redcoralpot

[redcoralpot]

🚨 Urgent Appeal: Do Not Scroll Past This! 🚨

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I’m begging you—please, do not scroll past this post. Mohammed, his family, and his young niece are in a desperate situation, and they need our help urgently.

The airstrike that shattered their lives has claimed the lives of everyone in his niece's family—leaving her completely alone. They have lost everything: their loved ones, their home, and their sense of security. 😢💔

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[redcoralpot]

“I won’t write x male reader”

Ok fine, I will.

[redcoralpot]

Hi may I request something like twd (any character) and a ghost reader who is like haunting them just for fun.. reader is sort of mysterious and cryptic but overall he just wants to mess with them :3 Idk how it would work but I couldn’t get rid of the idea in my head

Harmless Pranks, Little Thoughts

Daryl Dixon x Ghost!M Reader

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Summary: You are quite the formidable ghost from your years behind a desk, however, you find that the afterlife gets boring rather quickly. When you stumble across a man in the forest, struggling to survive, how can you resist a little harmless fun?

Warnings: Animal death, canon typical violence, and implied death.

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: Long time no see!

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Earth is quite ugly these days. The cracked asphalt was steaming underneath your feet, but you simply sighed, walking alongside broken down cars. Some had weeds curling around their tires, holding them in place. Nature had long overtaken civilization by the ten year mark of humanity’s extinction event. Any survivors had scattered, chased away by slow, blubbering undead. 

Said creatures weren’t hard to relax among once the odor stopped bothering you. Strange, how one of the only senses that stayed with you was smell. They only had mind for the living, no discrimination as long as it had flesh and blood for their teeth to rip to pieces. Otherwise, they just… existed as eyesores. You squinted at a rather unfortunate one, trapped by a seatbelt, doomed to scratch at air until a merciful survivor put it out of its misery. It gnashed its teeth, its jaw uncomfortably visible against gaunt skin. A few steps further and you were met with the edge of a forest, closer than you remembered. The grass didn’t sink when you breached the treeline, nor did sticks prick your arms, and you whistled as loud as your lips would let you.

You brushed your fingers against the bark of trees, seeing the ridges rippled underneath them. Sometimes, if you focused enough, you could almost feel how it would have been if you were alive again. There were some scratches, naturally put and then those which seemed too precise. A bear couldn’t knick away the outer layer to access inside it, straight lines cutting windows in pine. Leaves had been crushed underfoot, meticulous, pressed into the grooves of a boot sole. This only gave you a matter of seconds to flinch back as a breeze whisked past your face– metal glinted in the sun, sharp and sleek. You could practically feel its feathered end tickling your nose. Then, it was gone as quick as it came, hitting its mark with a squeak!

A gruff voice grumbled, “Hello, dinner.”

Years of floating around hadn’t gotten rid of your instincts– hell, you had seen one too many survivors suffer gory deaths to play around. You ducked behind the vandalized pine, watching as a squirrel landed on the dirt, the arrow piercing straight through its eye. Footsteps approached and a hairy, uniquely human hand grasped the corpse. The smell of sweat, blood, and dirt filled your nose; fitting for a survivor. In this world, you supposed you couldn’t judge. Shoulder-length brown hair framed hardened yet passionate eyes, with gray peppering the stubble on his chin. Old for a survivor but still alive and kicking, you noted. 

The man gently pulled the arrow out of his target, blood dripping in crimson rivers as he placed it back in his quiver, reaching down to tie the squirrel to his leather bag. Another, equally sized rodent shared the same fate. Its fur blew in the wind, dull; a simple decoration on a cold corpse. He lifted his crossbow easily, taking his view to the sky above, searching for a new target. 

Thus, an idea sparked in your mind; unexpected and brilliant in the moment. Mischievous, sure, but when have you ever been opposed to some fun? If anything, being nothing but floating air piqued such interests by thousands. It took energy to physically manifest yourself– kind of like working out. The more you did it, the easier it got, you told yourself. Your eyebrows scrunched and your stomach clenched as you stomped your foot down with a crack, splitting a runt of a stick in half. Despite its size, the noise echoed throughout the atmosphere, bouncing off of rocks until it dissipated. 

The aftereffects were immediate, dizziness slamming into you like a freight train. You tried to lean on the tree for support, but you were as solid as smoke, and the wood simply phased through your body. The man whipped his attention towards you, crossbow pointed, but no amount of arrows could get rid of you. Perhaps, that is what started your obsession with Daryl, when you looked back on it. A man that only protruded sharp edges and weight on his back, yet had survived with the burden for so long. You looked down at your dress shirt, bloody, ruined from when a customer had lunged for your neck. It still had your name pinned to the black tie.

 -

 Carol slammed the door shut behind Daryl, crossing her arms in the most private space they could have in the settlement, “Something’s been up with you lately, Daryl.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me,” he said, shrugging, but his tone held no annoyance.

You floated through the door, watching as a shiver went up Carol’s spine at your passing. She shifted her weight and continued, “I’ve just noticed you’ve been jumpy, that’s all. You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?”

That bothersome thing, you knew, was obvious. Harmless pranks, some basic and some ingenious, but none that ever harmed the man. Not anything that did more than attract a lone walker, which is what you learned survivors called them now, at any rate. Hiding an arrow, Dog’s toy– why is a dog’s name Dog, anyway– or knocking on the walls occasionally. Sure, Daryl was jumpy, who wouldn’t be in a world like this? However, over time, he got accustomed to your antics, so much so that he did not react to them nearly as satisfying as previously. You had to go bigger, better, each time. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” 

“There’s only one in a million things that can scare you these days.”

Mhm, that’s right. You are– were– a one in a million office worker; the sentiment was baffling. If only your boss thought the same, you chuckled.

However, what was once a likely source of pride for the arrogant prick lost in the winds of time… now only cast deep shadows underneath Daryl’s eyes as the man glanced at his feet. His face had permanent wrinkles where his eyebrows touched his nose, ingrained like inked tattoos on his skin. 

It was then, in the swirl of conflicting emotions painting Daryl’s face, that your fingers twitched. It was then, past Carol’s careful exit, that you yearned. Such a strong instinct, akin to fear and overtaking greed, gripped you. Your surroundings felt less dim and you felt more alive than you have in the many, many years prior. For the first time, you had the urge to clasp his cheeks and to comfort the man whom you suspected rarely ever felt a gentle touch. Not to prank, not to scare, not to dance around like a jester for eternity– the desire melted your body like chocolate. As the air gave way to your ghostly form, parting under your fingertips, you realized that the Earth was a little less ugly with Daryl in it.

- 

@cannabrisano @dxrkymxrchy @bedshrooms

Want to be tagged?

[redcoralpot]

'there are no real men anymore. men nowadays are all too feminine, they even look and act like women' where are all these feminine men. where. can you pinpoint them on a map for me. please. can you direct me to them. im begging you. please. please please please pl

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dear writers who are slower/take more time with their writing or writers who are on hiatus or writers who are trying to find their voice again, i see you and i love you and you are valid

[redcoralpot]

I'm cooking y'all I am

[redcoralpot]

universe send him my way please

[redcoralpot]

And if I open requests for Shameless.... what then?

[redcoralpot]

Smudged (6) Rodrick Heffley x FTM! Reader

Summary: You fulfill your promise to Daniel, but Rodrick insists on coming along.

Warning: Talk of knives

Word Count: 1.1K

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Crickets hummed a tune as you turned your headlight on, gripping your camera as if a bear would rip it from your hands at any moment. Daniel leaned against the hood of your car, flipping through pages in his binder, exchanging a few words with Rodrick. They were cautiously neutral, you noticed, despite Rodrick’s typical behavior. He was nosy and in Daniel’s personal space, trying to peer over his shoulder with a smug grin. You shined your light in his face, and he backed down with a hiss, “Are we gonna get started or just wait for the vandalism to come to us?”

“I’m pretty much ready, you?” Daniel responded.

You huffed, leaves crunching underfoot as you moved away from the car, “You already know my answer.”

“Dangerous, blah, blah, blah, squatters–”

“C’mon, don’t be a pussy,” Rodrick patted your back, pushing you onwards, “this is tame shit.”

“You wouldn’t know tame shit if it was right under your nose!”

Shaking your head, you kicked rocks off of the overgrown trail. The moon was high and the cool summer air kissed your cheeks with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. Fog whispered amongst the bushes, sticking close to the ground, swirling around your shoes. You could feel the warmth of the other two lights on the back of your neck, forcing you to adjust your collar in order to escape it. Owls stared down from their nocturnal perches; there was no privacy in the woods. 

You scanned each and every piece of bark you could find, even stooping to check fallen logs. There were plenty of grooves, but none were short of natural, and you were cut off by Daniel. He put his hand on your shoulder, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “So, I have an idea– hear me out.”

When you nodded, he continued, “We’ll get clearer pictures if we focus only on smoother trees. Like, beech and musclewood and… stuff.”

That’s all Daniel managed before a body pushed between the two of you, proud and arrogant. Daniel shot him a glare, but Rodrick returned it with just as much venom, “Muscles? Yeah, I got plenty of those!”

One look at his stick arms and you burst out laughing, “Dude, seriously?”

“What?”

“Do you even know what we’re talking about? Look around you.” You threw your arms outward, embracing the scenery, “Trees! Trees, trees, and more trees!”

Daniel noted, snickering as he watched Rodrick’s mouth twitch, “Wood. Vandalized wood that we need to find. Preferably before my ass gets frostbite.” 

“It’s not even that cold out,” Rodrick scoffed.

You backed away as they argued back and forth, their voices fading ever so slightly. Yeah, real tough decision from the guy who was insistent on caution, but what could you do? Honestly, it was your fault for bringing two clashing personalities. Now, none of you were getting work done which, as Daniel stated, you preferred to finish swiftly. Your leather jacket had gained at least a few more signs of wear and tear since you started, scraping against trees that were a little too close to the trail. The bark of a tree lit up, bleached pale by your headlight, without many grooves to make shadows. On its surface were two initials surrounded by a heart; K+A, carved for eternity. Or, at least until the tree grew its skin back. Which, according to Daniel, wouldn’t be for years. He wasn’t shy about rambling tree facts to you after the projects were announced.

Taking a step forward, you raised your camera. Snap! Brushing your fingers over it and peering at it closer, it seemed less… fresh than you had initially thought. Certainly not from some lovesick high schoolers that ran off for some private time. Carved with a serrated pocket knife, the letters were lopsided and jagged, but medium-sized. Looking over your shoulder, you called out, “Hey, I found something!”

The two boys snapped out of their quarrel, with Daniel fumbling to get his camera out of his pocket. You grinned, tracing the letters with your thumb, pointing out the obvious, “See? It’s not hopeless.”

“Sure, but I need a few more or I’ll lose ten points for lack of visuals,” he sighed, snapping his own picture. 

“Couldn’t you just fill it in with graphs or some crap?”

Daniel shrugged, “Not according to the rubric. If there’s something here, then chances are there’s bound to be another one up ahead, right?”

“Worth a shot.”

You pushed Rodrick ahead, keeping yourself to the back of the line and flipping through the camera roll. It was mostly just Daniel with his family, or flowers, or– okay, he looked super nerdy there– his first day at work. Glancing up to compare the awkward dude in front of you to the acne-prone fourteen year old in the photo, it was pretty believable. A branch smacked your shoulder and you jumped, glaring at Rodrick when you heard a snicker escape his mouth. What an asshole. 

Trees started getting more and more scarce, and soon, none were present. A small clearing emerged in front of your group, opening up to an idle road in the distance. You heard Daniel sigh and Rodrick grumble, so you glanced over their heads to witness what was probably the most annoying thing that night. Lines marked the packed dirt, a few benches beside them, and inside was a parked car that was too familiar for your liking. 

“So this was rad and all but,” Rodrick chuckled, “you two are shit navigators.”

Daniel scoffed, and you circled around to your car, “Like you’re any better.”

Rodrick mocked his mouth with his hands, “Chit-chat.”

His demeanor was cool, relaxed, and smug. Otherwise, Rodrick looked nothing short of a mess. Your eyes traced down his figure, landing on his legs, where a dark brown bruise made itself known. You squinted, “Uh, man, what’d you hit your left leg on?”

“Huh?” His shoulders stiffened as he looked at his right leg.

“My left.”

You watched in slow motion as his face changed; Rodrick’s lips parted to show tightly shut teeth, his eyebrows raised, and he jumped in the air. He shook his leg repeatedly, yanking on your jacket to keep himself balanced. The not-bruise got flung in the air, landing on your car and shuffling into the wheel, as you stumbled backward. Finally, Rodrick screeched, high-pitched and girly. 

Your ears were left ringing after, “Ow– dude, what the fuck? Get off!”

He didn’t, only gripping onto you with more strength. You could feel the fabric of your jacket straining against his fists, but before you could say anything more, Daniel interrupted, “Wow, I didn’t know Rodrick was scared of spiders.”

“I am not!”

You tugged him off by his own shirt, opening the car door, “C’mon, guys. Let’s quit it for the night.”

-

[redcoralpot]

i got out of the theater 5 hours ago and i'm still sitting here thinking about i saw the tv glow like the entire concept of a horror movie that's not truly a horror movie until the very last scene. the concept of a horror movie where the horror is not a literal monster or a monster as metaphor for the self the horror is literally just the self and the damage done to oneself when you refuse a fundamental part of your identity. and how part of the horror isn't just the damage done to yourself but also to the people who can relate to you and who love and want to help you. but also that little glimmer of hope in "there is still time" because even just looking into the heart of yourself in the mirror is a step forward, even if you take two steps back immediately after. like the horror in hope and the hope in horror and how the whole reason horror is even a thing is because of the existence of hope (and its failure) god this movie is SO good i need to watch it again immediately.

[redcoralpot]

Masterlist (Remade!!):

The Walking Dead:

Acula - Daryl Dixon x M! Reader

Poker Face - Glenn Rhee x M! Reader (18+)

Dead Man Walking - Daryl Dixon x Walker M! Reader

Acula (2) - Daryl Dixon x M! Reader

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM! Reader

Isulari - Daryl Dixon x M! Reader (Drabble)

Left to my Own Devices - Glenn Rhee x M! Reader

Sally Face:

Before the Wave Hits - Sal Fisher x Scarred M! Reader

Spider-Man:

Crack Me Down - Peter Parker (TASM2) x FTM! Reader (18+)

Diary of a Wimpy Kid:

Smudged - Rodrick Heffley x FTM! Reader

Five Nights at Freddy's:

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader (18+)

Sub! William Afton Thoughts

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt x Cowboy M! Reader (18+)

SCREAM:

Eleganti - Stuilly x FTM! Reader

Ruined Man - Stu Macher x M! Reader (18+)

Stuilly Thoughts (18+)

[redcoralpot]

Does anyone else genuinely listen to lofi while writing or is it just me and tiktokers who only do it for aesthetic livestreams

[redcoralpot]

Approx. 250 words for this chapter and 500 for another WIP I'm working on. It's not a lot but I think it's a good start!

I've started the next chapter of Smudged

[redcoralpot]

I've started the next chapter of Smudged

[redcoralpot]

[redcoralpot]

this year while we all celebrate pride month and celebrate ourselves as well as those who came before us and paved the way for us to do so, we must also think of those in gaza, queer or not, who live every day under a brutal occupation and don’t have that same privilege. happy pride, and may we see a free palestine in this lifetime.

[redcoralpot]

do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.

thank you, Marsha. we remember you.