#greasy toes and squishy bugs

[gamedevproblems]

this blog activity is a testament to how good i am at keeping myself motivated

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 10 - Showstopper

Showstopper (noun) 1. a song or other performance receiving prolonged applause from the audience 2. an obstacle to further progress 3. computing: a bug that needs to be fixed before a piece of software can be used or released

Tags & Warnings: Sexual Harrassment If you see this symbol ♫ I highly recommend to listen to the song "Take a hint (Demo from Victorious)" by Meghan Kabir (https://open.spotify.com/intl-de/track/1TOT8O90bvTp81n2N4XjzW?si=b73d3f9d435446ea)

“Gotta give it to 'ya, sugarjugs - Your tail is damn squishy.” Angel was lazily lounging on the ground, his back settled against his bed and his pig in his arms. It took you over an hour to get him manageable and down enough from the high of the weed cookies. You had done anything you could think of – put him in a cold shower (you would never ever talk about the things you saw to anyone), made him drink water (“I don't drink 'ya stupid watah, I'm not six.” - “It's not, it's ...vodka, the expensive kind, the one that doesn't burn.” - “Uh! Gimme, gimme!”)... you even let him play catch with your tail for twenty minutes while he laid in his bathtub, eyes full of childish glee. Once he got coherent enough and the typical foggy eyes cleared up, you dragged him out of the bathroom and, frustrated with tip-toeing around, started to tidy up the floor – sans the colorful, abhorrently shaped toys. The trash was packed with empty cardboard, plastic bags and greasy wrapping papers as well as the rest of the space cookies, which you buried down deep enough for Angel not to notice. You had piled Angels clothes next to his dresser and folded away, huffing.

“You'd know better than me, I had to spray you with roomspray to let it go once you got a good grip at it.” Angel snickered, caressing Fat Nuggets back. “Ah, that's why I smell like a russian whorehouse.” He stretched, bones cracking, and yawned. “'Ya know that whatcha' doing right now is useless, right? In a day, it'll look the same again.”

You untangled a very complicated black harness...dress...bodysuit...something as you glanced back at him, ears flicking. “Fat Nuggets might be a sow, Angel, but that doesn't mean you have to live in a pigsty.” You gave up with the... whatever, and just rolled it up, shoving it in one of the drawers.

“I prefer the term 'eclectic maximalism', thank 'ya very much.” He tickled the piglets nose, it squealed happily in response. “While you're at it, that black dildo has it's own case, right over there.” “I'm not touching that.”

“Oh sure, get picky now. You folded my kinkiest BDSM-slave-harness but draw the line at a friggin' dildo.”

“Your what?”

Angel burst out laughing at your disgusted look. “Chill, Rocky. Man, you really are a vanilla girl.”

Angel stood up, picking up the toy and threw it in a bejeweled box. “But.. 'ya know, thanks for the effort. Niffty doesn't come in to clean anymore since the 'Electro-Play-Wand'-incident last month.”

“... I won't ask. And I certainly don't want an explanation. Please.”, you sighed. He butt-nudged you, winking. “Fine, I'll spare 'ya delicate sensitivities. But only if 'ya tell me if I'm right.”

“With what?”, you asked, relieved to pick up the last item of clothing – a white, fluffy sweater with pink hearts.

“Being a vanilla girl.”, he smirked and wiggled a ball gag he picked up at you. You rolled your eyes, closing the drawer. “I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to.”

His eyes widened. “Shaddup, don't tell me 'ya a virgin. Rocky, no one with an ass like that is that prude.” “I'm not.” He continued to stare at you, eyebrow high, arms crossed and tapping his foot. “Let's just say, the men I was with were not the types to have around long enough to really find out what flavor I am.” “Really bitch, sounds like you scraped the bottoms of some barrels then.”

You looked around the room, pleased to see the floor was visible again, and while it wasn't sparkling clean it was a massive improvement. Angel came to your side, all four hands on his hips, and grinned at you. “Now what? 'Ya wanna learn a few tricks to bump you up to chocolate?”

You dramatically shuddered, giving him a strained look. “Please, I've seen enough from you for one day.” “HA! I knew 'ya were lookin, 'ya sicko!” he clapped, snickering, then, in a spur, he quickly gave you a surprisingly gentle, quick hug. As he released you, he scratched his neck, still smiling.

“Seriously tho, thanks Rocky... for 'ya know... dealin' with me. Staying.”

You stilled for a second. His smile reminded you of something, or someone, you just couldn't place a finger on it. But you felt a sentimental twang, like some kind of deja-vu, making you almost smile. Almost.

“Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're okay.” You butt-nudged him playfully like he did before. “Now, we'll have to start getting ready. Charlie has an evening out planned. Weekly teambuilding at a bar, the 'Lava Lounge... and thanks to these damn cookies we only have an hour.”

“Aw, shit, that's today?”, Angel groaned, clawing his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, okay, we can make it. Whatcha' gonna wear?”

Odd question. You move your hands, presenting your work attire with a confused frown.

Angel looked horrified. “No.”

“Yes?”, you say, still confused.

“No. Nope, Nu-uh! Over mah dead body you ain't. Bitch, it's a night out in a bar, not 'ya great-aunts church picknick, by satan's left ass cheek.” You rose your brows, a little offended. Angel scoffed, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. Oh shit.

“Let's doll 'ya up and give these sinners some eye candy to chew on tonight, yeah? I have just the thing.”

He had settled himself on one of the plush sofas in the foyer, a little away from the bar where Husk had filled his silver flask with cheap booze ten minutes ago before he, too, had retreated to his room to prepare for the evening trip.

He hadn't seen her since he came back, just sent an eager Ozul to catch him up with what she's been doing.

On his way home he had stopped at the antique store in Cannibal Town, buying Rosie a new set of china to be delivered to her.

Alastor had summoned a book to read – he was always dressed for the occasion, unlike the silly residents of the hotel and even though he had no real interest in these weekly boondoggles of the princess, today he was more than willing to participate.

Rosie had given him a lot to think about. The walk back to the hotel had been used to contemplate whether she had been right in her statement that he was bending his own moral code too much. Truth be told, she had been right that he never used something like lust to wring something he wanted out of one of his subjects – and he could proudly say he had many subjects under his beck and call. But that was because one, he never had to, as his victims without a fail feared him and the things he could do to them too much for him to resort other means. And two, Alastor never had any interest or desire in these indulgences. He had his fair share of offers, men and women alike (the ladies in cannibal town were especially persistent), lowly sinners and powerful demons, even the poor souls he made deals with, mostly looking for an easy way out of their bounds. He faced it all with cool disinterest paired with mild disgust. He was above them all, above the whole subject matter. So why did he decide to use it on his gem? And the more urgent matter was: Why hadn't he felt the expected disinterest or disgust when he did it, riling himself up so much he even lost grip on his neatly maintained 'harmless' form instead ?

When Ozul came back to report, he had to smirk in amusement at the state of him. The shade was clearly agitated, and reported hurriedly.

“I am not putting it on, Angel.” “C'mon, you barely see the nipples in it.”

With a scoff at your defiance, the spider threw the silver washcloth with strings on it back into the drawer. “Why even have tits if you're not showing them.”

“Because I'd lose balance.” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “No to this... thing. End of discussion.”

“Fine, but I'm all out of nun costumes. So stop being an uptight bitch and meet me halfway here, Rocky.”

Angel threw up two of his hands and ruffled through the neatly folded clothes with the other two. The vein on your forehead was dangerously pulsing. He pulled out a close-fitting burgundy red skirt, holding it up in contemplation. It was short, but not skimpy, crushed velvet, with gold buttons along the front. He held it to you with outstretched arms and a challenging look.

“Tame enough for 'ya?”

You sighed and nodded, catching it as Angel threw it at you, his head back in the drawer.

“Thank fucking god. Now for the twins...”, he bickered, all four arms now rummaging through the clothes. “You are so lucky I keep a lot of Cherri's old clothes here, you'd practically burst my outfits shoving 'ya booty in there. AHA!”, he shout out in victory. The top was almost boring compared to the silver abomination from before, just a black neckholder top with a heart cutout at the neck, but you shook your head nonetheless.

“OH COME the fuck ON! It covers your boobs, it doesn't even show cleavage. Give me one good reason why not.”

Your tail swished nervously, and you bit your lip. For a moment, you wanted to stay silent. But you decided to explain, reminding yourself of the rules. Be vague with information.

“Because I don't want people to see my scar.”, you calmly say and open your blouse, pulling it loose wide enough to show the perplexed demon the bite scar on your neck.

“Oh shit, Rocky...”, he just said, eyeing the mark, his look became instantly softer. “What did 'ya do?“

You thought for a second, “... I was bitten and eaten by an animal, that's how I died.” Not a lie, technically. You were getting good at this

Angel put the top away without another word while you closed your blouse again. The next thing he chose was a formfitting, simple black turtlenecked shirt with long sleeves. The top section was made out of black mesh, covering the chest in a sweetheart neckline, shoulders, and upper back. A compromise, and definately his way of being considerate of your revelation. You held your hand out, and he grinned as he put the shirt in it.

The thought of stepping out of your room in the outfit Angel provided took every ounce of courage you had, even though it fit you well. You had paired it with the only other pair of shoes you had, the ones Alastor had gotten you for special occasions – simple, T-strapped black leather heels, a similar style you had worn in jazz dance classes, which had you feel a little more comfortable. Still, this was... a lot to take in. You felt like you were wearing a costume, a skin you once shed and now tried to fit back into again. Too personal. Too human. The skirt felt so short, even though it barely rose above your knees, and it hugged your thighs tightly, allowing little space for your nervously flicking tail. At least the shirt was relatively modest, the mesh on top was soft and opaque enough to conceal your scar. BUT... Was this okay? Were you even allowed to dress like this? What the fuck would Alastor everyone think?

How mad would Angel be if you just changed back into your work ensemble?

You were still panicking in front of your mirror when you heard Angel knock on your door for the third time, threatening to pick the lock if you wouldn't come out on your own. To your absolute horror, another voice joined him. “Now what seems to be the problem here?”, you heard Alastor muse on the other side of the door, a slight mocking edge to his tone. “Everyone else is downstairs, waiting to depart.” “The problem is 'ya stubborn, self-conscious play doll, Smiles.” A few more bangs on the door. “Rocky, I swear to god, I didn't give 'ya a makeover for makin' sweet eyes at 'ya shower head tonight!” Two softer knocks. Him. “Come now, kitten, open up, let's see the damage.”

With your eyes on the floor and shaking hands you reached for the handle, unlocking the door and opening it in defeat. “Finally!” Angel moaned, smirking at you, his gold teeth glimmering. “I don't see the problem, dollface, 'ya look bomb. You're welcome.” He crossed his arms and gave you a triumphant giggle. Alastor took you in, his heavy-lidded eyes wandering from your open hair down over your figure to your shoes. You felt his static cracking around your ankles, like sparks on your skin. “Well, I've never thought I'd see the day where I actually have to compliment you for a job well done, my frisky friend.” Your head shot up and you stared at them both, Angels' smile almost as wide and smug as Alastors' at this compliment. All the way down to the foyer you felt his gaze fixated on you, only disturbed by the rumble of the crew ready to take the short walk through town to the bar. Charlie and Vaggie lead up front, deep in conversation, Angel prattled along, talking with Niffty and Husk shambled behind them, you and Alastor followed last. When he offered you his arm with a mischievous sounding “May I, darling?”, Husk threw an ugly look your way, taking his silver flask out to take a chug and turned his back to you quickly. You took it nonetheless, idly aware of the feeling of the fine cotton of his suit under your fingers and trying to ignore the closeness for the sake of your composure. Alastor had other plans – with a snicker, he suddenly tugged on your arm, making you stumble and almost falling into his side. He laughed, and rose a brow, smiling non-nonchalantly down at your flushed face. “Relax dear, tonight, you'll be off official duty. You certainly earned a bit of fun, don't you agree?”

You caught your step and wondered if you did.

Staying with the theme, the 'Lava Lounge's interior was draped in hues of burnt blacks and molten oranges, mimicking the fiery heartbeat of a volcano, casting a warm and oddly inviting glow. In between the carved, obsidian booths, suspended fixtures resembling actual molten lava cascaded from the ceiling, acting kind of as a divider or privacy shield, providing a soft, ambient light that flickered like glimmering ember. The air was thick and hot with the hum of the sinners around, broken in between by laughter and the occasional clinking of glasses. Other patrons had fled the booths on the whole side of the one where you went to sit in, and you found yourself nestled in between Alastor and Niffty. You eyed the bartenders and waiters curiously, each and everyone seemed to have flaming heads, or at least fiery hair. Behind the sleek, onyx bar a bulky female demon with piercing green eyes in blue flames and a LOT of tattoos was mixing cocktails that seemed to erupt with hot ash as she poured it out of the shaker. “Me and Charlie are doing drink duty first.”, Vaggie said, glaring at Alastor. You looked at him questioningly, watching him chuckle with delight. “I tend to scare the poor waitresses away, dear, that's why we take turns in getting drinks. Whiskey, no ice, if you may.” “Yeah, that's real funny, buckboy. Love that, doing their job every fucking time you decide to get jiggy with us.” Angel groaned, ordering a “Drunken Lover” from the cocktail menu. A few minutes later the two girls came back with their drinks on a tray and news of tonight's program. “They canceled the band that was supposed to play tonight.” Vaggie said with an eye roll, handing you your ordered “Persephone's Passion” (an overly-fancy name for plain pomegranate ice tea). “Apparently, the lead singer got in trouble with loan sharks. They are still searching for several limbs.” Charlie grinned cheerfully and waved a bright orange binder. “Buuuut they decided to have a spontaneous karaoke night instead! Yay!” “If 'yo going to sing 'Walking on sunshine' again, I'm leaving.” Husk growled. “Third time's not the charm.” You were torn between genuine excitement – you always loved singing your heart out at karaoke bars – and unsettling worry. You didn't want to make a spectacle of yourself again, in a packed bar, on your first time outside, in front of.... everyone. Sure, everyone... “Oh I know I'm gonna bring Britney, bitch! Yo Rocky, you up to it?”, Angel asked, playing with his swirly straw. His white face has already gotten pink around his cheeks... what the hell did they put in these drinks? ”Um, we'll see, maybe if they have the right song...”

Charlie was nagging Vaggie to sing a duet with her, and while the others were distracted Alastor leaned over to you, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn't mind hearing you again, little gem. Just don't play too much on your heartstrings this time, yes?” You opened the binder and pathetically hid your smile in it, but you were sure he saw it, as he flicked your ear tufts and leaned back with a sneer.

“AH! That was amazing! Am I glowing? I feel like I'm glowing!” Vaggie had caved, and her and Charlies performance of 'Time of my life' had left Vaggie embarrassed, Charlie overjoyed and the whole bar befuddled. Your ears shook with inner laughter as you congratulated them both. Vaggie shot you a tortured look.

The lounge was buzzing as as the winged demon girl who moderated the songs called for a demon named Travis to sing “Tequila” with a clearly pained face, resulting in a collective groan and various boo's from the patrons. “Alright, that's the cue I needed to get another drink.”, Angel said and grabbed your hand. “We're getting the next round, on-the-rocks, come on.” You were pulled from the table in a swift motion, but you didn't miss the tightened corners of Alastor's lips as he watched you were weaved through the crowd. Angel rattled down the list of drinks, then he turned to you. “Hey, I'm just gonna powder my nose quick while hot stuff over there”, the spider shot a wink at the lean, blue-skinned bartender,”mixes our drinks, just wait here for me and make sure they don't skimp on the good stuff!”

Even if you wanted to protest, Angel was too quick, slithering through the crowd to the bathrooms. You sighed and leaned your arms against the onyx bar top. You let your gaze wander over the busy bar, trying to remember when the last time was you went out like this.

Out with friends. Having fun. Or something like that. The whole atmosphere was lighter this evening. Of course you still felt the tenseness of the past day, and you still had to deal with whatever the... experiment had let loose in you. But right now, you felt not as numb and exhausted as you usually did.

“Hello there, sweetheart.”

A slippery-smooth voice ripped you from your thoughts, and you turned to head to come face to face with... a screen? A slender, yuppie-type demon with a flatscreen for a face and a tailored electric blue suit stood beside you, an empty glass in hand and a sly smile on his... lips? You hardened your face and blinked. “Hello.”, you answered politely, but regretted that instantly when you heard his next line.

“What's a cute thing like you standing here all alone?”

The demon put his elbow near you and leaned casually into you. Too near, you shuffled yourself slightly away. He reminded you too much of the former... clientele you had to entertain for cheap money. Overly confident, overcompensating, overly touchy. A big fat walking ick with too much money. But in contrast to before, you weren't paid to deal with those kind of men now.

“I'm waiting for a friend, actually.”, you said coldly, hoping Angel would return soon.

“Well, what a friend to leave you stranded. Why not ditch them to join me and my friends?”, he nodded to a raised plateau, separated with red, thick rope on golden barrier cords and a sign “VIP”. Several other, expensively dressed demons lounged there, you saw a girl in a black pant suit snapping photo after photo on her phone. You rose a brow, and he added with a suggestive wink “Free booze and a nice warm seat all night, baby.” “Tempting,” you dripped of sarcasm. “but I have to decline.” This guy was getting on your nerves. Fucking sleazeball.

“Mh, a feisty feline. I like a little fight in a girl.”, he laughed, slowly, deeply. Fake. You scrunched your nose, but then you heard Angel calling out to you. Thank fucking god. “Hey Rocky, are the drinks... “ Angel froze, wide eyes on you and your unwanted suitor. “Wait, wait, wait.”, the demon snickered loudly. “Angel Dust is your 'friend'? Well, that makes it much easier, then. Name your price babe.” You furrowed your brows, anger pulsing in your temples. “Excuse me?” The spider next top you awoke from his paralysis and quickly scanned the VIP section before stepping in front of you protectively. “She's not a hooker, Vox.”

Oh shit.

OH SHIT ON A STICK.

“Not? Ah, my bad, but can you blame me? What are the chances?”, Vox mocked with a sneer, pushing Angel away and caging you in his frame. You cross your arms defiantly, steeling your eyes even though you're boiling inside. “Listen, Roxie - that's your name? You should really choose your friends better. Why don't we have a little private chat, get to know each other a little. Maybe I can even offer you a position under me.” he chuckled at his poorly delivered ambiguous phrase. The air around you sparked with the familiar feeling of static. Fan-fucking-tastic, now the doomsday clock was ticking. From the corners of your eye you saw your saving shade slither around your feet, like a snake ready for the bite. You took a deep breath, monitoring your venomous tone to be as steady as you could be. “I think I can decide best which company to keep, and I am fully and extraordinarily satisfied with my current employer.” As if on cue, Ozul slithered up to your shoulder and hissed, making a few bystanders jolt in surprise and fear and Vox stumble back, freeing you from his presence. Angel snorted, quickly hiding it behind a cough, and grabbed the tray full of drinks for your table while Vox's eyes darted over your shoulder. He blue screened for a second, then he burst out in bellowing laughter. “The Radio Fucker? That's rich, now I know you are both underpaid and underfucked.” His look was murderous, even with the plastered smile on that stupid monitor of his. You turned to leave but he caught your wrist, gripping it firmly in cold, metal claws. His other hand wandered into his suit and pulled out a small, digital business card. “Tell you what, sweetcheeks. Call me when you're ready for the future, or when you're choking from the dust off that fossil. Whatever happens first.” Before you could react, he shoved it in your back pocket, intently pinching your ass. For a moment, your vision turned red, but he was already gone and you heard Angel pressing a strained “Motherfucker!” through gritted teeth. You were seething as you practically shoved Angel through to your booth, letting yourself falling onto the bench with a loud thud. “Classless prick.”, you hissed. Charlie immediately hovered over you, worry in her eyes. “Are you okay? Did he do something? Oh man, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. He never came here before.” Alastor was silent, his eyes dark and his lips pressed in a tight smile. Threatening. Oh yeah. He was mad mad. “Fucking Cheese on a cracker, Rocky. 'ya got big balls for a girl.” Angel breathed, absent-mindlessly pushing back his white headfluff. “Vaggie glanced over her shoulder, glaring at the dimly-lit silhouettes on the pedestal. “I can't stand that dick... Should we go?” she looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “But kitty didn't sing!”, Niffty pouted, completely oblivious. You scoffed. “Ha, have just the right song in mind to sing to that TV-asshole.” Then, you sighed. “But that would only cause trouble, I guess.” “Why not go for it, dear?”, Alastor said suddenly with a melodic voice, a revived glint in his eyes. All eyes turned to him. “Why should we let this... insignificant loudmouth spoil our wonderful evening? Let's dare a little, what better time than tonight?”

Vaggies mouth dropped open, Husk and Angel just looked at him like he lost his marbles. Charlie and Niffty were the only ones who seemed to eagerly agree with him. “You know what, he's right, (Y/n), it's your first day out, that sucker wont ruin this!” You looked at Alastor, for the first time today, really looked at him. There was no trace of maliciousness, it was almost... challenging. A look as if to say: Show me what you got. You stood up and felt your lips bend into a smile.

You walked up to the winged demoness as she shuffled through her laptop. She looked up, curiously eyeing you. “Hey girl, you wanna sing something? Slow crowd today... I'm Lola, by the way”, she gave you a crooked smile. “(Y/n), and oh, you bet I do. Can you do number 403?” She quickly typed on the keyboard, raised her brows and laughed happily. “Oh my god. Girl, I love that song. I'm hyping right now, get on that stage, let's see if you can burn the house down!” she giggled, grabbing her headset.

“Hey Lava Lounge, get ready for some really hot stuff. Give it up for (Y/n), cause she's got a big fat fucking message to tell 'ya.”

You stood on the stage and took the mic. The intro began, louder than any song you heard this evening, and a quick side glance to Lola giving you thumbs up while singing the background girls and bopping her head told you why. Fuck yeah.

You shook your hair back and let the music take over your body. It moved to the rhythm like you had trained it to do for so long, and it felt like a starved dog getting a steak. Your hips dipped just the right amount to stay classy, and you reveled in your anger.

♫Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like I can always see 'em coming, from the left or from the right I don't want to be a bitch, I'm just try'na be polite But it always seems to bite me in the♫

You looked straight to the VIP section, the display of the TV demon shining through the dim indirect light. He was watching, and it brought you a sense of impish glee to see the picture glitching.

♫Ask me for my number, yeah, you put me on the spot You think that we should hook up, but I think that we should not You had me at "hello", then you opened up your mouth And that is when it started going south♫

Pure energy filled you when you heard Angel shouting to you, his “Fuck yeah, Rocky” clear in your ear through the music, and you gave him a wink as your body moved like it had a mind on it's own. Charlie and Niffty hollered at you, and many other patrons started to clap to the rhythm, bopping their heads.

♫Oh!

Get your hands off my hips, 'fore I'll punch you in the lips Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint No you can't buy me a drink, let me tell you what I think I think you could use a mint Take a hint, take a hint ♫

If the song would've allowed it, you would've scream-laughed when you saw more and more glitches. The heels were perfect to dance in, you felt powerful and full of chaotic energy. You've always had the tendency for theatrics, and you relished in acting the next verse out, imagining yourself back at the bar, saying all the things to the flat-faced idiot who sat across the room, furious.

♫I guess you still don't get it, so let's take it from the top You asked me what my sign is, and I told you it was "stop" And if I had a dime for every name that you just dropped I'd be buying everyone a shot Oh!♫

The next chorus was filled with whistles and voices of girls from a few booths joining with the background singers. You felt something hard on your back, and remembered the stiff business card in your back pocket. And you remembered his filthy claws on your butt. The lounge was tinted in a red hue. You were already at it, why not make an unmissable statement?

♫What about "no" don't you get? So go and tell your friends I'm not really interested♫

You pulled the card out of the pocket, fanned yourself provocatively with it before you wrapped your fingers around it and crushed it into glass shards and metal wires, shrugging your shoulders as you fixed your gaze on Vox, a derisive smile on your lips. The girl in the pant suit stood next to him, holding her phone as if she filmed you while giggling, clearly knowing you were addressing Vox and highly amused by it.

♫It's about time that you're leavin' I'm gonna count to three and Open my eyes and You'll be gone♫

You stood at the edge of the stage lifting a finger. Alastor's static crept up your legs, making you shiver.

♫One Get your hands off my♫

Another finger. The prickling feeling rose to your waist, tingling over your skin like ice rain.

♫Two Or I'll punch you in the♫

The third finger went up as you were fully enveloped, feeling every inch of your body with an intensity you've never felt before.

♫Three Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint♫

You broke from your stance and danced with the last lines of the chorus. Every note and word was like a punch, like a release of your temper. Your ears were filled with the singing of the girls, with Angel wooing, with the bangs of each claps and the beat from the music.

♫I am not your missing link Let me tell you what I think I think you could use a mint Take a hint, take a hint Take a hint, take a hint♫

♫Get your hands off my hips, 'fore I'll punch you in the lips Stop your staring at my hey! Take a hint, take a hint T-take a hint, take a hint♫

When the music stopped, the lounge erupted in applause and more whistles, your face hot, you could only nod. You had caught sight of Alastor, head tilted with intense glowing eyes and a satisfied expression, leaning deep into the back of the booth, clapping.

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[poppyseedoncaffeine]

CH. 6

A/N: Earth, Moon and sun have squishy padding on their body's.  

   Sun, Moon, Monty, and Lunar were all talking in the next room. Eclipse was left in one of the little plastic houses with the door firmly shut. OK so maybe they were still in the same room, but technically Eclipse was the one in the separate house... so.. hah. God's this spell needed to hurry up, it was getting harder to see things from his original point of view and not a child's.  A bin had been placed next to Eclipse, who was laying down on the padded floor, his head hurt, when did it not? Huh that's a question. 

        "NO!" Monty

"Monty..." Sun

        "I'm not going to cooperate if you dumb asses have that THING loose in the daycare" there was a loud thump.

"Watch where your swinging that thing!" ... Moon

        There was a long sigh, effectively silencing the other three, "do I need to get the talking mic out?" huh... Eclipse had never heard that voice before. He rolled over and crawled to the door, slowly sitting up to peak out the window. A new bot that Eclipse hadn't seen till now, stood in front of the others arms crossed, as if they were an exasperated Mother wrangling her kids. Sun shook his head and sat back down next to Lunar, LUNAR! Eclipse pushed himself onto his tippy toes to look at his brother, he looked droopy and stiff not at all like the buzz ball he normally was, and he was SMALL! Like him.

        Lunar's piercing violet eyes met pale blue, Eclipse shrank back at the disapproving glare Lunar gave him, Eclipse let go of the windowsill and pushed himself into a corner. He wanted to go home, He tuned the voices out as best he could, berrying his head into his lap.

        "Look I suppose it wont really matter but, at the moment? Hes a child" Suns voice cut through Eclipse's train of thought, "and hes sick, you may not like it, he may not like it, but we're stuck with him until further notice"

"No we're not! Can't we just send him to a foster home or something?" Eclipse tightened his grip on his legs.

        "No Lunar, we don't know exactly what happened, as far as we know, this" there was a pause, "could only be temporary" Moons voice came out calm, "we can set up a few plans and rules in case something happens" No one bothered to argue.

        Eclipse had been left to his own devices in the playhouse, toys and a nap pad had been stuffed in with five minute check ins. A bucket sat next to the door in case Eclipse felt the need to throw up again, he didn't but his tummy hurt so he stayed laying on the mat away from the toys. He didn't want the toys! If he didn't do anything they might give him back to KC! Eclipse felt giddy, his plan would work surely! Eclipse scrubbed at his eyes, itchy, itchy, itchy. Eyes drooping closed he fell asleep.

...

        Throw up, throw up THROW UP. Eclipse gagged, his body shook with effort as he scrambled to the bin. Why couldn't he throw up? Dry heave after dry heave, Eclipse sat there in pain, he wanted to sleep! Something touched his back, NO! No more bugs! 

        No, no more bugs. 

No more?

        No, safe, good, warm. 

        Eclipse shuddered as his body relaxed a bit, the cramps in his stomach abusing his little body. Gentle fingers combed through his greasy hair. 

Little one needs a bath. 

        No baths were for good children, he was bad! Gentle hands, warm hug, Safe, Safe Safe.

Good child, bad child, all children get baths. Eclipse shook his head weakly. Sick children get medicine, something bad slipped into his mouth. Swallow, swallow, good, so proud.

        Cold.

Its water, Eclipse swallowed and nuzzled into the squishy chest.

        Rest, sleep little one. 

Eclipse sighed, this felt good.

...

        The next time Eclipse woke back up he was bundled in several blankets and a stuffed raccoon was pressed into his arms. A plate of crackers and a sippy cup sat a little ways away, there wasn't much room in the house for anything else, Eclipse blinked in surprise, the door was open. He sat up and scrubbed at his eyes, itchy. the Raccoon was tucked safely under his arm as Eclipse slowly sat up to pick at the crackers. He ate one before selecting to go explore, his overbearing hunger he harbored in the past two weeks suddenly gone. Eclipse waddled out of the hut, marveling at all the colors.

        Eclipse, went over to the couch, his hand brushing the soft texture. He turned away, making a mental note to touch the couch again, his eyes landed on something big, lumpy, and blue. Eclipse squealed excitedly, toddling over to the bean bag, Raccoons tail swinging violently. He climbed onto the large sack and sank into it immediately, Eclipse quickly learned that he was, well, stuck. He giggled to himself as he tried sitting up, unaware of two violet eyes glaring at him from the balcony.