#*sobbing shaking throwing up clawing at the walls* I Am Normal About These Characters

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[crushingonrazz]

Merry Christmas Kit

I’m so glad to have been able to get to know you. I am constantly in awe of your pure talent when it comes to writing, and it is amazing being able to see that process. You are absolutely an inspiration to me, and I really hope that this can in any way compare to the magic you weave with your own characters! Merry Christmas, Kit!

When Edge steps out of the basement in SwapFell, crossing their lawn and glancing up, the first thing he sees is Slim. He’s standing on the front porch, hands gripping onto the railing, staring down at the snow below him. When the crunch of Edge’s approaching footsteps reach him, he twitches, then looks up.

Edge already knows what has happened by the shattered emotion the other allows into his eyelights.

He walks up the front steps, pausing at the top and glancing his alternate over. He does not appear physically injured, but his knuckles are bruised, fingers trembling. Edge sucks in a breath, lets it out.

“Is he still gone?”

A violent, jerky shake of the other’s head. Edge lifts his chin. “The runt is visiting Taleverse. Feel free to join him.”

It’s a command, not an offer. Slim is more than aware of that, and Edge knows it. Still, he hesitates, glancing back at the front door for a split second. It’s the same song and dance every time, so Edge waits patiently for the same outcome as always. A moment more of fidgeting, and then Slim is turning around, avoiding eye contact as he crosses the lawn to the basement Edge has just exited. He knows not to abandon his brother in this state. But who can be trusted to protect him more than Edge?

When Slim has disappeared around the corner, Edge doesn’t bother with knocking. Instead, he pushes the door open on creaky hinges, kicking off his boots with a clatter just inside. Glancing into the living room, it’s not difficult to spot Razz.

He’s seated on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs as he stares at nothing. His back is to the wall, pressed back against the surface as though to protect against attacks from behind. Almost definitely to protect against attacks from behind. When he hears Edge enter, his eyelights shift, staring at him blankly as he approaches. His right eye is swollen with green magic, his body’s attempt to cure the injury. Edge puts two and two together, allowing himself a moment of surprise that Slim was not dust when he found him. It’s not often that attacking Razz is a crime that goes unpunished.  

When Edge feels no surge of protective energy from the smaller skeleton, he lowers himself to sit next to Razz, joining him in staring into the mess of the living room. There’s a couch cushion in the middle of the floor, oddly mismatched with the cushions that actually belong on the only piece of furniture in the room.

“Who am I?” Edge asks, voice flat.

“Edge.” The answer is immediate, but the voice is too quiet.

“How old are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Edge glances down, but Razz isn’t even smiling. The joke was bland, exhausted. It sounded as though it had been wrung out of the other, a tired attempt to diffuse the awkwardness in an oft-repeated situation.

“Have you gotten a chance to try the kettle yet?”

Razz shakes his head, refusing to look up and meet Edge’s eyes even as confusion flashes across his face. The next question would normally be more difficult than that. The next question would normally be about his LV. The break from routine set Razz’s fingers tapping where they rested on his legs, and Edge grins.

“Undyne loaned me some of Alphys’s sleep-assistance tea. Seeing as I do not require assistance with something I rarely partake in--” He grins at the irritated glance he receives for the lofty language. “--I brought it with me. Consider it a gift.” Razz makes no move to take it, and Edge makes no move to bring it out of his pocket. “While she was visiting, she taught me a new recipe.”That earns him eye contact, half a scoff, and almost a smile.

Razz’s eyes drop again. Edge doesn’t stop.

“I will never understand your affinity for Mexican food. Italian is so much more refined. Did you know that when you boil pasta, you’re supposed to put so much salt in the water that it would taste like the ocean? I would not suggest drinking boiling water, but that is what I’ve heard. And all it requires is a pot, unlike your portitas.”

“Tortillas.”

“Precisely! I did not have to purchase a latino press to create my dishes. It is clearly the superior category.”

Razz snickers, turning his face so that the side of his head lays against his arms. He’s watching Edge with tired eyelights, the normal bravado all but demolished in the face of his own guilt. Edge doesn’t like that look in his eyes. Razz is supposed to be all confidence, all hands on his hips and yelling out nonsensical challenges. Razz is supposed to be proud. But reality doesn’t care what Razz is supposed to be, and right now reality is screaming that he’s broken.

“I suppose the one thing we can agree on is the magnificence of a certain vegetable.” Razz lifts his head in confusion, and Edge throws an arm out to the side. “Tomatoes!”

There’s a very long pause. Edge keeps his arm aloft, ignoring the strain in favor of scooting slightly closer to where the other sits.

“Tomatoes aren’t vegetables.”

“Of course they’re vegetables!”

Razz narrows his eyes, but there’s a smile playing on the edge of his mouth. “We’ve talked about this. Tomatoes are a fruit.”

“I think that you’ll find that your lies will not tempt me.”

“Edge, they’re literally fruit. Scientifically speaking, they’re classified as fruit. They have seeds and they develop in the base of the flower--”

“Lies!”

“--and people only say they’re vegetables when they’re speaking in terms of cooking because they’re typically used in savory dishes!”

Somehow, Edge’s arm has ended up around Razz’s shoulder, tugging his body to be tucked into his side. Razz is trembling. It’s so light that it’s impossible to see, but Fell can feel it, pressed together as they are.

“My dear, you are arguing semantics. It will simply never compare to my real-world wisdom.”

Razz’s left arm is wrapped around Edge’s waist, his right hand digging its claws into his own knee. Edge ignores it, letting the arm not holding onto Razz drop to his lap.

“Tomatoes, whether they are vegetables or not, are quite good. You must admit to that.” He feels Razz nod against his side. There’s a hitch of breath beside him, and he moves his hand to stroke up and down the other’s humerus. “Despite our differences in preparation. I, of course, prefer them cooked. Preferably pulverized into a sauce, but they are also quite delicious chopped, thrown in with some oil and spices, perhaps some mozzerella…”

Razz draws his arm away from Edge’s waist, burying his face in his hands as he continues to sob. Edge falls silent for a moment, lending his presence and continuing the soothing stroking. The words are on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Slim’s either. Slim had been acting in defense, Razz had been acting out of his own control. He was getting better. He was improving.

He was getting better.

“I know how much you enjoy tomatoes on your own dishes,” he says quietly. Distraction. Encouragement could come when the fear had passed. “I will admit that uncooked tomatoes pair well with the dishes you prefer. However, I will never be convinced that an avocado is acceptable in any context. Did you know I once caught Blue eating an avocado directly out of its shell with a spoon?” He shuddered in exaggerated disgust, and Razz choked out a laugh next to him.

Edge glanced down, taking in the other’s lidded eyes, the exhaustion pulling at every feature. He tightened his grip around his shoulders.

“And don’t even get me started on that atrocity you call a salad. Tacos do not belong anywhere near a salad!”

Trust may be hard to come by in a world like this, but Razz deserved, for once, to feel like he might be safe.

[bluegreenamber]

The Blind (2/4)

((AN: Hey everyone! Obviously you've probably noticed my new horror/creepypasta/cryptid themed story. Did I spoop you with the first chapter? 👻 I tried to make it extra creepy by keeping all of my casual comments out for the first time. Soooo as I've come to realize, I'm not that good at writing horror. Like actual horror that's supposed to scare people. I'm not used to the formula and such. So this is kinda just... a normal story with monsters I guess. I don't think I'll be legit scaring anyone with this. About the story... Well, it's pretty self-explanatory. The first chapter kind of set it all up, and it will be like a linear plot with the same characters and such. I am only going to do the main four of EW, though I'm sure you noticed that there were more names than that. If anyone wants to continue it afterwards with the other characters, feel free. This has been a really fun story to write so far, at least for me. Just what I needed to get my creativity flowing again. Props to anyone who can guess which names belong to which characters.)) She had been mauled. Her skin was shredded. What was left of her hair was splayed out wildly behind her. Her mouth was agape as her face was turned toward the stars in the beautiful night sky. Her torso had been ripped open, organs clearly visible and some almost spilling out onto the concrete. Blood was pooled beneath her and staining her clothes. Her eyes… Her eyes had been gouged out. The police couldn't find any sign of them anywhere. I shuddered. The thought of her killer actually taking her eyes with them, maybe as some kind of sick trophy, made my stomach roil and my skin chilled. Watching my friend throw up hadn't helped my nausea. We had been walking home from school together when we happened upon the body. She had immediately vomited into some nearby bushes, and I had stood frozen, not being able to take my eyes off of the mutilation. Fortunately, I had enough mind to call the police, and they had gotten down here promptly. Someone had wrapped a shock blanket around me, and I had barely noticed. Figures. Now I was back home, having been escorted here by a kind middle-aged officer. My older brother was the only one here, and he wouldn't stop pestering me about all the gritty details until I finally caved and told him. I had barely any time to think before there was the slam of the front door. My parents and younger brother came inside, and all it took was one look at the two of us before my dads sent my baby bro to his room to do his homework and sat down on either side of me on the couch. “What happened?” one of them asked. Identical expressions of concern were written across both of their faces. “My friend and I found a body.” Surprise and then back to concern. My dads’ faces were like mirrors. “She was just lying among some trees next to the sidewalk. It looked like a rabid animal had attacked her.” I felt kind of hollow inside. Must be the shock. One of my dads looked pointedly at my brother. “Why don't you make some hot chocolate?” Hot chocolate was my favorite. For once, he didn't argue. The warm drink calmed me and brought some feeling back. That night, I couldn't stop thinking about it. The sight of the corpse had been permanently branded in my mind’s eye, and it kept me up. I shivered, not sure whether the chill was a result of something physical or psychological. I drifted into an uneasy sleep, hoping against hope that the dead lady didn't follow me into my dreams and cause me to have vivid nightmares. I hadn't even had the chance to start dreaming when I was woken up. I froze, trying to figure out what had awoken me. There! A noise. It sounded like a garbage can being messed with. Deciding that if my body had deemed the sound important enough to wake me that it was important enough to at least check out, I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone. It had come from outside the house to my left, and I crept over to my window on that side. I couldn't see anything peering out, so I slid it open. The noise had stopped. I stood there listening and squinting into the shadows of my neighbor’s house for a solid minute before a new sound startled me into almost hitting my head on the window frame. Someone had called my name. Hanging out of a window across from me was my friend, the one I had walked home with. She waved at me. “Did you hear that?” she whisper-yelled. I nodded. “It came from over there.” She pointed to the only back corner of her house that we could see. It was shrouded in darkness. “I'm gonna go check it out.” She hopped out her window and crept away from the safety and light of her bedroom and toward the shadows. I quickly lost sight of her. The seconds waiting for her stretched into moments of unbearable suspense. I heard her call my name again. Though this time it was desperate and scared. Then silence. I called her name, crossing my fingers that I'd hear a reply. But all I got in response was the return of the sound of trash cans being messed with. Not reassuring. Against my better judgment, I shimmied out of my own window. I had to check to see if she was okay. Dread was a weight in my stomach and a lump in my throat as I treated silently to where I had last seen her. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and I wished they hadn't. In front of me was what was left of my friend, sprawled across the ground, mutilated just like the lady from before. She was obviously dead. The last word she had ever spoken was my name as a cry for help as she was being killed. The thought almost made me throw up. Just like her. Hunched over her body was a monster. Though it was still pretty difficult seeing many details in the darkness, I could tell it was vaguely humanoid. But it was obviously not completely human. It had a reptile-like tail and strange floppy ears and horns growing out of its head and clawed hands and feet. But the thing that stood out the most was its eyes. Or rather, lack thereof. Where its eyes would be were two identical holes, blacker than the shadows around it, seeming to suck in any light around them like actual black holes. And what was worse were that those holes were staring right at me. The beast had been loudly chewing something but stopped once it saw me. It growled and dropped whatever had been held in its claws. The object made a sickening squelch, and I realized with another near-puking moment that it was an eye. My friend’s eye. But where was the other…? … Oh. The monster had barely started to lunge for me before I had turned tail and began running like my life depended on it. Hah, irony. I sprinted to my window and barely had time to slide my way inside and slam the thing closed before the wall shuddered from what I assumed was the monster slamming into it. But I wasn't done, wasn't safe yet. I burst out of my room and sped straight to the back door. After locking it and reluctantly deciding against pushing some furniture against it to further bar the way, I turned around and nearly screamed. My older brother had appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring my pants off. He looked sleepy and confused. “What's all this about?” “M-monster.” I only then realized that I was shaking, my teeth chattering together loudly. “It k-killed… it-t… k-k-killed…” A sob escaped my throat as everything crashed down on me. I gestured weakly towards our neighbor's house. “It ate her eyes!” I sounded frantic, borderline insane. “We should call the cops, okay?” His look of concern was the only thing comforting me even slightly, the only thing I could anchor myself to in the sea of terror sweeping through my mind. I nodded, still trembling, and allowed myself to be led to the phone. Then, a realization hit me hard enough to make my breath pause in my throat. “The front door…” As if on cue, a pounding noise came from the aforementioned piece of wood. I gasped and backed up, latching onto my brother’s arm and tugging him back with me. The door burst open. And in spilled a bunch of police officers on high-alert. When they saw us, they lowered their guns. “There was a murder reported next door. We are checking the area,” one of them explained. “Have you seen any suspicious people tonight?” My brother glanced at me, and I shook my head. I had calmed down enough to realize how ridiculous my story would sound. The cops bought it and left soon after. Once they were gone, my brother opened his mouth to ask me what had happened but then looked at me and decided against it. I had started shaking again, and I'm pretty sure my face was far too pale. He silently escorted me to my room and tucked me in, which was a rare treat. As soon as he turned off my light and shut my door, I instantly fell into a deep sleep. A week after my friend’s murder, I was stargazing in my backyard. I hadn't stopped thinking about that night. And I had made a few discoveries in my reflections. Something about the monster had looked familiar. After raiding my room for any clues, I had found the infamous photograph of the four boys. One of the boys had his eyes marked out, the image looking scarily similar to the monster’s black holes. Plus, the boy looked kind of like the monster, though it was hard to really compare them when I hadn't gotten a very clear view of the beast that night. After making the theorization that the two were connected, I had checked the pictures of Edd’s writings on the wall that I had taken. Out of all the titles listed, “The Blind” made the most sense. Though I could be totally off. Maybe this was like Beauty and the Beast where the monster was actually a prince. But if I was right, did that mean it was actually blind? Logically speaking, that was obvious. But the logic I had known before had no explanation for this monster, so I had kind of thrown that out the window. So how did it “see” me that night? It had looked straight at me. I knew blind things tended to have their other senses heightened, but that seemed a bit far-fetched. Maybe echolocation or…? I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and theories that I almost didn't hear it. A familiar growl… I leapt to my feet, already starting to back away from where the noise came from. I didn't even hear footsteps as the monster emerged from the shadows and into the dim light from our back porch. It was my first real good look at the thing, and it came with many surprises. The creature was purple. Or at least, the monster parts of it were. The rest was exactly like the boy in the photo. It snarled at me, and I got to see how razor-sharp its teeth were. I didn't stick around long to examine and admire its appearance though. As soon as I got over my shock, I turned and ran. Deja vu, anyone? As I was sprinting past the back door that I knew was locked, all I could see was the light of my window, the open one I had snuck out of to go stargazing. As I passed my older brother’s room, I could barely hear the music coming from it over the sound of my loud breathing. All I could feel was the wind I was creating whipping through my hair and across my face and my arms and legs pumping and enabling my speedy escape. As for smell and taste… I was finally beginning to understand those “senses and fear” metaphors. My hands reached my windowsill, and for some unknown reason, I dared a look back. The monster had stopped. It was in a strange position, head cocked curiously as if it were listening to something. I watched as its ears twitched and something almost like a smile curled its lips. And I realized. It was right outside my brother's room. It was listening to the music. I strained my hearing. My brother was playing on his bass. Probably the old one we had found in the attic when we moved in, the one that had had a tag labeled “Susan, Property of Tom. Do Not Touch.” Despite the warning, my bro had taken it to his room, fixed it up, and kept it to play on. He wasn't half bad with the thing. I'm sure someone who wasn't tone deaf like me would probably say it was good, maybe even great. Movement caught my attention again. The monster was moving. But this time, in the opposite direction. The creature had turned and was slowly slinking back the way it came. It disappeared into the shadows, and I never saw it again. The next thing I did once I got back to my room was, of course, check the photograph. It had changed again. Tom was grinning up at me, a bass strapped across his back and cloudy blue eyes staring straight at the camera.