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melviships · 11 months ago

Text

Untitled (Mayhem x Anders)

No summary, this was unplanned, I don't know what I'm doing (poses cutely but explicitly pained)

Proceed with caution

There was never a dull moment in Kirkwall and even if the healer was not present at the scene, Anders surely saw the aftermath when the victims dragged themselves into the sewers begrudgingly. It seemed every refugee in the city was facing problems; the consequences were a concerning amount of bruises, breaks, and lacerations.

We are running out of time, something inside reminded him as he packed away supplies. There is much to be done.

By the time the sun had settled down, his vision had blurred from the strain of constant mana output.

Be proud, he assured himself. At least there is no headache.

He gave his patients a final once over and plucked the tie from his drooping ponytail, freeing it from the loose grip of worn twine.

"I'm done," he replied aloud. A pained snore jolted him. He couldn't focus here. As much as he knew he had things to finish, they could wait a bit longer. He needed rest.

He glanced up and the barely blocked exit of the Amell family's basement begged him to enter.

This is a serious matter, why are we doing this, his fighting spirit of Justice questioned as he strode over to it, elbow snagging on the dull tip of a nail.

Because I need this.

He ran his hands down his face and he tucked his chin into his cloak as he squeezed through the rotten boards and into the damp cellar.

Glass shattered against the wall. He flinched. A familiar grunt followed shortly as another piece of glassware was flung at the ceiling.

"Hawke ?"

A series of dull thuds were the response. Then a long scrape as a box was dragged across the dirt floor, no doubt leaving a trail.

A boom.

Wood splintering.

More smashing of glass and a cascade of liquid.

The space was filled with the stench of vinegar. Wine, he figured, oxidized long after the Darktown thugs who stole sips from it had vacated the premises.

His nose scrunched up as he approached the heaving figure clutching their bleeding palm, dripping with the added red of neglected dregs. "Mayhem ?"

He felt his skin go taut with gooseflesh-- cold metal, sharp on his throat.

They gasped, "Anders."

He let out a shaky breath as he heard the blade clatter at his feet.

"Shit, I thought you were- I... I don't know actually."

"Not a guard. We don't get the pleasure of relative safety in the sewers."

The champion of Kirkwall looked meek.

"Why are you breaking your family's things ?" He whispered. "Leandra didn't say something about us again, did she ?"

"What did I say about one question at a time ?" They growled before cringing. His voice flattened. "I apologize, I do not know what has come over me."

A chuckled burst out of him awkwardly. "And here I was the one supposed to be possessed." He straightened up as they twisted their head in pain. "I'll let you answer those two questions after I patch you up. I'll help clean if-"

"Don't bother." They smirked and habitually moved a pale strand of hair from his face and pressed a hand to his cheek, then hissed out, "Oh, oh, ooh, bad idea, bad idea, sweat and hair, augh."

The groans continued as they moved it slowly away, catching on some stubble and causing them to shake their palm, like a pest had stung them and this would release him from misery. Justice surged forward a moment to lift their fingers to the spot Hawke had touched.

His cheek was wet with their blood. Anders gently took their wrist and fumbled with the fastening on his pouch. "Be still."

"Okay," they murmured.

He blotted a cotton cloth with clear alcohol and carefully wiped the dirt and grime from the rapidly bleeding wound before applying pressure. He squeezed their hand with both of his, offering a smile as they cursed under their breath. "So," he spoke as he let blue light stream into the cut, "Why are you breaking things in the cellar ?"

"Letting out some bottled emotions."

"I see. And would those emotions be related to previous conversations with your mother ?"

They stilled. "Um. No."

"I can tell when you are lying." He sighed. "You did not even bother hiding it."

"Fine, yes. Mother told me that I was making a mistake. That I was putting eyes on us. That I... I'm the reason Bethany isn't at home."

"I thought as much," he said plainly as he put the cloth away to reveal a faint line of pink, inflamed but not at any risk of infection. He rotated it around and placed his other hand on top. They wriggled their fingers between his and closed them over. Justice stiffened as to not make them snort as their lover brushed their fingertips on the fine hairs above his knuckles. "You know she doesn't mean it."

"I do."

"And I know it does not make it hurt any less when she speaks the same rhetoric as the Templars."

"You do, too," they snapped.

Cold tendrils wrapped around his digits and threatened to crush Hawke's. The tell tale cracks of Vengeance flared before melting away. He panted, "I understand you are upset."

"I don't think you get it, Anders. I'm trying to protect the ones I love and the same people turn around and spit in my face because I don't behave how they think I should. I do not need the added scrutiny."

"Believe me, I do."

"I know !" They balked. "But you don't know my thoughts, my feelings, my inner self. You don't know how much I- !"

Their mouth snapped shut. Leghold trap, some cruel joker piped up in his mind. He blinked and it was gone. He felt them start to shiver.

"How much I," they stammered, "I-I-I don't like being seen as some careless ne'er do well who can't back up their claims and purposely puts others in danger."

"We would not follow you if we did not truly believe you were capable."

"But what if I'm not ?" They heaved. "I never asked for this."

"None of us did. But," he paused a moment to rub their jaw with thumb, a smile waiting to spread as they dropped it into the web of flesh connecting to his index, and he sighed, "I don't think we would want this any other way. We are here because of you. We are going to make it though because of you. Trust me when I say I would split the ground in two and leap into the flames if I knew you would soar behind me."

His face drained of what little color it had as he watched theirs puff up and tremble, tears welling and distorting the pools of hazel. "I've never seen you cry."

"I don't cry," they gagged.

And as quickly as the tear fell, their face was back to nonchalance. They wiped the smear of pale red and glanced at the single drop that collected on their middle finger. "Ugh. I'm not redoing the shadow. Pain in the ass."

"Wow. You are... efficient."

They forced a smile, bottom teeth glinting in the candlelight. "I try to be."

Something stirred in him and without thinking he yanked them into a tight hug. They wheezed and coughed dramatically.

"Someone help, my partner is finally ending my suffering."

"Quiet down. Or someone might actually do so."

"Would make my night," they grumbled into his pauldrons.

"Mm." He rubbed his nose quickly over their buzzed scalp- a hare's kiss, Merrill had called it once. "It would ruin mine."

"Bah." They weakly pulled away from his hold. "Alright, alright, I'm fine now. You can let go."

"I am choosing to be selfish."

"Prick."

"Buffoon."

"You smell like pickles."

"Your fault." The wind was knocked from his lungs as they punched his stomach, feeling it go rigid before filling out to the paunch they so worshipped. "That was deserved."

"Well, I supposed I owe you a hot bath. Shall I ask Mother to start it while I strip you of your clothing ?"

"Love, you can rip the smallclothes off of me and I would cherish it."

"Heh. We'll see."

They stretched an arm around him and gripped the neck of a green, thin bottle with only their fingers. He craned his neck so they could lift it in range of vision. "White. She'll accept it, I'm sure."

He spun them around and grabbed it from them. "I think that she would appreciate the gift."

Their mouth gaped. "You bastard."

He pat their cheek. "I believe Fenris says that I'm your bastard."

His eyebrow lifted. "I should get angry more often. Lets me see the charming side you boast about."

Much to Justice's dismay, he winked. "I have better things to do with my mouth."

"If you don't stop this instant, we're never making it upstairs."

Without another word, the two scrambled through the maze of doors and up the ladders, waking anyone who dared to sleep in the estate and rousing the district below.

And if Mayhem could help it, no one was getting back to slumber any time soon.

#TheSameInTheEnd #melviships drabbles #quick and dirty and ugly fic because that's how I'm getting into the swing of writing again #I'm doing it bad <3

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melviships · 3 years ago

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Memento Mori (Davison)

After several outings Mace drops by for another one. The two undead friends go to a thrift market, go through the park, and go out to a scenic location. Then things get... weird ?

Note: I feel like I should specify but Mason uses trai/train/trains/trainself neopronouns and they will be used interchangeably with their other sets. This will be apparent in every fic I write for them.

Davison playlist master post can be found here - main playlist is here

Pairing: David x Mason

Word count: 7,671

Content warnings: partial nudity, theft, environmental vandalism, passing mention of smoking, suggestive themes, yelling, kissing

Tag list: @dirt-juice @goldenworldsabound

It was a good thing that Mace showing up unannounced was something that David had learned to detect. As soon as he heard the van pulling up outside, he tied his towel around his waist and plodded out of his bedroom. Mason’s racket that you could refer to as footsteps could be heard from down the walkway and was rapidly approaching the door. He opened it right before their fist pounded against it and winced as it knocked on his skull a few times before taking notice.

“Oops,” it uttered, innocently lifting a hand to their mouth.

“We both know you meant to do that.”

It pursed its lips and scratched its neck. “I… I did. I totally did. Did it work ?”

“I am enraged and annoyed. Congratulations. Can’t you see it on my face ?” He said with an impassive expression, until fondness betrayed it and he smiled. “What are you bothering me with today ?”

Trains eyes trailed down his bare torso and back up to catch his smug grin. It swallowed the saliva pooled in its mouth.. “There’s this thrift- wait, is flea market the right term actually… no, it’s not exactly that I- whatever there’s this thrift market pop-up thing where people sell stuff they found or altered or made and it’s fun. This one is the spring one, obviously. I was wondering how you felt about a day out,” it rattled out before flailing its arms and sweating out a speedy recovery. “It doesn’t really matter how you feel. I’m going to drag you along anyway so I can harass you.”

Leaning against the doorframe, he titled his head in thought. “Mm, a market sounds nice. The weather is pretty nice too. A day out sounds great.”

They shuffled while clenching and unclenching their hand. “What about a night out ?”

He quirked a brow. “Is it later at night ?”

“No,” it mumbled, “I was thinking of something else we could do later though.”

“I see.” He smirked. “Well, a night out doesn’t sound too bad either.”

“Cool, cool, cool cool cool. Wanna head there now ?”

He rolled his shoulders back so he could hear their strained groan. “Let me finish getting dressed. You can come in if you want.”

“Don’t even gotta ask- taking your snacks !” It called out as it entered the flat.

While David tugged on pants and a shirt, Mason was finishing off a bag of cereal and doing a phenomenal job at adding crumbs to his floor. They promised to vacuum later that week and he opened his mouth to ask when they coordinated a hang out, but remembered it was Mace and it would let itself in one way or the other. He relented and pulled on his flannel as they chucked the empty bag into the bin. Pluto came out of her room, hard expression softening as she discovered it was Mace making all the noise. It beamed at her and she tried not to say anything about that being Helen’s cereal and not David’s. Deciding it was funnier to divulge the information, she told them anyway. Their dismay was enjoyable and the two roommates chuckled as the punk fumbled for the box and snapped a picture of it so they could buy a replacement.

“If you’re done being a menace, I’m good to go,” David said after putting in his tunnels.

“Ya, one sec.” It tossed the box at his head and he spiked it to Pluto who caught it with ease.

“Bring me back some candied citrus rinds while you’re at it,” she grumbled as she tossed it back into the trash as she headed into the kitchen.

“Heard. Alright, Prettyboy, hope you like joyrides.”

The ride could hardly be described as joyful. That was not quite true as it had decided to blast bubbly Eurodance music which provided some levity as it raced to the park. The band leader braced himself as they skidded into a parking spot between two cars. Its hubcaps were still intact as he climbed out of the van and checked the tires. He whistled. “I was expecting worse after you slammed into the curb.”

“I did not slam- I made a calculated impact. This is my job. I think I know how to drive and park fast.”

He snorted. “You sure did do it fast.”

“Let’s try and take our time here though.” They pressed the lock button on their key fob and stuffed it into their pocket, shrieking as they felt him move behind them and lay on their back. His arms looped around their neck and he pressed a kiss to the back of their head. It steamed and huffed, “Do you need me to hold your hand and show you to the tents ? Are you that empty-headed ?”

“Mm…” He leaned on them and moved his lips against their ear. “I might.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Just get off me.” They batted him off and he stretched his hand toward them. “I’m not holding your hand.”

“Alright then. Looks like I’m winning this harassment game.” The singer hummed a tune and put his hands in his back pockets as he swaggered off towards the market.

Mace gaped. “No, you fucking aren’t !”

They traded nudges and shoves as they walked, calming down once they were amongst tables of fragile goods. Fragrant smoke billowed at the entrance and led right to a table of carved incense boxes and holders. The body jumper was more interested in the hand dipped sticks, settling on a few boxes of sandalwood, patchouli, and jasmine. As it was handed its change, it scurried off to a nearby table filled with small glass figurines. David was beckoned over and he pried himself away from a metal fixtures booth. It handed him a figurine and he examined it as they suppressed a squeal. “It’s a howling wolf. It’s so cute. Do you think Rat would like it ?”

“I didn’t know it kept trinkets.”

“Oh, it doesn’t. I meant it’s for me. Do you think it would like seeing it in the van ? It would go right at home on the dashboard…”

“Mm, yeah, I guess it would make a fine addition to the family.”

“I’m sold.” It swiveled around to the seller who was surprised they did not have to make a single pitch. Money was exchanged and the glass canine was wrapped in brown paper before being handed off to the punk who cradled it, eyes growing wet while it looked at the bundle. “Baby.”

“Yes ?”

“Not you !” It rolled its eyes and walked off.

They trekked on and browsed the various vendors. The front section was where most of the artists sold their goods. The two would split and check out things that they found interesting before reconvening and talking about their finds. Amongst the paintings and sculptures were booths where people were selling snacks. Neither of the duo wanted any nuts or granola, but it had a pleasant aroma. Not far from the bags of mix were fences covered with hats. Some time was spent trying on goofy headwear before they caught sight of a sea of flannels. It did not take much convincing from Mace for David to tag along.

Trai looked through the swaths of plaid and check- all of them were worn to some degree and those that weren’t, were distressed by hand. It was common to find tie-dye and painted bleach designs as the particular DIY trend saturated the vintage upscale market. Near the end of the rack, the shirts became larger and thicker, many having lining or hoods sewn in. Some even had pockets. The punk flicked another hanger before pausing and pushing it back to get a better look; a better feel was more accurate. They ran their fingers through the frosted black fur that coated the inside. It was a stark contrast to the rainbow grid print fabric that had been tied and splattered with bleach, the spirals of white continuing up into the shoulders that were dipped in black dye. The piece screamed the drummer’s name. It was eccentric and gaudy and texturally rewarding. Such a considerable amount of time was spent stroking the garment that David had to come over and get a feel himself. He hummed softly. “Pretty cool. Thinking of getting it ?”

“Oh, I-” It flinched as their knuckles brushed against his and they covered their fist with their hand, rubbing over them to dissolve the lingering sensation, fingers twisting around trains wrist to relocate it. Their voice fell into a hushed tone. “I dunno, it looks fun. Hard to say when I’d wear it. Might be nice for layering.”

“Might be, yeah.” He pinched the fur and tugged it. “I think this is real fur.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s so expensive. Not like I have rent to pay, but still. Not sure it would be worth the investment.”

“We can come back to it ?”

“Certainly an option,” they agreed.

He stepped past them and thanked the owner before exiting. “C’mon then. I have plenty of green flannels. I can pass on more.”

It nodded and left the stall with him. The market was slower the further down they went before picking back up when they reached an area populated by antique furniture and refurbished technology, a mountain range of brown wood and yellowed plastic. While it enjoyed obsolete media and its subsequent players the sights and smells conjured images of dirty carpet and china dropped on stained linoleum which had them rushing to the more secluded section.

Their undead confidant was content to move on as he spotted stacks of books and VHS tapes. He found a few DVDs and even some Blu-ray box sets, but was talked out of them by the firm price given from the man at the table. His friend snagged a trunk and squeezed between two booths to set it down, flawlessly oohing and awing over a tattered tote bag and purchasing it for pennies so they could slip the item into it. Mason and David exchanged looks. Trai smirked as it set the parchment wrapped wolf on top to cover the stolen goods along with the bundles of incense.

“Think they have any albums ?”

He shook his head at them, sighing, “They might. Wanting to fill up that bag ?”

“Oh, I think I’m good for now. Just want to browse some more, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

They both bobbed along the aisles in search of music- no tapes, but plenty of records and discs. The body jumper grimaced as they thumbed through a crate of vinyls and moved onto the other boxes of grimey tech and dusty toys. It whispered to itself,”Lots of vinyls today, nothing of substance.”

The undead meandered back to the central path. David stepped closer to Mace, bumping shoulders. “Are you having trouble finding a record ?”

They scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like I mess with that stupid shit.”

“Not into records, then ?”

“Not really, no. Sure, you can do some fun stuff with them, but they’re so limited when it comes to creative freedom that even the slightest once of uniqueness is seen as this mind-blowing thing when it’s just recycled material or they press weird shit in the wax that makes it sound worse and boast that it makes a unique experience for each record.

“And don’t even get me started on the pieces of garbage who collect them. The amount of times I’ve heard some Urban Outfitters membership holder talking with their friend about ‘ooh I found this vinyl at the flea market the other day, it was such a find- a real gem, a real rare piece, a real deep cut- and I managed to snag if for a couple of bucks who would have thunk it, ha ha, sip sip on my overpriced hops water’ Like holy shit, you are not cool because you and your record are full of piss-

“Utter horseshit ! Not even manure grade crap.” Trai crossed their arms. “The audacity to say that finding a rare record is some feat. Shellac might have gone out of style, but vinyls never did. They dwindled in popularity- they didn’t die. If anything, they’re more in style than ever. Every music collector fuck has them. Bands still sell them, companies still press them, people still pawn them. So many places carry vinyls. And you call them a ‘rarity’.

“It’s bullshit, I tell you. Being a tapehead is so much harder. I dare one of those discophile fucks to try and track down an obscure cassette that is in good condition. Hell, I dare them to find a place that even carries more than a single shelf. Way more of a difficult task than going to your local record shop and checking to see if they have any new wave or butt rock band’s discog,” it ranted, sneering and gesturing with mockery.

Their companion chuckled. “I had no idea you were a hipster.”

They halted and jerked their head, face going red. “A hipster ?” It set down their bag and stomped up to him. “Are you fucking kidding me ? Me, a hipster. Know your place, cuntbag. Tapes are punk culture. Bootleg records ? Fucking nothing on cassettes. Pirating music on those shits was encouraged. Hell, the real ones make it easy for you to create bootleg tapes. You ever heard of the Dead Kennedys ? King Gizzard ? The music industry was so scared of losing profits from CDs thanks to DATs and that’s the only reason cassettes were squashed down. What’s more punk than directly threatening the execs who run labels ? I want to see those hipster wannabes try and pirate music for once in their miserable lives.

“‘Oh a-hoo hoo, my favorite musician only released a lot of 100 tapes whatever shall I do’- go get some blanks and some ink you salon-headed dipshit. If you like art so much, why don’t you make some ? I bet they don’t even know where to go find a tape deck that isn’t already refurbished and handed to them. Get back to me when you have to replace some corroded heads and worn belts. I bet you won’t. A fucking hipster. Not in a million fucking years.” The punk shook its finger at him. “This is why you’re my enemy. You’re lucky I don’t strand your ass here until you can get a Lyft.”

David put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I gotcha. Not a hipster.”

“Damn straight. The only straight thing about me.” They picked up the tote and began to walk to another stall. “You should really know better. Y’all are alt. Know your roots.”

“Ha.” He treaded behind them carefully. “Should we be releasing tapes too ? To make it easy on you ?”

“I like a challenge- already have your stuff on tape anyway,” it admitted. “Thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“Good to know you hate listen on your tape deck with tapes you made yourself. I can not deny your pure vitriol and passion put into hating me. It is truly a sight to behold,” he joked as they steered into a booth filled with jewelry and metal work.

“Just say I’m erotic,” they said while rocking cuffs on the table, rotating the display stand while not really looking at the bracelets. A wooden organizer caught their attention and it squatted down to scrutinize the contents. The stall owner took notice and stepped over with clasped hands.

“Oh, are you interested in the charms ? The ones on the right are real silver and I have a few gold pieces as well.”

“Oh, uh, cool.” It avoided her gaze and lifted one up, their eyes widening as they realized it could be opened. Inside the small mailbox was an even smaller letter. They smiled as they shook it around.

She picked up a small carousel on a chain and rotated it. “I have a feeling you are more interested in the moving ones. There’s a few more in here…”

Both searched through the metal trinkets and each time they found one that could fold, spin, or open the punk would beckon their zombie friend over to demonstrate. They pulled a chain with a large safety pin charm through his tunnel, let it dangle there, and rubbed their chin in thought. “Ooh, I’m kind of digging this.”

He flicked it and thought for a moment, then hung a pair of scissors to the hoop on their ear next to the missing chunk. “I think this works great for you.”

“It’s genius, actually. Gotta get them both- I’ve decided.”

The elderly woman smiled, exasperated. “They are genuine sterling and moving so that would come out to about… six each.”

“The safety pin is a bit worn… can I get that one for four ?”

“Mm. Alright.”

“Score.” Mace thumbed through their wallet and produced enough bills to pay for both. It grinned as they left with their purchases still attached to their ears. “I’d say we found some good trinkets. I might come back for that shirt… it’s calling my name.”

“Better hurry before someone snags it first,” he said sarcastically, his smirk falling as they looked serious.

“Like hell they will.” It handed David the tote and knelt down before dashing off. David watched them turn the corner and disappear from view- he debated on jogging after them, but they wheeled back around with a ragged expression.

“They sold it already ?”

It panted, “They ran off when they saw me coming.”

“I’m… not surprised, to be honest, but I am shocked you did not run after them.”

“Eh. I can wait. There’s one more day left so who knows. Maybe I can steal it.”

The taller man laughed and went to pat their head, only deciding against it when they grimaced and he saw the sheen of sweat that made the short hairs glitter. His hand slipped into his flannel. He thumbed the punch card in the pocket. “It’s pretty warm out,” he commented, “Probably feels worse for you after sprinting like that.”

“I’m always hot, Prettyboy,” they snapped.

“You are hot.” Rocking on his heels, he ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “I can’t deny that.”

It thanked the heat for their already red and shining cheeks disguising its temporarily flustered state. “There’s an ice cream cart here I really like. We can cool off there.”

“Oh.” He pulled out the punch card. “I think the girls and I might have gone to that. I still have this from last time- looks like we might have earned a free scoop too.”

“You haven’t washed that shirt since ? I thought I was the crust punk here,” they laughed.

He smiled sheepishly, hoping they would not notice his lie. “Never got around to wearing this again. I guess.”

“Don’t worry, Davey Gravy. Your secret is safe with me.” They patted his shoulder. “I’m down for free ice cream.”

He removed their hand, holding it in both of his. “We’re already here, might as well check it out.”

Their face puffed as they yanked trains hand away. “Yu-huh. See, uh, let’s see what they got.”

The band leader smirked as it started to walk off with large strides. It was easy to keep up with them since they appeared to be looking for the stand and failing to spot it. His hand slipped around their side and he turned them to face the direction of the stand. Their skin was puffy and slick under his fingers and he swelled with pride. He whispered into their ear,”You have to keep walking or we’re not going anywhere.”

“Sh-shut up.” It continued to walk until there was enough space for it to swing at the air without punching him in the chest. The man at the cart looked scared for his life as they approached until they finally stopped, arms frozen midair as it scanned the menu.

“What the fuck is Cactus Flavor ? Am I going to be stabbed ?”

“I don’t think they would serve something that would stab you.”

“I serve people all the time.”

“Fair point.”

“I kind of, want to try it ?”

“Sure, why not ?”

He asked if they could have a scoop to share and the cart attendant spooned a single scoop into a paper cup. They stuck a spoon into it before handing it over to Mason.

Humming a song, trai scraped the top with the tiny spoon. “Oh, it’s redder than I was thinking.” They ate a few bites and smacked their lips. “And smooth. Here, try.”

“Did you,” he paused after taking a bite, “Did you want to be stabbed ?”

“I was hoping for mouth violence.” The fruity ice cream had stained the skin around their lips red, giving it a ghoulish appearance.

“...I think you accomplished that, somehow.”

“Sick.” They shoved more into their maw with no regard for neatness. “Wanna get more so we can fill out your punch and get that free scoop ?”

“That was our free scoop.”

“Shit. Okay. I thought you didn’t come here much.”

“I don’t. I do have two women who live with me.”

“Right… mm, I still kind of wanted more.” They scraped the bottom of the cup with their spoon. “I can pay for it ?”

“How kind of you.” David was still wondering why Pierce had recommended they visit. Everything so far was typical Mace.

They crushed the cup in their hand and chucked it into the trash, slipping the shared utensil into their pocket before swiveling around. “Yo, can I get my usual ?”

The attendant sighed, but smiled as he wet the scoop before depositing a bright hunk of seafoam onto the sugar cone.

“Awesome sauce.” They bit it and chewed before swallowing. “You’re the best.” Their zombie friend stared as he processed the order and they stopped their eating. He blinked at them and lifted an eyebrow- they looked around the cone to check if something was wrong. “Did you want some ? It’s daiquiri.”

“There’s alcoholic ice cream ?”

“It’s cooked out, unfortunately, so it’s just the flavor.”

“Ah.” He turned to the attendant. “Do you have mojito ?”

“We do. Would you like a waffle or sugar cone ?”

“I like it how I like my men.” He smirked. “I’ll take waffle.”

“What does that mean…” It muttered and licked a stripe over the ice cream.

His order was handed over and he looked pleased despite the strangely fleshy color the treat had taken thanks to the lime juice and fresh mint leaves. The bits gave it pops of sickly green, reminding it of its many spats with unruly patrons. The body jumper squinted at his ice cream as he bit into it, letting it melt in his mouth before swallowing.

He licked his lips clean. “Hm ?”

“If you wanted me in your mouth so bad, you could have just asked.”

“Heh.” He lowered the cone. “I could say the same thing to you.”

Trai sputtered then reached over to grab the bottom of the cone and smash it against his mouth. “I didn’t even notice, you dick.”

“Aw, I’m hurt,” he garbled before wiping his face with a napkin, “I thought you picked it to match.” Mint came out of his nose when he blew it. “On purpose.”

“What I just did was the only thing I did on purpose.” It huffed into its treat. “Consider it payback for our first meeting.”

“Considered,” he confirmed. The punk paid for their orders and mumbled an apology in the hopes that David would not hear them being nice. He said nothing and nudged them as they shuffled past. “Do you wanna walk with these ?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I could afford to burn off the sugar.” They smirked. “Maybe if we’re lucky I can find a trail to trespass on.”

He hummed. “Jail doesn’t sound like a good date.”

“Only if we’re caught-” It rolled its eyes. “And who said this was a date ?”

“We would get a court date.”

Their face blanked before they wheezed and hunched over with laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. I’m starting to rub off on you. We should start doing Quiplash with the gals. Get them in on the fun.”

He agreed and let himself get dragged into a thicket of trees. There was no designated trail as they stomped through the foliage. They eventually stumbled upon a bare section of dirt and wound up following a desire path that had them vaulting over a fallen tree and spilling out onto a clearing of grass. It was too short to be a picnic spot. His companion tugged his sleeve and pointed to a sign. He read it aloud. “‘Careful: Baby Grass. Designated for the Lively Crew Course.’ I’m guessing that’s a golf course ?”

“Oh, gross.” It lifted its shoe and scrunched its nose as it saw the delicate blades and soft soil stick to the soles of its boots. A spark of inspiration shimmered in its eyes. “Oh. Gross.”

Sooner than he could ask what their idea was, they were dropping their cone onto the ground and booking it across the plane of light green. Bits of sod sprayed as they dropped onto all fours and sprinted the length of the hole. The singer could not keep himself from laughing.

“What are you doing ?”

“I’m so evil ! I step on babies !” It ripped up grass and threw it into the air like natural confetti. “Fuck the one percent !”

He snickered. “So evil.”

It was hard not to get swept up in their passionate ecological vandalism. The singer chomped the rest of his cone and put the paper wrapper into his pocket. He could mourn the fallen sweet later after they had their way with the future course. His efforts were more subdued as he kicked up sections in the raised center. Trai clawed at the edges so they were as jagged as the waffle cones from earlier. The sky grew dim as they finished up. Mason suddenly looked frantic as it pulled its phone out to check the time. “God, it gets dark so much quicker than I thought.” It tugged David’s arm. “No time, we gotta go now.”

“What ? Do they patrol over here late at night?”

“Huh- ? No ! No, I just have that thing I was wanting to do.” They dragged him a few feet before stopping to run over and grab their discarded cone. The ants were celebrating their sugary cornucopia as it almost swallowed it whole, only avoiding the label which was not unscathed. “Alright. Let’s go. I want to catch this before the sun sets.”

He added,“And hopefully we aren’t caught.”

“Correct- ah, hand me that wrapper. I can throw that away as we leave.”

He took the wrapper out and gave it over. As they moved towards the exit, it hurried over to a trash can and dropped the balled-up paper in. It rolled up David’s wrapper just as quickly and pocketed it. Trai swiveled around and grabbed his hand. “Ready to roll ?”

He sighed as he was led out of the park. “I don’t have much of a choice since you’re my ride.”

“You volunteered for a night out.” They let go of his arm to climb into the driver’s seat. “It’s worth it, promise. I think. It should be worth it.”

“I am thoroughly convinced,” he said sarcastically while buckling his seat belt. A smile was planted on their face as they put the glass wolf next to their other dashboard bobbles. “Adorable…”

“Aren’t they ? Don’t forget about your DVDs later.”

“How could with how you managed to steal them ?” He laughed. It trailed off as they reached over his lap to grab a folder of papers.

There was some concern as he watched the delivery driver check their maps and nod to itself, not bothering to turn on GPS before putting the key in the ignition and starting the van. The ride was lengthy and he was thankful they were blasting screamo as they coasted across hills and swerved around mountains. At points the zombie debated on whether or not to ask where they were going, instead he pulled out his phone to shoot the girls a text that he likely wouldn’t home until very late, if at all. They had come to a stop by the time he had put his phone down. Mason had already stepped out and was chipping away at a brick with their knife. David undid his seat belt and closed the door behind him, walking up beside them.

“What’s it say ?”

“Just a star for now. I’ll figure out words later.” It flipped the blade a few times before sheathing it on the side of its boot. “Most of these are couples’. This is kind of a secret date spot.”

“You don’t say…” he said as he took a better look at the place. It was a small parking lot, accented with red brick flower boxes and a few benches. There was a clay pot brimming with cigarette butts instead of plants and the trash can beside it was woven with yarn and similar treatment was given to the mesh seating. A bus stop sat at the far edge and the bus schedule sign was lined with flowers, the stems stuck into the holes drilled into the posts. He flicked one of the daisies and watched it wobble back and forth. “It has charm.”

“Davey Baby, that’s what you say to every place I take you to. I’m starting to think you don’t like them,” it sighed, “Which is fine. I’m glad this isn’t a date or I’d look like an asshole.”

“I like the places you take me. They are charming.” He ran his hand over their head like he was ruffling their hair. “They feel very… Macy.”

“You flatter me.” Trai smacked his hand away, stared at it, and then grabbed it, holding onto him as they started to walk towards the other end of the parking lot. “We haven’t gotten to the part I wanted to see yet. It should be over here.” He leaned back so they had tug at his wrist harder and stumble when he righted himself and put a foot forward. Steamed blew from its ears as he laughed. They could have let go of his hand yet they hadn’t, something he pointed out to them to fluster them further. They grumbled, “Just follow me, asshat.”

The punk became determined as they trudged through the gravel and dirt. Stairs descended further down the mountain and they had to let go of each other’s hands as they gripped the railing as the path curved, dipped, and rose. Eventually, they made it to an outcropping of rock with a similar railing around the perimeter. Sky blue had long gone purple and as they approached the edge, the horizon had started to drip with yellows and oranges and reds. Trai whistled. “Wow. You really can see the whole city from here.”

“Oh yeah ?” David chuckled as their hand squeaked across the steel rail and landed back on his. He intertwined their fingers and looked up, scanning the skyline for the outline of buildings. Right beneath the sun was an abstract metallic shape littered with rectangles of stone and brick. Some green peeped out from the right side and he recognized it as the park they had just left. He felt them lean against him as they pointed to it.

“Hey, we were just over there.”

He made a show of squinting at it. “Are you sure ? Could be any old park.”

They smacked his shoulder. “It totally is. You need to get your vision checked, Prettyboy. If I can tell and you can’t.”

“I’m teasing you.”

“I know.”

Lights slowly started to blink on as the sky went black. The city became a beacon in the night. There were not many visible stars yet, but he made an effort to find each one and say their names. His companion was fairly quiet, only giving affirmative hums. He turned to look at them and they fidgeted under his watch. “What is it ?”

“Oh, you know, it’s like, a thing- that thing people do in movies sometimes ? What’s that called again- cliche ? No, that’s not it, it’s- trope !” it fumbled with phrasing until throwing up its hands. “Bro, we gotta kiss. C’mon, it’s a whole thing. We’re already here.”

“I guess we are.” He smirked. “I don’t mind. We’ve done worse.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.” It pulled him down by the collar and put their lips on his. Their mouths slotted together and as the singer moved away, the drummer chased his movement. He laughed into the kiss and hummed as he felt their fingers thread into his hair- he looped an arm around them in turn. They both shifted as the kisses deepened until Mason finally drew away from his lips with a sigh. The undead man tried to remove his arm and they pressed against him. “Don’t let go,” it muttered, “I’m cold.”

David chuckled. “I’m not exactly warm.”

Mace tucked its face into his shoulder, muffling their response. “You make me feel warm.”

“Huh.” He inhaled and rubbed their back. “Didn’t think you were the sappy type.”

“I’m not. I abhor you so much that touching you gets me heated over the fact I’m allowing such close proximity to you-”

He gasped. “You do what to me so much ? Mason…”

They lifted their head. “Oh my gods, shut the fuck up.”

“I’d say make me, but then you’d have to kiss me which you would hate.” He looked up, pretending to have a sudden thought. “Oh. Wait. You already did.”

“Don’t make me bite you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

They hissed with steam, still clinging to the zombie. He smirked before pecking another kiss to their cheek which had them grumbling, “You can let go now.”

“Alright.” He moved away and frowned as their shirts stuck together as he did. “This was a nice moment and all. But you, ah, have ice cream all over your shirt. I’m sticky.”

They screamed. ”Oh, that’s the worst. I have some shit you can change into when we head back. ”

“How considerate.”

“Not that considerate since you are el hombre pegajoso.”

They recoiled and prodded at their own chest, shuddering as the texture and shaking their hands at the disgusting sensation. The outing was cut short and they rushed to the van; they did stop for Mace to finish etching a message into the brick next to their star. “Mace swapped spit here” was now immortalized in messy scratches. A breeze had kicked up and even with the body jumper’s frantic stomping and fumbling the sound of the wind through the mountains and brush was peaceful. It was quieter as they entered the van.

David shrugged off his flannel and removed his shirt, smiling when he heard the sharp inhale from Mason. Trai threw a large shirt with a beer logo on it at him while muttering about his boldness. They pulled out more clothes until finding something they were satisfied with. Mason immediately stripped their torso bare and pulled a soft and worn tee over their head. “Gods, that’s so much better.”

“I didn’t know you were so opposed to being sticky.” David leaned against the counter. “Could have fooled me.”

“You better shut it before I kick your ass to the curb.” It removed the box set from the tote along with the incense, of which they took a stick and inserted it into the mouth of a gargoyle. They lit it with a zippo and hissed out, “If anyone winds up sticky, it’s gonna be you. One way or the other.”

The undead man chuckled, the laugh dying off as thunder boomed theatrically in his flannel’s inner pocket. Picking it up from the couch, he removed the phone from the shirt and checked the caller ID. He smiled apologetically at his companion. “It’s Keion. Do you mind if I take this… ?”

“I don’t care. You can leave now, if you want to that badly,” they snarked.

“It won’t take too long.”

“‘Kay.” It waited until he had stepped outside to take their wallet out by the chain, unfurling the cone wrapper and smoothing it out. Even without the memory attached to it, The Screamery was such a note-worthy name. Stylized jaws were printed across the paper, making it more attractive to the punk. Trai nodded with approval as they ducked under the futon to retrieve a battered shoe box. They pried the lid off and tucked the wrapper inside, balancing the box on their thighs as they squatted in front of the couch. Trai played with some loose pebbles after dropping the spoon in. Their collection was starting to get reasonably sizable and it hesitated to cover the items as it wondered if they would need a larger container.

The door slid open and their head whipped around as David entered. “Sorry about that- he wanted to catch up and confirm some things.”

“David, I was just-” It cursed as it rushed to close the box. A few crusted bottles of nail polish rolled down and the weight of it caused the entire hoard of memorabilia and tokens tipped over.

“Oh, here let me help with that.” He knelt down and grabbed some stray photos. As he gathered them, he noticed the various shots of himself and smiled. “Is this where you hide your extra merch ?” They sputtered and hurried their ministrations, avoiding the singer’s gaze as it grabbed at a glass locket filled with thread and strings of color. He was much slower and deliberate as he took care not to handle anything roughly in case it was fragile. Bits of glass were scattered on the rug; he took notice as he picked up a promotional badge. “Shit, I must have broken something.”

“It was supposed to be like that !” It squealed and swept the fragments into their palm before depositing it with the rest.

“Alright. If I did break something, tell me. I can try and replace it,” he said warmly. Its face burned as he thumbed a black piece off the rug and put it in the box. His eyes landed on a plastic basket filled with ticket stubs and torn wrist bands. Most were for concert venues, but he recognized the film reel adorned sheet as he removed it. “Hey, isn’t this the film we went to ?”

“Ha ha, it’s kind of a random assortment of things. Junk, trinkets, just whatever. Must have put that in there without thinking.”

The band leader investigated the contents again- a bright pebble from the museum gift shop, a keychain from the stand by the pier with his name on it, a button that looked oddly similar to the one on his flannel, a nail with the tip broken off, the black piece from before appeared to be their broken nail- and he noted several more keepsakes from their previous excursions. It was oddly endearing. He smirked at the realization. “Aw, Macy, are you keeping little souvenirs of me ?”

Mason was still, hands held in front of them still clutching a scrap of painted cloth. A droplet of water fell on David’s hand and he glanced up, paling as he saw the state of them. Its entire face was contorted as tears shivered down its hot red cheeks. They choked on a cry. “Get out.”

“Mace, I wasn’t trying to-”

“I said, get. Out.” They threw down the patch and lifted him up by the armpits, dragging him to the door and only cracking it enough to toss him onto the pavement. “Get out, get out of here. I fucking hate you !” He righted himself and watched them slam the door. The van veered towards him as their body hit the side. Their sobs were audible from the other side of the door as he pressed his hand to it, resting his forehead on the cold metal. They were heaving with every breath, too filled with waterworks to call it dry.

He sighed. “Mason, I wasn't- I was teasing you, but I was not trying to hurt your feelings. I didn’t think it’d work you up so much…” He lifted his arm above his head, leaning over as if they could hear him better this way. “I think it’s sweet that you do it, honestly. It’s cute.” You’re cute.

“No, it’s not ! It’s stupid. I’m stupid. You weren’t supposed to know about it.”

“It’s fine-”

“It’s not okay ! Everything’s ruined now. You weren’t supposed to know. You can’t know." Their voice went quiet.

“Why not ?”

“Because-” There was a bang of metal as their braced hand hit the bottom of the door. “Because then you’re gonna be weird about it.”

He snorted. “I didn’t know we were normal.”

“It was our normal.” It sniffed. “I’m not supposed to like you like this.”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to.”

“It’s not okay.”

“I promise you, it is.” He dragged his hand down and stepped back. Nothing he could say would convince them. “Can you let me in ?” He chuckled dryly. “It’s cold.”

“Freeze then. See if I care.”

He held his tongue. A few seconds passed and the door opened, Mason looking more pink and less wet. They gravitated towards him as he stepped inside, the van leaning to meet him as their arms circled around him. The zombie teased, ”Knew you cared.”

Warm air blew through the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck off, I still don't want anything to do with you.”

“Mm, see the thing is you hugged me. There’s some affection there.” His hands stayed to his sides. “Unless this is your way of asking me to close the door.”

“You’re always cold. I don’t mind it.” It buried its face in his chest. Their voice was muffled and watery as they complained, “I don’t want an audience for my breakdown, thanks.”

“Gotcha.” There was no point in arguing about the fact they were very alone. He twisted so he could get a hold of the handle and yank the door back. It hissed as it followed the track, slower than he would have liked. “Better ?”

They hummed, squeezing tighter. Testing the waters, he traced the scar that cut through their scalp. It shivered at the touch and nuzzled his sternum. He smoothed his hand over the fuzz at its nape, moving down to their shoulder blades. His fingers drew spirals across them and it sighed. Its breath hitched as their crying subsided.

Their body slumped against him as they finally relaxed and he lowered them both to the floor, cradling the body jumper like a precious doll. Trai grumbled, "You didn't ask to hold me first."

"Oops," he said as he let go and shuffled back.

It clung to him. "I didn't say to stop."

He snickered. "Alright."

Both of the men laid on the floor until night had reached full dark- the pinhole lights on the ceiling illuminated and cast a starry glow across the van's interior. Mason could have fallen asleep like this- their undead companion's cool touch comforted them far more than their futon- but they ultimately decided against it. They adjusted trains position so it could tuck their face into the crook of his neck. The punk muttered something under their breath and their pillow of a man lifted his head to attempt to catch the phrase as it left them. He rested his temple on theirs. “Were you saying something ?”

“I…” Trai sat up, hands falling to trains lap. They wringed their hands and twiddled their thumbs. The words caught in their throat before spilling out in a stream. “You said it’s okay if I liked you. What if I loved you ?”

He cocked his head, staring at their expectant face before looking away with a smirk. “Wouldn’t be so bad, considering the fact I like you too.”

“Like or,” they airquoted, “like-like ?”

The singer was going to tease them for being childish until he saw the beginnings of tears pooling in its eyes. He wiped a stray one from cheek and chuckled. “I’ve always liked you, hot stuff. Loving you would not be hard for me.” He held their head in his hands as they started to sniffle. “I think I already do.”

The dam broke and a rivet of snot projected from their nose as they started leaking from every orifice on their face. Its teeth were bared as it grit them, trying to contain the full body sobs wracking through them. As it scrubbed its face with their wrists, David got up to wet a clean washcloth and help clean them up. They continued to snivel as they apologized, “Are you sure ? It’s me that we’re talking about.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want it to be you.”

"Fuck…" they said as they rubbed their eyes, "You can't just say this shit to me, Prettyboy."

He stroked their jaw, thumb running under their bottom lip. "I think you can take it."

They pouted, cheeks flushing with steam. "Are you going to kiss me or what ?"

A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth, threatening to break his cool demeanor. "Or what."

The punk gasped and shoved him weakly, David falling over regardless as he tugged it down with him. Their nose and cheeks were peppered with smooches. A laugh bubbled out of his throat as they screeched in protest, "You ass !"

"Your ass," he replied before kissing them. It felt his smile against its lips. They pulled away and he pressed one more to their forehead.

Trai mumbled, "Did you mean that ?"

He put his hand on the small of their back. "I'm a lot of people's. I can be yours."

"Can I be yours, too ?"

"You're mine."

"I'm yours." They repeated into his mouth.

He swallowed it like honey. "I'm yours."

#KissMyFist #melviships write #melviships drabbles #oc x canon #oc x oc

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melviships · 2 years ago

Text

No One Even Knows This is My Pretty Year (EkuMel)

Melvis and Dimple stop by Spirits and Such and discuss plans in the new cafe. Dimple x Melvis pairing, implied Reigen x Dimple and Reigen x Melvis. Title taken from Pretty Year by The Technicolors. Written to the playlist (Narrator Voice) Reigen Arataka.

Word Count: 2,211

Content Warning(s): Tobacco usage, swearing, food, Divine Tree arc spoilers

Salmon rice: the perfect dish for fall, Reigen had told him before leaving the apartment. Melvis sighed as they arranged it in the bento box, making use of a fish stencil to outline it with nori. It was accented with a collection of mushrooms and sliced carrots (the host's preference for color coordination). A cold chill ran up their spine as they lowered the lid.

"Dimple," they grunted while pouring tea into a thermos.

"Are you heading to the office ? I thought you worked at the club this day of the week."

"Not today. I'm not up for socializing like that."

His tiny hands felt warm in comparison to their icy neck. "Yeesh. You feel awful."

"Haven't been sleeping much."

He watched their gaze drift to the floor, taking notice of their singular slipper. "I getcha. You need a hand getting there ?"

"I…" They licked their cracked lips. "Yeah. I would appreciate that. Very much."

-.-.-.-

"I'm coming in."

"The door is open."

Reigen glanced over as he scrolled through his inbox. "Hey."

Melvis held up the bento box. "Brought lunch. Don't eat it too early."

A grimace painted over their features as Reigen immediately untied the cloth keeping it closed and sunk the chopsticks into the rice. The two roommates exchanged looks. "I skipped breakfast." His eyes darted back up. "Dimple."

The spirit froze mid-air, groaning as he slid back around the corner. "Can I help you ?"

His eyebrows raised. "It's been awhile. You missed chances to eat."

His expression softened with amusement as the green blob scowled at him. "I don't live off of cannibalism, you know."

"Right," he cracked as he shoveled another bite of rice down his gullet. "Ugh, I need to figure out what to eat later. Maybe the shop will have something worth trying."

"I saw the sign. Where is it ?"

He waved towards the ceiling with his free hand, his mouth stuffed with carrots and shifting as he chewed carefully.

Melvis liked them crunchy and Reigen was not one to refuse free food.

His subordinate would have reminded them that the psychic disliked them altogether.

Wrai leaned back, wraiths pupils dilating as he stared directly into the light. Gone were the fluorescents, but their photo sensitivity had only worsened with bought time. Ceramic clinking, muffled yet audible, found its way to their ears. They frowned. “There’s a new cafe, and it’s upstairs ?”

“Correct. It is pretty convenient, so I don’t have any complaints.” As the words left him, the sound of footfall overhead made his eyes dart to the ceiling. They narrowed at the loud squeal of a loose plank. “I am not certain that I can say the same for them.”

Melvis hummed. “I think I’ll give it a look-see.”

"Bring something back, won't you ?"

"I'll think about it."

Reigen's scoff was cut short as the door shut behind them.

-.-.-.-

A man looked up from the counter as the door bells chimed. “Welcome. Sit wherever you like."

The host leaned forward as they scanned the shop. Two people sat in the corner, chattering away. One rolled their shoulder and exclaimed how effective the exorcism was. No more stiff joints ! Truly a miracle. Dimple rolled his eyes.

"I hope my store is inviting enough." The owner coughed. "Menus are on the placemat. Our house blend is a medium roast with hints of dried fruit and nougat.”

Not a glance was spared towards the selections. “Can I smoke on the balcony ?”

He clicked his tongue. “Wouldn’t be the first one. Go ahead.”

They tilted their head curiously. "Thanks.”

As they strode past the table the pair of clients glanced over, their volume lowering as they continued to converse. One of the boards near the glass doors groaned audibly as he stepped towards them. Dimple snickered. Melvis smirked. They rocked back and forth on it a few times before sliding the door open, smiling as it closed with a satisfying thump of rubber seal meeting metal. The balcony was small, only able to house a single stool and a round low table. Some moisture clung to the cork coaster resting atop it- a ring of coffee drying and fading in the sunlight.

They wondered if the flat whites they served were any good. Maybe on their way out they decided before approaching the railing. An ashtray was already waiting for them. It was a recognizable sight: a dollop of gray on the wooden ledge. They turned the ashtray over in their hands, running a thumb along the stained grooves that textured the earthenware further; a smattering of ash in the bowl told them it was recently used and emptied. The sole spot clean of grime was a solid fingerprint left behind by massage oil. Their lips twitched into a brief smile.

Dimple cleared his nonexistent throat. “Want me to light… ?”

“Ah. While I would love that…” They glanced behind them and the ghost nodded. “Better not. Reigen has a reputation to uphold.”

He murmured, “I think it would be fine, in that case.”

They laughed and tapped out a cigarette from the box. “Let’s not, okay ?”

A snap from their gloves rolled the wheel and the mechanism ignited, smoldering the end as they inhaled. Sweet nicotine burned their lungs. Warmth spread through and they felt the bloom of Dimple’s residence. “That’s nice.”

“How about you let me get the full effect ?” A growl halted in their throat. “Dollface.”

“Fine.”

He spun around them as they tucked the lighter away. Their gaze met his; his mouth opened and a stutter escaped as his body wavered, tiny hand clasping the end of their finger. They smoked silently until he flared up from the boost.

“So,” they said, punctuating it with a smoke ring.

“So,” he replied, floating through it with a flourish.

Their heads turned to the large green vegetation that broke up the blue of the sky.

“They’re calling it the Divine Tree.”

“That they are. A number of groups have emerged, taking it into their belief system that it’s some sign of their savior.”

The esper ran their fingers through his form, flames licking at the leather before retreating. “You’re taking advantage of it.”

“W-well, yeah.”

“Any evil spirit would be a fool not to. Even if they aren’t after worship,” they said before taking a drag. Smoke billowed from their lips. “I can feel the negative energy ruminating. Some are saying it is signaling a calamity. They’re afraid this could finally be the end. With everything that’s happened, I can’t blame them.”

“We could bring that into being.” He flew around their head, poking their temple with a grin spreading across his glowing face. “The beginning, the end- they can be the same thing. A whole new world. And us, orchestrating it.”

“Have you told Shigeo your plans ?”

He flinched. “No, n-not…. Not yet. I need more time to gather power and show him what I-” He swallowed. “What we’re capable of.”

They chuckled, resting their cheek on top of their hand, cigarette dangling from their fingers. “Hot stuff, you don’t need to tell me twice. You want to look your Sunday best.”

“That’s not really a thing here. Seasoning City may have a lot of religions, but I’m not a part of that Jesus crap.”

“Just a saying. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Wrai pinched his cheek and he slapped their hand away, rubbing the site with a frown. “Anyway, I’ve been looking into the whole thing. You’ve seen the market- the place is crawling with goods and merchants capitalizing on the thing. Some of them are even consuming it. At least those brave enough to try.”

They quirked wraiths brow. “It’s broccoli.”

“I know it’s damn broccoli !” He spat back, crossing his arms with an exhale. “People are stupid, but not everyone is so keen on eating anything that sprouts of the ground.”

“Uh huh…”

“It has interesting qualities. Whatever is taking shape there can spread its influence more when people come in contact with it. Ingesting it, even further. I’ve tested it myself and I was able to manifest some desires.” He sneered. “Unfortunately, your boyfriend meddled.”

“My boyfriend ?”

“What ? He’s not mine.”

“Ha.”

His face darkened. “Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

“Reigen isn’t capable of exorcism.” They shook their head, smoke zig-zagging a minuscule contrail. “It was Seri, wasn’t it ?”

“Shigeo helped. He did most of the work, to be candid.” His lips twisted to the side. “That boy has been the root of my issues, tch.”

“Sounds about right. He’s powerful, but that kid is on another level,” they sighed. “He might not be interested in your plans-”

“Since when is it only my plan ?”

“I wouldn’t have done this on my own, thank you very much. I was okay with sitting on the sidelines and watching the spectacle. Like the majority of spirits do. We’re not all after interaction and attention.”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that. You’re here with me. That means something.”

“Back to the subject at hand, the kiddo is not going to interfere with us as long as we don’t impact others negatively. That was your mistake, I reckon.”

“I wouldn’t say that. The guy was already like that long before I got involved. I just,” he explained, voice fizzling out a moment, “Accelerated things for him. Sped things along the track he had already laid. Some people are destined for a life of stagnation and eventual ruin.” He chuckled. “It makes it easier to steer them towards salvation.”

“As long as we can give them what you promise. Hypnosis can only go so far. It will take some convincing for our first recruitment.”

"Are you ready to join me ?"

A laugh rose from their chest. Silently, they drifted over and sat on the balcony ledge. "I'm no fool, Dimple."

The spirit landed in their palm and let him stroke the top of his head. “Oh, I’m aware. Glad to have you on board.”

As the clouds collided with the growth on the horizon, two cafe patrons murmured about the strange man smoking outside and talking to themself. Plumes of smoke mingled that day, signaling an incoming danger.

-.-.-.-

“You better like dòushā bāo.”

“Huh ?” The blond rolled his chair back as the plate of steamed buns was set in front of him. Melvis shot him a cheeky look and he grumbled. “I ate not even an hour ago.”

“Heat it up later.” He watched Dimple collide with their back. “We’re heading out.” They stopped at the door. “Be careful.”

His hand raised as it closed behind them and he swore under his breath.

He stared down at the buns and lifted each one to inspect them. The pillowy dough yielded in his grip, the red spot dimpled from the weight. He sniffed it and licked the sides: yeasty and slightly sweet. As far as he could tell they were ordinary red bean buns. His eyes narrowed and he muttered, “Why did I think I could tell if they tampered with it ?” He bit into one and hummed around the mouthful. “Pretty tasty curse.”

Each one was slowly reduced to nothing as he typed out a response to the new requests. He slid his tongue over his teeth to dissolve any lingering paste and washed his mouth out with tea from the thermos sitting next to the laptop.

After sending the e-mails out, he stretched with a loud sigh. His eyes moved over to the clean plate. “I should… probably take that back.” It was a plain dish. Pretty cheap. They wouldn’t miss it if he took it back home. He shook his head. There was no way that Melvis would not comment on it. In the conman’s mind, his stoic face cracked into sneer. ‘Oh ? You liked the food so much you took it back, huh ? I’ll make sure to give them a big tip and let them know next time.’

Reigen grabbed the plate and paused as he noticed the platform it was sitting on. He set it back down and picked up the gray ashtray, brighter than he remembered and emanating a rosy, milky scent. Something fluttered from it and he grunted as his hand failed to catch it in time. “Urgh. Come on.” His back popped as he strained to reach under the desk. He dragged the paper across the floor and the scratching sound told him that he would be having to ask his new employee to sweep and mop when he stopped by. The torn end curled around his finger as he read the handwriting on the back.

‘Reigen, the club has been exceptionally busy as of late with all the skepticism floating about. I will be busy, in turn, and will likely not be around to visit the office or be home for dinner. Do not worry. I will make sure to stock the fridge and to leave instructions for your meals. You are plenty capable without my assistance.

Please do not look for me. I am hard to find.

-Melvis’

Their signature was coupled with a moon drawing, a crater burnt into it with a cigarette butt.

“...dammit,” he cursed and balled up the note, standing up, “Like hell I’m not looking for you. What are you two up to ?”

#You'reCoolForAMeatsuit #ADrinkForYourTroubles #NoWe'reNotHiring #melviships drabbles #melviships writes #enjoying season three can you tell ?

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