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lilyvandersteen · 6 years ago

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Puppy Eyes Chapter 10

This is again from Blaine’s point of view. And you’re probably going to be angry with him...

This chapter is unbetaed, because let’s face it, I’m unable to get the new chapter written in time to let my wonderful beta @hkvoyage have a look at it before it’s update day again... Instead, I write and write and write and then post the chapter in the nick of time. Yeah, time management is not my forte.

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10: Rotten Timing

A month later, Blaine was staying with the Hudmel’s again to celebrate Christmas, and he loved how at home they made him feel.

When he and Kurt arrived, Carole served them soup with home-made croutons for them to warm up and to tide them over until dinner, and then led them to the Christmas tree, encouraging them to add more decorations. Apparently, that was an old tradition, and Kurt started hanging ornaments in the tree while keeping up a running commentary about who had bought or made them and what made them special. There was an empty perfume bottle that had been Kurt’s mother’s, with a blue silk ribbon tied around it. Next to it was a child’s hand-print on a round piece of clay. Not Kurt’s, but Finn’s, apparently.

“I still can’t believe Finn ever had such tiny hands,” Kurt said. “The guy was huge. He grew like a weed all through middle school and high school. Like he drank Ent-draughts every day.”

Then there were three adorable Christmas angels made of clothes pegs.

“I started making those when I was five,” Kurt explained. “With my mom. We made one every year. Until she died.”

There were several popsicle stick ornaments with a picture inside, and Blaine smiled when he recognised Burt and his late wife on their wedding day, Kurt’s mother looking heavily pregnant, Burt with a baby in his arms, and then a much younger Kurt, his grin showing gaps where his milk teeth had fallen out.

Blaine helped hang everything in the tree, and then draped a piece of left-over tinsel around his neck and batted his eyes at Kurt. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to hop onto a Pride Parade float. Come and help me make Christmas cookies?”

Blaine grinned ear to ear and followed Kurt to the kitchen.

K&B

During their vacation, Kurt took Blaine to several curse breakers, asking them to break the dog spell. Blaine’s hope that someone would be able to help him melted away bit by bit when one after another, they all proved useless, and even scared of Alexei.

Blaine hadn’t really counted on his curse being broken, ever, so he dealt with the disappointment way better than Kurt, who recounted their appointments to Burt and Carole, and raged about every curse breaker who’d sent them away, calling them cowards and incompetents.

Blaine’s attempts to pacify Kurt had no effect whatsoever. Quite on the contrary, it made him even angrier that Blaine was resigned to live his life waiting for the next dog phase to hit, and he glared at Blaine ferociously and stomped off to his room.

A few days after Christmas, Kurt was suddenly gone. Burt wouldn’t say where to, but his shifty eyes and restless energy made Blaine anxious. A day and a half passed without any news from Kurt, and Blaine took to hovering around Burt, so intent on ferreting out the truth that he didn’t notice turning into a dog until Burt gasped and pointed at him.

Blaine, who was sitting at the kitchen table, about to grab his fork and knife to tuck into his dinner, looked down and saw that he had paws again. With a sigh, he jumped off the chair.

“You… You really are…” Burt stammered, grabbing his heart.

Blaine hastened towards him and nuzzled his leg. Please calm down. Please don’t have a heart attack. Ugh, why is Carole at the hospital right now?! We need her here!

Burt took a few deep breaths in and out, drank some water, and then patted Blaine on the head. “I’m fine, bud. No need to look so worried. You just gave me a scare, is all.”

Blaine nodded.

“You’re gonna need your collar, right? Kurt put it in the hallway. Just a sec.”

Burt put the collar on Blaine, and then scratched his head, thinking hard. “Oh, and dog dishes! Kurt bought some, but where did he put them?”

Burt started to look for the dog dishes, and Blaine followed him. In the end, it was Blaine who found them, in the pantry, the same place where they kept them at home.

Burt was just filling one of the dishes with water for Blaine when the phone rang. Burt dropped the dish in the sink, splattering water everywhere, and ran to pick up the phone.

It proved to be Kurt. He told his dad not to let Blaine eat lasagne, and Blaine eyed his untouched plate mournfully. The alternative Kurt proposed was yummy too, though, and it took only half a minute for Blaine to wolf it all down. He looked at Burt. Could he persuade him to give him some more food? But Burt looked white as a sheet and scared, so Blaine moved closer to Burt and pricked up his ears to listen to the phone conversation.

It proved to be about Blaine’s dog spell. Kurt had gone to see someone who could tell him how to break the curse. Apparently, it would take a kiss. True love’s kiss. And Blaine only had two more years to make that happen, or he’d have to live out his life as a dog.

And then Kurt said two things that shook Blaine to the core. The man he’d gone to see was Alexei! And the man Blaine had to fall in love with was Kurt!

Reeling inside, Blaine plopped down on his belly.

Wow. Kurt always zigged when Blaine thought he would zag, but this was unexpected to a whole new level. Kurt was so brave to face Alexei. And this really went above and beyond what their friendship demanded.

Blaine had to face it: he’d vastly underestimated the depth of Kurt’s feelings for him. All this time, Blaine had treated it like a mild crush, and teased Kurt about it every now and then. But Kurt’s actions proved that it had to be more. So much more.

Burt pronounced Blaine an idiot, and he had a point there. Kurt defended Blaine, though, seeming so resigned to his love being unrequited that it smote Blaine’s heart.

When Kurt hung up, Burt let out a deep sigh, and then stepped on Blaine’s tail when he turned to go back to the kitchen. Blaine couldn’t help howling in pain and curling into a tiny ball.

“Sorry, sorry!” Burt said. “I didn’t see you there!”

Burt crouched down. “You okay?”

Blaine whimpered.

“You heard everything?” Burt asked.

Blaine nodded.

“Good. Seems like it’s up to you now, bud. I know you can’t hurry love or however that song goes, but I’m telling you I can see you guys being happy with each other. What you have with Kurt is special. It’s more than just friendship, no matter how hard you try to kid yourself. So stop holding back, okay? What are you waiting for? Your Prince Charming? I’m telling you, my son is worth a dozen princes. And he loves you. The thing is, he’s willing to wait for it. He’s not going to push. But you need pushing, am I right or am I right? You don’t see what’s right in front of you. And those two years are going to be over in a flash, and then you’ll be a dog and Kurt will be alone and you’ll both be unhappy.”

Blaine hung his head and sighed deeply.

Burt patted him on the head again. “So I’m going to tell you something you need to know. Love isn’t a flash of lighting, telling you that this is the One. Love is something that has to grow, that you have to build. Like friendship. Like trust. You need to work on it. You need to be there for each other. You have to choose each other, over and over again, each day. You have to work as a team. You have to be open and honest. Be their strongest supporter, their confidant, their shoulder to cry on, their rock. If you can do all of that, I’m pretty sure that deeper connection will come, if it isn’t there already. Give it a chance. An honest chance. Okay?”

Blaine nodded.

Burt shook his head. “Kurt’s always been stubborn. Once his mind is made up, it stays made up. So when he told me he was going to live with a guy much older than him, I was scared. Yes, you’re only sharing an apartment, nothing going on, bla, bla, bla… He can say that ‘till he’s blue in the face, but I can tell that it’s more. At first, I was scared you were taking advantage of him. Now I’m scared that you’ll keep stringing him along until your human days are over.”

Blaine looked up at Burt and softly nudged his knee.

Burt removed his cap and ran a hand over his head. “Yes, yes, you can’t force it, I know, and you’re a good guy, I guess. But I’m worried about my son. If he’s fool enough to spend money he doesn’t have to travel across the world and go see a dangerous guy about your curse, then what else is he gonna do before your time runs out? He’s gonna get himself killed! And all for nothing, if you don’t get a move on. So please get over whatever hang-ups you have. Sort yourself out. And be there for Kurt. Don’t close yourself off. You can do this. I know you can. Together, you’ll figure it out.”

Burt gave Blaine one last pat on his shoulder and then left for work, without Blaine this time, stopping halfway out the door to say over his shoulder, “Oh, the door to the back yard is never locked, so if you need to… go outside, you always can. You can reach the handle, right?”

Blaine was off like a shot to try it, and found that he could open the door. He slipped into the garden just long enough to do his business and then hurried inside again, out of the cold.

He’d barely slept the night before because he’d been worrying about Kurt, so he went to the living room to take a nap. He debated sleeping on the sofa, but decided against it, and just curled up on the rug in front of the wood stove.

He slept like the dead until he was woken up early in the morning by Carole gasping loudly and then saying, “Blaine?!”

He got up and trotted over to her, nuzzling her leg until her stiff stance loosened and she reached down to pet him.

“I know you said you turned into a dog from time to time,” Carole said. “But seeing it for real… Gosh, it gave me quite a fright. I’m going to head off to bed. Go back to sleep, honey. Goodnight!”

When Kurt returned later that day, he looked exhausted and sad. Burt enveloped him in a tight bear hug and whispered fiercely in his ear. Blaine wished he could do the same, but he had to make do with putting his head on Kurt’s knee as soon as he sat down with a sigh.

Kurt looked at Blaine with a barely-there smile. “Hey…”

“I’ll heat up the rest of the lasagne for you,” Burt offered, but Kurt shook his head, claiming he wasn’t hungry, just tired.

Burt looked like he wanted to protest, but Kurt was gone before he could get a word out. Blaine hesitated, but then climbed the stairs to Kurt’s room, nudging the door open. He found Kurt in the bathroom, applying face cream and crying soundlessly.

Blaine was with him in a flash, nuzzling Kurt’s legs and whining.

Kurt looked down in surprise, and reached down to pet Blaine, lightly scratching under his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine tomorrow. I’m just… tired and moody.”

Blaine stayed close to Kurt until he was ready for bed, and followed him into the bedroom, fully expecting Kurt to snap at him that he wasn’t to jump on the bed.

He didn’t, though. He got into bed, sighed deeply and then said, “All right, I guess just this once you can come up here and cuddle me. Maybe it will take my mind off things so I can get some sleep.”

Blaine hesitated, cocking his head to the side, but Kurt only had to pat the space next to him on the bed once for Blaine to jump on it and cuddle up to Kurt, who put an arm around Blaine, mumbled a goodnight and was out like a light.

It took Blaine a bit longer. He studied Kurt’s face, lax in sleep, and hiding those striking eyes, but no less lovely with his long lashes curling over his cheeks. Blaine’s last thought before drifting off was, “I could get used to this.”

K&B

They returned to New York two days later.

After the close shave they’d had the last time they came to Ohio, Kurt had looked into getting an assistance dog certificate online, and had bought one that said Kurt suffered from epilepsy. It didn’t sit right with either of them to deceive people like this, but there was no denying this was by far the easiest solution. So this time, instead of Kurt driving all the way home, all they had to do was cancel Blaine’s plane ticket and warn the airline that Kurt would be taking his service dog with him.

A further advantage of this was that they were first on the plane and then first off at arrival. No-one had questioned Kurt at all, though one of the stewardesses had mentioned she had never seen a Portie as a service dog before. “But I can see he’s well-trained. Good boy!”

Once they were back home, Kurt threw himself into his work, walking dogs from sunup to sundown and in the evening working on his assignments for school until he fell asleep with his head on his laptop keyboard.

Then, Blaine would paw at him until he woke up with a start and plodded off to bed. Blaine took advantage of Kurt’s loosened rules about dogs on the furniture, and cuddled up to him in bed.

As soon as Blaine had turned back into a human, he asked Kurt why he was taking on so many dog walking assignments. Kurt mumbled something about bills to pay, but refused to accept any money from Blaine.

Blaine was quite sure these bills had something to do with Kurt going to see Alexei, and felt guilty. Travelling to Russia must have set Kurt back a cool grand at least, Blaine estimated, so he wired a thousand dollars over to Kurt’s bank account without saying a word about it to Kurt. After all, those expenses had been made to help him, so it was only right that Blaine foot the bill.

In addition to that, he made sure that Kurt got fed at regular intervals, and he nagged at him to go to sleep at a decent hour, promising Kurt a back rub if he went to bed right that minute.

Kurt’s eyes went wide the first time Blaine proposed this, but then he shrugged and headed to his bedroom, where he flopped face-down on his bed with a groan. That was invitation enough for Blaine, who set to work.

Kurt had a nice back, he thought, digging his fingers into Kurt’s neck to massage the tension out. Wide shoulders, muscles for days, and would you look at those biceps, yum!

He moved on to Kurt’s spine, exerting pressure with the palms of his hands, and Kurt moaned when he reached his lower back, and slurred, “Yeah… Right there…”

Halfway through, Blaine felt Kurt going lax, and when he checked, he found Kurt fast asleep, his face serene. Blaine smiled and continued the back rub until he’d worked out a few more knots. Then he carefully extricated the comforter from under Kurt. As he was tucking him in, though, Kurt suddenly turned on his side and threw an arm over Blaine. Blaine tried to get out from under Kurt’s embrace, but Kurt only tightened his grip and whined, struggling to open his eyes.

Blaine didn’t want Kurt to wake up again – he needed all the sleep he could get – so he wriggled out of his pants, stripped off his sweater and polo shirt and slipped under the covers, too. He smiled when Kurt buried his face into his chest and hummed happily. Maybe Kurt would freak out the following morning, but for now, he was content, and getting a good night’s sleep. That was the main thing.

Kurt did startle when he woke up, but he said nothing. He just blushed and got out of bed with his eyes averted. That night, though, he readily agreed to another back rub, taking his pants off first this time, “’cause they’re so uncomfortable to sleep in.” And so it became a habit for Blaine to sleep in Kurt’s bed, holding him in his arms. Blaine, who’d always been a cuddle bug, loved this new arrangement, and Kurt’s shy smile every morning when he opened his eyes seemed to indicate he did, too.

Blaine had been sleeping in Kurt’s bed for about a week when he woke up one morning sweating like a pig. And no wonder. Kurt was lying on top of him, fast asleep, sniffling and red-cheeked and… burning up!

“Sweetie, wake up,” Blaine urged Kurt, who made a disgruntled noise and turned onto his other side.

Since that left Blaine free to get up, he slipped out of bed and checked his medicine cabinet for a thermometer, vitamins and fever reducers, and then went to the kitchen to make tea with honey.

When he arrived back in the bedroom, Kurt was thrashing about wildly, clearly having a bad dream. Blaine put the tray on the desk and tried to soothe him, but got a kick in the gut for his pains, and then one of Kurt’s flailing arms hit him straight in the eye, and he saw stars. Ow, that hurt!

Blaine stepped back, out of Kurt’s range, and waited for the nightmare to pass.

Suddenly, Kurt’s alarm rung, and Kurt shot up, bewildered and disoriented. Blaine was quick to silence the alarm, and offered Kurt a fever reducer and a glass of water, but Kurt looked right through him, eyes glassy, and started to babble about wasps, swarms of wasps coming right at him. He pointed at the wallpaper, which had black and yellow polka dots on it.

It had seemed such a cheerful wallpaper, back when Blaine was redecorating his apartment. Now, he cursed it, and put his arms around Kurt to soothe him. Kurt shivered, and then started to point and babble again.

“All right, let’s get you to my bedroom,” Blaine decided. “No wallpaper there, I promise you.”

He wrapped Kurt into the comforter and carried him bridal style to his own room. Then, he went back for the tray, and managed to make Kurt swallow a fever reducer with some water before he flopped over and went right back to sleep.

Blaine took Kurt’s fever, and the result made his eyebrows go up. 103 degrees!

“I need to call a doctor,” Blaine said to himself. “And I need to call the dog walking agency to tell them Kurt is ill.”

It was only half past five, but Blaine left a message on the dog walking agency’s answering machine, and another on the answering machine of his primary care physician. He also sent an e-mail to Paula explaining that Kurt was ill and he needed to stay at home and take care of him.

He decided to take a vitamin supplement himself so as not to get sick, and to make chicken soup for Kurt and a cooked breakfast for himself while he waited until he could contact his doctor again, and go buy more medicine for Kurt.

Once the soup was simmering on the stove, he started on his breakfast. He was flipping the bacon in the pan when he felt it. That first prickle, that meant he was turning into a dog again. He cursed loudly, switched off the stove and sprinted to the bathroom to pee.

Blaine hadn’t used his emergency button since Trent had left –he’d never had to – but now he pushed it with all his might, and kept pushing it every five minutes, hoping and wishing that Trent would still have the alarm app installed on his phone and notice that Blaine needed him.

It took until eight o’clock before someone came, and when they arrived, it wasn’t the person Blaine was expecting.

Knock-knock-knock.

“Blaine? Blaine, are you there? Let me in, please.”

Blaine recognised Paula’s voice, and barked.

“Oh, Blaine! I came here as fast as I could because I knew something like this might happen. And now it already has. Can you open the door?”

Blaine spied the keys on the side table, and tried to grab them, feeling like a toddler again because everything was too high up for him and difficult to reach.

He managed to grab the keys, but upended the table in the process, and it fell on him. Ow, ow, ow!!

He howled with pain, and got out from under the table as fast as he could.

“Are you okay?” Paula yelled.

Blaine gave a short bark, and then took the right key into his mouth, jumped up so that he stood on his hind legs, and tried to fit the key into the lock. It was harder than it looked, and standing on his hind legs was tiring. After a while, when he noticed the only thing he managed to do was scratch the door with the key, he whined and dropped back on all four legs.

“You can’t open it?” Paula asked. “Okay, I have to go to Parson’s now or I’ll be late, but I’ll be back after my class, and I’ll bring a locksmith with me.”

Blaine barked again to show that he understood.

“Will you be okay until noon?” Paula wanted to know. “I mean, food-wise, and for… other stuff.”

Before Blaine could answer her, he heard someone running down the hall and stopping in front of his apartment. Keys jingled, and a moment later, the door opened. Trent had come!

Paula looked on as Trent crouched down and threw his arms around Blaine, and then she said, “Well, I guess your friend will look after you, then. Be careful hiring a dog sitter, though. If they’re from the same agency and they find out Kurt is living with you, he might be out of his job soon. Have your friend call or mail me if you need me, all right? I need to run now, bye!”

Blaine’s tail was wagging like crazy, and he put his front paws on Trent’s shoulders, which was the closest to a hug he could get in this form.

“It’s so good to see you, even as a dog,” Trent sniffled. Wait, why was he crying?

“I thought…” Trent continued. “When you didn’t contact me at all anymore… I thought you wanted… nothing more to do with me. And I can’t blame you… after everything I said. But I missed you. I missed you so much.”

Trent hiccupped and fished a hanky out of his pocket to dry his tears. He smiled and showed Blaine the monogrammed initials. “It’s yours. I kept it. After… You know. It reminded me of you. I wish you could talk back. I want to know what’s going through your head right now.”

A loud coughing came from Blaine’s bedroom, and Trent’s head snapped up. “Who’s that?”

Blaine tugged at his sleeve, and Trent followed him. “So you ARE living with Kurt? Wow! And he’s ill? Well, that’s rotten timing… Does he have medicine? Does he need tea? Or soup?”

Now Blaine tugged Trent towards the kitchen, where the soup and Blaine’s breakfast were still on the stove.

“Right.” Trent ducked into the pantry for the dog bowls and dog food. “I’ll fill your bowls with food and water, and then I’ll eat that cooked breakfast before it goes to waste. How long does this soup have to cook? An hour?”

Blaine shook his head.

“More? No? Half an hour, then?”

That was close enough, so Blaine nodded, and Trent switched the stove on. “High? All right.”

Trent took the bread and the butter out of the fridge and ate. “I’m glad you had something to eat for me, I ran here as soon as I was up and dressed. You sent so many messages that I was worried sick. Your mom is going to be worried as well, hang on, I have to call her.”

Blaine ate his dog food, drank some water and then lay down with a happy sigh. Trent was here. Everything was going to be all right.

#puppy eyes #chapter 10 #my fic #klaine fanfiction

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coutelier · 7 years ago

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Things in the Woods

Excerpt time! At this point in the story we’ve met some of the characters. Namely Kaya, who wants to be a better person but with all her associations and impulsive nature is finding it difficult. Sayuri is the only decent person she’s friends with but her other associates are all crooks and bullies. We’ve also met Tenley, a young girl who wanted to be loved by her mother but then that mother was taken away and now all she wants is revenge, and Titania (for unknown reasons) has given her the means to do it. We haven’t met adult Jennifer yet - she’s like a detective and will show up after the crime has happened in order to solve it. Speaking of which, it’s time to get the actual meat of the story started. You see Titania has one rule - no one looks on the hidden people and lives.

Things in the Woods

It was fine. Everything was fine. Kaya was sleeping in her car tonight, tiny droplets pattering on the windscreen. The weather had turned very quickly, inky clouds looming over the murky valley below where she was parked. But it was fine. Tomorrow would be a new day. It would be great if she had some sort of plan, but she was pretty good at improvising so why waste that talent?

The evening had gone smoothly. For a change, Candace had managed to get through the set without challenging every face watching them in the metallic and black hall to fight then been convinced to go home without kicking at anyone. Sayuri had been pulled and gone home with another girl. So that just left Kaya, here, alone, watching silhouettes of trees waving in the distance like they were praying to their gods for rain and had been answered. She nodded to the rhythm, letting it carry her away. Then she heard the scream.

Kaya was used to be woken by screams. Usually drunken antics and brawls, but this one had an abruptness to it that turned her spine to glass. And it was close. She squinted through the windows, checked all her mirrors, but the rain was getting thick. On one side were the warehouses and on the other a line of trees marking the edge of the road. The only other thing she saw was a ‘To Let’ sign hammered into muddy grass, and behind it a shoe. On closer inspection there was a leg too. Could someone have fallen? Not from the roof - that really wouldn’t have made sense. But she supposed it was her duty as a fellow human to go investigate.

The droplets felt like ice on her skin, so she wrapped her arms around herself as she padded toward the shoe. “Um, hey?” She softly cooed, “you okay there? Do you need…” she froze. No, the man lying behind the sign was definitely not okay. What he needed were his eyes as vile ichor just oozed from the holes they once were.

Kaya didn’t like to swear, but this seemed like a situation that was appropriate for it. So… shit. Other things were rising in her throat as she ran back to the car. She could feel her own heart trying to bust as she made sure the doors were locked, the only sound she heard was her own quick breathing. Was she panicking? Probably. That made sense. Sayuri talked about meditation sometimes so what would she suggest? Imagine yourself on a beach and breathe in and out with the waves. No, Kaya hated sand. Sayuri was no help to her here. Dibbles! She should call the dibbles.

It was a great plan except for one problem - the phone wouldn’t come on. Even though she was sure she’d charged it all she held in her hand was a useless plastic slate. Pressing the button harder didn’t seem to transfer any energy into it at all. It was only then she noticed nothing was on outside either. All the lights and streetlights around her had gone dark. She knew those things couldn’t really be connected to her phone, yet… what if they were? What if the killer was still around?

Kaya sunk behind the wheel, wide eyes darting back and forth between anything outside that might possibly not just be an illusion caused by the rain. In the end there was only thing that wasn’t. She saw it in the mirror, high up in a tree behind her where the rain beat down on the leaves and on something else. Something that wasn’t there and yet, as water covered it, it’s shape was. Then it looked through the mirror at her.

Kaya jumped and fumbled with her key in the ignition. Nothing happened. She turned it again. Still nothing. After the the third time she looked back and saw the creature was gone, but that was no relief - she would rather have known where it was, or so she thought, as it was now standing outside next to her. Whatever cloak had been obscuring it was gone and she saw a slender androgynous thing clad in some chitinous armor with a gray-brown bark like texture, leaf-like ears protruding from the mouthless helm. It reached down, one hand getting under the vehicle which it then flipped and started rolling down the hill.

Kaya braced as best she could, her shoeboxes bouncing around, hitting her from all directions. All she could really do was close her eyes, grit her teeth, and waited until she felt a jolt. To her relief it seemed that gravity was working from under her and she was still on the road that zig-zagged up the hill. But the engine still wouldn’t start no matter how much she pleaded. She released the brake and the green hatchback began to trundle forward, but with not nearly enough haste.

“Come on!” Kaya growled. All she needed was one, tiny spark. She felt another jolt, but not from the engine. The creature was kneeling on the bonnet, the black bulbs that were its eyes locked on to hers as it began drawing back its fist. “Greenback,” Kaya pleaded one last time, “do this for me and I promise I’ll take you to the car wash tomorrow.”

The engine roared. Kaya screamed in triumph, immediately reversing so that the creature fell back and away, rolling and landing on it’s feet in the middle of the road. There was no way of registering if it felt anything like surprise, but Kaya was well past her own shock and fear. She had the thing in her headlights so slammed her foot down, tires squealing as Greenback was launched at it. The creature didn’t flinch, but waited til the last second before vaulting over the car like an ancient acrobat leaping over a bull.

The smart thing to do was to keep going, not stop or turn around. For once Kaya did the smart thing, turning at the bottom of the hill although she had no clue where to turn next. This road was taking her away from town, which she quickly realized was the opposite of where she should be heading. But she couldn’t turn around. Not until she had put a lot of distance between and whatever that thing was. After a few minutes she thought maybe she’d gone far enough, but then a thud and the roof crumpled slightly. Whatever the thing was it hadn’t given up yet. Kaya spun the wheel, rubber burning on tarmac as she swerved, hoping to shake it off. In response some kind of blade punched through the roof, just missing her, then retracting so it could try again.

Kaya couldn’t shake it off. She had one idea that might kill this thing, but it meant sacrificing an old friend and only home. Sinking to avoid the blade, she made sure her seatbelt was securely fastened then patted the wheel. “Sorry, Greenback,” she whispered, “I’m sure you’ll get a shiny new polish in motor heaven.”

She waited until the creature stabbed again, then sharply turned the wheel. Greenback lurched, sparks flying as it slid onto its side then over and over, glass shattering and metal screeching as it twisted. It smashed through a fence, taking out a wooden post, finally coming to rest in a field.

Kaya wasn’t sure if she’d passed out or not. When she opened her eyes she was hanging upside down, a cow mooing some distance away but seemed to not really be concerned about her or what had happened to its fence. Despite being crumpled the door still opened, so she unhooked her seatbelt and let herself fall then crawl out the side of the wreck. She yelped, a sharp burning sensation on her hand. She assumed she must have cut it on some glass, but it was a piece of the creature’s blade; warm to the touch and very sharp. It looked more crystalline than metal. Somewhere amongst all the junk in these shoe-boxes she knew she had some towels so she wrapped one around the blade, concealing it in her jacket before completing the crawl and pulling herself to her feet, leaning on the side of the upturned vehicle as her legs felt like jello. Kaya patted Greenback one last time, but couldn’t stay for a eulogy. She wasn’t safe until she was back in civilization surrounded by people. Lots of people.

She staggered away a few feet then paused, shoulder blades pulling in toward each other. “Oh… fiddle-sticks,” she spun about, fist flying but the creature swatted it away with ease then kicked back, Kaya doubling over with a whoomph as she was flung several meters. Considering that it flipped a car over with no effort, she really should not have been surprised that it kicked like a horse too, even with its body contorted and twisted. Still it kept coming after her, bones and muscle popping back into place. Fighting this thing was futile, but adrenaline and the will to survive kept Kaya going. She rolled over, trying to crawl away but her hair was pulled tight, the creature lifting her to her knees as it stepped around, likely meaning to gouge out her eyes as well. Kaya struck first, with the broken blade she’d found in the car. It slid between a small gap between the creatures fore and upper arm, it letting go of her as it jerked itself away. So it could be surprised, Kaya saw. More importantly though, it could bleed.

Spurred on she tackled it. Despite the enormous strength it seemed to not weigh a whole lot more than her and went down, so Kaya stabbed it, over and over, but it kept squirming. She needed to kill it quick before it realized it could throw her off with ease. If it bled, maybe it had a heart or a brain, so she stabbed it through the eye. Even though it didn’t have a mouth, the howl was harrowing. Chilling. But finally it was still.

Kaya rolled off and lay panting next to it. Her body ached, her mind was confused and exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to lie here. But was she really sure she’d killed it? What if something else heard that howl? Best not to be around if any of that thing’s friends came to investigate. She had to get back to town then everything would be fine.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #excerpts #sci-fi & fantasy #wip #my wip #pharos one #project elf

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waveridden · 7 years ago

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FIC: i want your midnights

“Okay,” Reina says, and snaps her fingers. “Resolutions, go, one each, around the circle.”

A story about a coat closet, and a new year. Parker/Cib, 2.4k.

AUcember || title lyric

When Parker gets to Steve and James’s house, both Steve and James are already drunk. Which isn’t terribly surprising, even though he gets there at seven o’clock. He’s been to the joint Suptic-DeAngelis New Year’s Spectacular for a few years running now, and it’s always like this.

“Parker!” James shouts, and flings an arm so wildly around Parker��s neck that his hand swings around and hits him in the face. Parker goes with it, because that’s just how these parties are, and lets James drag him in and kiss him sloppily on the mouth, then one cheek. “Man, you keep showing up to these!”

“I do,” Parker agrees, and pats James on the back. “Let’s get you some water.”

“Steve got me water earlier!” James pulls backs and smiles at Parker, looking very, very fond. Parker is pretty familiar with the stages of drunk James at this point, and this is pretty close to the beginning. “Man, dude, I love you, do I say that enough?”

“I don’t think you have to say it a certain amount, but-”

James makes a distressed noise and lunges forward to kiss Parker. Or, more accurately, to lick Parker’s lips until Parker carefully pushes him back. James pouts. “Dude!”

“I love you too, James,” Parker says politely. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Out,” James says cheerfully. “Cib was running late so he went to look for him.”

“Look for him? Don’t tell me he’s driving.”

“No, walking.”

“To Cib’s?”

“Towards Cib.” James beams at him. “You’re great, dude, you know that? You’re a good friend.”

“Yeah, alright,” Parker says. Maybe he should be grateful that James isn’t at the “let’s have deep conversations” point yet, because that doesn’t normally go great for him. “Let’s get you some water, though, seriously.”

Twenty minutes later, after James has had one glass of wine and two glasses of water, the front door opens. “James,” Cib yells, “why did you let him leave?”

“Because you were late,” James answers, like that makes sense. Parker’s a little afraid to ask about that logic. “Did he find you?”

“He found me, eventually.”

“I always knew where you were,” Steve snaps. The two of them come around the corner, Cib holding both of Steve’s elbows and walking half a step behind him. He glares at Parker when he sees him. “Oh, good, he’s here.”

“Hi,” Parker says, and then looks back at Cib, who’s not quite smiling. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Cib says, and carefully wrestles Steve onto the couch so he’s sitting next to James. “Happy new year.”

“We have four hours left in this year.”

“It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Also, time is fake,” Steven says, nestling into James’s side. James drags his fingers down the side of Steven’s face, and Steve wrinkles his nose and wrests his cheek on James’s collarbone. “Time is fake and we only get drunk because-”

“Because you don’t want to have another existentialist breakdown about the passage of time,” Cib says patiently. “But time’s not fake! I have a clock in my phone, and my phone is real.”

“You also have Candy Crush in your phone,” James argues. “And the candy’s not real. Can’t eat it.”

“But the game is real! So that means time is real too.”

“All that means is the clock is real.”

“I can’t eat the clock either!”

“Parker,” Steve whispers - or, well, drunk-whispers, which is about the same volume as his regular speaking voice. “We need to get out of here.”

“You mean you need me to get you out of here,” Parker whispers back.

Steve frowns. “I can’t hear you,” he says, more loudly. Cib has stopped arguing with James and is staring between them now, looking kind of amused. “Open a window.”

“What?”

“Open a window so I can hear you.”

“You heard him,” Cib says, completely serious. “Open a window.”

The doorbell rings, and Parker silently thanks god that Autumn and Sami Jo have good timing. “I’m gonna get that instead.”

James boos him loudly. Steven kisses James’s neck, looking sort of absent-minded about it. Parker rolls his eyes and gets up.

The actual, real New Year’s party starts at ten o’clock with a flood of people. Parker and Cib have already thrown out all the half-empty drinks and finished the setup that James and Steve started, because that’s the deal they struck, like it is every year.

By 11:45, Parker has only ducked outside for air four times, which is a record low. Reina kissed him once, James kissed him twice and then asked him whether or not the Bible was a reliable moral authority even without the religious aspect to it, and Sami Jo hugged him for three straight minutes while Autumn smiled at them both.

“So a normal New Year’s,” Cib says, when Parker explains all this to him.

Parker shrugs. He’s already started putting away the alcohol and putting out water, and people don’t even notice at this point. “I guess. It just feels new and overwhelming ever year.”

Cib snorts. “Why do you come to these things, anyways?”

Parker opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Cib’s whole body goes stiff. “You okay?”

“Shit,” Cib whispers. Parker follows his gaze out through the party and sees… well, an awful lot of people he doesn’t recognize. “I have to hide.”

“What?”

“There’s someone here who I really, really don’t want to see me.”

“Okay,” Parker says. “You wanna go hide?”

He kind of expects Cib to say “not with you,” or maybe something like “no, I’m leaving,” but instead Cib grabs his wrist. “Do you think the bedroom’s safe?”

“Definitely not,” Parker says, because he saw Steve and James go in there twenty-odd minutes ago, and Autumn and Sami Jo in the guest room.

“Shit. Bathroom?”

“Bad idea.”

Cib glances at the party, swears again, and then drags Parker away. “There’s a solution.”

“What’s the solution?”

Cib doesn’t answer, zig-zagging through the kitchen, and the living room, and then to the coat closet by the front door.

“We could just leave the house,” Parker points out, but Cib’s already opening the door to the closet, and he’s never been able to say no to Cib. So Cib goes in the closet, and Parker shuts the door behind them. “Was it… you know… an ex, or something?”

There’s no light in the closet, other than what’s filtering through from outside, but he can still feel Cib staring at him blankly. “What?”

“Who you saw.”

“Who I saw?”

“Who we’re hiding from?”

“Oh,” Cib says, insincerely enough that it sets off a couple of alarms in Parker’s head. “Uh, yeah.”

“How long do you think we have to be in here?”

“Long enough.”

“Oooookay,” Parker says, and tries to open the closet door just in case. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

He jiggles the handle a little harder. “I’m pretty sure we’re locked in.”

“You’re kidding.” Cib reaches out, clasping his hand over Parker’s, and tries to turn the knob. Nothing happens. “Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Parker says, and checks his phone. “It’s 11:48. We can just scream at people when they leave the party, someone’ll let us out.”

“But we’re gonna miss the ball drop.”

Parker shrugs. “I can live with that.”

He can see a little more clearly now, eyes adjusting to the dark, and so he can see Cib tilt his head at him. “Why do you come to these things, anyways?”

“What, coat closets?”

“The New Year parties. You don’t really drink, you just clean up, you always complain about the crowd and the people trying to kiss you. Do you even, like, have fun?”

“Yes,” Parker says, without hesitation. “It’s like… my family used to throw these New Year’s parties, right? Family-only, but it was the one time where we all tried to… you know, get together and get along.”

“This isn’t family-only.”

“No,” Parker agrees. “I don’t know half the people here, and it’s too crowded and noisy, but… everyone else is here. Like, you’re here, and Jamie and Mimi fly in, and Autumn shows up, and she never shows up.” Cib laughs softly, and Parker can’t help but smile. “And everyone else leaves early so it’s just… us, you know? That’s why I’m here.”

“Aw,” Cib says teasingly. “You like us.”

“You like me too.”

“Well, yeah.” He can see Cib grin. “That’s why I dragged you off to hang out into a coat closet. There wasn’t an ex or anything, I just wanted to hang out.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I like you.”

Parker blinks. “Oh.”

“Although I should’ve probably saved that tidbit for when we were leaving the closet.” Cib hisses through his teeth. “This is awkward now.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“Only a lot.”

Parker’s not. He thinks maybe he should be uncomfortable, or even upset about being lied to, but… “You wanna, uh.”

“I wanna what?”

“You know.”

“I most certainly do not know.”

“It’s New Year’s.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“So do you wanna…” Parker forces himself to drag his eyes up to Cib’s face, although he nearly, nearly gets stuck staring at his lips, quirked up in a half-smile. “Do what… people do… on New Year’s?”

“It’s not midnight yet,” Cib says, but one of his hands is already settling on Parker’s waist, and the other is on the side of his head, brushing his hair back.

“We’re getting an early start,” Parker says, and Cib’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and Parker suddenly can’t breathe. “Besides, isn’t… isn’t time fake?”

“I hope so,” Cib breathes, and kisses Parker.

Now, here’s the thing about being in a coat closet.

First of all, it’s a prime makeout spot. Like, Parker’s going to keep this in mind, just in case he needs another prime makeout spot sometime, because there’s nothing else to focus on. It’s just him, and Cib, and it’s nice. It’s nice in ways that Parker never expected or thought about before.

Second of all, it’s easy to lose track of time. Which, to be fair, might be because he’s making out with one of his best friends, but it’s not like there’s a clock. Because, again, coat closet.

And, third of all, people put their coats in it.

What this all means is that Steve opens the coat closet at 12:13, sees Cib and Parker (who’s starting to consider whether or not he wants to be the kind of person who bangs one of his best friends in a coat closet on New Year’s), and shrieks, “What the fuck?”

Parker would wriggle away, he really would, except Cib sort of has him pinned against a wall, and also he’s not sure how much he minds this, so he keeps kissing Cib.

“Cib,” Steven snaps. “Get out of my fucking coat closet.”

Cib drags himself away, and Parker halfway whines, which would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the way that he can see Cib sort of blush at it. “What coat are you looking for?”

“Get out!” Steve says again, this time verging on desperate. “Both of you, go find a bed or a porch or something!”

“Bed,” Cib says immediately. “Can we use yours?”

Steve makes a noise halfway between a whine and a yell, which Parker is pretty sure means no, but Cib just says, “Awesome.”

“Guest room,” Steve says at last. “And we will be dragging you out for the new year hangout, so remain mostly clothed.” His eyes flit over to Parker, and his whole face scrunches up. “Especially you.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Cib says, and then fucking licks Parker’s neck. He’s not sure if it’s supposed to be a sexy thing or just to freak Steve out, but either way it ends with him burying his face in Cib’s neck, trying not to laugh.

Steve goes quiet for a couple seconds and at last says, “You know what? You guys can stay in here. Everyone else can freeze.”

“Freeze?” James repeats. Parker can hear footsteps. “Steve, why are- holy shit.”

“Hi,” Parker says weakly. “Uh, sorry we missed the ball dropping, but we-”

“Had other balls to attend to,” James finishes. Cib stretches out and high-fives him.

Steve looks at Parker. “You just spent, like, twenty minutes with his tongue in your mouth.”

“Yeah,” Parker says, and then because Steve’s drunk and it’ll freak him out, “it was pretty nice.”

Cib winds an arm around Parker’s waist, pulling him even closer. “Guest room’s open?”

“Yes,” James says. “Get out of our fucking closet, we just cleaned that last year.”

Cib laughs and stumbles out, still clinging to Parker. Parker stumbles after him, both arms around Cib’s neck. “Do you actually want-”

“Yes,” Cib says, and suddenly one of his arms is behind Parker’s knees, sweeping him off his feet. Parker gasps, but Cib doesn’t even stumble. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Parker says, and Cib beams at him.

“Okay,” Reina says, and snaps her fingers. “Resolutions, go, one each, around the circle.”

“You first, bitch,” Steve says. “Go, come on.”

“Fucking okay!” She rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna read more books. Next?”

“Eat more salads,” Mimi says.

“Learn to make better salads,” Jamie adds, and Mimi smiles at him.

“I’m gonna shoot more guns,” James says.

Steve shakes his head. “Fucking, I don’t know, can I read more books too?”

“Write a book,” James suggests.

Steve half-smiles. “Yeah. Maybe.” James kisses the top of Steve’s head, and Steve elbows Cib. “Go.”

Cib, from where he’s tucked into Parker’s side, hums loudly. “I’m gonna write more music. Parker?”

“Don’t know,” Parker says thoughtfully. Everyone boos, like happens every year. “Come back to me.”

“Fine, I’m ready.” Sami Jo wriggles around on the couch and tucks her feet underneath her. “I’m going to drink less coffee.”

“I’ll drink more coffee,” Autumn offers. “Just to balance it out.”

“Okay, Parker,” James says. “We let you skip, come on, resolute!”

“I don’t think that’s the verb,” Reina says, but then she hiccups and kind of undercuts her point.

Parker glances around the room. His friends are all curled up, piled on each other, looking at him. And Cib, who shyly asked between kisses if he could call Parker his boyfriend, is tucked up against him, fingers wrapped around Parker’s knee.

“I think,” Parker says, “I’m going to try and drink more water.”

Everyone murmurs in agreement, and Cib smiles at him, and Parker decides that he’d be okay if the rest of his new year was like this, too.

#parcib #cib x parker #ship pine 7 #shipping pine 7 #ragehappy #waveridden.fic #aucember17 #rpf for ts #this is more tropey than an au but like............. fuck it #aucember masterpost coming by the end of the day

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cutegirlmayra · 8 years ago

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Hey there girl! How ya doing? I hope things are going alright for ya~ So, here's the scenario: Sonic has to work as a spy for GUN to save the world and this gets Amy pretty swoony and giggly lol. Sonic notices and teases her, making it a bit fun with some British mannerism here and there (here we go down that AU route! Vroom vroom! XD) I can't wait to see what make of this x'D sorry if it's confusing! (Ily hehehe)

(x)I hope you don’t mind, I’m going SO AU with this XD

British mannerisms, omg, I got this on standby, let me just pull it out real quick and-

Prompt:

“Sonic, you’re the only one that billionaire will trust inside his deluxe super suite. Since you’re famous, and an animal, he’ll be more likely to trust you than a normal human. We’ve equipped you with-”

“A dapper lookin’ suit.”

“….Ehem, with specialized gadgets and a microphone in your ear. This way, we’ll have constant communications-”

“You can have constant communication with your eyes alone~”

“…W-who is that?” The woman turned to a man behind her, who briefed her on who Amy Rose was, and why she was in the crowd.

“She’s his escort into the party, where were hoping only Sonic gets the invitation to go to the targets floor…”

“R-right…” she turned back to Sonic, seeing him standing and looking pretty sharp, a confident, egoistical look on his face, as one eye was drooped and the other looked ready to hear more briefing, but getting bored of just standing around with his hands behind his back.

“Well, Sonic. You’ll be entilted to all the rights of a spy, meaning all the dangers too.”

“Ehem, s’cuse me? I heard a rumor of espionage and I’m pretty sure my badge is fake. Could you have your new recruit search me for concealed weapons?”

The woman twitched an eyebrow up, having it quiver for a moment before anger marks flared on her forehead, and the man behind her sweat dropped.

“We need you to feed us direct link while alone with him, get as much data as you can-”

“You can be a fly on my wall~”

“SO THAT WHEN THE TIME COMES, WE CAN-”

“You can track my every move, so long as you promise to take me out quietly~”

“OKAY, THAT’S IT!” she pulled out a gun as the men swarmed her, trying to keep her calm as Amy giggled.

Sonic rolled his eyes, “I got this.” he puffed up his suit jacket’s collar a bit and walked over to Amy in the crowd, leaning on the rail.

“Miss Rose, you’re making my mission rather difficult. I would highly advise you to keep your facts to yourself.” he winked to her, giving her the best british voice he could as she swooned, before jumping over it and taking her arm, waving to the people with another wink.

“Got it! Dangerous, super stealthy, and keep Amy under control. I’ve got this.” he shrugged, and then took off for the mission.

Walking into the party, Sonic kept up the act of ‘super spy’ as he talked in his headset.

“Amy, do you copy?”

“That melodious british accent is starting to take it’s toil on my delicate nature~” Amy placed a hand to her heart, before sipping a bit of her drink and looking around, distant from him.

“Heh. You’re far more bold than I would suppose a proper lady to be~” Sonic dropped his voice a bit, melting her even more with his deep, suave tone.

“Emm… Has anyone ever told you you’re quite the charmer.” Amy did her impression of a british woman, as he had to cover his chuckle and place his hands together and lean on the bar, closing his eyes as his smile was perfectly hidden behind his hands.

He opened his eyes, “Have you spotted him yet?”

“Not yet, love. But patience always kept the bird’s up before morning break.”

“What? Do they queue all day for that nasty little worm?” His british was spot on then, and Amy had to hold in a squee, even hearing the british word for ‘waiting in a line’ made her think Sonic knew more accents than she did.

“How did you do that so well?” she chimed, walking around now and pretending to socialize, as she suddenly spotted the man.

She flipped her beautifully dress to the side, walking away from him but acting like she was high aristocratic, dragging her trail around.

“You look positively radiant.” Sonic saw her at the corner of his eye as he was also searching, but hadn’t spotted her yet.

“You saw that little flare, did ya?” she went back to her american accent, before smirking and tilting her head to the side, “He’s that way.”

“Bbbzzz, Sonic? Do you read us? The party’s almost over!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

Sonic maneuvered himself through the crowd, getting to the man.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh, pardon me.”

“Ah! Are you..?”

Sonic smiled, waiting for it.

“Sonic The Hedgehog!”

“The one and only.” he bowed, politely as Amy listened in on their conversation, turning her back to them and ordering another drink of water.

“Wow! I would have never thought my invitation would reach you! Well, considering you don’t truly own an address.” he gestured out, before turning to his friends. “I had to send it to each of his friends, for good measure.”

They chuckled like gentlemen, before he pulled Sonic in under his arm a moment, “I have an exciting proposition for you! But before I get to that, you must show me your moves with women!”

“W…Women?” Sonic sweat dropped under his arm-lock a bit, speaking through a gritted smile that looked completely faked and forced.

“Why yes! Someone as dashing and charming as the one known as the ‘hero’ of the whole planet must have some good pick-up lines!” The man patted his back, as the G.U.N soldier spoke again in his ear.

“Bbbzz-Sonic? This is clearly a trap. He’s trying to determine whether to use you or get rid of you. You have to prove some form of loyalty, go ahead and impress him! bttzzz…”

“Ehem.” Sonic cleared his throat, before looking nervous, that’s when Amy’s voice also cleared on the microphone.

He looked over her way, as she stuck out her leg with her high heels, and positioned herself to look very appealing.

Sonic smiled, and turned confidentially to the men.

“Do you see that pink delight? Sitting up near that table over there?”

Sonic flicked his head her way as the men stared, before their eyes caught her leg and stared a moment.

“I’ll have her madly in love with me by the end of this dance.” he took a waiter’s drink, drank it, turned around and spat it out quietly as he hated the taste and put it back on the tray, before walking through the crowd to her.

“I hate to intrude~” Sonic sat by her, letting her leg stay up on the chair next to her.

She grinned to him, motioning her drink in a swirling motion.

“Are you going to have me in love by one dance alone, Sonic?” She dipped the cup over her face to make her look alluring, before drinking it and letting the mystery carry over for the onwatchers, knowing they were looking.

She moved her upright leg down and moved to the seat it was once on, closer to Sonic, and put an arm around him.

“Is this too fast?” she seemed to worry a moment, but Sonic just wrapped an arm around her waist, making her lose her feminine touch of british grandeur and blush.

“Amy…”

“I am fast.”

Getting up, the two walked to the dance floor.

After almost forgetting the mission from how much fun they were having dancing, Amy having to same him from some bad footwork that she then made look fancy, Sonic brought her over to the man.

“Gentlemen, meet my new friend.” he looked down to her, as she shook out her quills and laughed, hanging off of Sonic like her usual love-sick doting.

The men were amazed, she was fawning like normal, but they didn’t know that.

“He’s quite the man, Mister.” she lowered her voice to be more mature, suddenly putting Sonic’s mind in a bit of bafflement.

He stared down at her as she performed her little illusion.

“He’s quite the treat for a party. Tell me, are you planning to keep him around?” she looked back up at his eyes, enchanting the men at how dearly in love she looked.

Sonic smiled, genuinely this time, because he knew that look was pure Amy, and not some act.

“You are a sight.” he shook his head, speaking in a lower whisper, but seeming slightly touched at her honesty in how she was swooning for him.

“Hee.” she giggled, before leaning closer and being just loud enough for the men to hear her. “That’s not the only sight I can offer…~” she then moved closer, letting him know the implied meaning before whisking herself away, hearing the G.U.N soldier applaud her before telling her to get out of there.

Sonic was frozen a moment, before the Soldier shouted out for him to speak and get a grip.

“Ehem, quite the woman.” Sonic tried to continue, but his mind was racing on how Amy had never acted that way before. He put his hands in his pockets after scratching his head a moment, looking off after her as the men actually opened their mouths in amazement.

She was dolled up alright, but the fact that her usual ‘innocent’ nature could so easily be twisted by her made his brain almost stutter at the new.

If she wanted to be… she could be quite…

“Splendid, Mr. Hedgehog.” the man, almost looking slightly jealous at how well that went, drank his drink to avoid the slight frustration in his voice. “I won’t lie, I was hoping for some form of struggle from her.”

“Most do try, but as always, they fail at truly hiding their… excited… feelings.” Sonic nodded, before stepping closer to the men. “Forgive me for intruding on the topic with another of my own, but… Wasn’t there something you’d like to discuss with me?” he was trying to be smooth with the transition, even going for an overall appeal, but his abruptness made the men stare a moment, as the man he was targeting put his glass down on the bar.

“My, they weren’t kidding when they said you were restless. Zipping from one thing to another and unable to remain quaint and still.” The man was leaning on the bar before getting up, motioning his finger in a zig-zag to show how Sonic lept around so much.

“Manners, Hedgehog! bbtttz…”

“You’ll have to forgive my quick nature, I’m not one to queue around for an answer.” he kid, as his charm got the men back on his side.

The target laughed, “Alright, Mr. Hedgehog. Then we’ll move straight to business! I wouldn’t want to keep you from your … charming new conquest, now do I?”

The men put an arm around him and led him up to the target’s floor… just what G.U.N wanted.

“Be safe… Sonic.”

Amy’s voice was in his microphone, going back to her usual self, as Sonic thought about her a moment but couldn’t talk back to her right now, not in the mist of danger…

“I’ll be waiting for you… like I always do.”

He closed his eyes as he walked into the elevator.

Thank you… Amy.

Another prompt based upon this one (x)

#sonamy #amy rose #sonic #sonic prompt #sonamy prompt #sonicxamy

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buddyrabrahams · 8 years ago

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5 NBA teams that need to make a move before the trade deadline

With all the memes and the merriment of All-Star Weekend 2017 now officially in the books (not to mention the universe-shattering Boogie Cousins blockbuster), Thursday’s NBA trade deadline looms overs us with an urgency befitting of the Jaws theme. These next few days have the potential to turn pretenders into contenders or contenders into Crying Jordans. So as short-term and long-term destinies hang delicately in the balance, it’s time to have a gander at the five teams most in need of a move before the clock strikes 3 PM Eastern Standard Time on February 23.

1. Oklahoma City Thunder

If the Oklahoma City Westbrooks are interested in a serious playoff push, they’re going to need more than No. 0 letting out a primal roar as he charges solo into battle every night like Bluto after giving the “Germans bombed Pearl Harbor” speech in Animal House.

While Victor Oladipo has proven to be a worthy vice president and Steven Adams has the mad game to go along with the mad ‘stache, the OKC bench has been quite the wasteland this season, especially since Enes Kanter assaulted a piece of furniture. Cameron Payne is still working his way back from foot surgery, Alex Abrines looks like Generic Euro Player No. 47 on NBA 2K, and I’m fairly certain that Kyle Singler’s basketball skills are fake news.

The numbers support the brutality as well.

Since the Kanter injury, the Thunder bench ranks 22nd in the league in points per game and dead last in field goal percentage. They’re also getting outscored by 9.1 points per 100 possessions over that span, which basically means it’s rest in peace every OKC lead whenever Westbrook sits. Would they benefit from acquiring a dynamite perimeter scorer (maybe this very available Laker?) to hold down the fort for the second unit until Kanter gets back? Perhaps. But we won’t know unless general manager Sam Hinkie picks up that dang phone.

2. Washington Wizards

So remember how I was harping on the Thunder bench just now? The Wizards bench makes them look like the freakin’ ’95-’96 Bulls.

29th in points per game, 29th in three-pointers made, 30th in rebounds per game, 30th in assists per game. All for THE ENTIRE SEASON. With those kinds of rankings, I wouldn’t be surprised if head coach Scott Brooks has been conditioned to develop acid reflux every time the substitution horn sounds.

The good news for the DC metropolitan is that the chronic turd laying of the Washington second unit hasn’t really mattered because of the Herculean performance of their starting five, a well-oiled machine chugging along on chemistry, continuity, defense, three-point shooting, unselfishness, and John Wall snatching dudes’ souls. It’s on the supernatural strength of that brigade that the Wizards find themselves at 34-21 on the year, third in the conference, and one of three Eastern teams with an increasingly real chance of pushing the Cleveland Cavaliers to brink of the flat earth.

Still, with one of those other teams, the Toronto Raptors, locking and loading with the acquisition of Serge Ibaka, the Wizards’ starting five, bless their hearts, likely won’t be able to lone wolf the trek to the top of the East. So unless the front office has accepted Ian Mahinmi’s return from injury as their lord and savior, it’s probably time to send in the reinforcements via trade.

3. Memphis Grizzlies

Certain necessary measures have to be taken to ensure the continued survival of Grit ‘N’ Grind in the modern NBA, and first-year head coach David Fizdale has already enacted most of them. From utilizing Zach Randolph’s old-man-at-the-YMCA game as his go-to weapon off the bench to convincing Marc Gasol that chicks do, in fact, dig the three-ball, Fizdale has helped the once-fading Grizzlies to a 34-24 record and the No. 6 spot out West.

But Memphis’ wing scoring is still Death Valley incarnate (in large part due to Chandler Parsons’ season sinking faster than the Titanic), and they currently own a bottom-five offense in terms of points per game and a bottom-one offense (translation: they’re last, bruh!) in terms of field goal percentage.

Holding onto the sixth playoff seed would coincidentally give the Grizzlies a first-round date with the Tommy Gun offense of the Houston Rockets.

If Memphis is looking for a way to better counter that firepower (as they probably should be), the Atlanta Hawks have somebody to offer as do the Brooklyn Nets and several others. Just please, for the love of God Shammgod, make something happen, because I’m sure as heck not watching Troy Daniels and a fossilized Vince Carter jack up threes for the rest of the season.

4. Boston Celtics

By now, we know that Isaiah Thomas is a 5-foot-9 Molotov cocktail rigged to detonate every single fourth quarter. But with the Cavs looking more vulnerable than ever, can the second-place C’s afford to stand pat through another deadline? They don’t have very much spot-up shooting with Avery Bradley banged up, 37 different guys on the roster are tussling for backup minutes, and marquee offseason addition Al Horford couldn’t get a rebound if he was standing outside of a divorce lawyer’s office.

For many years now, the Celtics have been basketball Xanadu for irrational Trade Machine fantasies and Internet message board scuttlebutt thanks to the fact that they’re home to the NBA’s greatest Treasure Island of movable assets, young talents and high lottery selections alike. But deadline after deadline, GM Danny Ainge sits on his hands and simply allows all those assets to grow moldy. Well, don’t you think it’s high time for him to bring out the Clorox and make a splash, be it a Jimmy Buckets-sized one, a PG-13 rated one, or otherwise? Gotta pick the fruit when it’s ripe or else it goes bad, Danny Boy.

5. Cleveland Cavaliers

If you take a look at the Krabby Patty secret formula for repeating as NBA champions in the modern era, one of the most vital ingredients is an upgraded supporting cast. The ’90s Rockets needed to bring in Clyde Drexler, the late 2000s Lakers needed The Artist Formerly Known As Ron Artest, and the Big Three Miami Heat needed Ray Allen and Chris “Birdman” Andersen.

But the Cavs have zigged where former defending champs have zagged in that their roster this year is unquestionably worse than the one that won them the title last June. They lost Matthew Dellavedova and Timofey Mozgov for nothing, Kevin Love and J.R. Smith are currently in the midst of extended absences, and their big offseason signing was the very same Chris “Birdman” Andersen but a 38-year-old version of him with an ACL that was ready to go.

Now not all of that is Cleveland’s fault per se, and the January acquisition of Kyle Korver was definitely worth an ovation or two. But at what point do all those three-point shooters become redundant? Is it time for the Cavs to start pursuing upgrades in greater areas of deficiency on the roster? But will their luxury tax hell and their dried-up well of trade chips even make such an upgrade possible? And when will LeBron James finally present the rose to his preferred playmaker of choice? Let the deadline party begin.

*Stats courtesy of NBA.com*

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2m6uell

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