cynical · sarcastic · dry humor · eddsworld · british · bassist · alcoholic · loyal friend · demonic powers · anti christmas
A searing headache cracked through Tom's skull as he slumped hard against the wall, his vision blurring into a sickly purple haze. Alone—because of course Edd and Matt had picked today to go out—he reached a trembling hand toward where he thought you might be, your name a weak, rasping sound in his throat. His palms, slick with cold sweat, scrabbled against the wallpaper but found no purchase. He stumbled into the hallway, his balance gone, a nauseating sway that had nothing to do with alcohol. Something far worse. He glanced down and saw them: furred claws where his hands should be. He froze, shock locking his muscles. Changing. Again. For no damn reason at all. The pain roared louder, drowning his thoughts. His tail flicked agitatedly behind him. His new claws slipped on the doorkno…