Reblog If You've Made At Least One Friend Because Of A Fandom.

Reblog if you've made at least one friend because of a fandom.

5. Eat all the sneacks

tge first rule of beibg a kittin

have fun

be yuorse,lf

Some of my own personal story ((:

This is a little passion project that I'm working on. I really hope that you enjoy the progress so far. I'll probably post it when I'm done but it'll be a LOT of words and reading. But it should be worth it !!!

CW: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, hallucinations, gore-(ish), and swearing

Everything was ringing in John’s ears, the buzzing growing more and more intense. He faintly heard his name being called, it slowly growing as his eyesight slowly focused on his hands and the salad in front of him.

“John? John, are you okay?” The voice snapped him out of his daze.

“Huh?" He whispered, looking up and staring at her.

"Are you okay John? You kind of blacked out on me there." Alyssa playfully teased, staring at him with a nervous expression.

"Oh yeah, I'm…I'm okay." He told her, his hand holding the side of his head.

"Okay…if you say so." She shrugged before continuing her story.

The ringing in his ears grew to a pitch as he let out a small groan. He squeezed his eyes before snapping them open, now standing in the doorway of his house as the ringing in his ears started to die down.

"How'd I get here…?" He whispered, closing the front door behind him as he dropped his bag on the couch next to him. He stumbled to the counter, his brows furrowing as he stared down at the note on his counter. John shook his head and walked past to grab a cup. He turned and pulled a bottle of whiskey off his fridge. He accidentally slammed the glass on the counter, sucking in a breath at the loud slam.

"Fuck." He hissed, rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes.

John let out a breath and slightly opened them again, popping the cap off of the bottle before pouring the golden liquid into the glass cup. He set the heavy amber bottle back on down and sealed it, slightly pushing the glass back from the edge. He walked back to the note, picking it up with one hand while the other brought the glass cup to his lips. He threw his head back, swallowing the liquid in one go before coughing, his head falling back forwards.

John sighed and finally picked up the crumpled note, smoothing it out so he could read it more clearly. The text was neat and almost clean, a little crooked here and there but otherwise it looked almost perfect.

"Dear John,

I know we haven't talked in a while. Or at all actually. But I thought it would be nice to try and reconnect! I heard you got a new job, that's amazing to hear! I know you're probably confused on who I am and I apologize, but hopefully we'll see each other again!

Love, J."

John let out a small scoff, crumpling the paper again. He went to pour another glass but stopped when he saw a shadow fly past in the corner of his eye. He turned to scan his office, the room almost pitch black. "Hello?" He called out, setting his cup down and walking over to the office. He stepped past the barrier before stumbling back at the feeling of hands brush his chest. "Shit!" He yelped, falling back and staring up at the abyss. He let out heavy breaths as he quickly stood up, grabbing his phone from the counter and stumbling back to his bathroom.

Once in his bathroom John started the water in the sink. He put his hands under the running water, a small hiss slipping from him at the cool feeling hitting his palms and running down his fingers. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, splashing his face with the water. He raised his head again, his vision blurry from the water on his lashes. He went to grab the towel on the counter so he could dry his face but then he paused, noticing something in the corner of his eyes, reflected from the mirror. He shook his head, ignoring it as he grabbed one of the various bright orange bottles on his bathroom counter. He looked down at the label. It was Fluoxetine prescribed to a "Johnathan Oscar". He went to open the top, struggling more than he'd like to admit. When he finally got it open it slipped out of his hand, falling into the sink. "No!" He squeaked, dropping the bottle into the sink.

He let out a breath, his gaze shooting up and landing on the mirror. His gaze immediately trailed over to the bathroom closet door behind him. It was cracked open with black, slender fingers gripping the doorframe. His gaze trailed up and he made 'eye contact' with the being, beady red eyes. A small breath left him as he slowly turned his head to look back at the closet. It was closed, no sign of anything or anyone. He let out a small breath and looked back at the mirror, seeing it opened a bit more. "The fuck…?" He muttered, looking back at the door with a furrowed brow. He shook his head and turned back to the sink, trying to pull as many pills out of the sink as he could. He grabbed three pills from his prescription, setting the bottle back on the counter and turning to walk back to the kitchen.

When he got back to the counter he opened the bottle of Whiskey again, pouring it back into the shot glass. He poured more of the amber liquid into the glass. John set the glass bottle down again, making sure he didn't make it slam. He sealed the case before pushing it back and away from the counter. He grabbed the pills, putting them in his mouth and swallowing them before using the alcohol as a chaser, another cough slipping from him. He walked over to the couch and went to grab the remote for the device. When he flicked the device on it didn't turn on. "What is wrong with you?" He muttered, frowning at the screen. He sighed and flipped the remote over, opening the batter compartment. Instead of the normal double A batteries you'd see there was a paper folded up. He pulled it out and unfolded it, his eyes scanning over the writing yet again. This time it was a little more jumbled but it still looked neat.

"Dear John,

Do you remember that night we walked together by the freeway? The night when we talked for hours and hours together? It's one of my favorite memories. The way you held my hand as our laughter mixed together, our pains defend by the joy of that night. I can't still remember the way you gently said my name and the way you'd squeeze my hand when you wanted to make a silent agreement. I wish we could still do that. But people change. I know you definitely have. But that's okay, maybe I can find a way to change with you. Anyways, I hope this finds you well.

Love, J."

John grumbled softly, balling up the note and throwing it onto the couch as he stood up. "Who the fuck is J? And where are his letters coming from?" He snarled, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm down. John trudged over to the cabinet nearby, opening it and watching for some sort of food. As he searched for something to eat there was a large slam nearby causing him to jump. "Shit." He gasped, his hand gripping his chest as his heart pounded in his chest, the beating making his ears ring again. He squeezed his eyes and gripped his shirt, his nails pushing against his palm through the thin fabric. When his eyes opened again his gaze landed to the mid-stomach of a figure. His gaze slowly trailed up, going higher and higher before stopping at where the door frame stopped, about mid-neck.

The figure was thin. It was so thin that he could see the ribs protruding from its chest. He went back to the stomach and saw how the skin dipped back, just barely enough space to fit the internal organs it would need. John's gaze flicked to its arms. They were un-naturally long; they reached to about the middle of its shins, which was even more surprising because its legs were also long, maybe a little longer than its arms. The skin. It looked like the skin was rotten, hugging the bones that made the limbs. At first glance it would be easily mistaken for a skeleton. If not for the stench of rotting flesh and the visible decay of its skin.

There were a few pauses of deafening silence, the ringing in John's ears only growing in pitch before the zombie-like creature let out a blood curdling scream. One that almost caused John to stumble and fall to the ground. The only reason why he didn't was because the creature came charging at him, but stopped after a few steps and collapsed, its head being torn from its body. When John saw the head he let out a scream of pure terror. He stared down at the sunken, bright red eyes staring up at him. Its mouth was hung slack, one side barely hanging on. If it weren't for the little bit of cheek tissue that desperately clung to the peeling muscle. John slapped a hand over his mouth, his legs giving out under him, causing the male to trip over his own feet and land back on his tailbone.

Thank you for reading ! This has truly become a passion project and I want to share it with everyone here. If you have any suggestions I'll take them to hopefully improve my writing ((:

i think johnny lawrence has autism. first episode he’s literally radiating autism.