Inspired by this post by @noxspluto because I saw it and immediately had to get this little like 500 ish word vomit out
Also. Here’s my masterlist if you’re so inclined
“ the hell you doin out here? Back inside it’s freezin” Arthur used as a greeting, grumbling but with no real malice in his words, as you appeared by his side at the campfire. You were used to his grumpy tone, but he always had a soft spot for you.
“ makin’ sure you ain’t froze to death “ you said softly, rubbing at your arms as you joined him by the fire. It was Arthur’s turn on watch and he’d been out there a good couple of hours now “ and I can’t listen to Abigail and John argue for a second longer “ you sighed. At least in their old camps you could get away from their squabbles. But with everyone all squished into one cabin it was impossible now.
You’d rather take the cold outside with Arthur. You pulled your thick shawl tighter around yourself and held your hands out to the flames, you’d only been out there a few minutes and already you felt like ice. And he’d been out there hours. So you’d suck it up.
“ c’mere “ he grumbled and unbuttoned his coat, a gentle hand on your arm tugging you into the welcoming warmth of the thick material. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your head to his chest, a soft sigh leaving your chapped lips. He wrapped the coat tightly around you, his arms following suit and holding you close. He was like a walking oven, his body heat seeping through the thick wool of your shawl and chasing the chill away. “ better?”
“ mhm. Thank you sugar “ you sighed and let yourself relax a little more in his hold, taking in his familiar scent. The comforting feel of his sturdy body in your embrace. Always strong for you. Always a rock when things got rough “ we’re gonna be alright. Ain’t we Arthur?” You asked softly after a few moments. The last few days had been hellish. You’d liked Blackwater. You’d liked the camp. The town. And it wasn’t covered in inches of snow which really made it a favorite at the current moment.
“ course we are. Dutch has a plan “ Dutch always had a plan. But you don’t want to get into that conversation right now. So you simply nodded and let out another shaky exhale, a puff of fog as you did “ and y’know I always keep you safe darlin’ I won’t let nothin’ bad happen to ya. Ever “
He did. Always. You’d been the first person he grabbed at the Blackwater camp after everything went crazy, not letting you out of his sight for a second like he was scared you’d get left behind somehow. He’d never allow that. He’d move heaven and earth to keep you safe. Set the dark world ablaze to keep you warm. Nothing would ever get in the way of Arthur keeping you safe.
“ I know “ you tipped your head to look up at him with a soft smile and he leant down pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your turned away as he did with a small laugh
“ what’s got you giggling’ now?”
“ you got lips like damn ice Arthur!” He chuckled at that and simply did it again, pressing his cold chapped lips against your forehead.
“ oh I do? I do?” He asked as he held you tightly and kept pressing his frozen lips to your forehead, your nose, your cheek. Wherever he could reach as you giggled and squirmed in his embrace
“ Arthur!” Your cheeks ached from smiling for the first time since leaving Blackwater, and Arthur’s chuckles alone were enough to ease your worries. Because as long you had him maybe everything would be okay.
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1923 Spencer Dutton x f! mermaid reader. ( No use of Y/N. Can also be red as unnamed original character. )
Mentions of blood, open wounds.
Authors note: I haven't written in years so bare with me I'm quite rusty. But! This piece was inspired by this audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUr6soGZKDE&pp=ygUMcGViYmxlcyBhc21y and it's Halloween and I like mermaids so I'd like to think it's meant to be! Hope you enjoy it!
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With the tides mellow, the breeze cool and the stars glittering in the sky. Spencer for once allowed himself to be at ease. His tired eyes gazed to the stars with a mindless wonder. Surprised at the sudden silence of his often raging mind. He took a breath.
Looking at the small rocky island his lighthouse stood upon, with a soft grin he watched his dog Odis venture to the small sand patches, keeping the large dog in his sight as he continued prepping his dinner, mixing the sorry excuse for porridge mash vigorously with a curse. " Damnit' too watery... " He muttered, he took the box of dried porridge and poured it into the bowl, he continued mixing before ultimately hanging his head in defeat. " Too fuckin' thick..." He scoffs, shaking his head.
" Y'know Odis, 'm starting to think -" He calls out, that's when he then notices that Odis wasn't at the sand patch. He turned his head, nor was he on the smaller grass patch. " Odis?" He calls out, waiting a spell to hear any sounds of him... Nothing. Something's not right. "Odis! C'mon kid lets eat!" Spencer called out again, grabbing his dogs food bowl and pouring the sorry excuse for porridge into his bowl. Noticing that his dog still hasn't come to him, he places the bowl down to the table with a roll of his eyes, so he calls his name out again. A series of whistles, and again nothing. "Odis! What did you get yourself-" The abrupt, low, and harsh barking halted him. The hairs of his neck stood up as he snatched the kitchen knife from the table.
With an aggressive shout of his dog's name, his heart pounding against his ears at the sudden ambivalent nature of the nighttime, he followed his dog loud barking and snarling, rushing over rocks and uneven terrain he finally made it around the large boulder to the rocky shore, there. In the dim light he could see his dog Odis barking and nipping towards a mass thrown against the rocks.
With an eerie squint in his eyes, he carefully steps closer, A fish? No... He continues to step closer, A shark? "No.. It couldn't be..." He whispered, he stood silently. Letting Odis sniff the unidentified mass before he began to whimper, nudging and nipping at the supposedly dead animal. With a few steps closer, he snapped for Odis to move aside. Odis wouldn't budge. " Odis- son move." Dejected by his dogs lack of manners he looked over the large mastiff. "Oh no..." He drops his kitchen knife to the void of the rocks to hurriedly crawl over the sharp rocks. Finally reaching the two with a grunt he looks to the body with sorrowful eyes, followed by a slight shake of his head. Lord have mercy, I didn't think I'd have to see another dead body..
He kneels beside the body with a furrow of his brows, Odis relentless as he nudges the poor body's head with a pleading whimper. " Boy relax, ain't nothin' we can do." With those words Odis went into a frenzy, he continues to nip and nudge the body, he watched Odis as he dog scurried from nudging the body, to scratching and pawing at this large rock. Taking a closer step with a whispered curse he looks to her leg trapped between the cracks of the sharp boulders, he's in debates in his mind... Is this even worth it?
With a final harsh nudge from Odis, the body cries out. Weakly moaning in pain, Spencer's head snapped as Odis licked the poor girl's face, bruised and painted with cuts from the rocks, it's not until then he finally registers what exactly he's doing. Or exactly who he's helping.
"How the hell did you get here girl?" He spat, carefully twisting and adjusting her battered and bruised foot to try and ease it from the cracks, goosebumps littered his skin with every whimper and cry she let out. In a sorry attempt to adjust her body, he calls out to her again. " Don't move yet you hear me? You're almost out." He continued focusing on the task while Odis licked and nudged her head and chest, almost saddened for the girl as she weakly patted the dog.
With a few shifts and twists, her leg was finally free from the cracks, he looked to the foot as best he could. " Gotta take you up the lighthouse, can't see too well to help you-" The leg was snatched from his grasp, looking up he finally meets her eyes. And oh boy was he locked in. The pure horror painting her features felt guttural, in a sorry attempt to try and shuffle away he stepped closer, holding his free hand out to her. "No no no- wait now just hol' on!" He called out, she was weak, and taking what was left of adrenaline she had she grabbed a rock. " Hey now- "
With a pained grunt, she threw the rock, only tapping his shoulder with a pathetic pat before falling to the wet stones. Deep down he was amused by the attempt, poor thing. He thought he crawled his way over to her, kneeling beside her as his eyes gazed over her nude body. "Ma'am.. Ma'am what happened to you?" He asked, observing the damage done to her body he finally looked to her face. Her lip busted, minor cuts and abrasions here and there but no signs of horrible damage compared to her foot, he leans in closer, her eyes bored into his own. Petrified, she's purely petrified. He could see the tiredness in her eyes. "Ma'am hey-" She was losing it, fighting fatigue he puts a rather harsh pat to the side of her face, with a moan she fought the sleep before ultimately falling limp in his arms, Odis licking and nudging her again wasn't working. Spencer looks to his dog with a huff.
"Do we have to?" Guidance... I'm asking for guidance from a dog. Spencer couldn't believe it, Odis then licked his hand which helped the girl ultimately make the decision, with a grunt. Spencer sweeps her up into his arms. " 'm trusting you with this one Odis.." And with that, he carefully steps his way towards the flatter side of the lighthouse, girl in arms. Dog in tow.
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The once calm evening now a semi-hectic night surely ruffled Spencer's normal routine of shitty gruel for a meal, a good book his beer, and falling asleep with his dog Odis. It's now turned into a scavenger hunt for what he felt was a nonexistent first aid kit for a naked woman found on the shore. He's scrambling, something there has to be something. He moves the heavy box to the side before opening it, with a rusty creek. Spencer cringed at the family of dust bunnies and spiders residing in the sadly preserved first aid kit.
He looks to the contents, at least at ease with the full box, and he takes it back up the stairs. His footsteps echoed as he reached the top of the tower, where he saw his dog Odis. Tail wagging and resting his large head upon the girls lap, she petted him weakly, shivering and lethargic. She slowly blinks as she looks to Odis with some odd sense of wonder, once hearing his footsteps her tired eyes looks to Spencer. Defeat, she's utterly defeated. He makes his way over.
" 'lright ma'am, I need to take a look at that foot alright? Then we can get you to bed. " His low voice echoed the room as she looks to Spencer, he couldn't quite read what she could be thinking. She's fuckin' weird.. He thought, shrugging his shoulders he bents down to one knee, taking the bandages from the box. " So.. What's your name ma'am? " He asks softly, taking the cleaning solution into his hands, after a few seconds of silence he looks up to her. She's just staring at him, he continues to wait.. And nothing, " Ma'am?" He asks again, still. Nothing, annoyed he continues to tend to her wound. " Fuckin' weird.." He whispers under his breath, he then pours the wound cleaning solution to her wound, jumping at the sudden cries coming from her. " What's your problem!?" He yells out, suddenly the smell was rancid... No, not rancid. Burning? He looks to her leg, he almost gagged at the sight of the wound expanding with a sizzling hiss, he holds her leg in place.
" 'm sorry- I'm sorry!" He huffs frantically, he takes the bottle of water from the desk side and flushes out her wound, the sizzling then fading. Her once was a scrape now turned into a burn, her flesh scorned with splotches of blood, god he felt terrible. But he couldn’t help but question this iridescent glitter onto her wet skin, he speaks;" I'm so sorry. " He speaks softly, slightly defeated himself he holds her leg into his hands, he softens his grip, carefully patting away the excess water and blood from her wound. " Y'know, you still didn't tell me how you ended up here." He speaks, attempting to lighten the mood as he takes a clean gauze, to place upon her wound.
" Still nothin' huh?" He huffs lightly, astonished by the silence as he continues to wrap her leg. " Could you at least tell me your name? " Curiosities just taking the best of him, just mindlessly asking questions as he rewraps her leg, correcting his mistake. But what he wasn't prepared for was to hear her weak, small but kind voice say her name. His brows raised at the melodious sound of her saddened voice, he looks to her again. Eyes wide in shock as she swallows. " That... That is my name." Her accent was foreign, though understandable. She looked to Spencer with still the tinge of fear, her body lightly less tense.
"Spencer... " He speaks softly, mindlessly letting go of her leg. He continues to study her face. " How'd... How'd you get here? Why'd you end up like this?" He adjusts himself slowly to comfortably sit on the ground beside her, she slowly with a small whimper of pain adjusted to hold herself, her knees tucked to her chest. " He does not want me... He banished me from my home. " He hummed, nodding his head lightly as he listened to her limited words.
" But... How? Where did you come from? " She fell silent, looking away from Spencer with shame and a tense tinge of her shoulders. " Ma'am..." He calls for her, he carefully takes her face into his hand. Moving her head to face him ever so softly. She leaned into the warmth of his hand, is.. Is she melting into my hands of all things?
" Please tell me, I need to help you." He asks, almost pleading for an answer, with a small sigh she relaxes to his touch. He felt her weight now resting fully on his touch, and he sighed. He scoops the girl into his arms once more, he studies her. What are you...
Owls confirmed to be the creepiest birds ever. LOOK AT THE FUCKING THINGS. If you fail to notice the one on the left fucking SWALLOWING a rat, then you have the dude singing some satanic chant or something next to him, and then you have those two other fucking psychos synchronized to make you feel creeped the fuck out with their soulless dance of FUCKING DOOM.
I really am tempted to reblog this every time it’s on my dash. That description is one of the best things on the internet.
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I will never understand girls who throw their bras at guys on stage those things are fucking expensive and he has no use for it like what do you want him to do pass it down to his first born daughter
It’s something I’ve noticed over the past two years of using this site. It was gradual, imperceptible at first, something that most would brush off as a silly concern, or fault Tumblr algorithm for. While it’s true that Tumblr’s engine leaves a lot to be desired, I’ve noticed that even popular blogs have started to dwindle in terms of interaction or motivation. There could be a lot of reasons for this, but the biggest two I’ve noticed, experienced myself, and asked fellow writers about is this: (1) content being stolen, and (2) lack of feedback or interaction. I’ve never seen any logical person defend content being stolen, so I want to address point 2 instead.
Lack of feedback and interaction. I’m not saying this on my behalf so much as I’m saying this for friends and smaller blogs who have lost motivation to write. I was looking at my yandere writing blogs list the other day and noticed that a good majority of them no longer write. I usually update the list every few months, and by that point, more and more writers have stopped writing entirely. This isn’t a problem confined solely to the yandere fandom; in fact, there’s less writing blogs in general these days, especially ones that are active. I used to run a very popular BNHA blog with some friends, but that dissolved after our content was stolen and our followers stopped interacting as much. Out of our 8,500 followers, we hardly got 0.015% notes (~128 notes) on an average post. Tumblr is to blame for the lack of eyes seeing our posts, for sure, but that also means that at least 128 people saw one post and didn’t leave a comment or ask. We were considered a big blog; imagine what it’s like on a small blog.
My friend recently made a post that summed this up perfectly:
“I’ve seen people say “Be grateful that people even lurk on your page.” and, while I get the message they’re trying to say, it’s more dismissive and hurtful in my opinion. Like you’re saying, “Oh your writing is mediocre, you should be grateful people even LOOK at it.”
Me personally? I’ve heard the argument that AO3 is a better place to post fanfics, and while that might be true, I’ve had friends experience firsthand the lack of interaction there too. I’ve heard the argument that interacting with some writers is intimidating (me included). I’ve heard that argument that followers might be too shy to interact. I’ve heard the argument that writers should write for themselves and not for views / likes / reblogs / etc, and while that’s ideal, it’s not sustainable for everyone. What works for one writer won’t work for another, but you know what will? Interaction.
That comment or ask that took you 2 seconds to write? We remember it. That reblog with the compliments in the tags? We remember it. Every single ‘named’ anon we get (heart anon, sunflower anon, etc)? We remember them. And the best part is? It’s actually easier to do these things on Tumblr since you have the option to send anonymous asks or make a sideblog specifically for reblogs! Trust me, whether the lack of interaction is the cause of a lack of motivation or what have you, every writer appreciates feedback (don’t be shy to offer some critique or compliments) or even a simple keyboard smash with some emojis. Even sitting down for 5 min a day per week to comment on your favorite writers’ new pieces makes a huge difference. Personally, since Tumblr’s activity feed is beyond terrible and I have over 1,500 posts, I don’t always see new reblogs or comments on my content; asks though? Always see those, can never go wrong with those. If you don’t want to reblog or leave a comment, then you can never go wrong with an anonymous ask.
As my wise friend says: writing is an art, and in order to improve that art, we need other people’s eyes to see what we don’t.
For the sake of every writer (past, present, and future) on this platform, please share this post.
What we supposed to do we are black, we are happy, we like all types of men and if we want to read about those men and actually feel represented why is that a problem? I’ve been on tons of reading sites for years and it ridiculous that I have to say that yeah I’m still under representated but this feels like the golden age of representation in the books I read. That’s only been in the last 3-5 years & if you don’t like it oh well this community isn’t made for you it’s made for us to feel like we have a place when the world says we don’t.
Bellow are some my favorite POC/Black Reader writers on tumblr check them out they are all amazing! 💛
Ma'am flood it please, these bitches are out here pressed by diversity/representation.
Adding @lovlisumiwrites on here because girl! She's blessing the tag with her stuff too! Also adding @thetaoofzoe and @laketaj24 because they are phenomenal writers who include black women in their visions ❤️
Ohhh can’t take the heat 😂😂 honey you don’t know who or what Chris Really done fucked/dated. I hope he marry a melanated queen lmao matter fact imma write that for yah 😂😂😂 these chicks are out here pressed 😂😂🤣😂
@chaneajoyyy I know you got a whole master list full of them!! @honeychicanawrites @royallyprincesslilly @bakarilennox @stars8melanin @dashhoney25 @xxdearlybeloved @imgoldielikehawn @liquorlaughslove soooo many more
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‘Race and racism is a reality that so many of us grow up learning to just deal with. But if we ever hope to move past it, it can’t just be on people of color to deal with it. It’s up to all of us – Black, white, everyone – no matter how well-meaning we think we might be, to do the honest, uncomfortable work of rooting it out. It starts with self-examination and listening to those whose lives are different from our own. It ends with justice, compassion, and empathy that manifests in our lives and on our streets.’ — Michelle Obama
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*You don’t need to donate to change.org, donate directly to the families. Also if there’s a problem with a petition, please dm me instead of reblogging so I can fix it faster. *
