next five years with Crocodile is just… awful. He hates Cross Guild so much and finds himself once again regretting that he even borrowed money from Crocodile in the first place. Five years, maybe ten, or even twenty years of his life potentially down the drain all because he borrowed some money from Crocodile after the war. Man, he fucked up.

The room falls silent yet again as Buggy tries to hurry up and get his work done for Crocodile, but it almost feels like Crocodile is actively making his workload grow. He constantly hands him more papers or documents that need to be put away, and Buggy is equal parts tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed. How is he supposed to get any work done around here?! And how is he supposed to do all those other things Crocodile wants him to do, if he can’t even finish this one extremely tedious task?! Also, is Buggy Crocodile’s damn secretary now? Because he feels like Galdino would be much better suited for the job...

The hours slowly drag on and on, and on, but eventually dinner time approaches and Buggy finally gets the courage to look up at Crocodile, “Hey… Uh, can I finish the rest tomorrow?” He asks, hoping, praying, even that Crocodile won’t suddenly grow furious with him and lunge at him. He’s almost done sorting through all of Crocodile’s business plans and ideas for the future; ones that still include taking over various desert lands like stupid Prickly Pear Island, as well as various boats he wants designed, and hideouts he wants built for them.

Crocodile takes a moment to think before finally replying, “No... I need this done today, but you can take another break if you want.” Why does he need all this done today?! He has weeks, maybe even months of paperwork and plans cluttering up the meeting room, and he really expects Buggy to be able to get it all put away by tonight?! But why? Crocodile’s serious about this Cross Guild shit, and they’re going to be doing it for a very long time, so why does everything need to be organized and ready now?!

“But…”

“You’re almost done anyways, you might as well finish what you started.” Crocodile states simply without so much as looking up at Buggy. That’s… That’s beside the point! Buggy’s been stuck in this cramped meeting room that smells like Crocodile and his damn cigars for the past nine hours and it’s driving him crazy! Nine hours! He’s been here for nine hours and there’s still more crap to go through, it’s ridiculous!

Buggy bites the inside of his cheek. He feels absolutely frustrated yet defeated right now and all he can do is sigh quietly, “Yeah… you’re right.” He agrees, or at least he pretends to agree with Crocodile. In reality, he’s so annoyed that Crocodile forced him to waste his day, but still, he doesn’t say anything to annoy or anger Crocodile. And he’s actually a little relieved when Crocodile dismisses him for dinner.

He no longer feels flashy or like a leader, and that’s all because of Crocodile. He feels like he’s at the bottom of the hierarchy when the truth of the matter is he’s at the very top, but you wouldn’t know that by the way Crocodile treats him. You’d think Crocodile was the ‘leader’ of Cross Guild and one of the four emperors, and not Buggy, but whatever, it doesn’t matter… It just sucks. Man, what the hell happened to him?

Tonight Cabaji, Mohji, and of course, Richie, all join him for dinner as they sit in Buggy’s main tent and have supper, and as usual, Mohji and Cabaji are overly worried about Buggy. “How are you, captain?” Mohji whispers to Buggy, keeping his voice down, ”Is he being a dick to you again?” he asks. Well, Crocodile’s been a pain in the ass, but he hasn’t yelled or even threatened to beat the shit out of Buggy all day, so that has to count for something.

Buggy shakes his head, stabbing at the asparagus on his plate with his fork. Truth be told, he’s feeling a little uninterested in the vegetable and even the meal in front of him, but like always, Cabaji and Mohji insist he eats a little because ‘he needs all the energy he can get to lead their great and powerful crew’ or something like that. “Nah, I think he’s tired or something, he hasn’t even really talked to me today.” He tells them, “We’ve just both been kinda doing our own thing…”

Cabaji and Mohji both heave a sigh of relief, “Good, good.” Mohji replies, and Cabaji follows suit, “Good. That’s good, maybe he finally realized he should be a little nicer to you.” He suggests and a moment later everyone at the table laughs as they mock Crocodile in secrecy. That’s a funny idea. Crocodile? Finally, realizing that he’s done something wrong and being man enough to admit it and try to change his behavior? Yeah, that would be the day.

“But just in case he starts getting impatient, do you want us to come help you out?” Mohji asks.

Buggy considers the thought briefly as he gives Richie the rest of his food and strokes his mane gently a few times. In the end, he shakes his head again, “Nah, I can handle it.” He insists. He could have used the help earlier, but at this point, he’s got a system and can handle his workload on his own. Plus, he doesn’t want to hear Crocodile bitch and moan about Cabaji and Mohji helping him out and saying something rude and snarky like: ‘What? You couldn’t file a couple of documents on your own? Fucking useless clown.’

Yeah, Buggy’s useless… Yeah, he knows. Maybe that’s actually why Crocodile wanted Buggy to do his organizing for him. Maybe this is all part of some convoluted scheme to get Buggy to mess up on a trivial task, so Crocodile can degrade him more and once again point out how useless Buggy is.

Buggy knows he’s useless though! He knows he’s useless and pathetic and unworthy of living… He doesn’t constantly have to be reminded of all that. He knows Crocodile has made sure to make that fact abundantly clear on several occasions.

“Seriously, Captain… at least let us come sit with you while you work,” Mohji pleads, and Cabaji nods his head eagerly in agreement, “Yeah, even if we don’t do anything, we still want to be there with you in case something happens…” It’s a sweet gesture, and Buggy appreciates it, he really does, but he doesn’t want Cabaji and Mohji to have to witness how Crocodile treats Buggy, not that they don’t already know, but still. Nor does he like the idea of Crocodile getting angry and potentially taking his wrath out on one or both of them, even though Crocodile’s fury has more or less always been directed at Buggy and Buggy alone. He still wants to keep his men safe no matter what.

If someone’s going to take a beating or be humiliated and degraded, it should be Buggy, and Buggy only.

Buggy bids farewell to his beloved men a few minutes later. He gives Cabaji and Mohji both a tight hug and assures them that everything is okay and that they’re just anxious about nothing, and then gives Richie a couple of more pets before he heads back to the meeting room. As soon as he’s away from the others, though, his mood takes a turn for the worst. He feels like a complete failure of a captain. He can’t even comfort his men these days, and if he can’t even do that much anymore, then what good is he? He hates it. Crocodile is right. He’s a good-for-nothing coward who doesn’t deserve to liv–

Okay, he needs to stop thinking about that. He doesn’t even know where all those thoughts came from, Crocodile’s hardly even said a word to him today, and yet… his words from the past are back, and tormenting Buggy for some reason. It’s annoying, he doesn’t want to have those thoughts and tries to force them away, but they just continue to resurface and cause Buggy more anguish.

Worthless coward who can’t do a goddamn thing. Pathetic Crybaby. You aren’t worth keeping around…

Buggy blinks and suddenly finds himself in the meeting room again after another break that goes by way too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t even remember stepping inside. He shakes away all of his negative thoughts and has a seat at the meeting room table again. Okay, he can do this. He’s going to finish sorting Crocodile’s papers and then go straight to bed, and when he wakes up, he’s going to get started on all those other things Crocodile wanted him to do for him. He takes a deep breath and tries to settle his chaotic mind a little before he gets back to work.

Stupid. Pathetic. Worthless.

“...How was dinner?” Crocodile asks, glancing up at him briefly before looking back down at whatever he’s been working on all day. He successfully startles Buggy out of his thoughts though, and for that Buggy’s kind of glad, Again with the small talk… he thinks, fighting back the urge to groan. There’s no way Crocodile cares how Buggy’s dinner went, so why is he even bothering to ask?! He doesn’t care about him. He hates him and wants him dead, and-–

Still, Buggy gives him a quiet answer, “Fine…Thank you.”

Crocodile looks back up at Buggy, almost seeming like he has something he wants to say, but he shakes his head instead and allows yet another awkward silence to fill the room. Buggy doesn’t question it, the less he has to talk to Crocodile, the better, and he gets back to work. He pretty much has everything sorted and even has all the boxes in the room stacked neatly on top of each other and separated by categories in different parts of the room.

He’s still not done though, but almost, and he’s trying to hang in there despite his constant discomfort while being By Crocodile’s side. Just a few more things, he just has to organize the rest of Crocodile’s junk that didn’t fit into the three specific categories Crocodile mentioned earlier, and that’s it.

Crocodile once again speaks up a little while later while Buggy is going through a pile of what appears to be receipts for weapons that Cross Guild has purchased, “Uh, Buggy…” He calls out, and Buggy freezes for a moment, afraid that Crocodile will give him even more papers to sort through. He looks up and locks eyes with Crocodile, and Crocodile, yes, Crocodile, is the one who actually looks away first, “Never mind.” he mutters a moment later.

…Whatever.

Buggy goes back to what he’s doing after that, only to have Crocodile disrupt him once again a few minutes later, “Look...There’s something I want to say,” He says, but as soon as Buggy looks up to acknowledge him, Crocodile clicks his tongue, “....Forget it.”

What the hell?!

For a moment Buggy is afraid that he’s doing something wrong and that Crocodile is going to start yelling at him, but that never happens. Instead, Crocodile looks away from him again and redirects his attention to the papers in front of him again. It’s fine, it’s fine. Buggy’s made it this far, he can keep on going. There’s only a couple of more folders on the table that need to be put away. He can do it, and after this, he can say that he actually made it through a single day with Crocodile without getting his ass whipped … but then again, maybe he should shut up before he jinxes it.

“Hey, um…” Crocodile mutters.

“...Yes?”

“Nothing.”

Buggy has honestly never met a more infuriating man in his life. Crocodile is so cryptic and hard to please at times, and Buggy just… Whatever. He doesn’t care. He’d just be wasting his time if he gets annoyed by Crocodile. He finishes what little work he has left and then sighs in contentment afterwards, “Okay, I’m all done.” He announces to Crocodile who for some reason looks slightly disappointed…? Is that the right way to describe his face right now? It doesn’t matter, he asks Crocodile if there’s anything else he wants Buggy to do while he’s still around, and Crocodile shakes his head in response. “...No, that’s it…Thank you.” Thank you? Did Crocodile just say…

Buggy glances over at Crocodile, and he’s unsure of how he’s even supposed to respond at a time like this, “...What…?” He asks.

“....Thank you…” Crocodile repeats quietly.

It takes a while before Buggy can actually formulate a response. He’s so caught off guard by Crocodile’s sudden expression of gratitude that he… he just kind of short circuits. “I…” He looks at Crocodile and then down at his lap, “Uh… you’re welcome?” He replies, unsure if he’s still even living in the same dimension as before. Crocodile is actually thanking him for doing something for him, and It’s weird… Really weird. The comment didn’t sound rude or insincere, but there’s no way that Crocodile would genuinely thank Buggy for anything. Maybe he really is dreaming right now because there’s no way an arrogant prick like Crocodile would ever be thanking him. He’s supposed to say something snarky… like… like, ‘Tsk, it took you long enough, clown…’ He’s not supposed to thank him.

Buggy is worthless… He’s pathetic… He doesn’t know how to do anything… He…He fucks everything up, and it’s a damn shame that the World Government made someone like him one of the four emperors. He doesn’t deserve that title, he doesn’t deserve the fame and power he has. He doesn’t deserve anything, actually.

Again Buggy can’t help but wonder what changed…? Mihawk is one thing. Mihawk was there when Buggy was drunk and chewed him out, and he said after that little incident he regretted the way he treated Buggy… Buggy gets that… He’s still struggling with the truth and trying to see his feelings as genuine, but he gets it. Crocodile on the other hand… Why is he being like this?

Buggy doesn’t like this… He feels like there’s something he’s not getting or like there’s something he missed. Buggy’s been away from Crocodile for a couple of weeks, sure, but surely that’s not enough time for Crocodile to have a sudden change of heart … He feels like things are rapidly changing around him, but like he’s stuck in the same place. What changed? Why is Crocodile being nice now? Is this even him being nice? Is Buggy just so used to being mistreated that he doesn’t even know what true kindness looks like from Crocodile?!

“Uh, I’m going to call it a night then,” Buggy announces, getting up from his chair and now extremely desperate to get far away from Crocodile so he can just sit down and think about all that’s been happening these last few weeks. Before he can leave the room though, Crocodile speaks up again, this time sounding like he’s in a bit of a rush, “Um, Buggy wait…!” He orders, and a moment later he finally says it. He says the one simple phrase that just makes something snap inside Buggy.

“Look… I’m sorry.”

He’s… Sorry…?

There’s a long pause as Buggy tries to process the words just said to him. He’s sorry… He said he’s sorry… He… He apologized to Buggy?!... He actually apologized to Buggy. When Buggy’s confused mind finally processes Crocodile’s words, all he can think is: Liar. Fucking liar. He’s not sorry, he can’t be sorry. Buggy knows Crocodile well enough to know that Crocodile has never regretted a single thing in his life. He’s sorry for turning Buggy’s life into a living hell? He’s sorry for scaring Buggy shitless and making him feel like his life is something that can easily be taken away? No. Nah. He’s not. He’s not sorry for that, nor is he sorry for beating or humiliating Buggy. He’s not sorry for making Buggy hate himself or his life and wanting to just end it all instead of having to deal with living another day with Crocodile. He’s not sorry, he’s just a goddamn liar.

Buggy turns around, and he can feel tears running down his face, but doesn’t care. His brain isn’t working anymore, it stopped working the moment Crocodile had the nerve to apologize to Buggy. He’s probably not even being genuine in the first place, but that doesn’t matter. Liar, liar, liar. Crocodile is such a liar, and Buggy can’t stand it. He hates liars. He’d rather Crocodile be blatantly cruel to him and constantly insult him than pretend to be nice to him and pretend that he cares or that he’s regretful for everything he’s put Buggy through.

If Buggy were in the right state of mind, he’d tell himself to take a deep breath and calm down. This is the break he needed. He could accept Crocodile’s apology, he could come up with some bullshit response, he could do anything that would assure his safety, but Buggy just…He can’t think properly anymore. His heart is pounding at an alarming rate, and he feels like none of this is real.

It can’t be real, it just can’t be.

His mouth moves on its own, “Liar.” He says, and Crocodile looks taken aback by the insult, but Buggy keeps going. “Liar, you aren’t sorry.” he tells him, “You can’t be sorry. You’re just fucking with me again.” And as he speaks, the volume of his voice begins to rise, “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m n–”

“Stop fucking lying to me!” Buggy yells. This has to be some cruel joke. Crocodile isn’t sorry, and yet said man starts to argue back with Buggy, but why? They both know he’s nothing but a liar! Why is he even trying to defend himself right now?! Crocodile clicks his tongue, “Will you fucking listen to m–” No! Why should Buggy listen to him?!

“Fucking let me talk!” Crocodile snaps, red in the face now, as he starts angrily yelling back at Buggy. No! Buggy doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t care what Crocodile has to say. He’s lying and even if he weren’t, Buggy would never, ever forgive him. He’s horrible, absolutely horrible, and Buggy has never hated anyone more than he hates Crocodile. “Hawkeye was right!” Crocodile says, still trying to get one phrase in without Buggy interrupting him and calling him a liar. “I fucked up, i shouldn’t have treated you like that. I’m fucking sorry, okay?”

“Liar!” “I’m not lying, okay?! I want us to start over again for the sake of Cross Guild.”

“Fuck Cross Guild!” Oh, words can’t even explain how good it felt to finally say those words. Crocodile and this stupid organization are a bane to Buggy’s existence. He hates them both, and he just wishes he were free of them. He doesn’t care anymore! Crocodile can sell him off or kill him, anything would be better than dealing with this asshole. He’s the absolute worst!

For some reason, Crocodile still tries to insist that he wants to make up with Buggy, though, “No, listen. Just listen to me, I agree with Mihawk, we should treat each other with respect and as equa–”

“Oh, so you’re just saying this shit because Mihawk told you to?!”

“No! Why would i–”

“You aren’t sorry. All you’ve ever done is made my life miserable and threatened to kill me over and over again, and I hate you.”

Crocodile once again looks a little stunned by Buggy’s words. Why’s he acting like this is anything new or as if his good name is being dragged through the mud? It’s the truth! He’s said and done so many things to Buggy, and if Buggy needs to he can list every single thing he’s ever done to hurt him. He. Fucking. Hates. Him. Liar, liar, liar! What a liar!

Crocodile grits his teeth and throws his hands in the air, “You know what? Whatever, I’m not fucking sorry then.” Yeah, Buggy knows! He fucking knows Crocodile isn’t sorry and that he’s just spouting a bunch of lies and nonsense to Buggy! “Just leave. Forget I fucking said anything. This was stupid and fucking pointless.” Crocodile yells.

Yeah, it really was. Buggy has so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and rushes out of the meeting room and past several people he didn’t know were even around. Galdino, Alvida, Cabaji, and Mohji all watch in confusion and horror as Buggy storms past them, crying again.

“Captain…” Cabaji calls out… or maybe it’s Mohji, Buggy doesn’t know, all he knows is he’s ordering whoever’s talking to him to stay back and just leave him alone. He can’t take this anymore. He hurries back to his bedroom, feeling honestly sick to his stomach, and he knows that it’s his own fault for getting himself worked up, but still. He sits down and tries to calm down a little, but as the moments go by he suddenly realizes what he’s just done and who he was talking to and feels so much worse.

He can’t stop crying. His face is covered with snot and tears, and no matter how much he tries to calm himself down, he just can’t. He tells himself that he’s alright and that he’s going to be okay. But he’s not. Nothing is okay, and they haven’t been since Crocodile and Mihawk came to Emptee Bluffs Island.

He wonders what happened to doing what was right for him. What happened to ensuring his own comfort and making sure the beatings and insults from Crocodile and Mihawk stopped? He’s so stupid. So, so stupid. In one night he managed to somehow make everything worse, and it’s all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All he had to do was shut up and accept Crocodile’s apology. That’s all he had to do and yet…

He ruined everything.’

His throat feels so tight and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. He hates this. What did he do to deserve all this? Why did things have to get this bad in the first place? Why can’t he do anything right? Why does he always fuck things up?! Why does Crocodile hate him so much?! He can’t do this. He can’t do this.

What if Crocodile tells Mihawk what happened? What if Mihawk thinks that Buggy is a stuck-up prick and changes his mind and decides that he’s going to go back on his word? What if they start their torment again? What if they beat him within an inch of his life daily? What if they continue to insult Buggy and make him feel lower than a worm at the bottom of the earth? Buggy can’t do this He can’t let things continue. He can’t let them get worse. He’d rather…

He’d rather die.

((A/N: LOL. MERRY CHRISTMAS HERE'S A CLIFF HANGER!!!!))

#Cross Guild #Changes #My writing #...whoops.#Me after posting whatever this is: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!#ASDADJAKSDLASDJSLDKJLASSD #also bella if u see this i love you and i want to thank u again for proof reading this for my lazy ass #@BELAA ILY MUAHHHH!!!

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