☆🥩ABOUT ME !!
☆🥩You can call me Roadkill, or by my name, Osama :)
☆🥩I’m 6teen and my pronouns are he/it
☆🥩My interests include metal music, horror, shock n exploitive movies / media, philosophy, and a bunch of other stuff. I also rlly like bugs, rats and clowns ^_^
☆🥩I’m autistic so please b patient, tone tags are very much appreciated <3
☆🥩My discord is _countessbathory if any1 wld like 2 chat abt interests or anything else
☆🥩RULES
…divider frm this post :)
Cliff has found you. You have 20 seconds to run and hide
I think the funniest and most screwed up moment of Flippy being flipped out is when he WAITS for Nutty to wake up so that the latter can experience every last bit of pain.
Happy Tree Friends, episode 74: Random Acts of Silence
All the sawyer siblings are actually autistic it’s true I swear Tobe hooper told me
my beautiful mutuals. sexualize that senior citizen immediately.
(Thomas Hewitt x GN!Reader)
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In which you teach Tommy how to sign and speak his mind.
Just a small idea that popped in mind 🖤
I love the James pfp it's amazing
Aaa thank you <33 I love it too
Tw: kidnapping, mental distress
Words: 1.4k
Summary:
You were preparing for the worst, but some times preparing is all for nought. Now you've gotten yourself in a mildly annoying situation.
Scratch that, you're thouroughly annoyed, and you have no idea how to escape.
Could you maybe write black album era!James x autistic!reader hcs?
TYPE OF POST ;; Headcanons
PAIRING ;; James Hetfield/GN!Autistic!Reader
WORDCOUNT ;; I cldnt bother tbh, I’m gna assume around ~500 words
WARNING(S) ;; usage of the word retard like. Once, James is lowkey a dumbass n I mean tht endearingly, period typical ableism, James is uneducated, maybe OOC James ? I’m not sure, no mentions of his drinking bcuz I felt uncomfortable writing anything abt it
AUTHOR’S NOTE ;; ofc <33 i might’ve accidentally projected in2 this lmao, this is def shorter than I wanted it 2 b but I wanted 2 post this as soon as I possibly cld
I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.
PAIRING ;; James hetfield/GN!Reader
TYPE OF POST ;; angst drabble
WORDCOUNT ;; 547 words, 2,982 characters
WARNING(S) ;; angst, death, grieving, implied suicide, etc.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ;; the title is frm a nocturnal depression song. shitty short drabble just 2 ease my way back in2 writing, I don’t recommend you read this it def cld b better. This was not proof-read at all
Inhale.
His throat was awfully dry.
Exhale.
He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He was uncomfortable, extremely so. His shirt clang to his sweaty back and his palms felt cold and clammy. Most of his remaining energy was being spent in trying to read a book, anything to take his mind away from his thoughts, but the words made no sense and the letters were swimming around the thin paper.
Inhale.
His jaw ached, having been tightly clenched the past weeks. His entire body screamed for rest.
Exhale.
Just how long had he been repeating those instructions to himself?
Inhale, exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
He sighed in frustration, shutting his book and resting it on his coffee table. No use in trying anymore.
He stood up, stretching his aged muscles once he did, and made his way into the kitchen.
He didn’t even bat an eye at the piling dirty dishes or the singular rat that scurried out of his way and instead made a beeline for the coffee machine.
No mugs, he thought to himself.
Oh well. He grabbed one straight from the sink, the brown stains from his past few cups of the caffeinated liquid did not bother him, and poured himself another cup. He grimaced as he took a sip; it had gone cold, but he could not bring himself to care. He ignored his body’s begging for sleep and downed his coffee, making a face at the bitterness. He can’t allow himself to sleep, there was no need for that anymore as any attempts resulted in nightmares that left him shaking and near the point of hyperventilation.
He put the mug down.
Inhale, exhale.
Just how long has this cycle been repeating itself?
.
..
…
What day was it again?
Inhale, exhale.
He truly wished he could sleep, but you haunted his dreams. The same image would flash over and over again. Your face, pale and blue, like the moon on a July summer, and your body cold.
He can no longer look at the moon; all he sees is your face staring back, blank, glossy eyes glaring at him.
The guilt he felt was overbearing, he felt at fault. He could’ve saved you, if only he was observant enough. Or were you just a very good actor? That thought made the grief rest heavier on his chest. He found himself wondering, just how long were you fighting this battle? How much had you begged the universe for a relief from the agony you must’ve faced? Did you ever even ask for help?
Inhale, exhale.
His chest ached, his lungs filled with misery and grief weighed him down. He felt disgusting, uncomfortable in his own body; he could not remember his last shower. Tears filled his eyes once again, his lips quivering.
There it comes again.
It hurt.
It hurt so bad.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
He could feel your eyes on him, your presence taunting him. If only you could’ve done something, James.
Everything felt too much.
He slowly sunk to his knees, his arms wrapping around himself. Sobs raked through his body as the grief once again spilled out his lips.
Inhale.
If only there was an end to this misery.
Exhale.
