Live Review: Super Furry Animals and Getdown Services at O2 Apollo Manchester 21 May 2026
Words: Ben Forrester
I’d been playing gig bingo with myself pretty much all night. Even when trying to remember how to walk to the Apollo, I simply followed the bald dudes seemingly in their late 40s in old school Adidas wear. Tonight we’re getting nostalgic, as Wales premier psych pop heroes Super Furry Animals play a sold out show at the legendary Manchester venue as part of their first UK…
M’gann was fairly sure this was a good idea. Not one hundred percent. Maybe not even ninety. But fairly sure. She and Wally been spending a lot of time together since they’d met volunteering at a pet adopt-a-thon two weeks prior. He’d asked her out as soon as the event was over, taken her to a hotdog stand at the edge of the park, and promptly realized that he’d forgotten his wallet. As she was buying him his fourth hotdog, he’d made her laugh so hard that she snorted and started choking. All in all, a nice first date.
Two days later they’d gone to dinner. Then there was lunch and a movie. They’d gone to breakfast, then the Star City Air and Space Museum, and then dinner again. And then it had been two weeks. Wally had been offering to fix the radiator in her apartment since she’d first mentioned it. A way to pay her back for the hotdogs, he said, although she insisted that paying her back wasn’t necessary.
The radiator had been erratic during the winter. It turned on and off as it pleased. The superintendent attributed it the quirks of old buildings and said he couldn’t do anything about it. Luckily, Martians were accustomed to the cold.
But as the weather grew warmer, the radiator had changed course. It now kept the apartment at a balmy eighty-four degrees. Refusing to turn off and releasing angry clouds of steam whenever she went near it. So M’gann decided to ask for Wally’s help after all. Plus, having him up to her apartment would be an added bonus.
The buzzer rang and M’gann skidded to the door to let Wally in. “Hey,” she said, giving him a hug. “Thank you so much for coming. I really appreciate your help.” M’gann opened the door wide and the heat came pouring into the hallway. She grimaced. “It’s like an oven. Oh, I made cookies!”
Prepare for feels, found family, funerals, forgetfulness, and just gals being pals.
In the small nation of Speakeasy, child abuse is at an all-time low, thanks to many social programs and laws put in place to prevent abuse, help survivors, and more. When a woman known as the Matriarch threatens to destroy that system, a hero will rise, the hero she didn’t sign up for:
The child she didn’t sign up for.
The Radiator, a young woman who gained heat powers thanks to a combination of a highly advanced medicine, a bout of heat exhaustion in her youth, and a lack of oversight on her abusers’ part, must defeat the Matriarch before her country returns to the dark days of child abuse, but is there more to this survivor’s story than meets the eye?
In this chapter, Wanda comes home, Aaron is buried, and Mercy celebrates her birthday.
Warnings: Mentions of self-harm and alcoholism, more Wanda being abusive... Also mutual pining with our favorite idiots.
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“Shh, it’s okay, help will be here soon,” Mercy said, rocking the scared five-year-old in her arms. “I know, some scary stuff’s been happening, but it’s okay, honey.”
The child gripped her black hood, sniffling.
“I promise he’ll never lay a finger on you again,” Mercy said, eyes shutting tightly to block out the flashing lights of the police car nearby.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Mercy asked.
“Kelly.”
“What a beautiful name, Kelly.”
A second police car showed up and two people got out of the backseat, rushing towards the pair.
“Kelly! Oh, thank goodness, we thought we’d never see you again!” one of them said.
“I had my suspicions about her dad, but then he took her away, and—god, you actually found her! Thank you, Radiator!” said the other.
Mercy handed the kid off to her family.
“No problem. She’s not hurt, but she’s a little shaken up.”
Mercy went home, feeling proud of herself, and able to rest easy knowing she’d had a successful night.
She took off her shoes and glasses and climbed into bed. She didn’t even need to hug the pillow; she was out like a light.
Mercy got a call around ten in the morning from Dr. Pine. Groggy and sluggish from last night’s patrol, Mercy sat up, then let out a long, loud groan as everything started to hurt. She was sore, so sore. She hadn’t even changed out of her suit, which had the same leggings, a built-in pouch for a flask of water, and a short-sleeved hoodie that was red with black accents and bore a big letter R.
Her hair was still braided the way it was for taekwondo, two thick braids flush against her head where her hair parted, like laurels on an ancient Roman emperor. It was a bit messy, as was the rest of her bed head.
She put her glasses on and fumbled for her phone. She answered it.
“Dr. Pine? Is everything okay?” she asked.
“I’m calling because your mother is making significant progress in treatment,” Pine said. “And I’m suspicious. The other staff members say she’s doing great, but… I don’t trust her. I think you should find a place to live, at least for a little while.”
“Oh, did I not tell you? I’ve got my own place.”
“Oh! But just to be safe, I think you should work on getting a restraining order against her.”
“I’m working on one against my sister. Haven’t you heard? She tried to—”
“Kill you, yes, what happened with that?”
“Not enough evidence to take her to court.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m safe. Abby doesn’t care that I’m not there anymore, but… It’s a big place and she’s so busy, I’m worried she can’t handle the upkeep by herself.”
“You’re still worried about her? Mercy, she brought this all upon herself! She’s not a part of your life now. You can rest.”
Mercy sighed.
“Can I, though?” she asked. “I’m sorry. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Wait, Mercy, before you go—”
She hung up. She needed to shower.
About a month had passed, and Aaron’s funeral was fast approaching. Abigail had set the date, October 25th, and he would be buried under obsidian, with a spare plot for his wife next to him when she finally died, the inscription being Here lies an abusive father. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mercy’s choice, of course, though if Abigail decided to deface the inscription, which was likely, it would be punishable by a fine that a high school student like her could afford.
Wanda was soon released, and Mercy disappeared from taekwondo for fear that Wanda would be there.
She trained at home, practicing her patterns on an old kicking bag until she knew it was safe to go back. Her friends would check up on her, as usual, and she had a few more movie nights with them.
Mercy did go back to taekwondo once. She stayed for only one class, because Wanda was there for the next one.
A first-degree black belt like Mercy, she had a sinister, un-Wanda smile on her face as she stood there in her dobak.
“Yeah, about that restraining order…” Mercy whispered to Crenshaw.
“I gotcha, kiddo,” Crenshaw said. “Hey, you… you haven’t been glowing much. What’s that about?”
“I’ve been wearing makeup,” Mercy said. “Hides my glow pretty well, surprisingly. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I thought you were only masking yourself when you went red,” Crenshaw said. “Hiding your identity. By the way, I know you stole my shades.”
Mercy’s cheeks warmed.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Keep ‘em,” Crenshaw said. “You use them more than I ever did.”
“Mr. Crenshaw, are you drunk?”
“Nah. Just beat from free-for-all sparring.”
“Multiples against one? That’s easy,” Mercy said. “At least in my experience. Drone baddies whose strength is in numbers. They just gotta protect their leader, their boss. Like a videogame boss. Did you hear about Jared Marx? The American child trafficker trying to hide out here?”
“Oh, god, kid,” Crenshaw whispered.
“His lackeys were easy when I took ‘em on last week,” Mercy said. “But Marx himself? That was the most brutal, bloody beatdown of my life. Well… if I could bleed. He almost got away after trying and failing to slice me to ribbons. My hair caught fire and he threw in the towel. I’m pretty sure he wet himself, too.”
Crenshaw laughed.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorched,” he joked.
Mercy laughed uncontrollably.
“You’re terrible,” she said.
“I know, kiddo. It’s what I do. You glow, I make bad jokes.”
“So what’s going on with you?”
“I’m happy to tell you that… I’m one month sober.”
Mercy smiled.
“I know, I know, I’ve reached that milestone time and time again, but—”
“No, it’s great! Really, Mr. Crenshaw, it’s great! Getting clean is so hard! I’m proud of you! I’ve got some news too!” Mercy said.
“Oh?”
“Thirty-nine days clean. Self-harm?”
Crenshaw smiled.
They embraced tightly.
“Congrats, kiddo. I know that’s been real hard for you,” Crenshaw said. “No thanks to your abusers.”
“You too,” Mercy said.
Mercy walked out feeling great, until Wanda accosted her.
“Wouldn’t even say hi to your own mother?” Wanda said.
“Please don’t talk to me,” Mercy said.
“I just want to know if you’ll be at the funeral,” Wanda said.
“The burial. No ceremony, no memorial service, I’ve been calling it a funeral, but all that’s happening is we’re putting that bastard six feet under, where he belongs.”
“Don’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Don’t be a dick when you’re alive.”
“SILENCE! You will be there for every minute of it, and you will tell me your address, and you will apologize to Abigail for all the horror you put her through!”
“She tried to kill me!”
“You had me punished for a crime I didn’t commit!”
“Are you ever gonna decide that that hill isn’t worth dying on anymore?”
Wanda picked Mercy up by the collar and slammed her into the wall.
“You will be there,” she hissed.
“I promised Dice I’d take her to Salade’s that day.”
“No Salade’s. She can come to the funeral too, if she wants.”
Mercy looked away, turning her head towards the side.
Crenshaw and Master Anthony were filming the interaction.
Wanda let Mercy go, huffing.
“I can get anything I want, you little shit,” Wanda said. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Mercy and Dice went to the burial together, holding hands for moral support. Mercy wore a black suit and tie, the necklace under her collar against her skin like it should be. Her dress shirt was also black, and she wore black flats. A red rose hair clip kept a lot of hair out of her face. She needed a haircut soon, she realized as she was doing her hair.
Dice wore a black dress that went down to her knees. The collar was high and the sleeves reached past her elbows. She wore black heels, making her slightly taller than Mercy.
“Ready?” Dice asked, fixing Mercy’s tie.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, taking Dice’s hand and joining the small group by the open grave.
Crenshaw, Wanda, and Abigail were all there, and it was clear that Crenshaw had been bullied into coming too. He wore a black suit, similar to Mercy’s, but with a white shirt underneath. His scruffy hair was combed, like he wore to her trial, and he had little braids in his hair.
“Hey, kid,” he said, hugging her. “How you feeling?”
“Good riddance,” Mercy said.
“That’s the spirit, Merce,” he said. “I don’t wanna be here, y’know? But I’m looking forward to a date after this.”
“You? A date?” Mercy said, stepping back to smile at him. “Awesome! Who’s the lucky person?”
“Mr. Jerry Brooks, of course,” Crenshaw said with a grin.
“Oh my god! Good luck, hope it goes well!” Mercy said. “So he’s like your partner partner?”
“We’ll see, kid,” Crenshaw laughed.
Jerry Brooks was Mercy’s other lawyer, and while he and Mercy weren’t as close, he was still nice to her. Mercy knew Crenshaw was pansexual, so this wasn’t surprising to her, but she was excited that he was getting back into the swing of things. Crenshaw was a crochety, nihilistic old man struggling to get and stay sober, and he’d had several partners bail on him before, but maybe this one wouldn’t. Brooks hadn’t bailed on their firm, and hopefully he wouldn’t bail on Crenshaw as a person.
“By the way, Mercy,” Crenshaw said, pulling a small, red box out of his jacket pocket. “Happy birthday.”
Mercy’s eyes widened.
“Oh! That reminds me,” Dice chirped, reaching into her purse.
Mercy stood in shock.
She had forgotten her own birthday.
Abigail, wearing a black corset dress and tights, smirked. She knew what she was doing. She put her middle finger up at Mercy.
“Oh, god, I forgot…” Mercy said, covering her eyes in shame.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Crenshaw said. “Just open it.”
Mercy opened the box. Inside was a pair of ear climbers similar to the ones from her mother, the ones she had taken to wearing, lest her holes closed up after going for weeks without earrings, but these were different.
These looked like tiny wings, and the box said they were 100% divergium.
“So you don’t have to wear that necklace all the time,” he said. “I hope you like ‘em. I know the whole ‘angel’ thing is defunct, but… look at it this way. Your parents clipped your wings, so here’s some metal ones.”
Mercy smiled and hugged him, burying her face in his chest.
“You’re terrible,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’m your terrible,” Crenshaw said.
“Thanks, Mr. Crenshaw,” she whispered.
“I love you,” she added as an afterthought.
Crenshaw smiled.
“Love you too, kiddo.”
Mercy and Dice held hands as Aaron’s plain wooden coffin was lowered into the ground, but Wanda had other ideas. She pulled Mercy into her, forcing her into a hug, and Mercy made a face and shivered. She wanted OUT. This was disgusting, for some reason, but Wanda wouldn’t let go.
“I miss him,” Wanda said, dramatically dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
“I don’t,” Mercy said.
Dice, sensing Mercy’s discomfort, pulled Mercy into her instead, a hand around her waist.
“Thanks, Dice,” Mercy said. “You’ve saved the day.”
“No, that’s your job. I just work with metal, you… you can actually get the metal to the temperature I need,” Dice laughed. “Let’s get out of here. Salade’s and skate date? After we change, of course.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mercy said.
Wait… skate date?
“Wait, before you go…” Crenshaw said.
He leaned in and whispered to Mercy.
“Remember how I said I knew why you’re glowing? Was I right?”
“You were,” Mercy said.
“This is your chance,” Crenshaw said. “Good luck, kid.”
Mercy went home and put on the new earrings, electing to keep her outfit, but replacing the black shirt with a pink one and was able to put her necklace away.
She put it on a thumbtack on the wall, next to Derrick’s, a memorial she’d put in her room by the window, next to a red pane of solar glass.
Red…
She smiled sadly.
She met up at Salade’s with Dice, who wore a soft white dress and a yellow cardigan. She looked beautiful.
“Hey! You… changed your shirt?” Dice said.
“It’s my favorite color,” Mercy said with a shrug, breathless. “And it’s smooth as hell.”
“Really? Can I feel?”
“If you want. Far be it from me to—”
Dice felt Mercy’s shirt, right by where her tie was, and Mercy’s cheeks started to burn.
“The… the collar’s right there, you know,” Mercy joked.
“Oh! Sorry,” Dice said, jerking her hand away.
“No, it’s fine, just… warn me next time, maybe?”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence passed between them.
“So… we should probably go get our food,” Mercy said.
“Right,” Dice said. “Righty-ho, here we go.”
Mercy laughed.
“I love that. ‘Righty-ho, here we go,’ that’s cute. Or are you just calling me a hoe?” she chuckled.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Dice laughed.
Mercy and Dice loved this salad buffet restaurant for its good, fresh, made-from-scratch, locally sourced salads, pastas, soups, and more, and the virtually unlimited quantities of it. They got their salads, Dice paid for the two of them, it was Mercy’s birthday, after all, and they sat at a booth.
Dice finally gave Mercy her gift to her. It was a small box with an envelope, sealed with a red wax seal that had a butterfly symbol on it. Classic Dice.
“Envelope first,” Dice said.
“I know, I know,” Mercy said, breaking the wax seal with reluctance. It was so pretty, she couldn’t just destroy it!
It was a handwritten letter from Dice, just one of many Mercy had received over the years.
Happy birthday, Mercy! I know that in the past you haven’t expected to make it to the big 2-0, but despite the odds, here you are! I know these past few months have been especially tough, what with the trial, getting clean, and becoming the Radiator and all the stuff that comes with it, but you’ve been through hell and come out singing, every single time. Needless to say, I’ve come to admire your perseverance and indomitable spirit, just like a black belt should be. You made it out of the lion’s den and are safe in your own home, like you should have been all along.
I know I’ve been high-strung about your “radiating” lately, but that’s just because you’re my friend and I don’t want anything to happen to you. But like I said, despite the odds, you’re still standing. The truth is I’m your biggest fan, and I love, love, LOVE what you do.
Happy birthday, you strong, courageous, beautiful woman, you, and here’s to many, many more.
Love, Edith “Dice” S. Schneider.
Mercy glowed a beautiful red, tearing up at Dice’s heartfelt words. Dice’s name was signed in elegant, almost calligraphic cursive, but still legible.
“Dice…” Mercy said, choking back a sob. “This is beautiful. Get your sweet ass over here so I can hug you.”
“You haven’t even opened your gift yet!” Dice said.
“Oh! Right!” Mercy said, opening the box.
It was a divergium ring, a simple band with a heart carved into it.
“Mr. Crenshaw wasn’t the only one who thought to get you divergium,” Dice said. “I made this one myself, though, in class.”
“You made this?” Mercy said, astounded.
“I know, it’s pretty crude—”
“No! It’s perfect. But now I know why Claude was asking me to measure my fingers. They said it was for gloves.”
“Nope! It was for a ring. Here, I’ll help you try it on.”
Dice slid the ring onto Mercy’s finger. It fit perfectly.
“Now I’ll get my ass over there,” Dice said, getting up out of her seat.
Mercy embraced Dice, who tangled a hand in her hair. It made Mercy’s heart flutter, and she was so warm she should probably take her blazer off.
“Thank you so much, Dice,” Mercy said, tears falling down her cheeks. “This is the best birthday I’ve had since… This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
“It’s gonna get better,” Dice said. “I saw chocolate lava cake at the dessert bar, and we’ll be going skating later.”
They ate their food, and Dice fetched dessert: two plates piled high with chocolate lava cake and topped with vanilla ice cream from the ice cream machine.
“Ooh!” Mercy said, perking up at the sight.
“They didn’t have birthday cake, so I had to improvise,” Dice said.
“And I love it,” Mercy said.
“Shame we don’t have a candle,” Dice said.
“Au contraire, ma copine,” Mercy said, knowing Dice didn’t speak French. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small pack of crayons, the kind normally given to kids in restaurants along with their menu.
“Where did you get those?” Dice asked.
“Priya wanted me to have them,” Mercy said.
“Ah. But how is that a candle?”
Mercy took the red crayon out of the pack, clicked her tongue, and blew a small flame onto the point of the candle.
“In an emergency, a crayon will burn for thirty minutes,” Mercy explained, sticking her improvised candle into her improvised cake.
“What does the crayon define as an emergency?” Dice joked.
“I understood that reference,” Mercy chuckled. “Birthday emergency, obviously. Now let us complete the ritual.”
“Can you even blow out your candles?”
“Clicking my tongue starts the fire, so, actually, I can.”
Mercy leaned over her cake.
“Don’t forget to make a wish,” Dice said.
Mercy blew out the candle.
“Everything I could wish for, I already have,” Mercy said.
“Did you make one anyway?” Dice asked.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you! It won’t come true!”
“Come on, Merce.”
“Okay, okay, you got me. I wished for a unicorn.”
“Sure you did.”
“I’m telling you! I did!”
“Right.”
Another silence. This time they stared at each other, grinning.
“Let’s eat and head to the rink,” Mercy said. “Righty-ho, here we go.”
The radiator holds its boiling water like an accordion holding its breath in a ditch. The room itself is simple, the sort rented out night by night to the poor to make more poor or to die in but it is not night nor is she poor. She could have afforded a nicer room and it is day. Closing the blinds the way someone takes out a contact that’s been bothering her, she lies down, the only sounds wrenches clunking in the radiator and a boy playing piano in the lobby like someone falling down stairs. Clearly he is unsupervised. Clearly soon someone will come grab him by the wrist, shaking him once, the way one shakes a thermometer. Clearly it is a boy, or a drunk man who’s never played and wants only to feel the cold ivory keys the way a woman will sometimes feel the forehead of a child she knows is perfectly well. by Austin Smith
The moment you’ve all been waiting for, all two of you!
In the small nation of Speakeasy, child abuse is at an all-time low, thanks to many social programs and laws put in place to prevent abuse, help survivors, and more. When a woman known as the Matriarch threatens to destroy that system, a hero will rise, the hero she didn’t sign up for:
The child she didn’t sign up for.
The Radiator, a young woman who gained heat powers thanks to a combination of a highly advanced medicine, a bout of heat exhaustion in her youth, and a lack of oversight on her abusers’ part, must defeat the Matriarch before her country returns to the dark days of child abuse, but is there more to this survivor’s story than meets the eye?
In this chapter, Mercy and Dice go skating. There’s dancing, food, and a little something more.
Warnings: none!
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The ice rink was nearby, so it wasn’t too far a walk.
“Haven’t been here in ages,” Mercy said, lacing up her skates as tight as she could. “My sister and I used to take lessons until my… sister got… better at it than me, and my parents… favored her so much for it. We know this place pretty well. Hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember!” Dice said, struggling to tie hers.
“Here, let me help,” Mercy said, kneeling down and lacing up Dice’s skates. “They gotta be real tight, but not too tight, you know? How’s this?”
“Good,” Dice said.
Mercy had no problem balancing on skates on or off the ice. Dice, on the other hand…
“Whoa!” Dice said, nearly falling on the cold, hard ice for the twelfth time.
“I got you, boo,” Mercy said, holding her up.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need to hold onto your arm for at least another hour,” Dice giggled.
“Not on my watch, Schneider,” Mercy said, doing a t-stop so that Dice could stand upright. “And your passionate love affair with the wall is officially over. Give me a sec?”
Mercy took off her jacket and tucked it under her arm.
“Aren’t you cold?” Dice exclaimed.
“Hell no,” Mercy said, rolling up her sleeves. “I haven’t felt cold since I got my powers.”
“And she’s rolling up the sleeves. What’s next, you’re gonna cuff your pants?” Dice laughed.
“Well, how else are people gonna know that I’m bisexual?” Mercy asked, kneeling on the ice to cuff her right pant leg. The ice started to melt from under her knee.
“Shit,” Mercy said.
Mercy helped Dice learn how to skate, get a steady rhythm as she pushed off with one foot at a time, and she ended up getting almost as fast as Mercy.
“How far did you get on your lessons?” Dice asked.
“Pretty high on the basics level,” Mercy said. “I was too much of a wuss to do a waltz jump though. But ice dancing, I’d like to try if the whole taekwondo thing falls through. It’s pretty fun to move like this.”
“I thought you were a horrible dancer,” Dice said.
“Since when have you ever believed any negative thing I’ve said about myself?” Mercy asked. “That’s why I like ya so much. Always making me feel better. Even just feeling normal.”
“Well that’s the problem. I’ve heard you sing, and you’re not ear-grating, but you’re selling yourself short when you say you can’t sing. I’ve never seen you dance, no one has, and there’s no evidence of you being a bad dancer.”
“Well, turn that around. There’s no evidence that I’m a good dancer.”
Mercy sighed.
“And, uh… I don’t dance because Abigail dances better. Just like she skates better, dresses better, looks better, does better in school than I ever did, is more deserving of love and affect—”
“Shush,” Dice said, putting a finger to Mercy’s lips. “Shush your beautiful mouth.”
Mercy laughed softly, grinning.
“Can I have your jacket?” Dice asked. “I’m dying here.”
“Sure thing,” Mercy said, handing Dice her jacket. She put it on and smiled as she hugged herself.
“Mm, so warm, so Mercy,” she said, the jacket large on her frail body.
“So Mercy?” Mercy laughed.
“Yes. So Mercy. Much Radiator. Wow. Very warm. Such stylish. Now when can I see you dance?”
“Well, right now, they’re playing Ed Sheeran for reasons unknown to the common folk, so if something better comes on, I’ll consider it.”
The DJ eventually threw on “Shut Up and Dance” by WALK THE MOON.
“This is a bop, a banger, an absolute jam, even, Merce,” Dice said. “You gotta dance to this.”
“Let’s do it,” Mercy said.
She skated circles around Dice, doing spins and twirls, moving her hips and lip synching to the music. Dice had the biggest smile Mercy had ever seen, laughing in enjoyment and whispering “oh my god” over and over.
Mercy took Dice’s arm and pulled her close, a hand around her waist as she slid her hand down to Dice’s hand.
Mercy led them in the fastest waltz they’d ever done, faster than when they were partners for the waltz in German class, years ago. Dice giggled as she let Mercy essentially pull her to wherever they were going, still lip synching to the song.
“Oh my god! Mercy!” Dice squealed.
Mercy stopped suddenly and dipped Dice, who shrieked in surprise.
“Mercy!”
“So can I dance?”
“I certainly think so.”
“That’s all the input I need.”
Mercy was heating up more, not visibly so, but Dice could feel the warmth radiating from her body. They were so close to each other, and Mercy’s hazel eyes remained fixated on Dice’s pretty brown doe-eyes, smiling so widely that her cheeks and chin formed what Dice referred to as her “face-heart,” because they stuck out so prominently, and were often pink.
“Face-heart!” Dice said in a singsong.
Mercy laughed heartily, having the most fun she’d had in years.
When the song was over, they took a break for water, hot cocoa, and churros. Dice kept Mercy’s jacket on.
“Really threw me in the deep end there, Mercy,” Dice said.
“I’m sorry,” Mercy said.
“No, I’m glad you did! I had so much fun!”
A notification popped up on Dice’s phone.
It read, claudiebear started following radiatorstanfirst.
Another notification: claudiebear: Give me one good reason not to tell Mercy this blog exists.
“What’s that?” Mercy asked. “Who’s radiatorstanfirst? And why is Claude blackmailing you?”
“Uh…” Dice said.
“Is that your blog?” Mercy asked. “Oh, I so gotta see this now!”
Mercy opened her phone and looked up the blog.
It was a blog dedicated to the Radiator, run by a few mods, including, yep, Dice. The top three posts were about recent things the Radiator had done, and the most recent was…
Yes, the Radiator is beautiful, and I love her with all my heart, but once again, I remind you that fat fetishists are not welcome and will be blocked on sight.
-Mod Edie
“Is now a bad time to come out to you as bisexual?” Dice asked.
“Oh my god, you’re bi too? That’s great!” Mercy said, wondering if this could really be it.
Mercy scrolled down and found a couple thirst posts. She blushed.
“Let’s just skate,” Dice said, standing up and putting her phone away.
The subject, it seemed, had been dropped.
Dice and Mercy skated idly a little, but it was clear she was incredibly on edge. Mercy had to know if it was true, did Dice actually have feelings for her?
“Halo” by Beyoncé was playing, one of Dice’s favorite songs as of late. Come to think of it…
“Dice, we need to talk,” Mercy said, stopping with a hockey stop. “Do you… love me? Like, you have feelings for me?”
Dice sighed, turning away from Mercy.
“Yes,” she said. “I love you, Mercy, and I… I have for a while. I’m sorry if this looks bad, I really am, but… You! Everything about you, from the girl I met in high school and still get to be in the presence of to this day, to the compassionate, pure-hearted heroine of Speakeasy, and everything in between! You know when I realized?”
“When?” Mercy whispered.
“After your sister tried to kill you. When you were becoming something completely different, and the first person you revealed that to… it was me. When you took off that robe, all ‘grandmother, it’s me, Anastasia’ style, and you showed me your powers… that’s when I knew. This was the one I wanted.”
“Dice… I love you too,” Mercy said with a smile. “I… I have for years now, I… you really think I’m that special? No way, this has gotta be a dream.”
“But it isn’t, Mercy,” Dice said, taking her face in her hands. “Would I lie to you?”
Mercy wanted to cry. She smiled, tears blurring her vision, and Dice removed her glasses to thumb the tears away. Some foundation came off on her hands as Mercy sobbed, warming and glowing brightly.
“Dice, oh my god…”
They moved in closer, eyes closing. Dice pulled Mercy in closer by her tie, not to choke her, never to choke her, but to guide her down to her lips. Mercy brushed some hair out of Dice’s face and wrapped her arm around her waist like it was second nature.
At long last, Mercy felt Dice’s soft lips on hers, Dice’s arms sliding around her as easily as ever, and yet…
This was all new. A whole new Mercy and Dice, a whole new chapter. Her heart was pounding, and Dice’s fingers brushing against her cheek made her pleasantly shiver.
They pulled away, too light-headed from the moment and the lack of oxygen, and they looked at each other, breathless.
“You know, it’s funny,” Mercy said. “I can’t feel cold again, but it seems I’m still not immune to shivers down my spine.”
“I’m not cold anymore either,” Dice said. “By the way? What did you really wish for?”
“You,” Mercy said.
Dice Schneider was her first fan, and her biggest fan.
