#and of course one passably useful feature slid out and it's set to off

[izhunny]

well, this is new to me ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ

and apparently it rolled out NOT in the usual default ON position like most features.

[fandom-collective-writers]

Nexilis (Edgar Bright x Reader)

nexilis (adj): woven together or intertwined

→ pairing | edgar x unnamed female reader (alice)

→ genre |  angst + fluff

→ word count | 2,664

→ written by | @dangerousfe-l

→ requested by | anon

→ prompts | “you look like you could use a hug.” + “who hurt you?”

→ note | i might write edgar a lot, but at least i have good taste. and i live by that. (also, i recommend listening to ‘i found’ by amber run while reading this~)

☽

It was a normal day, as long as you ignore the fact that it wasn’t.

It began with him slipping out of his bed hours earlier than usual, careful not to wake the princess sleeping oh so peacefully beside him. She, rightfully, had little idea of the things he was orchestrating in the shadows, and looking back on her still features contorted by sleep, he couldn’t help but be glad. It was in his best interest to keep his pure lover separate from the things that continued to dirty his hands further.

His groggy eyes trailed down to his hands, lit up by the moonlight shining through the dull panes over his bed. To the naked eye, they were merely calloused by years of handling a sword, but to his more knowing ones, the phantom stains of old blood never disappeared. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled on the dove white gloves he was never seen without and felt himself physically relax as the soft fabric slid over his knuckles.

He had always felt safer with them on. Vulnerability is a deadly concept when faced with the crimes of a guilty man, after all.

Edgar’s vision adjusted routinely to the bright lights of the red army headquarter’s hallway as he eased the door shut behind him, the quiet sound signifying the start of his hellish day.

Later in the morning, she gradually awoke to the sounds of robins chirping from just outside her window. It was as if the very sunlight itself that illuminated the surrounding room was straight out of a fairy tale. But, there was one thing missing that subdued her into leaving the thought behind.

The moment she grasped a fist full of strategically tucked sheets in the place beside her, she sighed.

It wasn’t necessarily odd for Edgar to leave before she would wake and get home past the time she could stay up, but every time he did, it left a blank space in both her day and the explanation she tried to give herself in her head. Even after she’d been with him for months, she could never provide more than a simple excuse.

Yet, seeing as he quite literally closed up whenever she thought to ask, she decided not to push him further some time ago.

Then something changed. Something within the day, the hours, the seconds — that greatly twisted the course of events that would soon come to be. Because finally, Edgar’s concentration began to slip.

She made an effort to drive him far away from her thoughts through the slow morning, not letting the absence of the man beside her adhere her concentration. Whether he was there or not, the day still went on. She might’ve been the only person who needed to be reminded of it, but her purpose was nonetheless important.

Thankfully, she still had her friends to distract her. The little threesome of Alice, the ace of hearts, and the red army doctor gathered by chance in the hallway a ways after noon, and it seemed as if Kyle was practically teeming with new information from the moment they did so.

“So ___,” Kyle started off the conversation with a small but jovial smile, immediately setting off warning bells in her head. “Do you know what Edgar’s up to today?”

She couldn’t help but stay silent, turning the question over in her head. What he’s up to?

“Don’t ask her things like that, Kyle. If you want to know where Edgar is so bad, then go and find him yourself.” Zero said.

She shot him a grateful look.

Kyle didn’t notice the exchange, though, just shrugging. “You know that I couldn’t find him even if I tried. The guy’s too good at everything to be caught.”

“...I really have no idea where he is today, sorry.” she admits sheepishly, her eyes darting away under the two men’s gazes. “But he does this occasionally, so it’s not the biggest deal, right?”

Zero smiled gently at her.

“Edgar really got lucky with you. You’re so supportive.”

“A bit too much”

Kyle added this in a quiet mumble, but Zero shut him down with an elbow to the ribs quicker than she could reply.  

“Don’t say that.” He chatsied the younger with a click of his tongue. “She has every reason to believe in Edgar.”

“You just can’t ever be sure of what he’s doing, is all I’m saying.” Kyle croaked, his voice a mix of light pain and a hangover, flinching when Zero feigned hitting him again.

She couldn’t help but sigh as they bickered amongst themselves, crossing her arms over her body in an attempt to ward off the worries in her head. Kyle was right, not unlike usual, about Edgar being hard to find on days where he disappears. But, was he right that she supported him too much? She had no reason to think that he’s acting odd.

Do I? Her lips twisted in thought.

The boys didn’t notice her forlorn look as she excused herself, consumed in proving each other wrong in whatever point they’d since moved onto.

It’s just a coincidence. She tried to convince herself this as she made her way back to the kitchens, preparing to push her lover’s dealings from her head once again. Kyle just had bad timing. What the Red Army decided to send him out for, that was his own business -- not hers.

Yet, she still found herself frowning over the warm apple pithiviers she had helped the chefs prepare, the warm steam not the only thing contributing to her uncomfortable mood. To think all of her worry was from a hungover doctor’s blabbering. It was laughable, but the anxious feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach was from something her friend had said, rather than his stereotype. And she had no reason to doubt her friend.

But she didn’t think she had any reason to doubt Edgar, either.

She groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut until one of the chefs still mingling around noticed. And only until then would she allow herself to dwell on the topic that was hurting her so much: she promised herself that.

And, well, that went about as well as expected. It wasn’t even her own fault -- at least, she didn’t think it was. Soldiers had just chosen then to become talkative about the discrepancies considering her lover that day, which only further fueled her anxiety until it peaked when the sun dipped below the horizon.

It was a beautifully clear night, the light of the moon and stars reaching Edgar’s bedroom even when shut out by the thick curtains. It bathed the room in an effervescent hue, giving it an almost celestial aura. It did little to calm the unapologetic beating in her chest, but looking up at the black sky through the delicate window panes, her thoughts were momentarily subdued.

Though, the door opening startled her out of her short-lived peace, making her jump slightly in the spot she sat on the bed. She almost began to yell at the person for not bothering to knock, but was stopped in her tracks when she noticed who stood in the doorway. Edgar winced as her eyes met the dried blood running up his normally pearl white uniform, and widened upon noticing the slash through his skin that came along with it.

He silently cursed himself for mindlessly assuming she would be out, and not bothering to wash up before coming inside.

“___,” He mumbled, not looking her in the eyes as he schooled his expression. “...I thought you would still be working.”

Edgar spoke shamelessly, as if not to startle her, but to still convince her that everything was okay.

But his Alice -- she had never been easily fooled.

She stood with a frown, taking hesitant steps over to where he still stood in front of the closed door. “Edgar, what happened to your arm?”

His eyes travelled down to the arm she specified, swallowing what felt like the equivalent of razors as he forced out, “It was just an accident, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt very much.”

Not much to his surprise, but still to his dismay, she took his arm gently in her hands and inspected the gash beneath the bloodied fabric. He resisted sucking in a breath. Upon closer look, there was no other passable excuses: it was a wound from a sword, and that much would be obvious to anyone.

Without looking up at him, her lips thinned and he expected the worst. But instead, he heard small words escape her lips that had his heart dropping into his stomach, ridden with guilt.

“Who hurt you?”

He stared down at her with wavering eyes.

“No one, ___.” Edgar reached down and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. As if it would make up for all of his lies. “It’s alright.”

“But… it doesn’t look fine. Maybe we should go to Kyle just in case.”

The idea genuinely wasn’t bad on her part. Except, by that time, it was almost expected that the doctor would have a couple of drinks in him, making him a lousy information holder. Edgar didn’t think he wanted to risk a slip in the conversation, so he shook his head.

“I stopped there before I came here.” He lied with a crafted sad smile. “He was out, probably in town.”

Her adorable mouth twisted in thought, but she still nodded after a few moments. She didn’t want to admit it to him, but it made more sense than she wanted to give him credit for.

“Then I’ll fix you up myself.”

Edgar reached out to her a moment too late, just grasping the fabric of her shirt beneath his fingers before she slipped away. She took long steps to the other side of the room that he couldn’t follow, where a small cabinet stood sturdy and majorly unused, and pulled out a small medical kit that was kept for emergencies.

He wordlessly peeled off his jacket and sat down on the bed as she rummaged through its contents. But on the inside, he was scrambling for something, anything, to explain what was going on. He bought time for his thoughts with her back turned to him, and bit down on his lip in a small effort to get out the nerves that had accumulated in his chest.

But before he could fully recuperate, she turned around, medical supplies in hand. Her expression was uncharacteristically solemn, as if the thoughts that were whirring through her head were rapid yet still abridged. He couldn’t find it in himself to react, though.

She had every right to be feeling whatever she was right then, whether it was anger or something in between, it was only courtesy to let her have it. He didn’t want to deny her anything else ever again.

“You know,” She began in a soft voice as she wiped her hands down with a bacterial cloth, making him wince for the pain that was about to come. “I was worried about you today. I heard some things, and I couldn’t help it.”

But..? He waited.

Her lips twisted as she met his eyes with a small smile. “But I guess I didn’t have to worry, did I?”

Edgar didn’t dare react. So, she continued, taking a different cloth and motioning for his arm. He gave it to her quietly.

“People told me I was naive for believing in you, but I will until you give me reason not to.” Her expression was the same soft one he’d grown used to, but there was an intense edge to it that kept his eyes anchored to her.

“And I haven’t already?” He spoke without thinking, but didn’t regret it upon seeing the small smile that quirked her lips.

“No.” She took the now dirtied cloth and put it casually aside, but his eyes finally left her and followed it. It was much dirtier than he would’ve expected, the cloth that was white just minutes ago now the terrible colour of blood and dirt. “You haven’t.”

“How have I not?” He asked, his brows pinched. “I told you from the start, ___. I’m not the person you think I am.”

Her head whipped up for her gaze to meet his head on. Her eyes were narrowed, and she looked almost angry at his profession.

“The person I think you are is unique to me,” She said, a small irritated hiss lining her voice. “You can’t tell me, no matter what you’ve done, to change my perception of you.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t--”

“That doesn’t mean I should!”

They stared at each other for a few moments, their eyes intense and breaths suspended. It was as if the world itself had stopped in their wake, waiting for no one to catch up. But, she chose to break it first, her gaze retreating to the kit behind her.

“You’re hurt, and that’s my concern right now.” She grumbled quietly, reaching for a small jar of medical salve. “So kindly wait to preach about how bad of a man you are until I’m finished.”

He was stunned, and it must have shown, because there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes that he could never miss.

She worked in silence for the next few passing minutes, the only sounds in the room their breathing and the occasional estranged tap on the bedroom window. It felt like years to his anxiously beating heart, but he didn’t dare speak to disturb the quietness he knew that she loved.

When his wound was finally clean and bandaged, he allowed himself to look at her once again. But, he hadn’t been expecting the awful turn of her quivering lip, nor the tears hanging at the edge of her vision as she struggled to hide them.

“Woah,” He couldn’t help the sound that escaped him, as panicked and confused as the look adorning his features. “Are you okay?”

She refused to look at him as she put away the materials she’d used in the bandage that wrapped skillfully around his arm, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight way her hands shook as she did so.

“___…” He trailed off, reaching out his good arm to plant his hand lightly on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She mumbled a few indiscernible words before reaching up to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. Then, taking the small medical kit by the handle, she started to get up in an attempt to put it back. He was faster than that, though, reaching for her arm and pulling her back down to where she sat that time without any repercussions.

“Ed--”

The moment her head instinctively turned to him, it ripped an involuntary breath from him. Her eyes were full of tears even after she’d taken measures to get rid of them, and her cheeks were puffy and tinted with red. She looked beautifully sad, and he firmly believed that she was the only person who ever could.

“___…” He trailed off, at a momentary loss for words. “You look like you could use a hug,”

Her lips pursed ever so slightly as she looked away, slightly embarrassed at the albeit serious offer.

“You can’t hug me,” She mumbled, a blush darkening her cheeks further. “Not with your arm.”

He opened his arms to her anyway. And even if every nerve in her body was screaming for her not to, she met him there head on.

He hugged her tightly despite his arm, and despite the pain, only did so tighter. After what felt like a decade of stress smashed into one night, he felt comforted to know that no matter where he chose to run, there would always be someone waiting for him when he made his way home.

In her, there was something special that saw that reflected in him.

And desperately, he sought to hold onto everything that she gave him.

[lickstynine]

Street Rats Part 1

this is the first chunk of a collab I did with @feelingsick, featuring young! Bel and Kazu. I really love this pairing, so I hope y’all do, too!

The strip club was fairly quiet, maybe because it was late on a weeknight, or maybe because the nudity economy was in a bad place. There was still music playing, of course, seeing as it’d be real damn awkward without it, but it was still quite audible when the creaky door flew open, smacking into the wall as a lanky young man stumbled into the venue. He was a little banged up, with bruises and bandages visible on his face and hands, but he seemed in high spirits nonetheless.

Scanning the stage with curious, lustful eyes, his pale blue gaze zeroed in on a lithe figure whose purple hair flowed sensually as they danced. Dropping into a chair near the dancer, he grinned slyly, clearly thinking himself to be quite clever as he asked, “Ey, sexy, you come ‘ere often?”

The dancer turned slowly, grinning over his shoulder. If he was startled by Kazu’s roughed-up appearance, he did a good job of not letting it show. He moved towards the edge of the stage, bending down in front of where Kazu sat.

“See something you like?” he asked.

“Yea, you.” Kazu smirked. “Y’ gotta nice ass, an' ya know how to move it. I don't see a lotta white boys that can actually dance.”

He brushed a loose lock of hair out of his face, stretching out his long legs to get comfortable in the shitty strip club chair. As thin as he was tall, his build was almost reminiscent of Jack Skellington. The battered jeans hanging about his legs were loose in the waist but several inches too short, and his faded jacket was rife with stitched-up tears and old burns.

The boy slid off the stage and moved to lean over Kazu’s chair, swiveling his hips. “I can move it any way you want,” he said, touching Kazu’s chest lightly.

The taller boy raised his eyebrows, “oh yea?” he asked, scanning the dancer more closely.

The dancer brushed up against him again, running his fingers through Kazu’s hair. “Just tell me what you want,” he purred.

“I think I want you.” he admitted. It was pretty obvious through the thin fabric of his worn jeans that he found the dancer quite attractive.

“We could always move this someplace a little more private,” the boy suggested. His hand brushed over Kazu’s crotch. “Hundred bucks a throw.”

Kazu bristled at the price, wondering whether he had money for so much as a gas station sandwich, much less a nice piece of ass. He hesitated to reply, trying to figure out how to weasel his way out of this mess, mumbling under his breath, “Shit…”

The dancer hesitated, drawing back a little as he suddenly understood. “Ah, I see. Maybe next time, yeah?” He winked, turning back towards the stage.

“Yea, maybe.” The dark-haired boy sighed, running his hands through his hair and climbing to his feet to leave. His ego was bruised and his wallet empty; he had no reason to linger. He glanced ruefully over his shoulder as he walked off, mentally kicking himself for being a broke embarrassment.

Bel hurried down the street, taking care not to touch the pocket that held his meager paycheck. He knew that was a surefire way to announce to anyone watching that he had something worth stealing.

He needed something to eat, and maybe a new jacket if he could swing that much cash. And, as the sun was already beginning to set, he needed to acquire those things as quickly as possible.

A flash of purple caught the eye of a local sleaze, who had been scanning the area for anybody who looked like they might actually have money on them. He was distracted from his task when he realized he recognized the purple-haired boy as the dancer from the other night. Tucking his pocketknife away in exchange for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Kazu drew closer, hesitating to actually engage Bel yet.

He was about to say fuck it and walk away when he noticed the smaller boy shivering. Bel didn’t seem very well-dressed for the increasingly shitty weather, and despite his usual apathy and disdain towards the rest of the human population, Kazu felt a brief pang of concern. After a moment’s thought, he picked up his pace, reaching Bel’s side in a matter of steps (damn giraffe legs).

“What’re you doing around here? I ain’t seen ya in this part ‘a town, and I’m here… more than I’d like to be.”

Bel spun to face him, looking momentarily panicked before recognition hit. “You’re the guy from the other night,” he said, more to himself. He shrugged, tugging his jacket more tightly around him. “I live around here, but I don’t really get out much,” he answered, still eyeing Kazu warily.

“Weird.” Kazu remarked, “I know most’a the people around here…” he left out the part where most of them hated him. “Ya didn’t answer my first question, though. What brings ya out here, since ya said ya don’t normally get out?”

“Just running some errands,” Bel answered, unconsciously checking to feel that his money was still there.

The motion didn’t go unnoticed, and Kazu laughed. “I ain’t here to pickpocket ya. I woulda been long gone by now if I wanted your money. Smoke?” He held the cigarettes and lighter out to Bel.

Bel relaxed, if only slightly, accepting the cigarette gratefully. He let Kazu light it for him, taking in a long draw. “So,” he said, exhaling smoke, “I’m guessing you live around here, too?”

Kazu shrugged, tucking away his lighter and remaining cigarettes. He deliberately slowed his gait to keep from leaving Bel in the dust. “I… I guess ya could say that, yea.” He did exist in that area most of the time, but living usually implied a home of some sort.

“Yeah?” Bel raised an eyebrow. “So, do you have a name, or what?”

“I do. It’s Kazuhiro, not that most of you can pronounce it.” You seemed to mean Americans in context.

“Kazuhiro,” Bel repeated, managing a passable pronunciation. “Nice to meet you, Kazuhiro. I’m Isobel.”

“Nice t… Nice t’ meet ya too?” The taller boy repeated. It wasn’t a phrase he could recall saying before.

Bel smiled, taking another drag. “So, what do you do for fun, besides try to get free lap dances?”

“Look, I was drunk. I thought I had at least like… five bucks on me.” Kazu huffed defensively.

Bel snorted, but his smile was good-natured. “Do I look like a five dollar prostitute?”

“Mmm. Nah, I think ya prob’ly worth a solid seven.”

“Pssh. Flatterer.” Bel dropped the butt of his cigarette, grinding it out with the toe of his boot. “I was a little sorry to see you go. You looked like you could use a good time.”

Kazu sighed quietly, snuffing out his own cigarette between his fingers and tossing it aside. “Eh, I could use a lotta things I don’t got. Food. Money. An actual place to live. But I make do. I spent like an hour makin’ do-me eyes at the local rats after I left, an’ that shit’s free.”

“You don’t need to be paying for sex anyway, I’m guessing. You’re pretty cute, even all banged up.”

The taller boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Mm, I guess not, but it kinda turns people off when they ask to go back to your place and your place is a pile a’ blankets in a foreclosed building.”

Bel’s expression softened, but he was quick to hide it. “Luckily, my job gives me a place to stay. Not much else, but it’s comforting to at least have a roof over my head.” He drew them to a stop, glancing up at the bar sign above them. “Hey, wanna drink?”

Kazu paused, rifling in his pockets in search of money. He produced little more than a fistful of lint and some stale mints. “Can’t. Broke.”

“It’s on me,” Bel said, nodding towards the door.

“You sure?” Kazu’s brows raised, unaccustomed to generosity.

“Consider it payback for the smoke. And for turning you down the other night.”

The taller boy shrugged, his desire to get smashed outweighing paranoia. “Works for me.” He pulled open the door, holding it for Bel.

Bel flashed a coy smile, slipping past him. “Such a gentleman.”

Kazu couldn’t help but laugh as he followed Bel into the bar. “What, ya hadn’t noticed what a classy dude I am?”

“Oh, for sure. Honestly, I was surprised to see you in the club at all. I figured you would have gone to a gala or something instead.”  

“Well, I couldn’t find my ballgown.” Kazu smirked, dropping onto a stool at the end of the bar. Despite the height of the seats, his lanky legs still nearly reached the ground, his toes grazing the floor as he settled in.

Bel slid onto the stool beside him, flagging down the bartender. “What’s your poison?” he asked Kazu.

“Vodka, neat.”

Bel nodded to the bartender. “I’ll have a cosmopolitan.”

“D’ya wanna pair a’ pink lacy panties to go with that?” Kazu teased.

“I wouldn’t mind a new pair, if you’re offering to buy.”

The dark-haired boy laughed and shook his head. “Nah, blue would look better on ya.”

Bel blushed, thankful when their drinks arrived and gave him something to do. He took a sip, drumming his fingers on the bar.

“So, what errands are ya blowin’ off to hang with my sorry ass?” Kazu asked, downing his entire drink like an oversized shot.

“Needed some food,” Bel answered. “I finally had some cash to stock up on essentials.”

“Well, save some cash for that. I’d rather drink a little less than see ya starve. Ya ain’t go much weight left to lose ‘fore your just a purple-haired skeleton.” That was easily the most hypocritical thing Kazu could’ve said, but his teasing tone was coloured with legitimate concern.

“I don’t mind,” Bel said honestly. “It’s not often I get to talk with someone who’s interested in more than jamming their dick inside me.”

Kazu chuckled, “And how d’ya know that’s not my endgame?” He gestured to the bartender for a refill.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t.” He sipped his drink. “But I don’t think I really mind one way or the other.”

“Must be my lucky night.” The taller boy grinned, downing his second glass of vodka as quickly as the first. “Free drinks, and a nice piece a’ ass… Man, it’s been years since anybody bought me a drink… that wasn’t poisoned.”

“Maybe that’s my endgame.”

This time, Kazu laughed much more sincerely, a surprisingly warm, deep tone. “There’s sure worse ways to die.”

Bel grinned, happy to have coaxed a genuine laugh from him. “So,” he said, ordering another drink for himself, “on the slim chance that this isn’t all some elaborate ruse to poison a near total stranger…I was thinking, you know, if you ever needed a place to crash for the night, I’ve got a couch…”

“Shit, man, you're living the life of luxury.” Kazu grinned. “I may have to take ya up on that soon. It's gettin’ cold as fuck out lately.”

“I hope you do,” Bel said, and he meant it.

The taller boy smiled, and for a brief second, the frostiness faded from his ice-blue eyes. He gestured for another drink, downing it before asking, “wanna show me the way there when we're done here?”

Bel grinned. “I’d like that.”

Kazu winked at him, glancing between Bel and the bar as he tries to decide whether he'd rather wrap his lips around another glass of vodka or the boy sitting next to him.

By the time Bel ordered his third drink, it was becoming obvious that he was drunk. He wasn’t a big drinker, and it definitely showed. On the bright side, he had completely relaxed, apparently deciding that Kazu meant him no harm.

The taller boy was still barely buzzed, ordering up another vodka as he looked Bel up and down. After a moment, he asked, “Why purple? Cause you like it, or cause it looks good?”

“Both,” he said, sipping at his drink. “I wanted a change after I left home.”

“Mm. I know that feeling. What's your natural colour?” Kazu asked, growing more curious as the alcohol warmed him up.

“Blonde,” he answered. He nodded towards Kazu. “I like your color, too.”

“What, this?” Kazu ran a hand through his messy dark hair. “It's natural, I can't be bothered to do anything with it.” He guessed that would probably come as a surprise; being tall and blue-eyed usually gets one read as Slavic or Scandinavian, which didn't exactly mesh with the slick blue-black hair he'd gotten from his mother.

“It’s beautiful,” Bel said, slurring his words a bit.

Kazu blinked in surprise, his cheeks burning red. He wasn't sure he'd ever gotten a compliment that wasn't from a horny guy twice his age before. “Uh… I… thanks?”

Bel smiled. “I’m glad we met. You seem nice.”

“I promise I'm not. I just happen to like you.”

“S’fine by me.” Bel downed the rest of his drink, nudging Kazu’s shoulder. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yea.” Kazu drained his own glass and hopped to his feet. “lead the way.” He followed the smaller, much drunker boy out of the bar and back to his place, grabbing at Bel’s ass while the tipsy boy fumbled with the keys. As soon as they got in the door, clothes were coming off left and right.

Kazu was, as expected, somewhere between wiry and underfed, with a worrying assortment of scars covering his body, some of which looked weeks old at most. He grinned broadly at the sight of Bel’s lithe body, leaning in to nip at his collarbone and whisper, “Are you as good in bed as you are on the pole?”

“This apartment didn’t pay for itself,” Bel quipped, pressing himself close.

The dark-haired boy chuckled, pulling Bel in to make out. He tasted faintly of smoke and booze, but Kazu didn't mind, as he was much the same. As hands started to move down south, he groped around in the pocket of his discarded jeans to find a condom, and it was only a matter of minutes before they were going at it hot and heavy.  

Bel moaned, burying his face in the sheets as he moved against Kazu’s body. The furious pace felt amazing, until it didn’t. Suddenly, Bel was too hot, his stomach beginning to churn uneasily from all the alcohol.

He pushed himself up, reaching back towards Kazu. “S-stop for a second…”

Kazu froze, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t hurt ya, did I?” He was worried that perhaps he’d gotten a little too into it, maybe been rougher than he’d intended.

“No, I…” Bel swallowed, his hand moving unconsciously to his lips. “I just don’t feel great all of a sudden.”

“Ah, shit.” Kazu nodded understandingly, climbing off the bed to put his boxers back on. He offered a hand to Bel. “Think ya can make it to the bathroom?”

Bel nodded, taking Kazu’s hand and sliding off the bed. For once he was grateful for his tiny apartment, because by the time he’d made it to the bathroom he was already beginning to heave.

The taller boy cursed under his breath in Japanese, wrapping a supportive arm around the trembling Bel. He helped the sickly boy kneel down over the toilet, pulling an elastic off his wrist to tie Bel’s long purple hair back out of the line of fire. “Try an’ breathe, aight? You’ll be fine. Prob’ly jus’ need to get the booze outta your system.”

Bel hiccuped queasily, letting his head hang over the toilet. “Sorry about this.”

“You're fine, man. Ya got me drinks and a place to spend the night. I don't mind takin’ care of ya.”

Bel’s shoulders shook as he gagged, clearly still trying to fight it down. It didn’t take long for the nausea to win though. He lurched forward, letting out a surprisingly loud belch for someone so small. A rush of vomit was quick to follow, splashing forcefully into the toilet.

Kazu winced, but didn't say anything, patting Bel’s shoulder with a sympathetic hum.

Bel coughed once before vomiting up another stream, barely managing a breath before he was heaving up more of the alcohol. By the time he’d slipped into dry heaving, he was shaking like a leaf, his eyes watering from the exertion.

“Easy. Try to breathe.” Kazu murmured, rubbing up and down Bel’s spine with a surprisingly gentle touch.

Bel tried to follow his instructions, sucking in a sharp breath as his stomach continued to turn itself inside out. Slowly, he seemed to regain control, his stomach settling down as his heaving stopped. Bel slumped bonelessly against the toilet, wiping at the tears running down his cheeks. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You're aight. C’mere.” Kazu scooped Bel up, carrying him carefully back to bed. “ya need anything? Water, maybe?”

“Mmm...maybe later,” Bel said, still feeling queasy.

Kazu nodded quietly, looking Bel up and down before murmuring, “roll over.”

Bel did as he was asked, scooting towards the side of the bed and rolling onto his side, tugging his thin blanket over him.

Kazu sat next to him, placing one warm hand between Bel’s shoulderblades, slowly rubbing up and down. “‘at feel any good?”

Bel gave a contented hum, nuzzling into his blanket.

“Try an’ get some sleep.” Kazu mumbled, trying not to be bitter about being cockblocked by puke.

Bel nodded a little, and in no time he was fast asleep.

Kazu stayed up a while longer, stepping outside for a cigarette before finally retreating to bed, curling up next to Bel with a soft yawn. He didn't sleep for long, waking up just after sunrise and slipping back into his clothes from the night before. He pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from his pocket, leaving a note that said thanks for the drinks, but misspelled and barely legible, along with his phone number. Leaving it on Bel’s nightstand, he tugged on his jacket and shuffled out the front door.

[lindoig7]

Saturday-Monday, 24-26 October

Saturday

Adventure Day!  It pissed down most of the night and promised more rain all day, but not to be daunted, we set off to do a relatively short (81 km) loop that ended up being well over 200 km by the time we got home for our fish and chips!

Thanks Heavens for a tank with low-ratio 4WD capability!  We headed for Stringer’s Knob – a historical fire lookout – but en route to the Monument Track (a short-cut to the Knob) we detoured a little to Long Point.  Now that sounds simple doesn’t it!  Long Point is quite close to Woods Point where we ventured yesterday – just the other side of the Snowy River if you don’t count the mountain in between – just another big loop in the Snowy.  It is just 8 clicks off the ‘main road’ (the narrow gravel track) from Orbost to Buchan (subject to detours).  But there are 8 clicks and there are 8 clicks!

When we started this little jaunt, it was raining and the water was running down both sides of the track and the track itself was very narrow, winding, muddy and slippery.  There were huge deep potholes everywhere and big puddles 30 metres long and sloshy areas where simply staying out of the bush was a challenge.  I had to constantly steer to the high side of the track so we didn’t fall into the gutter when the car slid sideways - as it did on many occasions.  There were some terrifyingly steep patches where we were in bottom gear in low ratio and sliding down the hill with the brakes almost full on – and places where the brakes simply didn’t make any difference anyway.  We both said ‘thankyou’ for the 4WD courses we did a few years ago.  As I said, it was only 8 clicks in, but we never made it. The last 1-200 metres was so steep, muddy and terrifying that I wimped out and reversed 50 metres to where we could do a 9-point turn and get out again.  Of course, by then, the rain was much heavier and the rills on either side of the track had become rushing rivers and the gravel track a gluey quagmire.  Despite it being one of the most challenging 10-15 km drives I have done, it was fun and we really felt we had achieved something when the (slightly) more passable ‘main road’ reappeared.

We went on to Monument Track where we were supposed to turn, but the first 50 metres looked so incredibly rocky, steep and almost impassable to me – and without knowing what was on the other side of the hill, we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and headed straight ahead to Buchan.

Buchan was a quiet pause in the day with lunch in the car as the rain poured down, then it was off again down the Mottle Ridge Road to the Trestle Bridge near the Princes Highway.  On the way, we passed (or didn’t pass) the opposite end of Monument Track and an advertised stand of Spotted Gums – the only group of such Gums in Victoria.  We had visited the only stand of Cabbage Tree Palms in Victoria a week ago so decided we had to see the Spotted Gums too so off we went.  The road wasn’t too bad at first and the Gums were absolutely beautiful but we kept on, probably until we got almost to the scary other end of Monument Track, where it simply became impossible to go any further. We had dragged numerous small fallen trees off the road and dodged around others prior to this, but a big log across the road made it quite impossible/impassable at this point.  Another long reverse up a hill to a turning place and we were on our way again.

The Trestle Bridge was an interesting artifact, but I wouldn’t have been wanting to take a train ride on it because it barely crossed the road before becoming a scattered moraine around the carpark 20 metres or so below.

The Bridge is only 3 clicks from the Princes Highway and when we reached the Highway, we just crossed it to another rough gravel track and headed for the coast at Pettmans Beach.  It was still raining (it didn’t stop at all during the whole day) but we rugged up and walked to the beach.  The sea was pretty wild, but given the wind and rain, we just had a quick look and retreated to the comfort of the car.  Heather had photographed a few flowers at various places along the track but I never took a photo all day.

We then wound our way home via a very circuitous route, including quite a few more kilometres of challenging track, part of which was the Old Orbost Road. We crossed the Highway again and followed more tracks on the northern side, only returning to the Highway to traverse the last kilometre to the caravan park. Boy, were those hot showers welcome!

I entered the results of my accumulated BIBY surveys that I had completed in the last few days and we bought fish and chips for dinner and fell into bed.

We are more than halfway through our DVD set of Justified and one feature is the music.  We often fire it up and let it play its theme music umpteen times before actually starting an episode.  It is almost impossible to listen to it without jigging around, tapping your feet, drumming on the table or clicking your fingers. Maybe we are becoming C&W fans in our dotage.

Sunday

We had a couple of gentle showers overnight, but it was fine for most of the morning and we walked around the adjacent footy oval to straighten out some of the kinks from yesterday.  I then went off to do some more bird surveys – it was the last day of the BIBY week.  I got 3 done fairly quickly before the rain set in for the rest of the day.  I did one more, late in the day in the immediate neighbourhood, huddled in my raincoat and finished the week with 30 surveys recorded, including 80 different species, and a count of 1445 total number of birds.  There were other people counting birds in the Orbost area because the stats for postcode 3888 were 93 checklists, 103 species and 3302 birds.  (I am not quite 100% sure that all the birds were correctly identified because some of the other sightings included species that are not actually seen in this area.)

Our HWS is still not operating quite normally (or maybe it is normal to misbehave on an intermittent basis) so we had another attempt to fix it.  We can usually get it working sporadically, but not consistently.  We also had a couple of minor carpentry jobs inside the van that we have been putting off for ages so we finally knocked them off.

The BOM has been promising damaging gale force winds and flash flooding in the past few days (to continue for several more as well) but although we have had plenty of rain, the winds have been confined mainly to the coast and the only real flooding we have seen has been right at the bottom of the caravan park, well away down the hill from us.

Monday

The weather forecast was looking a bit better so we decided to tackle the Lakes Entrance Coastal Walk to teh actual entrance tothe lakes – stated in various official documents or signage to be 4.2, 4.5, 4.6 or 4.8 kilometres return.  When we measured it with our Fitbits, it was about 3.3 km out on the marked track, but we walked back along the beach (the lake beach rather than the surf beach) and it was about 2.5 km – just another example of the misleading information provided by the forests, parks and tourism authorities in Gippsland.

The walk was pretty uninspiring with few birds and a surprising sameness in the flora compared with all the wonders we have seen in our other recent travels. The actual entrance to the lakes was inaccessible due to them repairing a lot of storm damage there, but we sat and ate half our lunch under the signal flagstaff and watched the sea crashing in.  I was watching a cormorant skimming the waves through my binoculars when I thought I saw a seal close to the end of the pier.  I kept watching and saw it cross into the surf between the heads.  The surf was roaring in and the tide was ripping out and there was a veritable maelstrom for maybe 50 metres.  What I had seen was a dolphin and as we watched, we saw at least 3 of them cavorting around in the surf.  They were having great fun surfing the waves and I saw one jump right out of the water and do a back flip in the air.  I only had my short lens on the camera so my photos are even worse than usual, but I will crop and post the best of what I have on the blog.

We had a bit of rain on the walk out to the entrance, but our raincoats protected us pretty well – but it pelted down as we were approaching the car on our return and we had to run for it or get drenched.

We ate the rest of our lunch beside the lake and drove out to Bullock Island where we saw hundreds of seabirds sheltering from the wind, including a couple of species we had not seen before on this trip. Our trip count currently stands at 146 species.

We set off for home but detoured to Lake Bunga, a small lake, probably tidal, just out of Lakes Entrance.  We walked to the beach, but as usual, it was raining so we scurried back to the car to get dry again.  We also called in at Lake Tyers, but just looked and left.

On the way back to the main road, we saw a road to Fisherman’s Landing, another access point on Lake Tyers and an interesting track in with a couple more short side-trips to spice up the adventure.  We also explored another very rough and muddy track along Burnt Bridge Road. ��There is a walk almost at the end of the road that we may do later but it is essentially just another way to access Stony Creek at the northern end of Lake Tyers.

Although the driving had not been quite as hazardous as yesterday’s adventure, I enjoyed the challenge of the dirt roads, particularly the Burnt Bridge Road section, but by the time we got home and ate dinner, we were buggered and more than ready for bed.

[perevision]

Happy Season 4!

I haven’t seen it yet, and I don’t think I should till I finish this chapter. Beginning today this fic will probably not be canon compliant. Still, to celebrate the new season, have a preview of chapter 3! (Thanks again to @mongoose-bite and @narwhalthegreat for cheering me on with this fic!)

(Read more below the cut)

Unexpectedly, everyone had very strong opinions on what to wear in a healing pod. The subject himself had no opinion, as Ziarra administered a general anaesthetic before the situation even came up.

Which meant Kolivan was lying on a gurney, unconscious, while she and Ziarra and Shiro argued about whether he should put something on before going into a cryopod that had been installed in the Altean chamber, i.e. in full view of any visitors.

Apparently before the Empire, Galra healing pods were installed in small dark rooms, three to a room, and patients were sealed in without a scrap of clothing. ‘It's hygienic!’ insisted Ziarra.

‘The healing suits are hygienic!’ insisted Coran.

Shiro noted that he remembered being put into the pods fully clothed, down to his shoes.

Ziarra looked horrified. ‘They didn't do that with me,’ she whispered.

‘You also said that they filled the pod with Quintessence-infused liquid,’ Allura pointed out.

‘I'm just telling you what I remember,’ Shiro said. ‘I'm not saying it was good practice.’

Ziarra, who when they met seemed as stolid as Kolivan and twice as sensible, put her hands over her eyes at this new revelation and dragged them down her face.

‘Guys!’ Keith broke in. He was standing by Kolivan's gurney. ‘Can we just maybe keep these pants on and leave everything else? I'm still kinda freaking out about how Lotor nearly cut your leader in half, so please just make him well and worry about nudity later!’

That settled it. Ziarra and Vashli gently stripped Kolivan of his bandages and got him into the pod as Keith put in the codes he was given. Galran technology was all solid as opposed to Altean: the pod had a glass panel that slid open and sealed shut. A whirring sound like an air cooler started up, and purple light filled the pod, illuminating Kolivan’s sleeping face. The crease of his brows, which Allura had always thought was just part of his features, smoothed out as sparks gathered around his injuries, leaving a calm and almost gentle expression that she had never seen on him. They left him with Ziarra, although Keith stayed, asking the Galra doctor soft questions as he helped her with her readings.

Allura dispels the lingering distress of seeing the vivid bruising (visible even through his fur) and the raw gash that bisected Kolivan's torso, and smiles at Khenval. The Tando khuun is directly to her right, as befits the guest of honour. Further down Jaisa is stealing Lance’s heart by telling him stories of her grandchildren. Keith, who had come in just in time for dinner, and Shiro are being quizzed by Sighar and the young khuun Melekh on piloting a Lion of Voltron and how that was different from a ship of Earth.

Khenval smiles back. ‘It is good to eat together,’ he says, ‘without the fear of being interrupted by attack. I think it’s been too long since any of us have enjoyed that.’ He takes a sporkful of roast vegetables - Hunk had insisted on scavenging nearby planets for supplies - and hums. ‘Your Yellow Paladin has such talent. Is this usual among warriors from their planet?’

---

Allura finds herself drifting towards the infirmary. Keith, of course, is already there, sitting on the step beneath the pod and looking through what looks like one of the Blades’ tablets. He looks up when he sees her, and lifts his hand in greeting.

‘Ziarra’s been teaching me how to read Galra vital signs,’ he says, showing her a purple screen with...not much she can understand, unfortunately. She was a teenager when Daibazaal was destroyed, and hadn’t had time to learn much Galra before the war, although her father spoke it fluently. He’d been a renowned calligrapher of the language as well, which Allura wished she had known when he was alive. Modern Galra was different enough that she knew almost nothing of it. Perhaps...someone...could teach her.

Allura smiles at Keith, who’s intently comparing the readouts on the pod with his tablet. She comes up to see what he’s looking at. ‘You and Kolivan have grown close.’

‘I guess?’ Keith avoids her eyes, his usual response whenever someone brings up personal issues. ‘He’s not...as scary as people think he is. He said,’ his ears redden a bit, an Earth reaction that never fails to fascinate Allura, ‘he said he thinks of me as, as a cub. I’m not,’ he adds, his brows drawing together, ‘but...still.’

She doesn’t say anything. She’s read between the lines of Shiro’s carefully impartial report and what little Keith could be pressed to add. His father, the mystery of his past. The spaces in his life where family and home should be. She hopes she and the other Paladins have helped to fill those spaces a little, but she believed for too long that Keith had nothing to learn from his Galra side, that it was something to overcome, not accept.

She’s been avoiding the pod. It isn’t that she’s prudish at all, but Kolivan has always been so...private. She has seen the Paladins in uniforms and civilian clothes, in swim trunks and sleepwear and (accidentally, and to the embarrassment of all concerned) outright naked. It can’t be helped, with only seven people in close quarters on a spaceship.

But the Blades seem to treasure their boundaries, none more so than their leader. He’s hard to read, but she thinks he might have been ashamed of being seen out of uniform when she came to formally apologise to him and claim friendship. If there’s anything he and Keith have in common, it’s this loathing to show vulnerability. Keith is pretty terrible at it, she has to admit, but he’s not a spymaster living under thousands of years of empire.

Said spymaster looks softer now than she’s ever seen him, the perpetual creases of worry smoothed off his face, his whipcord limbs loose and all tension gone from his shoulders. A pattern of red and pale stripes cross the purple fur of his arms and chest, broken up in turn by scars - evidently something Galra cryopods do not heal.

The faint purple mist filling the pod softens every line of him. Kolivan breathes deep and slow, his chest almost still. His eyes move, dreaming, beneath his eyelids.

Something beeps. Something else hisses. Keith says, his voice oddly faint in her ears, ‘Well, you’d better catch him.’

A crack of yellow light gleams from beneath Kolivan's eyelids. She hadn't noticed before - Galra eyelashes are a pale double fringe, more fur than hair and invisible unless you're close.

She always thought Galra went straight from unconscious to fully alert in a blink. But Kolivan's yellow eyes go from slitted, to half-mast, blink a few times on the way, and then focus on her.

Lines form around his mouth, then smooth away again. One corner lifts, then both. His lips form the shape of her title, his sharp white teeth closing on the S.

Glass slides against her hand, startling her into a step back. The pod opens, releasing a damp breath of lavender colour. Kolivan leans dangerously over her for a moment, eyes wide, and she instinctively steps forward again to get her shoulder against his chest. ‘Easy,’ she gasps, steadying him. What the quiznak, had she stopped breathing?

He tenses and pulls away, one hand groping for the guard rail that runs along one side of the pod - an idea she wants to try in the Altean ones.

It's a few seconds before she realises she is nearly face to chest with a Galra who is only in a pair of loose sleeping trousers and is definitely staring down at her...not in threat or intimidation, but in clear panic.

Allura gulps, heat spreading through her nose and cheeks. ‘I, um, I’ll let your, um, them know you’ve woken up,’ she stammers, her gift for diplomatic words deserting her.

She doesn't flee. That’s never been her nature. She's ashamed to say that she does retreat, although with a steady stride and her breathing under control.

Keith, of course, has already vanished, but Ziarra is coming down the hallway. She nods to Allura as they cross; Allura, not trusting herself to speak, nods back with passable serenity.

She heads down to the teludav chambers and she fiddles with settings and polishes lenses till she calms down again.