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tacticalhimbo · 2 months ago

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HURRICANE HELENE RELIEF

Since I'm incredibly anxious and very much annoyed, I'm compiling this post as a sort of master list of relief organizations and individual fundraisers for those in the path of Hurricane Helene.

Many of the links I post on this won't be individuals, but I encourage those within the path to add their links to this post in reblogs! Likewise, if you have any organizations / volunteer / grassroots efforts y'all would like to share, please do so!

LAST EDITED: 9/29/2024 - MAKE SURE TO CHECK REBLOGS FOR UPDATES!

My list is particularly focused on widely accessible resources, as well as Florida specific resources since... I'm from Florida.

(INTER)NATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS

American Red Cross - The American Red Cross is on the ground helping people as Hurricane Helene approaches land as a very dangerous storm. Helene may produce winds over 150 mph, a massive 20-foot-high storm surge and as much as a foot of rain. Prolonged power outages and tornadoes may occur. The effects will be felt hundreds of miles inland including in Georgia and the Carolinas.

FEMA Disaster Assistance Improvement Program - The Disaster Assistance Improvement Program’s (DAIP) mission is to provide disaster survivors with information, support, services, and a means to access and apply for disaster assistance through joint data-sharing efforts between federal, tribal, state, local, and private sector partners.

Roll Mobility - An application that equips wheelchair users with reliable information about the accessibility of restaurants, public spaces, businesses, trails, and parking areas. Good information to have on hand, especially for those evacuating from their home areas.

Warmline Directory - Providing extensive yet accessible resources that empower individuals to find the mental health and wellness resources they need through a directory containing accurate and in-depth information. For those unfamiliar: Unlike a crisis line, a warm line operator is unlikely to call the police or have someone locked up if they talk about suicidal or self-harming thoughts or behaviors. A good resource for individuals in mental distress due to natural disaster circumstances.

Food Not Bombs - Recovers food that would have been discarded and share it as a way of protesting war and poverty. They also reduce food waste and meet the direct need of communities by collecting discarded food, preparing vegan meals that they share with the hungry while providing literature about the need to change our society. Food Not Bombs also provides food to protesters and striking workers and organizes food relief after natural and political crisis.

Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies - The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies (The Partnership) is the only U.S. disability-led, 501(c)(3) organization that prioritizes equity, access, disability rights, disability justice, and full inclusion of people with disabilities, older adults, and people with access and functional needs before, during and after disasters and emergencies.

FLORIDA

Volunteer Florida Disaster Fund - The Florida Disaster Fund is the State of Florida’s official private fund established to assist Florida’s communities as they respond to and recover during times of emergency or disaster. In partnership with the public sector, private sector and other non-governmental organizations, the Florida Disaster Fund supports response and recovery activities.

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 52 Organizations Listed)

GEORGIA

TENNESSEE

NORTH CAROLINA

Beloved Asheville - A community-led coalition dedicated to providing home, healthy, equity, and opportunity for all.

Triangle NC - This links to another post I've made, but Triangle Mutual Aid is organizing supply drop offs as well as financial support.

SOUTH CAROLINA

INDIVIDUAL FUNDRAISERS

Support a Resilient Family Seeking a New Home - LINK ; Tumblr @junpei-iori-ace-defective (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

My name is Adam. I'm not the best at this; I never thought I'd have to do this, but my family and I lost our home on September 26th due to the hurricane Helene here in Florida. No one in our area thought it would get bad, but we didn't have any rain. All of a sudden, the water rose, and by midnight, our home was flooded with three feet of water. I had to carry our pets to the neighbors and my disabled wife through five feet of water. Then, my elderly disabled mother and grandmother through the water. We lost all of our clothes and many of our belongings, and our landlord will be having us move out. We have nowhere to go, so today I'm asking for help from the kindness of the world. Anything can help. If I can get enough to get us into a new home, it would be a blessing. Thank you all, and God bless.

Help Rebuild Lives After Devastating Flash Flood - LINK ; Tumblr @undeadnecromancer (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

On September 27, after being trapped in a flash flood for 5 hours, my father, Jeffrey Fuller, and sister, Kayla Fuller, left with their lives ❤️ but lost everything else. My father had set his life up to be simple and enjoyable. He didn't have a lot extra, but he had everything he needed, and now all of that is gone. Unfortunately, he did not have flood insurance, and the older you get, the harder it is to bounce back from something like this. For a man who has always shown up for everyone he loves, he needs us to show up now. Please help my father rebuild.

If you have seen the video circulating around from Jeffrey Fuller where it looks like a river is going through his house and he ends it with a “Love you all,” you have seen what has brought on this devastation.

Hurricane Helene Aftermath Help - LINK ; Tumblr @moonenjoyer (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Man I hate to do this but I'm in Valdosta, one of the cities hit the worse by Hurricane Helene. It's BAD here. In particular, there's no estimate of when we'll get power back. Word on the street is it could be a week or longer.

I work from home and going without power that long, I won't be making any money. Meanwhile my groceries are all spoiled in a fridge with no power and my car is on E. All the gas stations are down atm and when they're back up I KNOW gas prices are going to be crazy high because of all of this. In fact, EVERYTHING is going to be more expensive for a while because of this.

If you have anything to spare to help me with gas and groceries and just surviving this, I'd really appreciate it. If not, a reblog/share would mean a lot. Thank you ❤️

Save Nate and Amanda's First Home - Urgent Hurricane Needs - LINK ; Tumblr @luckyfirerabbit (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Hi. I'm Porter Henderson. This isn't about me, though. You’re going to see a lot of fundraisers with Hurricane Helene. This might be a little different.

You see, I’m writing this on behalf of my landlords and friends, Nate and Amanda. The home we share with an additional disabled man in Lithonia, Georgia had some repairs that they couldn't afford, made much worse by the hurricane. They'd been limping along like everyone dealing with inflation and underemployment, but the situation has become urgent, and they need and deserve help.

Nate and Amanda have been my friends for over a decade, and when they heard I was no longer able to work and in a bad situation, they offered me a place in their first home. I told them I wasn’t sure what or when I would be able to pay. They told me that if I ever won my disability case I could start paying rent then.

You see, I'm trying so hard to save this home because they’ve tried so hard to save me.

I was so grateful to move in, and they treated me like family. When I lost the ability to drive, they made sure I got to my doctor’s appointments, and still do. When I can’t afford food, they take me to food banks, and what I can’t find there they’ll help me get at the store. They meet all the needs they could reasonably meet, and then a couple more.

I’ve lived here for three years now, and they’ve never stopped assuring me that I am wanted, even if I can’t contribute to the household on a daily basis. They have never let me go without if there was any other way. They have helped friends and strangers every time they have seen a need. They are unfailingly honest, incredibly trustworthy, and extremely hardworking people.

They've never had much, but they've shared everything they have.

Now, though, the hurricane turned a seem in our roof into a gushing waterfall, and finally into a large hole in Nate and Amanda's bedroom ceiling.

We tarped the leaking roof from the inside to channel out as much water as we could, but with a literal hurricane outside, there’s only so much that you can do.

The three of us who couldn’t get into the attic pushed our chronically ill bodies past their limits, dragging furniture away from walls, hauling totes as fast as we could with our canes, shoving empty containers into the corner as we kicked the debris out, and researching strategies for how to deal with the nightmare. Later we would wade through flooding water to dump out rain and tie down loose trash cans, shine lights and relay directions from the attic to outside, as we all attempted to get the water venting outside the house.

To make matters worse, the HVAC needs to be replaced. It’s a seventeen year old system, with a huge crack in the (inaccessible) drain pan and a bad motherboard. Some friends pooled money with Nate and Amanda to get a couple of window air conditioners for the summer. With medications that make three of us sensitive to heat, it’s been a rough summer, but we got through.

Unfortunately, winter is a few weeks away, and it’s going to be a little less than seventeen thousand for a new system to be installed.

What makes it an emergency however, is that without the drying and air movement of the AC, trying to dehumidify everything is going to be even harder, giving us a greater chance of mold. If mold takes hold, I'm not sure if we can save the house.

This fundraiser is for the $2,500 hurricane deductible that we're almost certainly going to be charged by the homeowner's policy and the $17,000 for the HVAC, plus estimated fees for the platform.

Not included in the total are any cleaning supplies, or a tiny storage unit and rental truck if we need one to store all of their bedroom furniture while the roof is redone. (We won't know about any of that until we get the estimate from insurance/roofing.) The claim has already been filed.

The air conditioning is a pre-existing problem, and I've found no way for it to be covered by any charity, government program, or private programs in the state. The ones that my social worker knew about didn't apply (I applied anyway) and I let her know about two more that I found. The religious groups I've reached out to in my area don't work in anything but clothing, children's furniture, and durable medical goods.

If additional costs emerge, or anything ends up being less expensive, I will update and adjust the goal accordingly as soon as I find out.

Please help these genuinely good people. The smallest donation helps. So does sharing.

Thank you in advance.

#txt #important #hurricane helene #mutual aid #florida #georgia #north carolina #south carolina #tennessee #long post

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batboyblog · 3 months ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #32

August 30-September 6 2024.

President Biden announced $7.3 billion in clean energy investment for rural communities. This marks the largest investment in rural electrification since the New Deal. The money will go to 16 rural electric cooperatives across 23 states Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado, Florida, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Nebraska, New Jersey, New Mexico, Nevada, North Dakota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Texas, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. Together they will be able to generate 10 gigawatts of clean energy, enough to power 5 million households about 20% of America's rural population. This clean energy will reduce greenhouse emissions by 43.7 million tons a year, equivalent to removing more than 10 million cars off the road every year.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced a historic 10th offshore wind project. The latest project approved for the Atlantic coast of Maryland will generate 2,200 megawatts of clean, reliable renewable energy to power 770,000 homes. All together the 10 offshore wind projects approved by the Biden-Harris Administration will generation 15 gigawatts, enough to power 5.25 million homes. This is half way to the Administration's goal of 30 gigawatts of clean offshore wind power by 2030.

President Biden signed an Executive Order aimed at supporting and expanding unions. Called the "Good Jobs EO" the order will direct all federal agencies to take steps to recognize unions, to not interfere with the formation of unions and reach labor agreements on federally supported projects. It also directs agencies to prioritize equal pay and pay transparency, support projects that offer workers benefits like child care, health insurance, paid leave, and retirement benefits. It will also push workforce development and workplace safety.

The Department of Transportation announced $1 billion to make local roads safer. The money will go to 354 local communities across America to improve roadway safety and prevent deaths and serious injuries. This is part of the National Roadway Safety Strategy launched in 2022, since then traffic fatalities have decreased for 9 straight quarters. Since 2022 the program has supported projects in 1,400 communities effecting 75% of all Americans.

The Department of Energy announced $430 million to support America's aging hydropower. Hydropower currently accounts for nearly 27% of renewable electricity generation in the United States. However many of our dams were built during the New Deal for a national average of 79 years old. The money will go to 293 projects across 33 states. These updates will improve energy generation, workplace safety, and have a positive environmental impact on local fish and wildlife.

The EPA announced $300 million to help support tribal nations, and US territories cut climate pollution and boost green energy. The money will support projects by 33 tribes, and the Island of Saipan in the Northern Mariana Islands. EPA Administer Michael S. Regan announced the funds along side Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland in Arizona to highlight one of the projects. A project that will bring electricity for the first time to 900 homes on the Hopi Reservation.

The Biden-Harris Administration is investing $179 million in literacy. This investment in the Comprehensive Literacy State Development Grant is the largest in history. Studies have shown that the 3rd grade is a key moment in a students literacy development, the CLSD is designed to help support states research, develop, and implement evidence-based literacy interventions to help students achieve key literacy milestones.

The US government secured the release of 135 political prisoners from Nicaragua. Nicaragua's dictator President Daniel Ortega has jailed large numbers of citizens since protests against his rule broke out in 2018. In February 2023 the US secured the release of over 200 political prisoners. Human rights orgs have documented torture and sexual abuse in Ortega's prisons.

The Justice Department announced the disruption of a major effort by Russia to interfere with the 2024 US Elections. Russian propaganda network, RT, deployed $10 million to Tenet Media to help spread Russian propaganda and help sway the election in favor of Trump and the Republicans as well as disrupting American society. Tenet Media employs many well known conservative on-line personalities such as Benny Johnson, Tim Pool, Lauren Southern, Dave Rubin, Tayler Hansen and Matt Christiansen.

Vice-President Harris outlined her plan for Small Businesses at a campaign stop in New Hampshire. Harris wants to expand from $5,000 to $50,000 tax incentives for startup expenses. This would help start 25 million new small business over four years.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #kamala harris #climate change #climate action #wind power #Russia #human rights #politics #US politics #america politics #worker's rights #road safety

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violetsandshrikes · 1 year ago

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So…

#posting this bc I hadn’t seen anything about it!#katie rambles #Labor Day #strike #strike action

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

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Activists are “shoplifting” from supermarket shelves and dumping the proceeds straight into the stores’ food bank bins in a “redistributive action” to protest the cost of living and the climate crisis.

[...]

“The reason we’re doing this is that supermarkets in this country have been raising their prices ahead of the rate of inflation, essentially stealing from ordinary people in order to line their packets with profits.

“We’re acting against this in order to deliver food and necessities to the people of the community that need it the most in the middle of the cost of living crisis.”

The activist is seen ripping the security tag off a tub of baby formula. He says: “This is a basic need for every family with babies and it’s £18 in Asda, which is an immense price tag. […] Supermarkets are prioritising their profits over the safety and health of families in the community.”

Xander Cloudsley, 29, a community food co-ordinator and member of This Is Rigged, the campaign group behind the actions, said: “In my job, I’ve seen the lived reality of the cost of living crisis […] while corporate giants like Tesco are boasting astonishing profits year in and year out. I’m taking action because this disparity is sickening and profoundly unfair.”

The protest comes as food bank usage – already prevalent following austerity – has surged alongside spiralling inflation.

Many supermarkets now have collection bins for food banks. In 2018, Sainsbury’s trialled dedicated shelf-edge labels alerting customers to items that food banks need. In 2022, Tesco gained positive media attention for launching a “reverse food bank” where shoppers could buy and donate goods.

Meanwhile, supermarkets have also been accused of driving inflation. Analysis from trade union Unite shows the top three supermarkets – Tesco, Sainsbury’s and Asda – have taken advantage of increased food costs and doubled their profits to £3.32bn in 2021, up 97% on 2019. Unite’s general secretary Sharon Graham has called this “greedflation” – something supermarket bosses deny.

Ironically, supermarket workers, often poorly paid themselves, are amongst those forced to turn to food banks. One supermarket worker accused Tesco of “forcing us to use food banks, while using food banks to look good.”

#uk politics #food #poverty #food banks

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qqueenofhades · 4 months ago

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I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

#post-it-free #ask #politics for ts #kamala harris 2024 #harris walz 2024

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dearlyya · 8 days ago

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TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Chapter One-Persistence; When a coward turns hero.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

A/N; I don’t do taglists, sorry. I also want to thank my friend for supporting my writing, proofreading, and character creation of Wynn. Love you, bro.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Undercity is considered an industrial stain nestled beneath the grand city of Piltover.

With air that hangs heavy, and its people feral. Towering smokestacks belch black smoke into the already smog sky, casting long shadows over the cramped alleyways and buildings. The streets are strewn with discarded scrap metal, chemical waste, and other debris of the relentless production that drives the Undercity's economy.

The warm green glow of the gas lamps casts an eerie, shimmering light over the buzzing market stalls and their wares. Cautious eyes dart about, gripping the crate tightly, as your knuckles white with tension. You trudge through the damp, uneven cobblestone path. Your heavy boots thud, but the market muffles the sound. Wynn strides ahead of you, his boysenberry hair reflecting the green making his hair almost black.

Both of you carry large, sloshing crates of alcohol that clink and bounce with each jostle from the crowded lane. Your tattered cloak draped your form, the hood pulled low to fight against the season's coldness and obscure your face from the lingering enforcers.

You instinctively glance at the enforcers standing near a stall, their voices raised in angry conversation with the stall’s owner, who appears equally irritated. They are likely issuing citations for illegal imports or contraband. Detailed by the other armored man holding up a list and pointing at the merchandise. However, when the vendor suddenly shoves one of them, you quickly avert your gaze, choosing to ignore the escalating commotion and focus on navigating the crowded marketplace.

Fighting wasn’t something you could do against the enforcers unless you’d want a hefty prison sentence or killed. So, you allow them to conduct their inspections and searches, gritting your teeth if their hands linger on your body for far too long.

You did dream of something better, a fictional land where all is peace and harmony, but that's wishful thinking. Life gave the Undercity people the short end of the stick, so now all you want is to keep your life, provide some aid to wanders, and of course keep the tavern: The Last Drop. Afloat.

Some vendors attempt to grab your attention, but you politely shake your head. Keep your eyes trained on Wynn who glides through the people with ease. You stumble and slip between people straining to keep up with your friend. Cursing under your breath at the fact that you could’ve gotten your supply runner to fetch the cargo, but no. Coins have been getting slimmer and slimmer at the drop. One of the many reasons why your resentment, once directed at the enforcers, began to shift towards the rebels who fought against them. While their cause was just, their tactics often made life even harder for the ordinary citizens of the Undercity. Strikes, protests, and their thievery disrupted supply lines which left families and businesses like yours struggling to make ends meet. Of course, this is only rooted in fear.

Fear of losing more.

The mines that delve deep into Runeterra. Extracting precious minerals to fuel the insatiable demand. Workers in harsh conditions, their health and safety were often sacrificed for the sake of profit. Stark contrasts the cutting-edge innovation of Piltover ‘coexisting’ with the rampant corruption and exploitation they cause the city below them.

Down in the fissures, where deep cracks in the earth have split open, a treacherous underground network of tunnels and caverns caused by the relentless mining and drilling operations. Was bustling with the activity of workers, faces smeared with grime.

You and your father worked in those mines, and many families did. Your life narrowed down to one moment. A vivid horrible memory. You knew you should’ve put up a fight, and struggled against the enforcers alongside the others. When the tears finally spilled over, streaming down your face in hot, bitter rivulets. You couldn’t help but cower. You remember his body and the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around you.

When you pushed yourself up, letting go of a rusty pickaxe. A strong arm shoved you roughly back to the ground. It sent shockwaves through your malnourished body. Your coal-covered glove scraped against the unforgiving, rocky ground as you trembled uncontrollably, shaking like a frightened animal.

A cacophony of screams and desperate cries pierced everyone's ears like shards of glass. Through ‘The Gray’ smog you saw people–workers–were fighting against the enforcers with a fury born of desperation, their voices raw as they tried to reach your father, who was knelt on the ground, clutching the back of his head. Blood, vivid red against the rocks, drips steadily from his fingers, staining the earth beneath him. A macabre work of art. The sight of it sears itself into your mind, something you still see to this day.

Your wide eyes locked onto your father, drinking in every detail of his face, committing it to memory, as the screams and shouts faded into a distant, muffled hum.

He met your gaze, his expression was steady and calm despite the chaos that raged around you. He's trying so hard not to look frightened, putting on a brave face for your sake. He gulped, and in that tiny gesture, you saw the truth of his fear reflected in his eyes. But there's something else there too, a silent message of love and reassurance that told you that everything will be okay, that he'll protect you no matter what happens to him.

But the man behind him, the one through the smog, the one who raises his gun high above his shoulder–tells a different story. The gun glints harshly reflecting off the gold on the enforcer. Quick to get to your knees, a firm kick sends you forward along with a harsh boot on your back keeps you in place. You cried out at the pressure, as you squirmed to get closer to your father.

It's a swift blow, brutally efficient in its execution. The butt of the gun connected with the back of his head with a nauseating crack, and he crumpled to the ground. He fell face-first onto the unforgiving rocks. His body would twitch, but the last sliver of life drained away in an instant. You barely heard the final, choked-off words that he never got to finish. His last confession of "I love you" was stolen away by the cruel hand of fate.

Your breathing gets heavy when you remember, each intact a painful reminder of the life that still flows through your veins, even as everything else feels cold and numb. You shakily grip the case. It takes a special kind of strength, and true courage to stand up despite others bringing you down, to crush your hopes and dreams beneath the weight of their fears and insecurities.

You're not sure what you believe in anymore. That day the foundations of your world were shaken when the very ground beneath your feet shifted and crumbled, leaving you feeling lost and adrift in a sea of uncertainty before you were taken by the hand and brought up to a raft. You’ll always be grateful to Wynn. Though, all you know is that life is rather unfair, especially in the Undercity, and all you want to do is survive. Is that selfish?

Perhaps you are one of those pushovers.

You were too lost in thought when you got pushed to the side, sending you to your left, and letting go of the crate to catch your fall, gritting your teeth you look up but notice it’s those same enforcers now carrying off that vendor's supplies. The one that shoulder checks you, gives you a look, and even with its helmet on you can tell that they’re testing your reaction. You look down at your crate. It’s open and bottles–thankfully not broken–have rolled out.

Maybe you've always been that way, content to let others make the decisions, to follow the path of least resistance rather than forging your way forward. But with the aftermath of your father's lifeless body that laid before you and the weight of powerlessness bearing down on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder if there isn't more to you than that.

Maybe, deep down, buried beneath the layers of fear and self-doubt, there is a spark of courage waiting to be ignited, a flicker of determination that just needs the right circumstances to flare into life.

You carefully lift each bottle to the crate, ensuring they are securely packed. Reaching for a bottle of scotch, your hand accidentally brushes against its neighbor, sending the bottle rolling away. It clicks and clanks across the cobblestone path before disappearing into the shadows of a nearby alley.

You pause, considering whether to retrieve the wayward bottle, but the risk of Wynn ringing your neck for wasting good money has you sighing. A broke bitch during inflation is someone you don’t want to mess with. You continue to pack the remaining bottles and get back to your feet, crate in arms.

No one notices you entering the alley, with your head hanging low.

The ground is littered with discarded metal scraps, used needles, and unidentifiable substances. Peering from beneath your hood, you scan the area for any sign of the missing bottle, but your search becomes useless. Instead, you hear labored breathing and pained grunts from further down the narrow way.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene before you. The glint of gold and blue uniforms mingles with the tattered red of the man's clothing. The sight is all too familiar. The enforcers’ figures huff up and down, laughing at each other in cruel satisfaction as they rain down blows on the man. Their boots connected with sickening thuds against his bloodied body. You can’t tear your eyes away from them.

The right circumstance is all someone needs.

“Look at you, pathetic like the rest of those revolutionaries. You’re nothing but a filthy rat scurrying in the gutters and trash of refined people.” One of them coo, tilting their head at the body, you step closer.

You should move on, and let them take this man’s life if need be, so you can slip by unnoticed. It would be far more understandable than helping someone out of the kindness of your heart, but you have never felt such a surge of emotion before. The impending doom that bloomed in your gut yelling in your ear with a booming voice telling you that if you didn’t help this man you’d truly be the vermin that topside thinks you are. You can’t explain it to yourself, all your bitter-laced words and morals clashed when you heard them throwing those humiliating remarks.

The right circumstance is all she needed.

The enforcers continue to beat him. You don’t think very much, the few thoughts that pass your mind are typically about personal survival, so thinking about beating these men into a pulp like they are with your fellow scum has you dropping the crate and racing towards them. Your heart is in your ears, bile backing up in your throat, as your coat flies off you. The knife you grip sinks into the nearest Piltie. Into their exposed armor between the helmet and chest plate. An honest, lucky blow to the neck.

He yelps, stopping his assault to cradle the wound that spurts blood between his gloved fingers. He staggers away as the other enforcer finally grasps the situation. With your dagger in the side of the other guy's neck, you quickly skimmed around the alley looking for a possible weapon, you spotted the bottle but you weren’t quick enough. The intact enforcer rushed at you and slammed you against the brick wall of a building. Your head hits it roughly dazing you. Your windpipe closes up when the enforcer pushes your throat with his forearm. His metal suit cuffs dig into your skin. You're frantic now.

Shit–you didn’t think this through. Death was now a concrete possibility, and dying next to the man you tried so hard to save felt like the greatest irony. The pain shooting through your neck grew unbearable, causing tears to well up and cascade down your cheeks, despite the insults being thrown your way.

On this final night alive, you admit to yourself that you might have cared about the revolution after all. Your body was lifted off the ground, dangling up near this blue and gold-clad man. Both of your hands grip his gloves, trying to cause any damage by digging your nails into him. More tears roll. You weren’t crying because your own life was flashing before your eyes, but because you couldn’t save a symbol. A figure of hope.

The enforcer that you stabbed lays slumped against a gross dumpster, his hand weakly clawing at the stab wound in his neck. Crimson blood seeped through his armor, staining it a dark, glistening red. He twitched and spasmed as blood continued to spurt from the exposed injury. Despite everything a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. You had never taken a life before. Your gaze drifted to his neck, and realization dawned on you–your dagger was missing. As you slipped in and out of consciousness, the grip on your neck loosened.

The enforcer collapsed on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight as he sank to the ground his body took you with it. You coughed and gasped, and with a wave of nausea rising in your throat and bobbing pain around it you pushed the body off you. Looking up, you met the gaze of the man you had ‘saved’. He was huffing heavily, his eyes wide and wild mixed with shock on his pale face.

Drenched in blood, sweat, and sporting bruises all over. His long hair clings to his face, some falling out of the low ponytail. His dark red tunic under a dirty gray cut-off vest. His body quivering on the brink of exhaustion. His gaze was glossy, only fueled by the last dose of adrenaline. With a final stumble, he crumpled to the ground. The knife in hand slipped away as he fell. You stare. Watching him lay defenseless, a newfound courage stirred within you, and for once in your life you know your stance. Now not cowering and licking the boots of those higher than you. You own up to the consequences, yet you still tremble. Your chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your heightened adrenaline as the footsteps of additional enforcers echoed.

You crawl to him, lowering yourself to his chest, and pray you still hear a heartbeat, and you do, it’s faint. Now kneeling, you carefully hoist his right arm over your shoulder, providing support for him to lean on. He was heavy, but his weight wasn’t overwhelming, allowing you to walk slowly with him. It was clear that he needed medical attention, and so did you. You can feel the cold blood dripping down the back of your head and the tight, painful bruise forming around your neck. You aren’t some hero, a normal citizen in a position of life and death—you’ll never become a foundation of hope in your city like in your childhood.

And she never does.

Your experience as a kid had given you an edge, as you used to steal from stalls and run away as they tried to chase you. Now, at the age of twenty, you thank your young self for your knowledge of the best shortcuts. It comes in handy when you hide with the unconscious man by your side, evading the enforcers who finally notice their dead brothers. From around the corner, you watch a group of them trek down the main street. You make your dash to the other side, going unnoticed.

“I got you, we’re almost there” Your voice croaks, not sure if you are trying to reassure the blacked-out man or yourself, probably the latter. There's a sign, not from Janna, but from The Last Drop. Dipping into the alley next to the tavern you head around back. Your arm that is wrapped around his slim torso is drying with his blood. More blood pools on your shoulder from his broken nose. You have to prop him up on the wall to open the cellar doors, and you both descend.

Storage racks and unopened boxes flitter the basement. However, in the corner is a cot and stool. It’s the small medical area that you would use to aid people, usually, it was for small wounds like someone with a busted lip because they got into a fight in the bar.

So, with an injured rebel who hangs on your shoulder, you are well below practice. You manage to push the battered man off you and onto the cot. He slumps halfway off the bed, so you gently roll him back, carefully lifting his legs one by one to fully position him on the cot. Your hands tremble slightly as you work, the adrenaline running thin.

You run a hand over your hair, feeling the back of your skull. As you bring your hand back to your eyes, you’re met with deep red staining your fingers. Your wound hits you, and you finally grasp the pounding headache you have. You slowly sit on the stool beside the cot.

“Shit” You mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, despite your possible concussion your priority is the very wanted rebel to your left. Take a deep breath to steady yourself and assess him.

His chest heaves in sparse, and uneven breaths through his busted nose. He’s still grasping onto the little energy his body has left to give. You rub up the bridge of your nose. The gravity of harboring a wanted revolutionary is not lost on you. Though at this moment, all that matters is saving his life, and not falling over while doing it.

You lean onto your elbows while sitting, glancing at the empty bucket and washcloth, getting ready to work.

#arcane silco #silco x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #silco #arcane x you #character x reader #jinx arcane #sevika arcane #silco fanfic #til' we meet again

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bigtedbear · 4 months ago

Text

" 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐥𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it

full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot

to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

A pained scream ripped through the air.

It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck. In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat. Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.

In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin. Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy. There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was.

Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss. Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface… what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.

Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed. But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood. Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient. The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene. The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.

Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers. Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic. A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand. Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey. Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on.

When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze.

Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks.

The skin was pulled taut in another scream. Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible.

“Stop… STOP!” He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker. In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats. “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!”

Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely. An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place.

He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand.

There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor? Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony?

But no, not even in the slightest.

Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view. The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.

“Stop it, you’re hurting him!”

He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim. With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea.

In the end,

he wasn’t faced with a crew member.

...

A merman.

Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore.

It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators.

What was this one doing so far out…?

With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air. From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red. Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person.

But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.

“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!”

He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours. His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.

At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.

Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.

“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?”

The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute.

“Excuse me?”

You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net. The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.

“Mermaid scales are priceless. So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.”

His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic. “I- I-”

“You?” Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor? You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

“I-” his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma.

When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.

“I'll pay for him!"

“...”

He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?” He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it. Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”

“...”

Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least.

Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you.

The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best. In fact, it only created more problems. Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances.

Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin. If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection. After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized. Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.

Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust.

"..."

You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you. It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet. Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?

He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food… or soup. He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them.

"..."

You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss. After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body. In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.

Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell. Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.

Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you. You, for obvious reasons. The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net. Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.

Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out. Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner. After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy.

But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party.

You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape. The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder.

"..."

With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone. Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.

The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became.

Yes, you knew how to eat a fish.

Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel.

No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.

You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat. He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you…?”

‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’

Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand. Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.

He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth.

“...”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls.

You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor.

“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"

You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”

He tilted his head curiously.

“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks." You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.”

“I see.”

You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”

"..."

“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap.

“How much did you end up paying for me?” You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls. I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters. Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.”

The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh… oh my god, absolutely not!” He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest. Please, just rest well and remain healthy. That would be the best payment.”

“What’s this?”

He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers.

“It’s a pearl.”

He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look. “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”

You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.”

He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?”

You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.”

He cocked his head to the side, “You… made a pearl?”

You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”

He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you. “No… I’m afraid I didn’t know.” His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?”

“...hm?”

He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?”

You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”

He frowned, “I… have?”

‘-and I didn’t notice?’

You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit. "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.”

His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them…? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?”

You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium. “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.”

‘Ah… so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’

But then it hit him.

“Why were you crying?”

You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command. We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.”

He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist. He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.”

You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it. There’s no use trying to return it.”

“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot. “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.”

“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.” You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.

“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition. It is quite literally my job. If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.”

You huffed, “Well, I guess you caught me.”

His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.”

“...”

This time, he sighed. “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless. I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner. You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.”

“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.

“But I am,” you cut him off. “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money. Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you. I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”

The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again. He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing. I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.”

You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow. You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.” You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”

Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”

But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me. You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”

“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again. I refuse to even think about it.”

“..."

Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself. I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.” He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now, I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.” He pushed the pearl back into your hands. “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?”

“It’s not exactly how I remember it.”

You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.

“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable. You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub. “It’s… cold.”

Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand. “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”

You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.”

“...”

It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha. Things got… less tense between the two of you.

You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin. You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage. You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub. Mostly, you’d nap. But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping.

Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards. You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.

You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.

You opened up more and more about your life down below. Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information. Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy. But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he?

“...”

Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck. As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away.

You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue. Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home.

Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all. “You can let go now.”

Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago. You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.

You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end.

Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.

It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.

In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you.

“...”

You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity. You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices. Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much.

That didn't make it any easier.

“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?”

He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”

You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not.

You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.

His eyes widened.

“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”

Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.

“Well? You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.” You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.”

He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers. He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage.

It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.

Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled.

“...”

“Did... your mother like jewelry?”

You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.”

Luocha nodded. “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?”

At this, you paused. “I mean… I guess she did. She wore a lot of rings… why?”

“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off, “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”

You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red. “You… you know what you’re offering me, r-right?”

He didn’t respond in the way you expected. Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand. The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.

It felt like your brain was melting.

‘Is he… flirting with me?’

You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand.

When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder. He framed the golden hoop with his palm. Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?”

‘...’

‘He’s definitely flirting.’

You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm.

‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’

Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.

‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’

“[name]?”

You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal. “Sorry, sorry.”

He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again. “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.”

You nodded.

“...”

The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle.

“...[name]?”

You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand. “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.”

He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would…” he paused. He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?”

You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands. “You have to promise to visit me a lot. It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.”

He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink.

“You promise?”

He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his. “I promise I’ll visit.”

a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)

Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something

“What’s got you so worked up?”

“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.”

Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!” He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up. “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets. I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?”

You frowned, “I’m not that old.”

Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces. “You’re old to me.”

Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted. For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him. “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.”

The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?”

You bit your lip.

I mean, yes, you were married.

But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first.

Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom. He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery.

In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different.

Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you. “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!”

“I-”

“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma. “What do they look like? Do I know them?” He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!”

You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!”

“...”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.”

You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.

He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!”

“Right about what?”

Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age. “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.”

He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.” You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out. “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.” He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”

“HAH!”

Your ears fluttered in irritation. “That’s a horrible guess.”

Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time. If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.”

Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.”

“...”

“...’

“...”

“You WHAT?!”

Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-”

“It’s a long story-” You started,

“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror. “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-” You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!”

“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.

“So it’s a him…” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin. His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head. “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!”

“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!”

You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact. “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys. Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?”

Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms. “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!”

Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below. “I think I’m going to faint.”

You sighed, “Well-”

Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like? What pod is he even from?!”

“He’s not from a pod-”

Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?”

Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.”

Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod? He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.”

Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.”

You shook your head, “He’s a human.”

“...”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re joking…”

You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger.

“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.”

Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!”

You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top. “He’s… a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship. He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.”

Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.”

Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?”

“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-”

“YOU made the first move?!”

“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”

“...go on.”

You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears. You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.”

Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly. “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!”

Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.”

You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.”

“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”

“Touche.”

“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.”

Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side.

You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular. “You’re one to talk.”

He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.” He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around.

I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better. Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him. Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.

You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him. From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something. He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him. He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk. Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value!

Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him.

Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden. Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him. For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released. Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much.

Even worse when the physical affection began. It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing. It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him. Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.

He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest?

Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg. He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate. Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.

Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat. He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.

You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach. Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own. The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment.

“...”

You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck. As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with. Each and every one, he could put a time and day to.

But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger.

“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”

“...hm?”

You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow. His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.

“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand. “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.”

His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.” He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring…” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him. He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom. “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.”

You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.

He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like…

…a replica of your mother’s earrings.

He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement.

Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers.

“...”

“...Well? Do you like it?”

You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing. Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.

“I like it.”

He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.”

“...”

“She would’ve loved to meet you.”

“Hm?”

You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring. “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.”

Luocha blinked.

“Pardon?”

You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.”

“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”

“...

…Did you not know?”

Luocha blinked.

“We’re married.”

Another blink.

“You… Is that why…?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand. He looked back towards his own bag of gifts.

‘Oh for crying out loud-’

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have… entered this marriage under false pretenses.” He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”

You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water. When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you. When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.”

He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically.

Okay, so he accidentally got married.

What the fuck.

The train of thought seemed to end there.

…

He was, however, plagued with another train of thought.

‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’

…

Those thoughts were not helping.

“...”

“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”

“NO!”

Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth. “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.”

Your brows furrowed.

“...”

“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”

The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment. “I-”

You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face, “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.”

Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity. “Well…”

You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.

Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.

“Close your eyes.”

You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after.

Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.

He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he…

…planted an innocent peck on your lips.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "

first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!

yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"

that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????

i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad

you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((

i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)

shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this

if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut

- love, operator t-19

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