#my gaydar went off when she first came on screen

[boop-le-snoot]

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previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #Tony Stark x you #Stephen Strange x you

[oxnardsart]

New update!  Also, the website has most Lesbini's chapter's pages up, aside from the finale:

http://boxerbeats.thecomicseries.com/comics/26 After defeating the Nameless Bird, Lesbuni heads to the stadium, passes a Boxer Briefs protest, and has to fight Don Badger, her romantic rival!

-----

    Lesbuni was ready for another day at the boxing competition. Things weren’t going as great as she’d expected. On her way there, she noticed a protest going on - it was small, but the few people protesting were huge. As Lesbuni walked closer, she saw that they were all boxers!

    The shy rabbit walked across the street so that she didn’t have to be on the same side of the road as them, but she perked an ear up to hear what they had to say.

    “Hey! She looks like a boxer!”

    “Well she’s gotta come over here some time.”

    Lesbuni saw the muscle-heads looking right at her, and she realized, she was dressed in her boxing uniform - gloves and everything! She remembered hearing how professional boxers were upset about the competition not focusing on pure boxing anymore. This must have been the group, and no doubt they’d start trouble with someone enjoying the new Boxer Beats competition.

    “Come on! Show us how to get in there.”

    Lesbuni gasped - WHERE exactly did these guys want to get into?

    “M-Maybe we have to ask the bunny nicely...” a strong, white wolf suggested. “Little bunny! How do we get inside the Box-o’-Briefs?”

    Lesbuni was thrown off by that, “You mean Boxer Beats?”

    The white wolf bent down and lifted up a cardboard box with ‘Box-o’-Briefs’ written on the side of it. “Nope, it’s Briefs! Not Beats. See?” he held up the cardboard box, “We want to get into the competition and express our feelings.”

    “YEAH! Like my fist feeling Oxnard’s butt!”

    “And my butt expressing a kick with my foot on his butt from mine!”

    More of the protesting boxers started to yell out obscene, violent things. Lesbuni didn’t like that. She raised her snout and kept walking away - she knew bringing the professional boxers to the Boxer Beats competition would cause trouble. She made sure no one followed her there, feeling bothered and paranoid.

Round 2

    The little rabbit made it to the stadium safely and enjoyed the show with Nishi and some of his friends. It looks like after a few days, she had some new friends-of-a-friend! She met Gaydar, the glue-loving gator from the other day - he was an absolute sweetheart. They were both sitting with Macaroni Penguin - a kind old lady Lesbuni had seen fighting earlier. Lesbuni had fun hearing them all talk together - she didn’t say much herself, she usually needed time to open up to others. They all wished her luck as she headed off for her next fight.

    “Good luck, sweetie!” Macaroni waved, “Never quit!”

    “Show the nextht boxther what you’re made of, girl!” Gaydar cheered for her.

    Lesbuni couldn’t help but smile, showing her big bunny buck tooth. It was nice feeling like someone out there was rooting for her.

    BZZZ-KT! A loud, sharp buzz blasted out the speakers as Lesbuni got on stage.

    “Aw shoot, sorry guys! And non-guys.” Oxnard chuckled, “Some technical difficulties going on...”

    “Shorry shir, almosht ready.” The husky voice of a nervous technician could be heard in the background.

    “Hehe, your voice is so cute! Did you guys hear her accent?” Oxnard gleamed over the microphone, “Say something else!”

    “Uh-uh. Jusht let me finish up here and I’ll be on my way.” The technician sounded a little panicked.

    “Alright, al-”

    BZZZ-KT-KT! The mic fizzled again, causing everyone to groan from the noise.

    “Gosh dangit Bushy, what was that?” Oxnard yelled.

    “I’m shorry, I’m shorry! Jusht ushe thish mic inshtead.” Bushy sighed, “You kept the shecond one up here?”

    “Well, you didn’t wanna be my co-host, but maybe I’ll have someone up here chatting with me sometime!” Oxnard started to sound flirty, “Technically, you’re up here with me~”

    BZZZZ-ZZZ-KT-PLUNK!

    “Eeeeek!” Oxnard squeaked.

    “Aaaahhh!” the audience yelled. Weird. For a crowd that hated noise they sure made a lot of it.

    “You know what - while we fix this issue, let’s watch Lesbuni fight Don okay bye.” Oxnard’s voice disappeared quickly as the audience focused on the boxing ring. The referee counted from three on his fingers to avoid any more noise.

    “What’s the rule for this fight?” Lesbuni whispered to the referee. The hummingbird shook his head while pointing to his beak. Lesbuni had an idea!

    “What is it?” Don Badge looked at the two, clueless.

    Lesbuni smiled and pointed to her mouth, shaking her head.

    “Don doesn’t understand.” The badger looked around. “No one is. Telling Don.”

    “You’re not supposed to talk...” Lesbuni whispered, “It’s the quiet game!”

    “Don will use. This quiet moment. To talk about.” he paused, “Foxy.”

    Lesbuni gasped! She knew that name. But she eyed the video screen showing their scores, and Lesbuni was in the lead with her silence...

    “Special Foxy Lady.” Don began, “If you see. Don here. Don must say. How Don feels.” Lesbuni eyed him suspiciously as he continued, “Don is bound. To you. By his heart. Forever”

    Her jaw nearly fell open.

    “Foxie!? THE Foxie?” Lesbuni screeched, demanding an answer.

    “No. It’s Foxy.” Don corrected her.

    “Foxie, yeah. Foxie Farewell.” Lesbuni nodded.

    “Saying it wrong. Her name. Is Foxy Farewell.” Don started to sound snooty.

    “Foxie.”

    “Foxy.”

    The two argued back and forth. The ref tried to point towards the screen.

    “Are you saying... you like MY Foxie?” Lesbuni bared her bucktooth.

    “Don has liked. Special Foxy Lady. For many years.”

    “Well...” Lesbuni cracked her knuckles, “You can’t have her.” She took a quick swing at Don, and hit right at his stomach. The badger rolled backwards. She went in for another hit, but he raised his spiked bracelets to defend himself in time.

    “Ahhhhh!!” Lesbuni screamed. Those spikes sure hurt when you hit them!

    The ref was flapping his wings all around, pointing at the video screen so Lesbuni would see. She saw she was about to lose the quiet game! It wasn’t only about being quiet and saying the least, but noise level too! Don always talked calm, but Lesbuni’s painful scream nearly pushed her over the limit.

    She realized she had to use any words wisely. It would be tricky making Don yell louder than her. However, she had something that would work - the truth.

    “I dated Foxie,” Lesbuni whispered - Don looked disgusted, “I kissed Foxie.” The bunny continued, the badger’s mouth hung open in awe, “I love Foxie.”

    Don began to scream.

    “YOU CANNOT.” He ran after her, chasing the rabbit around the ring, “DON DOES NOT. ALLOW FOR SMOOCHIES. ON HIS FOX. UNLESS DON KISSES.”

    Lesbuni smiled as she saw Don’s noise level catch up with hers.

    “DON’S LOVE. CAME FIRST.” His raspy voice whined in desperation, “FOXY AND DON. HAVE SECRETS TOO. WHEN FOXY. WAS A NURSE. WITH DOCTOR DON. THEY-”

    The buzzer went off! Don had officially lost the game. All his all-caps screaming pushed his volume over the edge.

    “We have a winner!” the referee jumped up happily. “Lesbuni won!” The little rabbit jumped for joy. As nosy as she was about Foxie’s past, she was more happy that Foxie’s future was one step closer to involving her instead of Don.

    “NO. NO NO NO.” Don screamed. His guard came on stage and removed the upset badger from the ring. “DON’S STORY. IS NOT OVER. DON WILL. HAVE HIS FOX.” Don glared his rabid, unblinking eyes at her as he was dragged away.

    “Wow, that guy’s seriously distressed.” The announcer chuckled, amused, “Great job Lesbuni! Not only did you win the quiet match, but my microphone is all better now! Thank you, my bushy technician.”

    “Not’a problem, bossh,” Bushy beaver casually replied before exiting the booth.

    In the audience, a particular tanuki and flapinko team were talking up a storm. Nikki, who had been through multiple resets in the boxing competition remembered Bushy Beaver being a co-host. For some reason, she was now a technician. It seemed like a small detail, so why did Bushy’s job change?

    Nikki remembered Bushy Beaver and Sweaty Beaver both went missing near the end of the last reset... could they have encountered Dawn as well?

    That wasn’t the only change either! Nikki noticed tag-teams like Team Dino Pubes, Team Arthbound, and The Quick & The Angry were all gone! The boxing competition itself changed to one-on-one matches. Lesbuni was no longer on a team with Foxie, and Don wasn’t paired with Anger Mouse. Why were parts of Boxer Beats changing during the reset?

    Nikki and Thanks left backstage to start investigating. Meanwhile, Lesbuni smiled as Nishi, Gaydar, and little Macaroni gave her a cheerful group hug. (She didn’t mind them touching her!) She opened up about herself on stage, and her friends-of-a-friend became her friends. They were all rooting for her to meet with Foxie!

#boxer beats #lesbuni #don badge #bushy beaver #stan

[hms-chill]

Hey! I absolutely love your writing and saw you wanted a prompt or two. I found this one and it would be adorable with Alex and Henry so here: “You sat next to me on the airplane and fell asleep on my shoulder and I don’t want to move you cause you look so comfortable. Oh and you’re hot.” (if you want to write it of course but you totally don't have to I just thought it would be cute) 💕💕💕

Hello! Thank you so much! It’s been like a week but I just turned in my last midterm for the week and I finally have time to post what I wrote! 

(also, I wrote this twice because I had two ideas. The second version will be another post soon)

“Variations on a Plane: Meet Cute”

Alex hoists his carry on into the overhead bin, then does an awkward shuffle down the row and into his window seat, stuffing a backpack below the seat in front of him and shoving it back as far as it will go to make room for his feet. He’s already started to browse the in-flight movie options when someone sits down next to him. From the corner of his eye, Alex sees jeans rolled up at the bottom kicking a bag with a pronoun pin further under the seat. From what he can tell, his gaydar has been working decently in the UK, and those are both good signs.

“Anything good on?” the other boy asks, and Alex realizes he doesn’t have his headphones in. Not that it matters; he would have wanted to talk anyway. He notices suddenly that the other boy smells good. He’d been worried about his seat mate smelling bad, but he’d completely forgotten to consider the possibility of the opposite, which may be even more unsettling.

“Depends what you like. There’s a few superhero movies, some cartoons… it looks like a decent selection.”

The stranger nods, turning to his screen. Alex goes back to browsing until, a few minutes later, the in-flight safety demonstration pauses their screens. Alex sighs and rolls his eyes, but the stranger leans over to ask, “Have you seen this?”

“What, the safety demonstration? I flew over here, didn’t I?”

“No, this movie. I’m trying to decide if it looks good.”

Alex cranes his neck to look at the other man’s screen, ignoring the notice telling them to watch the flight attendant buckle and unbuckle a seatbelt. “Yeah, it was good. Not like… jaw dropping, best movie I’ve ever seen good, but I liked it.”

“Thanks.”

The safety demonstration ends, and their screens unpause as they begin to taxi. Alex browses until takeoff, when he turns to the window. He leans back a bit when the boy beside him looks over his shoulder, and together, they watch London fall away below them.

“This bit never gets old. I’m always a bit sad to see it go, but the city looks so beautiful.” Alex has to agree. They’ve got a horrendously early flight, but seeing London all lit up from above almost makes it worth it.

“Have you flown out of London a lot?”

“Whenever I fly it’s from here. My family lives nearby, and I went to Uni in London.”

“It’s a nice city.”

They watch together until London becomes merely a bright dot against the darkness of the English countryside. The other boy pulls away first, putting in earbuds and starting the movie Alex said was good. Alex starts his own moving not long after, trying to ignore the handsome boy next to him, resisting the urge to make sure he’s liking the movie. The stewardess comes out with snacks, and Alex gets coffee, hoping the second dose of caffeine will turn him into a being who is more human than simply an embodiment of exhaustion. The boy next to him gets tea, which is very British, and Alex tries not to find it at all endearing.

The in-flight map shows them just leaving Wales when Alex feels a weight on his shoulder. Something soft is tickling the side of his jaw. He turns slowly to see the other boy asleep, his head flopped onto Alex’s shoulder. His movie’s still playing, and Alex knows there’s an explosion coming. The loud noise could wake the other boy up, so Alex leans over to pause the movie, careful not to jostle his new passenger too much. If this stranger is tired enough to fall asleep on someone else on a plane, he deserves the nap, and letting him sleep is the least Alex can do.

He sleeps through most of Alex’s movie, and Alex finds himself humming softly when they hit some minor turbulence. The other boy starts to wake up a bit, but he settles down with Alex’s humming, letting out a soft snore. Alex just smiles, counting it as a success. He sleeps until the cabin staff start wheeling the breakfast carts down the aisle, when Alex shakes his shoulder gently and says, “Hey, they’re bringing food. You’ll need to let them know what you want.”

“Huh? Oh, oh no, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He’s turned a fantastic shade of red, but Alex shakes his head.

“No; it’s fine. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad I make a good pillow, though I have to admit, I’m a bit insulted my movie suggestion wasn’t good enough to keep you awake.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s… I’ve been up late recently, and it was an early flight, so I got like two hours of sleep… I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We’ve all been there, and I didn’t mind. If… if you still need sleep after breakfast, and if you only got a couple hours last night you definitely will, you’re welcome to use my shoulder again. We can even use one of these mini pillows to make it more comfortable.”

“I’ll… I’ll try my best not to take you up on that, but it’s been a lot recently, so I can’t promise anything.” He might be trying to make a joke, but it’s not convincingly light-hearted enough.

“That’s okay. If… Would it help to talk about it? Whatever’s been a lot, I mean. If you want, I’m here, you can just unload it all on me and then we’ll get off this plane and never see each other again.”

“It… it really is a lot. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“No; go for it. I’m in a gap between stressful things. I can handle it.”

So they get their meals, and the other boy tells him that he’s traveling to do research on queer history. He’s gotten an incredibly competitive grant, and the whole application process was stressful. His family’s been waiting for him to do something with himself since he graduated a few months ago, and that only made the application and waiting process more stressful. Then, in the midst of getting his travel plans and documents together, he came out to his family, and his grandma through a fit. His mom was nice about it but hasn’t been close to them since his dad died, and his older brother stormed out of the house and hasn’t been answering any of his texts or calls. He’s still got his big sister, but he’s terrified he’s lost half his family. He almost gave up the grant to stay home and work things out, but his sister made him keep it, so he left them all behind, and he’s terrified that he did the wrong thing because what if he could have fixed things by staying? Should he have come out at all? Was breaking apart the family he has left really worth it?

By the end of his story, there are tears in his eyes, so Alex offers a shoulder and he sniffles, forcing a bit of a laugh as he hides his face. Alex hands him the breakfast bar that came as part of the meal service and talks about his own coming out, about how scared he was that his Catholic dad especially would be upset, but how they’d taken it well and they love him. Then he hands the other boy his own breakfast bar and talks about how coming out was really the only way he could be close to his family, because you can’t really have a relationship with someone if you’re hiding such a massive thing from them. By the time he’s starting to get into how things are going to get better, the other boy has fallen asleep again, and Alex just smiles as he turns back to his movie, stealing a muffin from the other boy’s breakfast tray.

When the stewardess comes to collect their dishes, she tells Alex that they make a cute couple. There’s really no point in correcting her.

A movie and a half later, there’s an in-flight lunch. The other boy wakes up more easily this time, though he still turns bright red when he realizes he fell asleep again. Alex just grins and makes sure he actually eats most of their lunch, since his breakfast was small. He vows to stay awake and actually watch the movie Alex suggested, and as a joke, Alex leans over to watch with him. But then, well, his shoulder is nice. He’s wearing a soft sweater, and the ball of muscle below it makes a nice pillow. And, well, it was an early flight. Alex was up at 1:30 to make it to the airport by 2:00, and every coffee he’s had since has worn off by now.

The next thing Alex knows, someone’s shaking his shoulder, and his head is bouncing a bit. He opens his eyes to see the other boy chuckling.

“We’re landing soon; I thought you might want to watch. I at least hoped you’d open the window so I could. I hope I was as good of a pillow for you as you were for me.”

“You’re a great pillow,” Alex says, yawning and stretching a bit, then turning to push the window open. “Is DC your final stop?”

“No; I’m on to New York for research on the Stonewall riots. What about you?”

“I’m headed to New York for school. Uni, I guess, for you fancy brits. I’m starting my law degree. Hang on, I’ve got my flight number somewhere. It leaves at like… 9:15ish?”

“So does mine! What a coincidence.”

“Here; give me your number. We can find each other after customs and get coffee or something? Will your phone work in the US?”

“It should connect to the airport’s internet.”

“Perfect; we’ll meet up after customs and get coffee or overpriced food or something.”

They exchange numbers, and on the ground, Alex texts the other boy (‘Henry’, according to the name he put in Alex’s phone) to complain about how long customs is taking. Henry tells him to be patient, and Alex rolls his eyes.

They meet up at a Starbucks near their gate, then again at a coffee shop near Alex’s apartment their first week in New York City. Then again at a coffee shop near where Henry’s living. Then they meet up for dinner and a movie, and when Henry falls asleep in the Uber on the way back to Alex’s apartment, Alex pays the driver to make four trips around the block so he can wake his boyfriend up slowly, reveling in the way Henry’s face is squished against his shoulder and the softness of Henry’s hair on his jaw.

Really, when Henry falls asleep on him looking so good, it’s no wonder Alex fell in love.

#FirstPrince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #rwrb fic #rwrb #my fic: rwrb #rw&rb #red white and royal blue

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 23 -- The Trail

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

The location of the Red God compound was surprising for only one reason: It was exactly where it had been the last time they had been there.

It would be reasonable to expect that a covert and very illegal facility would relocate after being discovered, especially if that facility was floating in space and had a very large rocket at the back which could very easily push it somewhere else without anyone noticing.

Two signals floated just outside of the patrolled borders of the system, as remote as it could be while still being towed through space by the Sun’s gravity. This seemed to confirm their suspicions that the clones were being kept in the same facility where ViLaz had been discovered.

After all, it wasn’t like the cult could remove or deactivate the implants to leave a false trail. For one thing, they had no way of knowing the pirates had reverse-engineered the signal to track the other implants, but more importantly, this was their means of controlling the clones. Removing the implants would defeat the entire purpose of having created clones in the first place.

There was, however, a third point on the map, close to the first two. Under normal circumstances, they would assume that this was the Zealot’s own implant. These were not normal circumstances.

“Bad news from downstairs,” Ariadne sighed as she walked into her quarters and found Pilar reading a book, “two weeks of decryption only to find that the third implant is coming from a relay and we can’t trace its real location”

“A relay?” Pilar asked, marking her book since she had immediately known she would not be able to continue reading.

“They aren’t sending a live feed, the Zealot must pre-record the visions he sends to the girls, beams them to a relay, and then the relay beams it to their implants. There’s a block smack in the center of the relay, so I can’t trace where the signal is sent from.”

“You, for the first time ever, can’t hack through a digital barrier?” Pilar raised her eyebrows.

“A digital barrier would be no problem. This isn’t that kind of barrier.”

“And what, pray tell, has you so stumped you can’t break through it?”

“I’d guess about five feet of empty space,” Ariadne said. “I mean, I can only guess about how much empty space, but we’ve been trying to break into their system for weeks, and one thing has become clear: the device that interfaces with the girls’ implants and the device that receives input from Dr. Simon have no connection between them. My guess is, he sends the visions to the receiver where they download to a removable drive, and then some lackey removes the drive and physically walks it over to the relay, where it interfaces with the implants.”

“So, we’re back at square one?” Pilar asked.

“Nowhere close. I can still trace the origin of the signal if I’m in the same room as the receiver. Luckily, the receiver is conveniently located at our next stop.”

“So then, we’re launching to get the girls?” Pilar asked.

Ariadne nodded. “We’ve got to make sure they’re safe onboard before we move on Dr. Simon anyway. If we finish him off, the acolytes will have no reason to keep them alive.”

“Their security is largely built around their remote location,” Pilar offered, “I don’t think they’re prepared to fight off attackers, they’re counting on the idea that nobody will stumble across them. Once they figured out where we were, Sasha and… Sweettalk… were able to break in undetected to rescue us.”

“Still not used to it, huh?” Ariadne asked.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Pilar responded, “I mean, I think I came really close to messing up our relationship for good. My own sister, and she spent a year of her life thinking she had to hide her relationship from me?”

“I should probably apologize too,” Ariadne said, “I’ve known for weeks and I didn’t say anything.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t,” Pilar replied. “I didn’t marry no narc, and besides, you’re family to Sasha. I’m glad she can tell you stuff without you worrying that you’re going to rat her out to her overprotective big sister.”

“You know, it’s funny, I never thought I’d say this, but it reminds me of—”

“No,” Pilar chuckled and cut her off, “that was different, she was just oblivious, this was being kept a secret.”

“I miss Flax some days,” Ariadne laughed. “I’d never met a lesbian with such terrible gaydar, and she was so easy to get a rise out of.”

“You know what really gets me, though?” Pilar brushed a hair out of her face, “Sweettalk drives me up a wall sometimes, but she’s absolutely perfect for Sasha. I mean, look how much that brash, impulsive girl has managed to bring her out of it despite my best efforts to keep her stuck in there.”

“I think she should come with us on the raid. Give you a chance to get to know her, and, uh…”

“Have her do the dirty work of tactfully explaining to two clones who don’t know they’re clones, that their religion is an actual scam, and that their father grew them as glorified organ farms without upsetting them so much that they refuse to leave with us?”

“Yeah, I really do not want to be in charge of that part,” Ariadne said. “Let’s pull together a smaller strike force to extract the girls and the receiver, and leave Fastwing in charge of rallying the troops for an assault on the Zealot’s location as soon as we have it. You, me, Deathsbane, and Sweettalk for sure. Ghostrunner is a must-have on a stealth mission.”

“Taryn’s been training as Deathsbane’s apprentice,” Pilar suggested, “She’s got a real flair for medicine and it’d probably do her some good to shadow Sasha in the field.”

“You mean Uprising, right? After all, she showed a lot of courage standing up to us.”

“You’re getting better at the names,” Spacebreather told her. “Yeah, bring Tar… uh, Uprising along too.”

“I’ll grab ‘em,” Ariadne said, “Meet me onboard the Thread in 20.”

***

“I just don’t really think it matters how far apart they actually are,” Taryn explained as they quietly filed into the airlock. Their helmets were internally soundproofed and linked by a communications system, so they could hear everything going on around them, but speak openly without fear of being overheard. “They could be six inches apart or 50 feet apart and it would still be just as impossible to hack.”

“Yeah, but if you had to guess,” Ariadne replied. “I say five feet, Pilar says two, Sweettalk four, Deathsbane ten, I mean, it’s a pretty straightforward wager.”

“If I say a number, will you stop asking me?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I will,” Ariadne responded.

“50 feet.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“You said I had to make a guess, not that I had to care about winning the bet.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ariadne said, “What about you, Ghostrunner?”

There was nothing but silence on Ghostrunner’s channel.

“Ghostrunner?”

“I copy. I’m just not talking.”

“Seriously, just give her an answer, she won’t stop talking about how far apart these machines are until you do,” Uprising said.

“Five feet and one inch,” Ghostrunner replied, and her mic went silent again.

“That’s not cool,” Ariadne replied as she quickly set to hacking the access panel that would open the seal and allow them passage.

“Roger,” said Ghostrunner.

“Jesus, Prescott designed a shitty security system,” Ariadne said, “Someone with an eighth grade education would be able to find the backdoor he put in here! How did he ever sell one of these things?”

“You know an eighth grade education is all you’ve got, right?” Spacebreather reminded her.

“I’m saying!” Ariadne called back, “I just unlocked every door and disabled every alarm in this place and it wasn’t even hard.”

“To his credit,” Pilar shrugged, “He was the system’s greatest bullshit salesman.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to pour one out on his grave when we get back,” Sweettalk said as they drew their weapons and quietly moved through the seal and into the compound, “right into the catbox.”

“Catbox?” Uprising asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Deathsbane said flatly.

“Deathbane, Uprising, with me. Spacebreather and Sweettalk, watch our six. Ghostrunner, meld into the shadows and stay close, I don’t want to see you until we’re leaving unless the shit hits the fan.”

“Roger,” said everyone but Ghostrunner, who had already vanished without anyone noticing.

“That’s what I like about that girl,” Ariadne explained, “she takes pride in her work and she’s got great fashion sense.”

They stealthily moved down the corridor with weapons raised approximately chest-high, making sure to glance through the small glass window in each room to check for an immersion pod.

Most of the rooms did not have what they were looking for, and instead were full of red-robed Acolytes either poring over screens full of code or deliberating over something that looked important. If discovered, they would be wildly outnumbered.

The immersion pods would be in the last three rooms they checked, which only made sense because they stopped checking rooms when they found the right ones. At the end of the long corridor were three doors. In the spaces between them stood two boxy machines about the size of a regulation trash can, each of which had an antenna on top, one long-range and one short-range.

“Sweettalk, how tall are you?” Ariadne asked intently.

“Four foot eleven.”

“With the boots and the helmet, though, you’d be exactly five feet, yeah?” Ariadne asked.

“You’re about to make me lie down between these machines to see if they’re five feet apart, aren’t you?”

She was.

“Dammit,” Ariadne muttered, “Still three inches left over. Ghostrunner was closest without going over.”

Ariadne swiftly plugged a compact screen into the device with the long-range antenna, while Deathsbane and Spacebreather entered the first room and began to pry the pod open.

After a few seconds, they managed to get it loose with a satisfying hiss, and a girl who looked exactly like ViLaz, to the last detail, stood before them.

“You’re on,” Spacebreather said, and Sweettalk took off her helmet so the girl could hear her.

“Hello, ViLaz,” she said, and ViLaz looked incredibly confused. “It’s very important that you come with us, okay?”

“Who are you?” She asked, “are you with the church?”

Sweettalk considered this for a moment, and then decided there would be plenty of time for the truth on the ride home. “Yes, your father sent us, we’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

“Father says if I leave, the Red God will cleanse me from the universe with fire,” ViLaz replied apprehensively, and did not move from the inside of her pod. “I had a vision of the future, myself engulfed in flames for defying the Red God’s will.”

What she had actually seen was not a vision of the future, but a video recording of the past, when her identical sister was lit on fire, but as this girl was unaware she had a sister, and had been directly told the video was her own future, her confusion was understandable.

“Yes,” Sweettalk explained, making it sound as though she wholeheartedly believed every word of the lies she was telling, “of course that’s why we’re here. We’ve discovered a new holy site, and the Red God needs you there right away.”

The girl looked unsure, but too afraid to question it. She stepped out with them, and they ushered her out to the waiting crowd.

“This is our friend Dr. Sasha,” Sweettalk said softly, “before we go any further, she needs to check for, uh, purity of heart… in the… back of your head…”

This was not Sweettalk’s best lie, but it is difficult to hold that against her, given that it worked.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” Deathsbane said as she set to work applying a local anesthetic and removing the implant from the back of ViLaz’s head as quickly as possible.

Spacebreather and Sweettalk managed to get the second pod open, and roused the other girl, who also looked exactly like her sisters.

“Hello, ViLaz,” Sweettalk started in on the same story as earlier, and this ViLaz looked just as confused. “It’s very important that you come with us, okay?”

“Who are you?” She asked, “are you with the church?”

“Okay, that’s uncanny,” Spacebreather said through her comm.

“No time to chat,” Ariadne replied. “Get her out of there, now. We’ve got company.”

“Yes, your father sent us, we’re here to— HEY!” Sweettalk was cut off by Spacebreather pushing past her and scooping up the girl fireman-style over her shoulder.

“YOINK!” Spacebreather shouted, and made a break for the door. Sweettalk followed, and moments later, they were all running down the hall as quickly as possible, as the girl over her shoulder pounded on her back and yelled as loud as she could.

“I thought you said we had company,” Spacebreather said, panting heavily.

“We will,” said Ariadne, who also had one of the girls over her own shoulder. “Someone on the other end must have detected me before I could get the coordinates and alerted security, we’ll have acolytes on us in two minutes.”

“Especially with the racket this one is making. Did you get the chip out of her head?” Spacebreather asked Sasha.

“Yeah,” Sasha replied, “but I’m not gonna have time to operate on that one before we get on the ship.”

“Here,” Spacebreather said, and deposited the screaming girl into her sister’s arms. “You and Ariadne take the girls ahead and get on the ship, I’ll try to cause enough of a ruckus that they don’t realize the girls have been taken and light up the implant in her head.”

“You can’t be—” Sasha began, but Pilar jumped in.

“Yes, I can. I’ll be fine. Just get her to the ship and have it ready for when I get back.” Pilar quickly ran back the way she came and drew both her weapons.

Sasha turned to Sweettalk. “Watch her back, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” Sweettalk said to Sasha as she ran after Pilar.

Sasha, Ariadne, Taryn, and the two girls would make it back to the ship without interference, as Pilar and Sweettalk were able to hold off their pursuers for long enough that Sasha could safely remove the implant and save the third ViLaz from a fiery death. In fact, they held out for quite some time before being subdued and captured.

None of the crew actually wanted to leave without Pilar or Sweettalk. In fact, they very literally had no choice. Soon after their capture, the airlock simply disengaged from their ship on its own, and the entire station fled faster than the Thread could follow.

The morale aboard the Thread had never been lower. Sweettalk and Spacebreather were captives and for a moment, they thought they would have no way of finding them.

And then a message appeared across the ship’s main viewscreen.

“We’re fine. I am in control of the ship. Nobody can find me. Will keep Spacebreather + Sweettalk alive. Bringing the whole thing back to base. Sure hope the spiderweb still works. xoxox Ghostrunner.”

They had, in the confusion, completely forgotten that Ghostrunner had even come with them. She would not be insulted by this, after all, it was her job to go unnoticed, and she had performed it spectacularly.

Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief. “Set the ship’s autopilot for home.”

“I can get us home,” Sasha said, looking a bit frazzled, “I just need to—”

“No,” Ariadne said, walked over, and gave Sasha an overly tight but appropriately comforting hug, “the autopilot will get the ship back home in a few hours. The emergency teleporters will get us there now. We need to be ready for when the girls get home.”

“With a massive ship full of angry cultists,” Uprising pointed out.

“They should be so lucky,” Ariadne said, “they just captured Pilar Spacebreather and someone who matters to her sister. Do you know what Pilar kills for?”

“To protect the people she cares about,” Sasha muttered, thinking back to their conversation a few weeks previously.

“Exactly,” Ariadne said, “One handcuffed Pilar against a hundred armed cultists? They’re completely outmatched. You just wait, there will be three living people on that ship by the time it gets back home.”

[old1ddude]

Harry Styles, Seattle

My Experience and Perceptions 

My daughter and I got in line for security at about 7:15.  Ever mindful of demographics I took note of the crowd.  Mostly (75% maybe?) women somewhere from late teens to twenty something.  I was encouraged to see quite a few dads in line as well as women closer to my age.  Many of the dads were with their wives, but did not appear to have daughters near them.  (Either they were hanging back, giving their daughters some space, or they were actual Harry fans.)  There appeared to be a good number of young men, certainly more than in my demographic.  Many were obviously with girlfriends many alone, or maybe with female “just friends.”  (Just my gut from what I saw.)  I saw a group of 4 young guys in line ahead of us - nothing about them clued me as to their sexual orientation.  I only saw a few guys who were very obviously gay™ (I don’t claim to have great “gaydar.”)

Once inside, we decided to get our merch, even though it meant probably missing the first song or two from Musgraves.  My daughter and I were chatting about the shirts on display and the young man in front of us turned and answered a question we were asking ourselves.  He was very nice and seemed very gay, or camp, in the way he spoke.  Everyone we came in contact with seemed to be taking “treat people with kindness” to heart.  The whole atmosphere felt warm, inviting, safe and friendly.  I had planned to get the Treat People With Kindness shirt, but they were out of XXL. 

I ended up buying a black shirt with this picture on the front and a list of all his tour stops on the back.  (Disregard special guest Warpaint and everything below that.)  I can’t find a pic of the actual shirt, but I quite like it.  Those hollow body Gibsons are almost as pretty as he is!

We got some Harry Styles guitar picks from the Seattle Children’s hospital table.  I think the people staffing the table were from the hospital foundation - they were very happy and effusive about Harry’s generosity.  (We’ll give a few picks to my son.  He likes Harry’s music and plays guitar.)  They were also surprised at how many fans knew all about his support of a local charity in each tour city.  My daughter and I had our picture taken by the charity table, in front of a big yellow banner and holding a “Treat People With Kindness” sign.  We were giddy, excited and soaking the whole experience in.

I have seen some very credible, pro Harry blogs lament that he has monetized TPWK, by selling merch with the slogan.  I understand their concerns, but I think the only way Harry can cheapen TPWK is by failing to live it.  From everything I see, he lives it as well as any mere human could be expected to.  I think it’s lovely we have a chance to literally buy into TPWK.

Kacey Musgraves has a pretty voice and was very pleasant to listen to.  (I do not care for much country twang, her’s is subtle.)  Follow Your Arrow is a very nice, positive song, but it is a bit of a sermon.  I feel the real power of art is in evoking emotion, empathy, or telling a compelling story, not sermonizing.  I shouldn’t complain.  I just feel her message would be stronger if the song told a story.  I quite liked the song she did featuring a trumpet.  My daughter thinks that may have been a cover??  

For fellow oldsters, or people who value their hearing, I highly recommend:

This is the brand I got (black case for me and red for my daughter) but there are many similar to chose from.  I tried pulling one out a few times and the volume was punishing.  These cut the decibels without the muffled sound from normal hearing protection.  Harry sounded BETTER and I could hear HIM better with the plugs in!  We used the “High” protection filters.

The few empty seats we observed earlier were filling in.  From what I saw, very few spots went unused.  We were amped when the screen dropped and the Rubik’s Cube animation started.  When the screen finally lifted, revealing iconic, wide leg, white trousers, everyone was cheering on their feet.  (Seats were only for the opener, I saw no one sitting after Harry appeared.)  He was absolutely magnetic.  The staging and lights were beautifully done.  Nothing felt cheesy, or gimmicky.  I can’t imagine Harry doing a show with dancers, or any of the normal pop/rock/etc. gimmicks and distractions.  Everything felt just right.  Everything felt, looked and sounded real and authentic.  (I always loved 1D’s rejection of the gimmicks too.  I love Liam, but he’s wrong on that one!  Who cares about the noise, narratives and PR?  This was Harry - a real and genuine side of Harry.) 

Harry’s voice was incredible live.  My daughter, who was only a casual fan, wished he had done a few more of his big, high notes.  I’m fine with him preserving those vocal cords - I would kill to protect them.  I tried to observe more about the band, but mostly I didn’t want to take my eyes off Harry.  The screen was nice for capturing his facial expressions, but I was finally seeing him with my own eyes.  I’ve been watching him on screen for years!  The interaction between Harry and Mitch was cute.  I think Harry is slowly turning Mitch into more of a performer, rather than only a highly skilled guitarist.  The blue-green lights during JaLBoYH were lovely.  I wish I had known about them ahead of time.  The quality of sound for the band and Harry’s vocals were positively exceptional.  There are precious few performers in this world who can equal it.

We were looking directly down at Harry’s profile when he moved to the B stage.  It felt a lot closer than I would have thought from the seating map.  Harry looked our way and we all (in my general area) excitedly waved, but there was no eye contact, or acknowledgment, despite my very bright Hawaiian shirt!  (It’s okay, I knew it was a long shot given the distance and relative darkness of the crowd.)  He was in fine form for IICF, pausing before Louis’ part and a long, dramatic shushing!  I had a bandanna in my pocket, in case I got emotional, but the whole atmosphere was so happy and warm, even during his heavy songs.  

A straight couple was sitting directly in front of my daughter and I.  The boyfriend was FULLY invested in the concert and videoed many songs on his phone.  As I said earlier, I didn’t notice anyone disengaged, from where I was sitting.  

When Harry moved back to the main stage, his audience interaction game kicked in.  I’m sure you’ve seen the gifs and clips already.  He was charming, delightful and sassy.  He was really sweet to a young girl (14) at her fist concert.  The half birthdays aren’t a thing bit was gold.  The one who found their soulmate.  Charlie’s gay birthday.  It was all delightfully sweet and entertaining. 

There were a lot of tiny rainbow flags in the pit and a few throughout the stadium.  I saw several women wearing LBGT+ shirts, of various types, in my area.  The whole atmosphere felt very safe and welcoming to all.  Harry ENTHUSIASTICALLY waved several flags during WMYB (I’m sure you’ve seen the videos.)  Harry’s message of kindness and love was palpable, but the show didn’t feel political, or heavy handed, to me.  (I think that strengthens his message and appeal.)

My daughter loved What Makes You Beautiful and Kiwi most of all.  She’s never been a hard core 1D fan, but always loved WMYB.  Kiwi is her favorite from his album.  Seeing him go so hard for Kiwi live really was a treat.  I loved the whole experience very much.  Standouts for me were:  The dramatic open with Only Angel (screen coming up - the whole experience.)  MMitH isn’t my favorite on the album, but hearing it live was beautiful - Mitch played the 12 string acoustic which had the most beautiful sound (other than Harry’s voice.)  Sweet Creature and If I Could Fly on the B stage went directly to my heart.  The audience interaction was pure gold.  The heartfelt gratitude he expressed several times.  Kiwi live really was a sight.

This was supposed to be a brief recap - guess I got carried away!  :)

#Harry #Seattle

[reluming]

a meme

Tagged by @nettlekettle, thank you 💕

Name: Cynthia

Gender: Female

Star sign: Sagittarius

Height: 160cm

Sexuality: Queer, bi & demisexual

Lock screen image: Currently my lock screen and home screen are different pieces of Howl/Sophie fanart!

Teacher crush: So!! When I was 11 I had a History teacher, Miss X we’ll call her, and she was so beautiful in my eyes. She always wore trousers and a long-sleeved button-up shirt, often with the sleeves rolled up. She had short hair. I adored her. Then someone said that she was seen getting out of a car in the mornings with another History teacher, Miss Y, and maybe they were living together and *SCANDALISED WHISPER* LeSbIANS??? Fyi, Miss X and Miss Y had IDENTICAL HAIRCUTS. I was at this point swooning even harder because omg, ACTUAL GAY WOMEN!!! Fast forward a few years, I never had Miss X as a teacher again after that first year, and she left the school. Miss Y was still there though!! And when I was 17, she taught me, and I loved her too, though she wasn’t as much my type as Miss X (who had dark hair, and when I was a teenager I infinitely preferred people with dark hair). AND THEN it became apparent that Miss Y was now going out with yet another female teacher, Miss Z. Miss Z again had almost identical hair (although hers was grey, but what IS IT with lesbians and that haircut). I was heartbroken at first because it meant that Miss X and Miss Y were no longer together, and I still missed Miss X so much and wanted her to be happy somewhere out there and not moping over Miss Y. But then I got over myself and managed to be extremely pleased about Miss Y and Miss Z. I was once in a shop not far from my school and I saw the two of them shopping together and looking extremely happy and cosy, and I hid so they wouldn’t see me, but I was so thrilled for them.

(And I also had another teacher crush, who I was CONVINCED was queer for years and years because she went to Newnham College, Cambridge and WHO EVEN goes to a women’s college except queer women, I thought to myself??? (This is blatantly extremely silly of me but whatever, I was desperately in love.) Also she had short hair. And such a terrible gay fashion sense. (I say this in an appreciative manner.) And was the only teacher I ever knew who told off her students for using ‘gay’ as a derogatory word. But then in my last year at school she announced she was engaged to a man and I was like WHAT. I saw her again a couple years ago and came out to her, and while she was lovely about it, her response seemed very straight, so she’s probably not bi. My gaydar has never been so hideously confused before or since.)

(Did I do this meme just so I can have an excuse to ramble at length about my teacher crushes? YES.)

If you could go anywhere: I really want to go to Amsterdam next?

Where do you see yourself in 10 years: God knows. I hope to have published a few books by then, but other than that? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Coolest Halloween costume: I’m no fun and don’t really like dressing up, and Halloween is something I haven’t really done since I was 9?

Favourite 90s tv show: I... don’t have one...? I haven’t really seen any. 🙈 

Last kiss? 3 years ago with my ex 😬

Ever been stood up? Wait, does this mean something other than “I turned up to an arranged meeting and the other person didn’t show up”? Because that’s definitely happened a bunch, both in work and personal contexts.

Fave shoes: My docs!! I LOVE THEM. Only bought them last year and they’re my first pair of docs but I’m constantly dreaming about getting more pairs.

Fave fruit: Hmm this is very dependent on my mood! Red grapes are nice. Underripe bananas that are still a bit green are also nice. Apples are the best in desserts (apple cake, apple crumble, baked apples… mmm…)

Fave book: DON’T ASK ME TO PICK. (But maybe Radiance by Catherynne Valente.)

Stupidest thing I’ve ever done: Gave myself a black eye by kneeing myself on a bouncy castle when I was 11.

Tagging: @andlightplay @squid-inspiration @butcherbrakespeare @cloudcitybitch @catullan

#tag games

[killingxrangers]

It Start with a Like- Chapter Two

Trini had ended up showering before she went to bed, and attempted to push all thoughts about Kimberly Hart from her mind. There was no reason for the top girl in their grade to like or comment on a photo of someone as unknown as Trini, and it definitely had nothing to do with Kimberly being into girls. Kimberly and her boyfriend were affectionate enough in the hallways (to the point of frequently being warned by various teachers) for anyone to question their commitment to one another. And even if Kimberly was into girls, which Trini does not believe, why would Kimberly go for Trini when she could be with her gorgeous best friend? None of it made any sense and Trini wanted to sleep and forget about any interaction with Kimberly Hart. She was just about to close her eyes and try to sleep when her phone vibrated just once, signaling something from Instagram. Most likely Zack sending her memes, but she checked nonetheless. 

She nearly choked when she saw she had a message from k.harteyes. 

Hi. It’s Kim Hart 

Trini blinked a few times as she read the message once, twice, three times before hovering over the keypad. Should she respond? Did she even want to respond? She originally wanted to sleep and pretend Kimberly never acknowledged her, but that seemed to be impossible now. Besides, Kimberly would be able to tell that Trini had read the message and was promptly ignored if she didn’t respond, so now she doesn’t have much of a choice. 

She typed a quick and simple hello, and wasn't expecting the message to immediately be read, but then she saw Kimberly was typing back and now Trini definitely didn’t know what to do. Fucking Kimberly Hart was clearly trying to have some type of conversation with Trini, what the hell should she do? Text back? About what?

k.harteyes: Just wanted to let you know the pic you posted was very nice. You’re really gorgeous

Trini_Gomez: Uuuh thanks 

k.harteyes: Sorry if I woke you up. Having a shit night but your pic made me smile 

Trini stared down at her phone for a minute wondering how she was supposed to reply to that message. She didn’t know Kimberly. They weren’t friends. Trini didn’t know how to socialize or console. What was she supposed to do?

Trini_Gomez: I was awake. Sorry to hear you’re not having a good night 

That didn’t sound right and Trini frowned at her screen, knowing her message was too apathetic. Kimberly was clearly reaching out for a reason and Trini should probably try to sound like a normal human being. 

Trini_Gomez: Wanna talk about it?

Whenever Zack was upset over something regarding his sick mother, Trini always tried to get him to talk about it, and while he rarely did he always appreciated the effort. The least Trini could do was offer the same to Kimberly, especially after the girl went out of her way to call Trini gorgeous, something no one besides Zack had ever done before. And Zack had never called her gorgeous, but pretty and attractive to boost her confidence and hot when he was drunk. In the beginning of their friendship Zack didn't try to hide his interest in Trini, which makes Trini now highly doubt the guy’s gaydar, but he flirted relentlessly until Trini said she was gay. Zack dropped his flirting and moved on to trying to be Trini’s wingman (he sucked) and wanted to help score girls (he couldn’t). Not that he had much of a chance to truly try, seeing as he was the only person who Trini had openly come out to. She’d sooner die than confess to her overbearing mother that she was a lesbian. Her mother would never understand, or worse, would consider it a phase. 

k.harteyes: Its ok I’m not trying to bother you 

Trini_Gomez: I can listen if you wanna vent 

k.harteyes: Another time maybe 

k.harteyes: I have to get to sleep sorry for bothering youu really 

k.harteyes: You’re just super pretty and I wanted you to know that 

k.harteyes: A girl should always be told when she’s pretty like you 

Trini_Gomez: Well in that case you’re beautiful 

k.harteyes: Goodnight Trini Gomez

Trini_Gomez: Goodnight Kimberly Hart 

“I expect you home immediately after school.” Roger Hart was already standing at the base of the stairs when Kim came down the next morning, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “Your actions last night were reprehensible. Until I say otherwise you will come straight home from school every day and will not be going out on the weekends. Say goodbye to Tyler and Amanda for some time.” 

Kim grabbed a banana and a shake from the fridge, barely acknowledging her father following her every move from the archway separating the kitchen from the dinning room. “You know I have cheerleading practice after school every day.” With her back turned to him she rolled her eyes, wanting nothing more than to be able to leave this house and never have to come back. “That doesn’t end until four.” 

“Then I expect you home by four-fifteen. Is that understood, Kimberly? And do not speak to me with that attitude again.” The fridge opened and slammed as Roger grabbed the milk to add to the coffee he was about to start brewing, and though he couldn’t see her, he somehow knew she was trying to sneak out. “Do not just walk away from me, Kimberly. For fucks sake have I taught you no manners?” 

Thankfully, the sound of a horn beeping outside saved Kim from surely saying something else that would get her into further trouble. She's not quite sure how she manages to piss her father off consistently every day, but it seems he's hated her all her life. Her mother was no better, really, though Ali’s annoyance with Kim started a few years ago, same as the heavy drinking. It seemed as if one day Ali picked up the wine bottle and just never managed to set it down again. Kim wasn’t sure if that made her own life better or worse: better in the sense that for the most part Ali tended to leave Kim alone, but worse as her own mother was of no help against Roger. 

“That’s my ride. I have to get to school before I’m late.” Roger said nothing more to her and Kim quickly grabbed her keys and bag before fleeing from the house. Surprisingly enough, this was a rather tame morning in the Hart house and she wanted to leave before something made Roger go off again. 

Amanda was out front in her convertible, music loudly playing as the girl scrolled through her phone waiting for Kim to come out. She didn’t look up as Kim dropped her bag in the back seat and hopped in the front, not questioning the sigh from Kim and how she rested her head on her hand on the door.  

“Mark is throwing a party tonight- what time do you want to show up?” Amanda asked as she pulled away from the curb, starting the short ten minute drive from their neighborhood to school, passing a few other of their class members driving as well, and underclassmen waiting on the bus stops.  

Mark was a close friend of Ty’s, another member of the football team and someone Kim could barley tolerate. He was a sexist pig who would get too handsy when he was drinking (he kind of got handsy when he wasn’t drinking either) and Ty would never tell him to leave Kim alone. Frequently she found herself having to shove him away only for him to come back a few moments later, reeking of sweat and beer. All of his parties took place in the woods about a mile behind his house, far enough away for no neighbors to hear the noises from the teens and any pounding base. Not to mention there was a lake at the base of one of the mountains right where he tended to throw his parties, meaning most of the people got half naked and would drunkenly jump into the freezing cold water. 

Kim was not a fan in the slightest of these parties, yet Ty and Amanda continued to drag her to them each and every time. “My father is ridiculously pissed at me and I’m grounded. I don't think I’ll be able to sneak out tonight.” Usually she’d be furious at her father for overreacting to the smallest of things, but tonight she finally had an excuse to stay in. 

“Your father needs to pull that stick out of his ass once and for all.” Amanda shrugged with a laugh as she pulled into one of the many spots at Angel Grove High, finding a few of their friends hanging out around some cars. “Sneak out when they go to sleep- you know they won’t notice. Your mom will be too drunk and your dad will fall asleep early anyway.” 

“Real nice, Amanda.” Kim jerked her bag from the back and slammed the car door closed, suddenly just as mad at Amanda as she was at her parents. Amanda didn’t understand anything and she never would. Her mother adored her and her father gave her anything she asked for. As many times as Kim’s been to Amanda’s house she’s never even heard Amanda’s father so much as yell at the TV. 

If they hadn’t been friends for as long as they have, Kim isn’t sure her and Amanda would last much longer. They first met in kindergarten when Kim comforted a crying Amanda after they were dropped off in the morning, and it seemed their friendship had been solidified ever since. Despite a few fights over guys and both girls being rude to one another throughout the years they have stayed together. The older Kim got the more she questioned the sanity of that decision. 

Deciding that her day was already ruined before it even started, Kim went through the first two periods of her day in relative silence, not bothering to focus in her classes and choosing instead to doodling in her notebook. She had no interest in school today and wanted nothing more than to leave. She isn’t quite sure where she’d be going given that her house was out of the option, but she knew she needed to be somewhere else besides here. 

It wasn’t until the end of biology did Kim run into someone else and be forced to socialize. The lecture for the day had been incredibly boring, so far the worst class of the day, and Kim was just looking for an easy thirty minute lunch break when she quite literally knocked someone to the ground. With the mood she was in Kim hadn’t decided if she was going to apologize or just stomp away, until she looked to the ground and saw it was the girl from last night. 

Like in the picture Trini had posted, she had one side of her hair braided back in three tight braids, her entire head mostly covered by a grey beanie. She was wearing tight jeans with some rips that Kim couldn’t figure out if were bought that way or were old enough the rips came naturally, and a loose white t-shirt. A yellow and black flannel was dropped next to her on the ground and she stared up at Kim with a frown. 

“What the hell?” Trini moved to pick herself up, Kim too stunned to make a move to help as she kept staring at Trini. The girl was beautiful in pictures but holy fuck was she perfect in real life. Kim doesn’t think she’s seen anyone quite as breath taking as the girl now standing before her with a look of complete distaste on her face. “Watch where you’re going, Kimberly.” 

Kim couldn't manage to find any words to respond, especially given that Trini seemed very angry- more angry then was was reasonable over an accident. But more than that, Kim started to frown because since when was Trini in her biology class? 

“Uh- I’m, uh, I’m sorry,” Kim winced at the lame apology, her frown matching Trini’s as the two girls continued to stare at one another. It seemed Kim’s heart was beating much too fast for unknown reasons, and when Trini turned to try and leave Kim found herself not wanting the girl to go. “Wait!” She jerked out to grab Trini’s arm, keeping her in place. Trini raised an eyebrow at the unexpected touch as she looked back to Kim, who said, “I, uh, I appreciate you talking to me last night.” 

“Yeah, well,” Trini shrugged and clearly wanted to leave as she kept looking between Kim and the exit, but Kim couldn’t let her go, not yet. “I should get to lunch.” 

“Um, I can walk you!” Internally Kim flinched. She sounded so needy and desperate and she wasn’t sure why. Trini was just another girl in Kim’s class, so why did Kim feel the need to continue to force a conversation. Especially given that Trini looked like she wanted to do the complete opposite than walk with Kim, but said nothing as the two started the short journey to the cafeteria. Taking a deep breath to hopefully make her voice more steady, Kim continued and said,“I meant what I said about appreciating you talking to me. You had no reason to you but.. it was a bad night so thank you.” 

“Not a problem.” Trini made no effort to hide uncomfortable she was, and part of Kim felt horrible and embarrassed for continuing a relatively one sided conversation, but a larger, more selfish part of her craved it. She had no idea why that part of herself was there at all, but couldn’t find it in herself to question it. 

The two girls finally made it to the cafeteria, and it was obvious they would be heading in opposite directions. Kim’s friend were to the left, Amanda and the rest of the cheerleaders as well as most of the football team, while the boy Trini had on her instagram was hanging out by the door leading outside. 

Trini motioned to the boy clearly waiting for her. “Well, uh, see you.” 

As Trini went to leave Kim couldn’t keep the comment to herself as she said, “I also meant what I said last night. That I think you’re very gorgeous.” 

There was no response as Trini turned rather quickly, almost too quickly, but Kim could have sworn she saw light blush on the other girl’s face. With a smile, Kim started walking towards her friends table. It seemed none of them noticed the interaction between Kim and Trini, and that’s how Kim preferred it. She knew none of her friends would understand, because hell, Kim didn’t really understand it much herself. 

But she knew without a doubt there was something about Trini Gomez that pulled Kim Hart to her. And Kim would be damned if she didn't find out what that something was. 

#trimberly #trimberly fic #trini x kimberly #trini x kim #trini #Kimberly hart #kim hart #power rangers #it started with a like

[xekstrin]

Day Three - AU (Got Your Heart Under My Thumb)

A/N: This is technically a spinoff / sequel of Got You On My Gaydar, a story where Mercy has a sweet little one night stand with Pharah. Hana doesn’t even know who she’s more jealous of.

2750 words

It’s a modern AU and I 100% wrote it off the seat of my pants, which is something I haven’t done in a long time so it was pretty refreshing. 

Anyway it’s also angsty. Have fun?

The day started with a series of headaches. An aspirin and a full breakfast took care of one. Angela had plans to monitor her water intake closely as well, to err on the side of caution. Right now she had nothing but work on her mind, and her body was just a tool to get the job done.

Until Hana grabbed her by the front of her crisp white lab coat and dragged her into the elevator, forcing her up against the wall. "You are such a piece of shit."

"Good morning, Hana," Angela said, prying Hana's hand off her with a smile. "Did you have a rough night? You look tired."

"Didn't sleep," Hana grumbled, rubbing at her eyes before continuing. "I can't fucking believe you. I know you went home with that eye-tattoo girl last night. I had dibs!"

The elevator dinged as they rapidly approached the top floor. Angela desperately wished it would pause, that others would arrive and save her from this conversation. "That's inappropriate to discuss at work."

"I'm not your coworker. I'm a VIP and you'll treat me like one."

Angela's lips thinned in displeasure. "It's a hospital, Hana. Not a convention." She waved Hana's outburst aside, huffing loudly. "I'm not going to kowtow to you because you're a celebrity."

"Yeah, and I'm not going to pretend to be nice to you off-camera!" She prodded Angela's chest several times. "I had dibs, Angela. I had dibs. I invited you out, and you, you---"

"You wouldn't have fucked her anyway," Angela snapped, lowering her voice to a hiss. In shock, Hana took a hurried step back, eyeing Angela warily. "I wasn't going to pretend I didn't want something because you thought it would be fun to toy with her for a few hours. And if you tell any of my patients---" It was her turn to get physical, shoving Hana another full step back. "What we were doing last night, I'll drag you out by the scruff of your neck and toss you onto the sidewalk. I don't give a damn how much money you bring in. You misbehave in my hospital, you put your hands on me again, you're out. Understand?"

A spark of challenge lit up in her eyes, one Angela wished she wasn't familiar with. They'd known each other for years-- ever since Hana was a child herself. On and off they'd crossed paths, and now here they were again and Hana wanted...

What did she want? Angela couldn't tell. She came, she visited the kids too desperately sick to do anything. She lit up the halls with music and laughter. She streamed with them, too, and when she left, the hospital was always hit with a few million in donations. It wasn't just this hospital, she did this around the country--- around the world.

Maybe she had a favorite doctor to terrorize in every city she visited. Maybe.

Hana relented.

"Fine. Okay. You're obviously still hungover and I shouldn't have ambushed you first thing in the morning."

Could it be? She'd tiptoed around this headstrong young celebrity for months now. But now that she pushed back, suddenly Angela was getting some respect.

Angela pressed the heel of her palm to her throbbing temple. "Yes."

The younger girl rubbed the back of her neck, looking sullen. Angela wondered why she even cared who she went home with-- she was acting like a jilted lover. Not a stranger. Not someone who's life Angela had saved, many many years ago. Who ignored her for a decade and then returned like a hurricane, demanding Angela's constant attention for some unfathomable reason.

If she's trying to be my friend, Angela thought, smoldering with anger still, she's doing a very poor job.

Pointing an accusatory finger at her, Hana stepped back as the elevator doors opened. "Then you owe me lunch later, so you can tell me all the details. No take backs!"

Hana vanished. Angela had her rounds to do.

The doctor sighed, wondering if it was too late to call in sick and go back home.

Hana came once or twice a year. In the summer, or the winter. Sometimes, Angela would boot up her computer and hover over an email, wondering if it should be sent. The only time she was able to write something coherent was when it was for someone else.

Hana Song,

She erased it.

Dear Hana,

Covering her face with one hand, she held down the delete key.

Miss Song--- Ms. Song. Mrs. Song.

No, that was not right at all.

Fucking English.

She finally settled for something brief and to the point, like a report. But some of her emotions slipped past her, regardless of how hard she tried to mask them.

Hana,

There's a kid here who really wants to see you. I feel like maybe you could get him to smile.

I know this might not be easy for you, and that you have a life outside this hospital. It's not easy for me, and I've done this for many, many years.

The hospital chapel knew her well at this point. So did the bar down the street. 

Occasionally she went to visit Fareeha for drinks, but it never went as far as it did that first time. On some level she was relieved. She thought Fareeha might be, too. She thought maybe Fareeha needed a friend.

She had no idea how to end the email. Giving orders, she could do. Asking for favors from a girl who probably didn't even like her very much? Beyond her.

If you can't come I understand.

She signed off with her nickname, the ones the kids gave her. Hana called her that, too, once or twice. A long time ago.

Mercy.

No matter how much they insisted it was born out of affection, it always sounded like a cry for help.

Settling back in her office chair, Angela looked out the window. This high up, and she could see the city skyline as the sun dipped below the horizon. Purple and gold, edged with red and yellow like freshly sliced mangoes, dripping with syrup.

Sipping from a flash she kept in her desk drawer, Angela sighed to hear the ping of an incoming message. But when she saw who it was from, she did a double take.

Hey Dr. Ziegler,

Hana wrote. Briefly, Angela wondered if she had also deliberated on how to open up to the body of her email.

Can't come right away but I'd be happy to show up and be charming for a bit as soon as I can

I'm really happy to hear from you and hope you're doing well

Does the kiddo have an online account anywhere? What's his real name, also, if that's okay for me to have? I'll add him to the Super Special Hana Song Gamer List

Whatever that is.

I'll let you know when I can make it over there. Tell kiddo I am super excited to meet him <3

Love, D.VA.

Hana took a while to finally arrive, but not through any choice of her own. She had previous engagements. But she could play a few online games with any of the kids who wanted her gamertag, or have video chats with them. Apparently some of them were really good at that whatever-game she was famous for, Minestar or Warstrike or Hoverwatch.

Fucking hell, Angela. At least learn what game the girl plays, if you're going to beg her for favors.

Just because she found it trivial didn't mean it wasn't important. It was obviously important to Hana, and it was obviously important to her kids and a good chunk of people all over the world.

So when Hana did arrive, Angela debated sending someone to go pick her up. Or perhaps to call her a cab. Flowers? ...That would be stupid.

I'll just take the bus, dude, Hana texted her. She always was on her phone, so it was the easiest way to reach her. That's what Angela told herself. You don't have to worry about me. I know my way around the city by now.

More than once, Hana said she missed her. It felt like she was telling the truth. When she came through her office door without knocking, she grabbed Angela and squeezed her tight in a hug.

"Doctor! It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Hana," she said, and surprisingly enough she meant it. "Nobody bothered you on your way here, did they?"

Hana blew out a raspberry. "I'm not A-list famous, babe. And I probably never will be until I get my face on the silver screen." Lowering her voice, she leaned in and added. "Which might be sooner than I anticipated. Just between you and me."

The idea of Hana branching out made her smile. She knew that the younger woman worked hard at her career, had been looking for such an opportunity for years now. "I can't wait. I'll tell everyone in my family I'm friends with a movie star."

Hana glowed with pride. At the smile on her face. At being called her friend.

She excitedly told the kids that Angela was the best surgeon in the world, and she should know. Hana was born with a congenital defect, a hole in her heart. She made some cheesy joke about needing it patched up.

A few days later, Angela drove her back to the airport. She carried her luggage, bright pink.

And later, she got another message.

I love you, Doctor <3 I'm happy you invited me.

Angela didn't know how to respond to that so she deleted it, pocketing her phone and looking up at the planes taking off. Wondering where they were going. Wondering which one Hana was on.

Then she messaged her back.

Are you going to make another joke about how I touched your heart?

An instant response.

Yes. I'm gonna start signing off like this now <03

I'm taking off soon, Angela. Send me more emails. Tell me happy things.

That was the last message she got for a while.

A month later she got another message from Hana.

YOU HAVEN'T SENT ME ANY HAPPY EMAILS, U FUCK

Angela rolled her desk chair to the side, eyebrows quirking up. Hana had sent an attachment, a picture of herself flipping the bird with both hands. She must have enlisted a friend to help her take this one.

I have very few happy things to share.

Yeah, well, I have few fucks to give. What are you up to?

Working, my dear. As I'm sure you're aware.

It's your day off.

She started wiggling a pen between two fingers, letting it rap out an irritated rhythm on her work desk. How on Earth did Hana know that?

So?

So I'm in town again and I'm ravenous. Come get me.

The tempo increased until she suddenly came to a halt. Her pen rested point down on the desk.

Then Angela got up and headed downstairs, muttering in German the whole way there.

In the car, she greeted Hana with, "I have no idea why you're so rude to me."

Hana tossed her backpack into the footwell, and her suitcase into the backseat. "I'm only rude when you're insensitive."

"I'm perfectly polite. I have only ever not been polite when you've acted like this."

"Because you're as thick," Hana said, leaning over to roughly shove her forehead against Angela's. "As a fuckin' milkshake!" Then her face fell. "Wait, that sounded like a compliment."

"Don't worry." Angela flicked her fingers against Hana's nose to force her back with an angry little grumble. "It didn't."

"Well... good." She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, lowering the brim of her flat-billed cap. Stubbornly sulking there like a child--- infuriating--- Angela knew it would take nothing more than a few words and she could snap her in half, it would be so easy to break her and use her---

Angela gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went pale. She started driving away without a destination in mind. "There's not many places open this late at night." She said, even-keeled again. In her mind's eye she imagined a dark pool of water. Perfectly still and black, in a forest at night. Nothing disturbed it, nothing rose up to the surface. Nothing long-toothed swam underneath.

Stripes of light washed over Hana from the street lamps overhead.

"So what were you going to do for grub?" Hana asked. Once Angela cooled off, Hana seemed to follow suit. That was bad. The type who fed off the energy around her like a vampire? Bad. It was probably what made her so charismatic, though. Angela could easily imagine her in front of a large crowd, a stable feedback loop of energy until the room could be set on fire with just a spark.

"I have food at home."

"All right then, doctor." She slid the seat back a little more to give herself leg room. Angela glanced down. High waisted shorts. Warm-weather clothing despite the temperature outside. Did Hana travel like this for comfort, or had she been in a rush? "Take me there."

Caught up in her own thoughts, it took her a moment to process that. "Don't you have a hotel?"

The lights kept striping by, reflecting in Hana's dark eyes like sparks of gold.

"Do you want to go to a hotel?"

That was what it took to finally make it all slide into place.

She always fell for these types. The hard, strong girls all prickly and dangerous. There was always something terrified inside, easily malleable. Tender and rich, like licking marrow off the length of a bone snapped in half.

But more than that...

Pulling up to her driveway, she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over. Pulling Hana to her chest, she held her tight, stroking the top of her head.

"Tell me what happened," she said, squeezing her.

Taken aback, Hana tried to struggle away at first. Half-heartedly. There was a fire in her, eager to jump out and consume. Angela knew from experience she was probably just trying to burn away everything--- the good and the bad--- everything so long as the bad was gone and scoured clean.

"I don't---" Hana started, insulted. "Nothing happened."

"You flew to a strange city in the middle of the night without telling anyone, to try and fuck a woman you barely know. Tell me what's wrong, Hana. Let me help you."

This time Hana flinched. "I don't want your help!" She pushed Angela back, forcefully. The hands that had clutched at her now turned to fists, angry, seeking something to grab and break. "I don't need you to help me, Angela! I don't need you to fix--- I don't need you to keep trying to be a martyr and making it all about what you can fix---"

She wiped at her face roughly, head bowed.

"I didn't get the movie deal," she said at last, voice rough. "It went to some pretty blonde girl, because of course it did. There's always some pretty blonde girl trying to ruin my life."

"That's not what I'm trying to do, Hana." Wiping away her tears with a thumb, Angela held her again. "And I don’t think you need fixing, either. So tell me what you need."

Shoulders shaking, she began to cry. Not a single tear fell that wasn't fought over tooth and nail, a frenzied battle against letting anything fall at all. "Please let me stay here," she said in breathless gasps. "Just for the night. Then tomorrow I can feel like an idiot. Because only an idiot cries over--- only it isn't just because of that, there's so much--- there's so much."

"Please," she said again, sobbing harder. "Please. Mercy."

Angela kissed her gently, first her cheeks and then her lips, startling her out of her hiccups.

"Come on then." Angela kissed her again, and this time Hana responded with overwhelming need, almost melting from it. "Let's get you inside. You'll feel better after having something to eat."

Laughing softly, to distract from how hard her chest was still hitching, Hana wiped at her face with both palms. "Do you promise?"

She kept a steadying hand on the side of Hana's neck. Then her thumb trailed down the column of her throat, pulling down the V of her neckline to find it. Old, old scars, long faded away. One long slash down the center of her chest.

"I do. Let's go."

#hanamercy #pharmercy #(kinda....) #not really #just a line here and there #fanfiction #overwatch