#( if you saw me accidentally post this yesterday panic delete it without saving it and now having to write it all again from scratch no you

[lgcyeah]

jell-o, everyone!

my name is ava and i’ll be the one behind kim yeah! she is a 3rd year trainee (signed jan. 2020) who focuses on singing > dancing. she is very quiet and expressionless so some people may call her doll/mannequin because of it and also any play on her name sounding like yeah/yes (she’s heard them all!).

thank you very much for the welcome messages i’ll get to them asap while i pretend i’m working! :^) meanwhile, please check down below for some ready-made ideas in case one of them interest you!

general connections/ideas:

a friend who’s known her since she was a child and knows how much she’s changed

someone who thinks she’s stuck up because she’s always staring and has the latest technology (she’s just awkward)

people who joined in jan. 2020! you’re in this together

you’ve been trainees together for a long time. she literally doesn’t know your name. she has no idea. why would she ask anyone that’d be embarrassing.

you think there’s a rivalry between the two of you but i swear she’s not like that please calm down.

you have very similar phones/bags/earbuds/whatever and you took hers on the way out and she has no idea who took hers or who owns the thing she has now. come back...

just used random word generator:

#ankle: you stumble upon each other on the corridors and now yeah’s ankle has started to hurt, but she refuses to get it looked at. a twisted ankle would be bad for both of you.

#atrament: she’s writing things down for university, but once she’s done, she realizes the black ink bled through the paper and onto some stuff you had left there beforehand. what did you do and is that math?

#humify: yep! that’s her water bottle! yep! that’s your bag! oh, you left your phone there?

#sulphureous: the sun is burning very hot on this cloudless day and you decide to take yeah along with her to do something. maybe you need her help carrying something heavy in the sweaty day or just want to grab some ice cream - or both!

#gabelle: you want yeah to try something you cooked up and jesus christ why is there so much salt in this.

#lentiform: yeah doesn’t need glasses but you sure do! so sorry for stepping on them!

[maisstories]

Like the great idiot that I am, I made a mistake when attempting to schedule the answer to this prompt and now I have to post it separately because I accidentally deleted the ask.

An anon asked me to write 102, “I promise I’ll come back for you”, for Marco.

…This happened.

First of all, a warning: there are references to non-explicit violence and hints of a few disturbing themes.

While there are no direct spoilers here, the idea for this piece came from very recent manga chapters. If you haven’t read chapter 957, read at your own discretion. I’ve done my best to keep any possible spoilers vague, though.

102 “I promise I’ll come back for you”

“I promise I’ll come back for you.”

Dad’s words run through Marco’s head as he crawls into one of the highest kitchen cupboards. He already went through it yesterday, but maybe he missed something amongst the old pots and pans in here.

Even if there is nothing, dad shouldn’t take long to come back now.

It’s been long, longer than Marco is comfortable with. Surely the ship has already reached their new home and the people have built what they need before anyone can move in. Marco wanted to go, he wanted to help dad build their new home, but dad said a city in construction is no place for a little boy.

Marco isn’t little. But dad has been very worried since the attack. He hasn’t been himself since they found mom. And so Marco stayed, because he doesn’t want to give dad more reasons to worry.

Dad will be worried when he comes back.

He told Marco to ask Mrs. Evans for anything he needed, but Marco saw Mrs. Evan rationing her family’s food last week, and no merchants have come to the island.

Marco can’t ask Mrs. Evans for food when she has trouble feeding her family.

But dad won’t take long to come back now. So Marco will wait, and he’ll keep searching the house in case he missed something. He has plenty of water from the well to last him, and he read somewhere a person can last a very long time without eating, even if he’s hungry.

Marco can be hungry for a little longer. Dad said there are plenty of fields at their new home. They’ll have lots of food.

Then Marco has a brilliant idea.

Mrs. Evans may have little food, but perhaps someone else has some to spare! There is still money in the emergency box mom used to keep, so Marco can use it to buy the food from them. That way they won’t be giving it away for nothing. He knows dad won’t be angry, he always says money is good to buy the things they need.

Marco has to push a chair against the dresser to reach the top drawer where the box is. He is not sure how much food will cost now —he knows it won’t be usual market price— so he takes the box and all its contents with him.

Their house is a little ways from town, and that spared it the worst of the attack. One of the fires reached their door, though, and mom’s orchards are gone. Black ash on blackened ground. Marco doesn’t look at it. It reminds him of how they found mom, and he doesn’t want to think about her.

He needs food. He can’t cry now. He’s cried a lot already.

Marco is walking through one of the rundown alleys at the town’s outskirts when he hears laughter. He stops. Not many people laugh here lately, not even little kids. And that laughter… there is something off about it.

“Man, can’t believe we made the trip for this crap!” someone exclaims. They sound amused.

“Should’ve guessed. Those farmers had nothing with them,” someone else answers. There is a crash, followed by a weird low noise, and more laughter.

Marco doesn’t know those voices.

He stops and moves carefully to press himself against the wall.

Did someone get drunk? Wouldn’t be the first time someone does that and starts breaking stuff. Even more so lately.

“Hey, no one’s told you to stop!” the first person yells. There is a loud smacking sound, followed by a sob.

Marco freezes.

He hasn’t heard these sounds before, no, but he’s heard stories. Many people talked, in hushed tones and when they didn’t realize he was listening, of the things that happened during the attack.

Marco’s breath is coming faster, and he grabs his left forearm and digs the nails of his right hand into it as hard as he can to keep himself grounded. He can’t panic, not now. He needs to get out. Away from the city and as far from the houses as possible. That’s what they did in school, last time. There isn’t a forest to hide in anymore, but if he can make it to the hills, then perhaps…

Marco nods to himself. Now with a plan, he turns and starts to backtrack his path. He tries to move as fast as he can while being quiet. He wants to run, but he knows it’s a bad idea. If he runs, he won’t be able to hear anyone approaching, and he needs to be able to hear them if he is to hide.

His strategy pays off when he hears the steps. They are loud in the silence of the alley, and they sound heavy. Whoever’s walking, it’s not a tiny person. Marco looks around, spots one of the many piles of rubble that have been moved out of the way, and dives to hide behind it. He can cover himself entirely in its shadow.

Keeping even breaths is harder, but Marco has had practice at controlling his breathing lately. Being quiet was the only way to avoid making dad feel even worse. If he’d known Marco still cried every night, he wouldn’t have left on the ship. They needed dad to go, Marco knows: he’s the only navigator left in town. So Marco learned to control his breathing and keep quiet, and now that could save his life.

The steps have come closer, and a massive shadow blocks most of what little sun enters the alley.

The steps stop right on the other side of the rubble.

“You should come out,” comes the voice.

Marco freezes again.

Maybe this person just thinks someone could be hiding around here. Maybe this person only stopped there by chance.

So Marco holds his breath, closes both hands around fallen pieces of bricks, and waits.

The shadow moves, but at the same time the person remains at the same spot. There is more sun, though, so whoever is there must have sat or crouched down.

“It doesn’t matter how well you hide; most people in this crew would find you anyway. So step out of there, son. I won’t hurt you.”

Marco bristles. Won’t hurt him?! He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s happening in town. Those words do nothing but confirm it.

Before he can think better of it, Marco darts around the rubble and hurls the two bricks up and forward. They bounce off an arm. A massive, muscular arm that’s resting on the knee of the largest man Marco has ever seen. Even crouching down, he towers over Marco and everything around them, and the large blade he carries and his clothes scream pirate.

The man looks down at Marco. Marco narrows his eyes and stays put, because this man is blocking his way and he’s too large to dodge around him to escape in any direction in this tiny alley.

There is a drawn out silence. Marco glances around, looking for another way out. Perhaps there is a hole in one of the many damaged houses he can escape through.

“That’s not a good idea,” the man says. He sounds calm, awfully calm, and Marco wants to yell at him.

So he does.

“And why not?!” he demands, clenching his fists.

He’s sick of pirates. They come into town, destroy and hurt all they want, and think they can get away with anything.

“Because nowhere in this island is safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Marco says, voice sharp. Inside, he’s gone cold. What does that mean? They’re not just here for their valuables and then will leave? That’s what pirates do, isn’t it? If he can stay out of the way, he should be safe.

But he’s not out of the way anymore, is he?

There is something weird about this pirate’s eyes. They don’t look like an evil pirate’s eyes should. To Marco, they appear sad. It makes no sense.

“This island is going to be destroyed. Everything in it taken down, and the remnants burned.”

Marco stumbles. It’s as though this man has hit him. But he hasn’t. He has spoken quiet and calmly. Not mocking, not amused like those other two. Just… stating a fact.

Marco wants to be sick.

“Why’re you telling me?” he asks, and is surprised his voice comes out at all.

The man stays silent again, looking at Marco so intensely he wants to squirm. He refuses to do it and instead straightens up.

“You resemble your father a lot.”

Marco can’t breathe.

What…?

The words he overheard earlier slam into him like a fist.

“Those farmers had nothing with them.”

Farmers.

Most of the people on the ship that left town last month were farmers, leaving to start working on the lands as they built.

“How…?” Marco attempts to ask, but he chokes on the words. How do you know my father?

The pirate is giving him an unmistakable sad look. Marco wants to beat it out of his face.

“We reached a small colony last week. They had just started to build,” the man begins.

Marco may have screamed. He isn’t sure. All he knows is that he launches himself at the man. He doesn’t care that he’s a giant, he doesn’t care that he’s armed, that he’s a pirate. He wants him to stop. To shut up and admit he’s lying, to say he and his horrid crew have never been to the colony.

The man doesn’t move, but Marco might as well be punching rocks for all the effect his attempt has on the man’s leg.

A hand descends on Marco’s. It’s so large in engulfs his whole body and keeps him immobile against the man’s leg.

“He asked— no, he begged me to spare his son when the captain announced we’d come here next. But very few are ever spared. Your best chance is to come with me.”

Marco isn’t listening. He doesn’t want to listen. He can’t listen.

This man, this monster—

He twists around and slams his head against the man’s hand. His arms and his legs are blocked, but his head is free enough. So Marco slams and slams, and when a giant finger stops him from moving, he bites what skin he can reach.

The man doesn’t react, not even when Marco draws blood.

The man moves his other arm, and Marco finds himself with another hand on him. This one isn’t holding him still though. No, the man’s rubbing circles into Marco’s back.

“There was no saving your father,” the man continues. Marco hates him. He hates him even more for daring to sound sorry as he speaks. “But you have a chance. If you’ll take it.”

Marco’s jaw has gone slack. He releases the man’s skin. His mouth is sour and bitter with blood and tears, and he can’t stop sobbing long enough to even glare up at the man, much less tell himself where to shove his offer.

The man moves one hand away and brings it back with something held between two fingers. He has to hold it really close to Marco for him to notice it at all.

“You have potential, kid. If you eat this, the captain will allow you to stay on board.”

Marco isn’t stupid. When the blurry blue thing comes into focus, he realizes the swirly patterns on it mean it’s a devil fruit. One of these, he knows, would make even a kid like him valuable to pirates.

It makes no sense that this guy’s giving it to him.

Somehow, Marco manages to choke the question out.

“I’m already a fruit user,” the man says. “I’d rather have this one help you now than sell it later.”

Marco doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand this man at all. He has seen his father die without doing anything —if he didn’t kill him himself, and then Marco would…— has let Marco attack and even hurt him, has offered to let him live, and now is giving him the most expensive thing Marco has ever seen.

A thing that is also food.

A part of Marco wants to die. To leave this horrible world here and now, to go with his parents. But another part of him, a larger one, doesn’t want to. That part, the one that used to dream about seeing the world, now wants to see this crew destroyed. Wants to know what happened, why it happened, and wants to make sure it won’t happen again.

So Marco takes the fruit. He lunges for it, just now realizing he is no longer immobilized, and bites into it before the man can change his mind.

It’s disgusting, the worst thing Marco has ever eaten. He wolfs it down as quickly as he can. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to eat again. If he will.

He’s wiping his face on his sleeve, having managed to stop crying as he ate, when he hears a voice.

“Oi, Newgate!” It’s one of the men from before, the ones who were… Marco doesn’t want to think about it. “What’s with that kid?”

The man, Newgate, doesn’t move from where he’s crouching, but he looks over Marco’s shoulder to where the voice came. Marco refuses to turn, not wanting to see any more of these pirates.

“He’s coming with us,” Newgate calls back.

There’s a guffaw.

“You think the captain’ll let you keep a stray?” It’s the other one this time, sounding both mocking and amused.

“Kid’s a fruit user,” Newgate says, as though that should be enough.

There is a short silence.

“Really?” the second man asks. He sounds skeptical, but also curious. “Well, I guess the captain’ll let you keep him, them. First step into that dream of yours, eh?”

And the two men burst out laughing, as though they’ve told the best joke in the world.

“Get lost, both of you,” Newgate tells them. He sounds tired and annoyed, as though the joke is an old one.

He stands up, and takes Marco with him and up on his hand. Without another word to his crewmembers, he starts walking away, and it doesn’t take long for them to reach another alley that’s empty and away from any noise. It’s as though most of the city is silent now. Marco doesn’t want to think about it.

“Listen,” Newgate says. He crouches down again, and sets Marco on his feet. Marco has lost all energy by now, and falls on his ass on the ground. “Being in this crew won’t be easy. It’s an awful place, and you’ll have to keep quiet about many horrible things, but it’s temporary, do you understand?”

Marco swallows.

“…Yeah.” Of course he does, he intends to destroy them.

Newgate moves so he’s kneeling properly on the ground instead of crouching. He’s so big it makes no difference to Marco.

“What’s your name?”

“…Marco.” He omits the surname. It’s irrelevant now, and he doesn’t want to associate his parents to this. What he’s doing, what he wants to do, would horrify them. It’s best if he doesn’t become a pirate as their son, no matter how temporary becoming a pirate will be.

So, he’s just Marco from now on.

“I’m Edward Newgate,” Newgate introduces himself. “Now, I’ll tell you what I know about that fruit of yours before we have to meet the captain. It’s a very special power, you know?”