📜🎩 T H E ☆ M A G I C I A N - Act 55

Content possibilities: original content, w/w(?) or overall queerness, fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, asexuality/demisexuality, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening, stuffing, nausea, gender ambiguity, birth, demons, religions & mythology (diverse), cursing

🐍▶ Read all from the start
Part I: 1-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 l 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Part II: 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 28½ | 29 | 30 | 30½ | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 41½ | 42 | 43
Part III: 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54
🎩▶ Last Chapter

________________________________

T H E  ☆  M A G I C I A N

________________________________

Act 55

Mel

The show went without complications, as per usual. Mel had entertained a full house, and maybe their perception was a little clouded because of their optimistic, joyous mindset, but it had seemed much more engaged than usual. The audience was presented with one of Melodie’s less mysterious and more humorous performances and gave plenty of verbal feedback. Lots of Aaahs and Ooohs, laughter, clapping, and gasping.

Suffice to say that it left Mel in an even happier state when the curtains fell, hiding a brightly smiling, liaised person behind them. 

When Mel left the stage, the backstage crew congratulated them generously, and even Bente managed to put on a smile when she commented “Not bad”. She then guided Mel to the exit, where their bodyguard Tomas joined them, ready to substitute as an extra pair of vigilant eyes and a shielding, massive body for the upcoming after-show party.

Of course Mel didn’t really need a bodyguard, considering that they had a powerful demon with them at all times, and of course Bente did know that, too. Yet she had always provided Mel with one or even several escorts for bigger events, mainly because of two reasons: for show and prestige, and as some sort of concierge and scapegoat who would help take care of Mel’s needs and act as a strict buffer for fans—the snekkies—who were too intrusive or rude, so that Mel didn’t have to get unpleasant in an way.

Though Mel had learned that there were other, hidden reasons, too. For one, this way Bente would know everything that Mel and their demon would end up doing, so as a way of monitoring them. The other, as one bodyguard had forwarded them once in the beginning of Mel’s career, was to “protect others from Mel”. Both the bodyguard and Mel haven't really understood the order, even to this day. So Mel had dismissed the comment as Bente being Bente. Extra pessimistic, extra spiteful against demons, and extra careful.

None of that bothered Mel today. On the contrary, they were happy to see Tomas again, one of the bodyguards they had known for the longest time and had the closest bond with, even though the guy was usually a mute boulder, only talking when requested, and even then only using the bare minimum of words. 

They were even happy to attend the after-show party, even though their little dove couldn’t make it. Usually social gatherings were bothersome since Mel had to continue to perform under the pretext of social interaction, and this prevented them from attending to their passions and working on new tricks and equipment. Plus they were a minefield. Remember that famous person’s name, reacting properly and enticing toward small talk, functioning in a socially accepted way—all while fulfilling the people’s high expectations of Melodie van de Sterren with a charming attitude. Thankfully, Lusje was a great help in those moments, acting as an in-ear monitor.

Even though they had a general philanthropic approach towards meeting new people and found exploring their personalities generally intriguing, Mel certainly preferred to be on their own after big shows.

Not today though. Positive energy filled their veins, making them feel like they could face the world with the mask and burden of the world’s most famous magician for days. 

Life’s good right now, hm, my baby human? a voice in their head hissed, not without a loving undertone.

Since their bodyguard was sitting next to them in the car Mel couldn’t answer verbally, so they just nodded, and, almost imperceptibly, stroked the cane with their thumb. A gesture of affection they hadn’t displayed since their falling apart over a decade ago.

Lusje didn’t say anything in response, but a feeling of bittersweet attachment and tranquility washed over them, unclear if it was Lusje’s or their own.

---

The exclusive party was just starting to get heated when they arrived. As always, Bente has ordered the driver to take a long detour, passing by a drive-through. She was considerate enough to grant Mel a break and something to eat by that, but also calculated enough to artificially increase the impact of Mel's appearance this way. “People of your caliber are never early,” is one of the things she had repeated for years, every time Mel voiced their discomfort towards that attitude.

They parted at the location. The manager on her own, busy doing the scheming networking Mel refused to do, and Mel left alone with the bodyguard to do as they pleased.

“Have fun, rainmaker. Je hebt het goed gedaan. Try to last at least 3 hours for me, will you?” she said when vanishing into the crowd.

“Well then, let’s give the people what they want.” Mel said to Tomas once Bente left. “Shall we?”

Instead of answering, the tank of a man gave Mel a grunt and then proceeded to follow them like a meaty shadow on the red carpet. Then, once they entered the location, he took on a more low-lying position and watched from a couple of meters away.

The beginning went as usual: people congratulating and introducing themselves, trying to get Mel to reveal at least one little secret or animating them to do a little sleight of hand right in front of their eyes, which Mel often was quick to enact, partially only with well-trained dexterity, partially by using their supernatural powers, particularly with people from their profession. 

Many greetings and tricks later the crowd around Mel has dispersed enough for them to excuse themselves to fetch a drink. 

A waitress approached with a tablet full of champagne and snacks. Much to Mel’s delight she was dressed in a classic getup consisting of a white shirt, a black bowtie and vest, a white kitchen towel ready to quickly serve in emergencies and as a pad for bottles, and even sleeve garters—an aesthetic Mel always appreciated.

She offered Mel the serving tray, with Mel taking one of the glasses. Only then, when she spoke, did Mel recognize her.

“A glass Pisse Des Riches, Madame?"

Bea! Lusje exclaimed festively in Mel’s head.

“Bea!” Mel repeated verbally, surprised but not unwelcoming, “I didn’t recognize you! The long hair suits you,” they added while admiring the waitress’s brown hair, backcombed and held together in a low ponytail.

Without losing the serving pose, the woman answered, “It’s a wig, of course. I still have a buzzcut. Cut the brown-nosing though, you motherfucking bastard. I’m not here to listen to that.”

Mel smiled. She hasn’t changed, after all.

“Hmmm. Please elaborate. Does that mean that I am a bastard that penetrates mothers, or am I the illegitimate child of a motherfucker?”

Lusje cackled upon Mel’s unusual comeback.

Bea's eyes narrowed into two dangerously gleaming slits.

Mel’s smile grew wider. “I am very glad to see you well. And working an honest job, too. I’m proud of you.” 

“Shut your asshole of a mouth, traitor. Of course this isn’t my job. It’s a gig. I’m still doing the work you forced me into. And I’m fucking good at it, too.”

Genuine sadness overcame Mel for the first time in a while. 

Fuck man, she’s still angry over this shit she did to herself? What a pity.  I hoped you guys could be Bonnie and Clyde again. Or, well probably more accurately, Doc Brown and Marty. Or Tintin and Snowy. Or Cosmo and Wanda. You’re the dumb guy in those pairs, by the way, in case you didn’t get that.

“I see. So what are you here for? A lonely billionaire? A fascist influencer again? A criminal that slipped through the system?”

Laurel and Hardy would fit you guys well, too. Though she’s more beef than fat. Maybe Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute? Ah, I know. Bender and Fry.

The faux waitress straightened her back, her green eyes looking at Mel with malevolence. “Maybe I’m here to finally get you out of business. Maybe to kill you?”

In their mind, Lusje gasped and finally stopped referencing characters Mel didn’t know anything about.

Mel looked at her for a couple of seconds, then put back the glass on the tray.

“Of course you are, Beatrix,” they answered, with sudden weariness washing over them.

The woman got closer, her rather impressive biceps visibly tensing under her shirt, ready to attack at any moment.

“If you say that name again, I will deadname you. You have no right to call me that anymore.”

This finally made Mel lose their mask. Their smile vanished, leaving two compressed lips, clearly showing hurt and grief. “I understand,” they said.

Shit, man. Just get away from her. She’s no fun anymore.

In the corner of their eyes, Mel saw their bodyguard move closer. 

They quickly put back on their controlled, beguiling smile and took on a more relaxed pose to show Tomas that there was no need to worry.

“Well then, I wish you luck with your… gig. And I know you neither need nor will you accept my help, but if that changes one day, know that I’m at your service, alright?” Mel assured her while pulling out a red rose from behind Bea’s back, offering it to her.

Without blinking, without hesitation, without creasing her face, and much to Mel’s shock, the woman bit off the rose’s head, chewed it thoroughly, and eventually swallowed it.

God, I forgot how much I love her, Lusje commented in Mel’s mind.

She didn’t even break eye contact, nor did she put back on an acting facade when the bodyguard  finally stepped into her personal space, after all.

Mel looked at him, trying to convey that she wasn’t an issue by slightly shaking their head. 

He forcefully stepped between them anyway.

With no other option than facing him, Bea looked up to him and planted herself threateningly. “Champagne?” she asked in a tone that could also well mean “Got a problem?”

Even though she was considerably buffer than most women, she clearly was no match for him—yet Mel could witness the bodyguard giving her muscles an approving look. 

“This young lady just shared some of her exercising tips, maybe you have some for her, too?” Mel stated, hoping to convey to their bodyguard to keep Bea away from them without causing a stir, while staying polite.

He did understand, because when Mel departed, they heard him growl “Tai Chi.”

▶️ NEXT CHAPTER

____________________________

Story written by RoseVirage