My original stories and fanfic dump, very rarely fanart dump. Updated every night on Mondays and Tuesdays JST (UTC+9). If I’m late it’ll be on Sunday the same week.
So I had a drinking party with my coworkers one Friday night and decided to ask what book did they read recently. Thanks to this, I came to know one surprising thing about Japan's education: There are no cleaning workers in schools. Like they don't hire people to clean the schools because they expected students to take care of it. If you watch Japanese dramas or animations, there are scenes where the student characters doing cleaning duty. I never thought much about it, but now that I know about this fact, I see it in a different way now. No wonder streets in Japan are clean. Of course there are dirty places, but it's still a far cry from my own country.
Today is the day. Concert starts at 12:30 pm. Gate open at 11:30 am. Going at 10:00 am to get the goods (didn't get the cool shirt last time) and this is what I found. Two lines of four people lines lining for the goods. All gamers. The power of love is scary.
Owl mug from Singapore, Chai Tea from Sri Lanka, milk and orange from Japan, and green patterned bag which design inspired by a store in Paris. I'm imagining these not so expensive, 'everyday' items could be considered as luxury items in the past, where international trade has just begun.
It's Monday! It's been a busy time in work lately, because it's close to financial year end in Japan, and everyone want to get the money report right (urk). Updates will be slower from time to time because I want to take my time to find inspiration and write good story. I don't want to publish something half-baked for my readers. Even so, forgive me if my best is still half-baked!
"...I know you’re strong, but I bet you can’t move as fast as her.”
I realize my mistake when I see a glint in Vert’s eyes as she flexes her well toned arms. Damn. How could I forget that this is the girl who can jump down three stories while carrying me with one hand? I shouldn’t have mentioned anything about physical prowess.
“Wanna find out?” Vert asks as she steps forward.
“Does that involve you hurting me?” I ask back, half-conscious of my own feet taking a step back.
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8)
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 2 (Chapter 1)
“You seem to love this place. I’ll feel bad if you keep putting my needs over yours.”
Vert smiles wryly. “There’s no need for you to feel bad. I did what I did because I want to. But you’re right; I don’t want to leave before we actually live in here. Let’s see how it goes first. We can consider moving out if it’s not working for us.”
“That’s—“ another booming sound, “—a good idea,” I manage to say, but my eyes twitch and Vert notices it. She smirks.
“It seems like you need to get used to the sounds first. Don’t worry. It won’t take long,” she assures, patting my back with an abnormal amount of force. I just laugh along and say nothing.
I really hope we will be fine, living this close to two threats.
Episode 1 Arachnids - PART 2 (2)
In the end we never move out. We grow attached to the mansion and find living there unexpectedly fun and comfortable. Vert falls in love with the garden further as she tends it while the mansion’s wall and ceiling paintings capture my attention. Their damaged state bothers me and I start taking my brush to fix it whenever I’m idle or taking a rest from researching on how to go back home.
“You like painting?” Vert asks one day. She is taking a rest in the dining room where I am working on a mural depicting a princess, accompanied by her entourage of ladies in waiting, reaching out to pat a white pegasus. The colors are warm, like it was shined by invisible sunset, and they blend well with the rest of the dining room’s cream colored wallpaper.
“Yes, I did.”
Vert raises an eyebrow.
“You did?”
“I used to love painting, but due to some…incidents, I grow to fear it.”
“If you’re scared, then why are you painting now?”
My brush freezes in midair as I stop to consider the question for the first time.
“Maybe because I don’t have anything else to do. I’ve read or walked around the mansion and garden to fill time, but my hands are just itching for some activity.” I take a glance at the pegasus I am working on, noticing the color slightly getting over the line, and add with a sheepish smile, “I’m out of practice though.”
“But this is pretty good. How can you draw so well?” Vert asks enviously. That’s just asking me to tease her.
“It’s love, dear sister.”
Vert gives me the look.
“Okay, it’s mostly practice and a good teacher. My mother is a good painter and a superb make-up artist.”
“Make-up artist?” Vert blanches like it is the most disgusting profession ever. Figures this Vert would have an allergic reaction to anything feminine too.
“Not what you imagined. Besides beautifying, her make up is very useful in—” how do you explain movies to someone who’ve never seen TVs? “—epic theatre plays and such. She can make the young look old, transform someone plain to ethereally beautiful or disgustingly ugly, create fake wounds and burn marks that look so real that someone mistook it for a real wound, and the best: make an animal mask that looks so realistic even though she doesn’t use real animal skin or hair.”
By the end of my explanation, Vert looks at me with intrigue and wonder.
“That sounds amazing. Can you do the same? It will be useful if we have to hide next time.”
“Urk. Why didn’t I think about that?” I mumble.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Just berating myself. To answer your question, I know some basics, but not like my mother’s level because it involves some sculpting skills. If I try making a figure of this pegasus, it will end up like this.“
I show Vert my clay eraser, the one I fiddled with this morning. It looks like a balloon-shaped cow.
Vert pats me sympathetically on the shoulder.
“You better stick to drawing, brother.”
I shake my head. “No. I won’t give up.”
Vert gives me a look that she reserves for someone taking a futile quest and consoles me.
“It’s alright. Everyone has weaknesses. My real brother is a great dancer, but sucks at singing.”
Now that is something I can’t picture, because my body control is abysmal.
“Really? I bet he looks like a spinning duck when he dances.”
I don’t know how it started, but every time we talk about our real siblings, we turn it into a bragging competition. Now is no different.
“Of course not. He’s the best, even better than the court dancers. While you—“ Vert pokes my chest “—and your sister may be the spinning duck.”
“I am,” I admit right away. “But Ver is no spinning duck.”
I have started calling my real sister Ver to avoid confusion. It’s her nickname anyway, so it’s quite easy to switch.
The Vert in front of me raises an eyebrow in a challenging manner.
“Oh, why is that?”
“Because she’s no duck. She’s a graceful beast—tearing through the field like a cheetah, intercepting opponents like a bolt out of the blue, untouchable even when there are five people crowding around her. I know you’re strong, but I bet you can’t move as fast as her.”
I realize my mistake when I see a glint in Vert’s eyes as she flexes her well toned arms. Damn. How could I forget that this is the girl who can jump down three stories while carrying me with one hand? I shouldn’t have mentioned anything about physical prowess.
“Wanna find out?” Vert asks as she steps forward.
“Does that involve you hurting me?” I ask back, half-conscious of my own feet taking a step back.
Instead of answering, Vert shoots an arm to my face, and I reflexively bring my hands up to stop them.
Only to discover I am still holding my wall-paint palette.
Oh shi—
SMACK!
Vert’s hand hit the palette and both of us shout for different reasons.
“Damn it!”
“My palette!”
Vert’s hand is now covered with paint and my palette is now two palletes. It’s a disaster for both of us because Vert needs her hand clean for handling the herbs and while I only have one palette that I can hold comfortably for a long time.
“Why did you put that up?? My hand will smell like paint now!”
“Don’t blame me! You’re the one who attacked so suddenly! Besides, you better wash that fast. The smell will last for days if the paint stuck on your skin.”
Vert curses as she runs to the sink. I sigh and go looking for two clean rags. When I find them I dab one rag on the paint thinner and wet another with clean water. Then I approach Vert, who is scrubbing her hand furiously under the cold water.
“Come on, let me clean that up for you.”
Vert turns and shows her hands to me. I dilute the unwashed paint with the thinner soaked rag, then wipe it off with the water soaked rag. I work carefully, making sure there’s no paint left in nooks and crannies or under her nails. Then I move to her face, where some paint has splattered on her cheeks and nose. I can’t help but chuckle when I start dabbing rag on her face.
“What’s so funny?” Vert asks, half curious and half offended. She thinks I’m laughing at her situation.
“Nothing. It’s just…this kinds of reminds me of Ver. She always comes back home covered with mud, and she always forgot to clean up her face. I have to clean it up for her because she’ll plant that face on my sheets and pillows.”
Suddenly I was struck with homesickness. I want to see them. Mom, dad, Ver, Azure, Aureolin, Tenne, our neighbor grandpa Cor…even Illey. What are they doing right now? Illey I can guess easily. He must be happy that he finally got rid of me. But the rest…
I shake my head and focus on cleaning up the paint. There’s no merit thinking about it. I have no way of knowing and it does nothing to change my situation. Worse, it drives me crazy because once I start thinking, I’ll come back to that vague memory of Ver’s funeral.
“Don't you want to go back?”
My hands stop moving. So my feelings shows on my face, huh?
I resume dabbing her cheeks as I answer, “I still want to, but probably not as much as before.”
Vert gives me a questioning look, so I elaborate.
“I’ve thought about it long before you asked. I miss my family, friends, and even my bully a lot. I want to lay on my own bed, playing games my own sister watching beside me. I want to eat my mom and dad’s cooking. I want to hang around with my friends and go to school with them. I had it all planned, you know? Getting rid of my fear, live normally like before, and maybe make peace with my old friend—eventually.
“But I don’t remember what happened to me before waking up, except for flashes of my sister’s death. And the more I thought about it, the more scared I become. What happened after that? What if something even worse happened? I mean, whatever events that led me to be chased by military and forget about it must not be good, right?”
Vert laughs at that.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, offended that she’s laughing at my deepest concerns.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect that you and I are actually in a similar situation.”
“Similar situation as in beside the fact that we are fugitives?”
“Yes, regarding our real siblings. I mentioned before that my brother was missing, right?” I nod. “You’re wondering if your real sister is really dead while I am wondering if he’s still alive or not. I find it funny that I didn’t notice this faster.”
“I see.”
She’s right. Why didn’t we notice it faster? Perhaps dad is right. Sometimes talking about your problems with other people can give us new perspective.
“In any case, I can see why you think it’s better to stay here and let forgotten memories stay forgotten. I wish I could do that too.”
Now that’s surprising. Vert is strong. Sure she looks sad sometimes, but what can be so bad that she want to forget it?
I start making guesses. I don’t think it’s about her brother, so it must be something else. It comes up easily enough.
“Do you want to forget your time as a soldier?” Vert never straight out said if she worked in the army as a soldier, but she left enough hints to deduce.
Vert closes her eyes to allow me cleaning her eyelids. “More than that. I want to forget I am a soldier. I can’t stop wondering if my friends are alright.”
Apprehension dawns upon me. I often catch Vert looking towards the nearby base when we can hear the sounds of battle. It must be torturing her conscience—her enjoying an easy life while her friends are betting their lives out there, close by, every day. If I were her I’d want to forget too.
“I’m sorry.”
Vert doesn’t disagree with me like usual. She keeps silent and still as I finish cleaning up her face. Gradually, a calm and peaceful atmosphere settles between us. Vert seems to enjoy the feeling of rags wiped on her face, eyes closed like a cat being groomed, while I find the simple task of cleaning surprisingly soothing. I can’t help but chuckle at the thought. Dad is right. It takes a little to be happy.
But how much longer can we enjoy this peace?
Others by MissRedBean
ORIGINAL - FOR YOU I CALL
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8)
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 2 (Chapter 1)
FANFIC - FUNDAMENTALS OF MUSCLE DRAWING
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
[Oneshot] (https://missredbean.tumblr.com/post/156193783124/fanfic-fundamentals-of-muscle-drawing)
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6, Part 7
“I quit weeks ago.”
“And they just allow you?”
“It’s before I kidnap you and I do have a proper reason. My injury prevents me from working in the army.”
“But…” I give Vert a once over. “You look fine.”
“That’s because it's already healed. But I can't do anything too strenuous for a long time.”
Considering she can lift me easily and land noiselessly from a three story jump, I wonder what her definition of strenuous is.
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8)
Previously:
_“Like I said, I’m not returning you.”
“But why? You’ve got nothing to gain from doing this!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore if I gain or lose,“ Vert says, looking straight to my eyes with unshakable determination. “I just... I’ve promised to myself that I won’t let go so easily.”
Then she lowers her eyes and forces the next words out of her gritted teeth.
“Even if it’s an enemy disguised as a reminder.”
Outside, the whistle is blown and the train departs._
Episode 1 Arachnids - PART 2 (1)
“We’re here,” Vert announces as the coach stops in front of a large gate of steel. The bars are pitch black, one story high, and two coaches wide. Beyond it is a lush forest, which content is unknown despite my ability to see clearly in the dark.
“Is this a—” I pause to find the right word, “—park?”
“No. This is my home.”
“Home? But I don’t see any building.” There’s only the high walls, the road, and the forest. We’re so far from the nearest town that it’s amazing to see a road built sturdy enough to let a coach pass.
“Of course you don’t see it. It’s hidden behind these trees. Come on. Let’s get off so Rosalys can return the coach.”
“And let her walk all the way back here?”
“Pffft. Of course not. She got to rent a horse until we got our own.”
I accept the explanation and force myself to get off. It’s actually easier than I thought. I guess after all those close calls and long journey, I am simply too tired to feel scared.
I’m still not convinced there’s a building beyond the trees though. My skepticism only increases as we walk through the lush of greens. The path is unkempt. Mini plants grow between the stone blocks and dead leaves cover most of it. It looks more like the opening of a hiking trail.
Vert sighs when she squishes another mud patch.
“This will be hell to clean up.”
I hum in agreement. Leave it any longer and the path will be reclaimed by the forest. I’m almost afraid to find out the state of the building—if it exists.
“We are halfway there,” Vert announces when we are approaching a sharp turn to the right. “You should be able to see it after this turn.”
And there it is, perfectly visible from the path, a huge white mansion with ebony colored roof. It’s higher than the trees, which is already two stories high, and looks even bigger up close; like four three stories high, ten cars wide building lined up and glued together. The windows are as high as the gate and the main entrance is decorated with white pillars. There’s even a pond with a grand fountain in front of it. I just have to stop and stare.
Oh. Wow.
“Isn’t this a little…”
“Overdone? I agree, but it was on discount. The garden is large too, so why not?”
“You call this—“ I gesture to the whole area, “—a garden? Have you thought about maintenance? Even a mansion a quarter as big as this needs ten people to maintain,” I say, speaking from my experience visiting Azure’s house. I take another look and feel tired just from imagining how much work needed to take care all of this.
“Of course I did. We can just seal the rooms we don’t need. As for the garden, I’ll take care of it. I’m planning to open an herb store.”
“A herb store? But what about your job in the army?”
“I quit weeks ago.”
“And they just allow you?”
“It’s before I kidnap you and I do have a proper reason. My injury prevents me from working in the army.”
“But…” I give Vert a once over. “You look fine.”
“That’s because it's already healed. But I can't do anything too strenuous for a long time.”
Considering she can lift me easily and land noiselessly from a three story jump, I wonder what her definition of strenuous is.
“I see. Then gardening should be fine for you.”
“Right. Besides, it’s not like I’m starting from zero. This whole garden is already filled with rare and precious herbs; naturally grown without any involvement from human hands. The soil is already so fertile and this place is close to the Bright Spring—the most nutritious water source in the queendom if you don’t know. The only thing left to do is keeping the weeds and pests from eating too much of the good herbs.”
”That’s good to hear. But if the location is that good, why was it sold cheap?”
“Because it’s too close to the border. Nobody wants to live in a place where you can hear the sounds of battle.”
As if on cue, several booming sounds reach my ears. Like Vert said, they sound close—like someone sounding large drums behind the forest. It’s definitely a worrying sound, but Vert looks unaffected, just like that time with the dragon.
“Are we really going to be fine?” I ask to make sure. The booming sounds continue, each sounds closer than the one before.
“More than fine. No one will expect you and your kidnapper to live so close to the border, where the army’s presence is at its peak. Also, didn’t I mention that the Bright Spring is nearby? That spring is highly protected because it is one of this country’s lifelines. In other words, this is practically the safest place we can stay.”
“But still…”
“If you’re that worried, we can move out,” Vert says, so easily that I doubt it.
“Can we?”
Vert nods. “I can sell this mansion again and use the money to buy another home further from the border.”
I’m glad to hear it, but even if she doesn’t show it, I can sense her reluctance.
“Are you fine with it?”
My question seems to catch Vert off guard.
“Me?”
“You seem to love this place. I’ll feel bad if you keep putting my needs over yours.”
Vert smiles wryly. “There’s no need for you to feel bad. I did what I did because I want to. But you’re right; I don’t want to leave before we actually live in here. Let's see how it goes first. We can consider moving out if it's not working for us.”
“That’s—“ another booming sound, “—a good idea,” I manage to say, but my eyes twitch and Vert notices it. She smirks.
“It seems like you need to get used to the sounds first. Don’t worry. It won’t take long,” she assures, patting my back with an abnormal amount of force. I just laugh along and say nothing.
I really hope we will be fine, living this close to two threats.
Others by MissRedBean
ORIGINAL - FOR YOU I CALL
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8)
FANFIC - FUNDAMENTALS OF MUSCLE DRAWING
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
[Oneshot] (https://missredbean.tumblr.com/post/156193783124/fanfic-fundamentals-of-muscle-drawing)
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6, Part 7
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
It was a hard choice between Lance POV and Keith POV, but I decided Keith’s reaction was funnier if it was seen in Lance’s POV. Enjoy 1813 words of shameless muscle worship.
It was winter.
Correction, it was winter and the heater was not working.
Lance kept rubbing his hands together while Keith breathed into his palms to warm his cold cheeks. The only thing that kept them from grating each other’s nerves as usual was their mutual dislike on Allura’s order. Seriously, they were already on the sixth episode on the Voltron reboot animation and Allura wanted them to fix their glaring anatomy mistake only now. To be fair, her months of sickness didn’t let her check the work until now (and Coran was quite lax in quality checking), but it was still embarrassing and hurt to hearing your drawings called as “eyesore” in front of everyone else.
Coming here hadn’t been easy either. The school, Art Champion, was located in less popular area and they still need to walk fifteen minutes after taking the bus—in the middle of snowstorm. All in all, both Lance and Keith were now too tired and grumpy to start a fact.
“This guy better be as good as she said,” Lance commented once the silence became too much.
Keith grunted in agreement. Lance never thought his rival’s expression could be any colder, but he was wrong.
The clock struck four and the door opened. Both animators turned their head as their teacher entered the room. Lance couldn’t help but stare and swallow a Dios mio down. Their teacher, Takashi Shirogane according to the flyer, was a very good looking man. Not just better than average, but super model class good looking. Tall, handsome, symmetrical features, and probably very well built under that thick winter coat—oh, and oh, plus that kind smile he was wearing now.
Suddenly that fifteen minutes of braving snow storm in the peak of winter seemed worth it.
“Hi, sorry for the wait and thank you for coming to the ‘Fundamentals of Muscle Drawing’ class. My name is Takashi Shirogane and you call me Shiro. I didn’t think there will be a class since many cancelled today, but still, I’m glad you two came.”
“Lance McClaine. It was no problem at all,” Lance blurted out before he could stop himself. Why did he introduce himself?? Shiro didn’t ask him too!
Thankfully, his eternal rival made the same mistake.
“Keith Kogane. We are on time pressure,” Keith logically added, voice muffled, and holy brush pens, was that a blush he was trying to hide behind his palms?
Shiro nodded. “Understandable. Now, before we start, let’s move to a warmer room. The model sketching class is cancelled, so we can use that one.”
They moved to a room filled with chairs arranged in circular motion around a bed for models. The new room was much warmer, drawing content sighs from the three. Lance and Keith took a seat that faced the horizontal part of the bed and whiteboard. Both started to take off their coats, but paused halfway when they saw their teacher doing the same.
It wasn’t a strip tease. There was nothing sensual about it at all. But once their eyes landed, they couldn’t look away. It was like pulling off a silk sheet to reveal a brand new sexy Rolls Royce. Shiro wore skin tight black turtleneck, which showed, no, enhanced his ripe muscles. They teetered dangerously between well-built and overly-built. It was simply the perfect balance from head to toe. Like the 3D models Hunk had on his computer for reference.
Lance started to see why Allura chose this class for them.
Keith unconsciously knocking his chair back brought them back to reality. They quickly took their jackets off and sat down, avoiding to look into each other’s eyes or Shiro.
“Alright, here’s what we are going to do over the next twelve weeks…”
Shiro started to explain what they were going to learn, his method of teaching, and what he wouldn’t teach. Lance struggled to listen to him but in the end gave up when he saw Keith taking notes on auto-pilot. He’d just swallow his pride later and enjoy staring at Shiro now.
“With that said, I’m going to name all muscles human have and explain the functions. You don’t need to take notes, because I’m going to give you the handouts later. For now just try understanding as much as you can, because you’re going to have to remember this later.”
Lance nodded before his mind could finish processing the words completely. Shiro nodded in satisfaction and continued.
“Very well. Let us start from the neck. This one here—“ Shiro bared his neck, looked to the side, and started to trace the diagonal muscle that stretched from underneath his ear to the top of his collarbone. “—is called sternocleidomastoid. It’s a mouthful, and other muscles will be as long-named, but if you break the words down, it will be pretty easy to remember.”
Shiro started to explain where the word came from, but Lance was not listening. He was busy fending off his dirty mind which was relentlessly supplying imaginations of him burying his face to that neck and trace that sterno-whatever muscle with his tongue. It was probably a little difficult since Shiro’s slight man-boobs would get in the way.
Not far to his left, Keith swallowed his own spit.
Lance missed the name of the shoulder muscle and its explanation as he gathered himself together. Imagining Allura’s spartan punishment seemed to do the trick and he was back to reality.
Only to be kicked back to fantasy land viciously.
“Here’s deltoid the muscle where most people make mistake when drawing. You see it’s shaped like a reversed triangle, and the edge is located at the side—“ Shiro made a pinching motion to trace that very visible ‘v’ line on his upper arm’s top, “—but most people draw it at the front to show it. Even if you forget everything I am going to teach you, please remember this one fact. It’s my personal pet-peeve to drop works with this mistake.”
Lance and Keith glanced at each other and nodded. Even if they had to work overtime and sacrifice their holiday and sleep to fix all six episodes, they’d do it. They wordlessly and solemnly swore.
“Now these are the pectoral muscles.” Shiro’s hand was over his left breast. Lance almost died. Keith wore an expression similar to a cat ready to jump a mouse. Needless to say, Klance team was mesmerized and no longer thought about learning. They were reduced to starving lions, devouring Shiro’s muscles with their eyes and hungry for the next meat.
It was when Shiro was explaining about inguinal crease[1] that Keith voiced his first question.
“Can you repeat that?” Wha— “I want to know the exact location where it starts. It’s hard to see with the pants getting in the way.”
Holy shit Keith. That was straight up sexual harassment!
Lance wanted to scream, but Shiro innocently nodded and did as requested. This time he lowered his belted pants a bit to show those enticing v-line beneath the abs.
Dear mighty lions, Lance wanted to howl. He never felt so thankful to Keith that he wouldn’t mind kissing his boots—or lips.
Alright. He really needed Jesus now. Or Buddha. Or Muhammad. Or whatever that can make him think straight again. His logic and moral level must be critically low if he could think kissing Keith counted as okay.
There was a knock on the door.
Lance held back a groan while Keith glared at the door. Who dared interrupting them?
A tiny boy (or girl?) thrusted their head inside and spoke.
“Dad just called. He said we had to close the school and go home now or risk spending a night here.”
Lance wouldn’t mind that, but Shiro clearly did. “Got it. Thanks, Pidge.”
The door closed and Shiro turned to address his students.
“Alright, it seems like we have to end our session early today. I will make the next class longer to make up for it.”
Usually Lance would cry at that but today he nodded, a little too enthusiastically.
“Here’s your hand out. Make sure to review what I taught you today and read it before you come to the next class. If you can get it memorized by then, we can start on the back muscles.”
Back side. Right. “Consider it done,” Lance said, finding his confidence back. Shiro smiled at that. It was official: Takashi Shirogane owned them. He had his fingers wrapped around their little hearts and they were happy to give him.
“That is good to hear. Memorizing muscle is important for drawing, and the long names are intimidating. But rest assured, you two will grow to love muscles when you’re done with this class, just like the students before you.”
Yeah. Lance could see why.
“You still have long way to go,” Keith said once Shiro left the classroom to help Pidge closing down.
“Like you are not,” Lance shot back heatedly.
Keith only raised his eyebrow and proceed to dictate all muscles Shiro talked in the class. Lance cross checked with the handout and to his dismay, Keith got all of them right.
“Damned prodigy,” Lance cursed under his breath.
Keith shrugged. “Not really. Unlike you I actually pay attention.”
“How?” Lance blurted out before his brain could filter it.
Keith looked away, but Lance could still see pink on his cheeks. When he finally spoke it was so soft that Lance almost missed it. “I want to memorize it so I can draw it later.”
Lance gaped. Did Keith just implied that his quick memorization came from pure fanboy power? Genius bastard.
Needless to say, their progress to drawing anatomically correct animation skyrockets. Allura was happy and they got praises from their team. Naturally they all wanted to know how Lance and Keith achieved that, but since Allura didn’t want to pay for everyone’s school fee, Lance and Keith were forced to teach them. They were not as good as Shiro, but Lance was surprised that he actually could explain very well. And Keith—well, he wasn’t a bad model. Actually, as good as Shiro, just, different body type. Thanks to that realization, Lance found himself sneaking a peek every time his mind wanders or when he thought Keith was not looking.
And no, Lance wasn’t being stalker-ish at all. Especially compared to Keith who kept asking him to take off his pants to show his “well defined leg muscles” whenever he couldn’t figure out how to draw one. Lance had photographed it with Coran’s help for his own reference (because yes, his leg muscles were very easy to draw despite the lack of bulk), but Keith refused to use it, insisting that it was better to look at the real thing.
Well, Lance thought as he caught himself staring at Keith’s upper arms, he couldn’t argue with that.
Google inguinal crease and your welcome.
Hi there! Thank you for reading “Fundamentals of Muscle Drawing”! I hope you enjoyed it. It was based on my experience at a trial class for anatomy drawing. And Shiro’s last line about growing to love muscles is a quote from that class’ teacher. The rest of animator/studio/art stuff was something I pulled from my limited knowledge, so forgive me if I got facts wrong.
Now for those who read/follow my other story, “Lord Zarkon is Never Ready” on my tumblr, I might not update next week because of season 2. I’m practically rolling around on my bed, waiting in suspense and can’t concentrate because the place I’m watching it on still doesn’t have the rest of the episode (FYI no spoilers in the comment section please). Not that I blame Netflix, because border and territory business is very messy. I hope they will make it available on Asia so I can contribute (or buy the DVD/blu-ray!)
Others by MissRedBean
ORIGINAL - FOR YOU I CALL
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7)
FANFIC - FUNDAMENTALS OF MUSCLE DRAWING
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
[Oneshot] (https://missredbean.tumblr.com/post/156193783124/fanfic-fundamentals-of-muscle-drawing)
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6 Part 7
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY (7) - Welcoming S2 Special
Here's another special edition for welcoming season 2!
Or rather, I'm trying to find an excuse to write in Sendak's point of view. For some reason, I like to bully him.
And yes, this is Kogane family sick-fic.
Hunk will FINALLY come next chapter! Stay tuned for it!
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
An AU where the Voltron universe is a peaceful universe, Zarkon is the Black Paladin he was supposed to be and the only things he hate with passion are Coran’s goo and a boy named Takashi Shirogane.
***Inspired by @inariazuha’s baby Keith pictures.
***Thank you for the permission to credit!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6
Chapter summary: Keith got sick and had to go to Earth for his treatment. Guess who accompanied him.
Welcoming S2 special: Sendak is Never Prepared - Part 1
Keith was sick.
So here Sendak was, taxiing Thace and Keith to Earth. Apparently, the symptoms was of a common sickness in that little blue planet, but a first for a Galra. Naturally, Haggar had no knowledge on how to treat it and it is not advisable to use Altean medical pods on creatures with three race blood combined, so Thace had no choice to go to Earth for treatment. Not that it’s a bad move. Keith’s Altean grandmother was a doctor, whose previous job involved patching space travelers who caught bizarre ailments from their adventurous visits. Now she lived peacefully in retirement, but occasionally got visitors who needed for her expertise. And if the mentioned experience wasn't enough, she had years of taking care human-Altean mix in her portfolio.
Now, Sendak had no problem playing driver for Thace and Keith, despite the heap of troubles the kid landed him. He had a lot of problems with the others. Don’t get him wrong; he understood Coran was here for interacting with humans in case of emergencies. (Zarkon didn’t allow Alfor or Green Paladin to come with them because there was no room for slack with Voltron Alliance Celebration so close.) What Sendak didn’t understand was why they brought the kids too. Kids, as in, Allura and her new playmate, Shay.
“Then, Keith just threw that white, cold thing to me! I knew he just wanted to play, but a warning would have been nice!”
“Orange mustache,” Sendak stage whispered to Coran as Shay replied to Allura. “Why are we bringing them again?”
Coran twisted his mustache as he replied, “Knowing mixed race medical treatment is a good learning experience for the princess and her friend—not my words by the way.”
Sendak narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Don’t tell me you totally buy that excuse.”
Coran had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Well…”
At this point, Allura decided to join the conversation.
“Don’t worry, uncle big ears! We will keep quiet and out of the way!”
Sendak decided to let the ear comment slide this time. “It’s Lieutenant Sendak, princess. I’m not old enough to be uncle. Back to the topic, I think it is unwise for the daughter of blue paladin and the future red paladin to be in the same ship. What if something happens to you two?”
Right after saying that, his own brain answered it.
It’s my head that will fly.
Yes, Sendak was treating this ‘cabby mission’ as an S-class mission. If something happened to both of them, forget about premature end of career; he’d have two most powerful people in the universe breathing down his neck. Future commander of Galra army or not, he had the right to be worried, especially with that beach incident still fresh in his mind.
“But the risk is too small and the benefit is much bigger. As the future queen of Altea and inheritor of the Castle of Lions, I have to know what my Paladins need and know the people who can provide it.”
Sendak held back a groan. F*cking daughter of Altean politician.
At the corner of the cockpit, near to Thace who was fussing over feverish Keith, mini-Red lazily yawned and curled on the floor. Nobody ever notice the hidden camera beneath his eyes.
Others by MissRedBean
ORIGINAL - FOR YOU I CALL
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7)
FANFIC - FUNDAMENTALS OF MUSCLE DRAWING
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
[Oneshot] (https://missredbean.tumblr.com/post/156193783124/fanfic-fundamentals-of-muscle-drawing)
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6 Part 7
I posted number 6 as number 7 smacks self. And I just noticed I forgot to add PART 1 in all of the seven kicks self. Some mistakes can’t be prevented by double/triple checking.
Here’s the weekly original story corner! Enjoy!
Premise Imagine your life. Imagine your family and friends. Imagine the best future can offer is now within your reach. Now turn that around. Your world is no longer peaceful. Your loved ones are battling ruthless creatures that devour everything in their wake. And you are now, their enemy.
Summary After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn. Going back requires his lost memory, but does he want to remember, when the last thing he remembers is the death of a loved one?
True to her words, we pass the checkpoint without trouble. We are not even stopped; the guards have given up checking when our turn comes. But Vert doesn’t relax until we can’t see the town anymore.
“I’m going to sleep,” Vert announces before laying down and continues sleeping. I too, follow her example when I get bored of the sceneries. When I wake up, Vert is the one driving.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Vert says when they stop in the middle of a road.
“Is there any trouble?” I ask.
“No, I’m just here to wake Rosalys up. We’re close to the town; it’ll be too suspicious if a noblewoman drives her own coach.”
Rosalys wakes and we’re moving again. It doesn’t even take ten minutes to reach the town. The maid drops us at the station before departing again to return the coach.
“Doesn’t she need to go back to the town where we rent it?” I can’t help but ask.
“Of course not. You can return the coach to the nearest postal service.”
Ah, so it’s like a chain service shop. “I see.”
“How about your eyes? Can you still see?”
“It’s getting difficult. Is it morning already?”
“Soon. Hold my hand. We’re going to purchase the tickets and wait for Rosalys.”
Turns out we don’t have to wait. Rosalys is already back when we finish buying the tickets. The train, which I’m lucky enough to see, is already on standby, so we get on right away. The inside is dim lighted, so it’s not very hard to navigate through. But when we enter the compartment, it’s total darkness.
“Hold on, let me fix the light for you,” Vert says after Rosalys excuses herself and heads to her own compartment. She lets go of my hand and work on the room’s lighting. When I can see again, the compartment’s window is closed with a blind, with some light peeking through its edges.
“How is it now?” she asks.
“Better,” I say, taking a seat to show the proof. Vert sits on the opposite side and stares at me intently.
“So, have you thought about what you’re going to do next?” she asks.
“I have, during our ride on the coach. But I still don’t know what to do.”
“There’s probably not much you can do in the first place. Not when the army is looking for you.”
“Why are they looking for me in the first place?”
Vert looks like she’s debating with herself before answering.
“Because I stole you from them.”
“Stole me? You mean to say I’m the army’s property?”
“Not originally. The army took you into custody and I bust you out.”
I suspect it’s not that simple, but I’ll let it slide for a more important question for now.
“Why did they take me? What did I do?” I ask, starting to fear what my lost memories hide from me. What if I did something bad? What if I killed people?
“You didn’t do anything. It’s just, the circumstances you were found weren’t good, so they think—” Vert stops, once more looking like she’s debating with herself, then looks down. “Sorry, I can’t explain more than that.”
And there’s nothing I can do to change her mind. Not if she’s as stubborn as the Vert I know. So I do as I usually do; asking in a roundabout way, in yes/no format.
“Does it have something to do with the war you’re having?”
Vert goes rigid; her lips pursed tight from trying too much in keeping a poker face. She really is like the Vert I know: bad at lying. Then this shouldn’t be too difficult.
“Do they see me as a threat?”
Vert looks away.
“You know, right? Because you work in the army.”
“Can you please stop that?” Vert snaps. “Continue doing that, and the army will think I’m leaking the information to the enemy. The less you know, the better for both of us.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop imitating my brother.”
“I’m not imitating him.”
“Yes you do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“N—“
“Argh! This is why I told you to stop! We’re reminders of our long gone siblings! How could you act like you’re not bothered by it?”
I chuckle. “Not really. I’m not even sure if my Vert really died. Besides, it’s not that hard for me to disassociate you from her; my sister is a lot cuter.”
Vert gives me a very judgmental look. I shrug it off.
“It’s true.”
Vert huffs. “Whatever. I better stop talking to you before I start treating you like my own brother.”
“Fine by me. It’s probably for the best.”
Vert glares at me.
“I’m not going to return you to the army,” she says like it’s an oath.
“You better do. I’m not your brother and I’m distressing you with my similarities to him. Even if I’m not your enemy, I can only live in hiding and burdening you. It’ll save you a lot of trouble if you just return me and pretend that you’re the one who captured me back.”
I can see Vert’s determination wavers.
Outside, the station staff makes an announcement.
“The first express bound to Vairfield town will soon depart. Passengers are requested to board. I repeat: the first express bound to Vairfield…”
“Hurry up. The train is leaving,” I urge. Because the further we are from the town we escaped from, the more difficult it’ll be to justify Vert’s involvement. But my words seem to produce the opposite effect. Vert’s eyes hardens with determination.
“Like I said, I’m not returning you.”
“But why? You’ve got nothing to gain from doing this!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore if I gain or lose,“ Vert says, looking straight to my eyes with unshakable determination. “I just... I’ve promised to myself that I won’t let go so easily.”
Then she lowers her eyes and forces the next words out of her gritted teeth.
“Even if it’s an enemy disguised as a reminder.”
Outside, the whistle is blown and the train departs.
Others by MissRedBean
ORIGINAL - FOR YOU I CALL
Summary: After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn.
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids Part 1 (Chapter 1 & 2, Chapter 3 & 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7)
FANFIC - FUNDAMENTALS OF MUSCLE DRAWING
Summary: Keith and Lance were Altea Studio’s lead animators. However, they have one fatal flaw: the lack of proper anatomy knowledge. So Allura sent the two to learn under the great master, Shirogane Takashi. Keith and Lance went, grumbling and protesting, never knowing what awaited them in the humble looking art school.
[Oneshot] (https://missredbean.tumblr.com/post/156193783124/fanfic-fundamentals-of-muscle-drawing)
FANFIC: LORD ZARKON IS NEVER READY
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special, Part 6 Part 7
I'm back!! Here's the first 2017 LiNR chapter! Hope this will help you go through Monday/Tuesday!
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
An AU where the Voltron universe is a peaceful universe, Zarkon is the Black Paladin he was supposed to be and the only things he hate with passion are Coran’s goo and a boy named Takashi Shirogane.
***Inspired by @inariazuha’s works.
***Thank you for the permission to credit!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Holiday Special
Chapter summary: The kids got to enjoy the sunset. Somebody was not pleased.
### Lord Zarkon is Never Ready for Spy Work - Part Final ###
Shiro shifted his hold so Keith could sit on his lap more comfortably. They were now watching the sun set from the top of Mauna Kea mountain. It was as beautiful as the pamphlet said, and watching it made Shiro realize something.
“I wonder if your home planet also have a sunset,” Shiro mused. Keith looked up to him questioningly, his soft hair swaying in the cold wind. One loose strand tickled his nose and made him sneeze.
Shiro chuckled at the cute sight. He covered Keith with his beanie hat and watched the oversized cap swallowing Keith’s small head. It worked and Keith looked happy with the extra warmth.
“Matt is right. I should try getting used to pants. What if I need to wear one when I visit your home planet?” [1]
“Not going to happen,” Zarkon said even though he knew Shiro wouldn’t be able to hear him.
“Stop being a party pooper and let us enjoy this cute bonding moment, Zarky,” Alfor said, now back to spying the kids. After making sure Allura and the other kids were alright, he immediately disappeared from their sight. He didn’t want Allura to get attached to Baby Blue, whom she found extremely cute, and demand Alfor to bring him home. Alfor wouldn’t be able to refuse her.
“That’s true. He’s your successor,” Red Paladin piped from across the room. Despite them not needing to be separate teams anymore, they still maintained their previous seating.
“That manipulative brat is not going to be my successor. What if Keith was wounded because of him?”
“Come on, you know he sent Keith away for his safety. He couldn’t have known he was sending Keith to the slaver ship’s direction,” Alfor argued, but Zarkon wasn’t willing to change his mind. He finally found a sound reason to hate the boy. Like hell he’d let it go.
“He didn’t, but the potential is there. We should curb the seed before it has the chance to grow.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you really need a successor.”
“And I will force you to retire early if you don’t shut up.”
That shut Alfor up. For a moment he settled to watch his little princess looking at the sunset and being happy with its beauty. Then he switched to private channel.
“Zarkon.”
“What?”
“Am I a bad king?”
“…Why do you say that?”
“Those slavers, they’re my countrymen.” “I thought they were just a few from a big organization, but now I see that the slavers are mainly Alteans.”
“Are you blaming yourself for today’s incident?”
“No, I know I can’t help it. But what if what I am doing now is going to make Allura’s rule hard? What if I am not there to guide her? Sometimes I think maybe it’s better for her if there is no kingdom to rule.”
“Don’t be an idiot. If there’s no kingdom to rule, then she’ll be all alone.”
“You are right. I am being foolish.”
“You are. By the way, aren’t you supposed to look for that baby’s parents?”
“What the—when did he?”
By that baby, Zarkon meant Baby Blue. He was now climbing on Shiro’s lap in order to touch Keith’s cat-like ears. Feeling threatened, Keith swatted the other baby’s hands away. But Baby Blue was insistent. Soon, the one sided attack and defense turned into a full-blown battle of dominance, chubby limbs as the main weapon. From Alfor's point of view, it was like two cats boxing.
Shiro tried to diffuse the situation. He used both hands to pick and separate the two babies—only to get team-attacked by those two. Normally he’d be fine, but Keith was half Galra. That meant he was more vicious than normal baby.
“Hmph. Useless.” Zarkon sneered as he watched the older one getting pounded mercilessly. Baby strength or not, Shiro looked extremely uncomfortable.
“Oh, cut it already. I better help before someone got hurt.”
"Let them solve their own problem."
“Yeah, right. Then when someone is hurt, you’d have a good reason to disown the poor boy.”
Zarkon almost spluttered at the accusation, but his dignity was saved before Alfor reached the children. Shiro had locked both babies into a tight hug and the two, sensing the calm kid’s threatening aura, ceased resistance immediately.
“If you two are not going to calm down,” Shiro growled, in Japanese first, then in English. “I’m going to dunk you into an ice bath to cool your heads. Capiche?”
There was a hiccup from Baby Blue, then both him and Keith exploded into tears.
“Waaaahhh!!”
“Bweeeehhh!!”
Shiro looked like he was torn, but kept his strict face as he comfort the two.
“There there. No need to cry. You two are good boys.”
The scene brought a smile to the nearby Altean King.
“Huh, what do you know? He’s actually similar to you, Zarkon.”
“Alfor, just… Shut up.”
From here on, Shiro became interested in space.
EXTRA:
Everyone’s eyes glued to the television, volume set to the max by the restaurant’s patronages’ request.
“FOREIGN MILITARY APPREHENDED WAKIKI BEACH TERRORISTS” was what the news ribbon said.
“Good thing you kept the children in the hotel pool with babysitters, Dr. Holt. I thought it was a waste for them to not enjoy the beach with us, but as expected of the future space explorer, you have good instinct,” Mrs. Shirogane praised, but Samuel Holt can’t appreciate it. He let out an awkward laugh, that he hopes sounds sheepish.
“Hahaha. Not at all. It’s all just a coincidence.”
“Hmph. If only I were there, I’d cut them down to pieces and feed them to the sharks.”
Mr. Shirogane, the usually gentle giant, nodded solemnly at Shirogane Senior’s words.
Samuel silently gulped. The tasty coconut water did nothing to sooth his nerves. Not far from them, a Spanish couple were frantically looking for their baby, mirroring his true thought.
“Matt, Katie, Shiro, please be safe!”
His phone chimed. Samuel opened the message in reflex. He was greeted with a picture of a beautiful sunset seen from the top of a mountain.
“The sunset is beautiful! You should be here, dad!” —Matt
Samuel stood up abruptly.
“Dr. Holt?”
Samuel gave Mrs. Shirogane an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just remembered I haven’t submitted last week’s research report. I’ll be back right away.”
“Go on, then. Don’t let your team wait. We are not going anywhere,” Shirogane Sr. said with a laugh.
“Thank you.”
Samuel took wide strides as he exited the restaurant. He had decided. No more trusting Matthew.
Hunk will come next! Or maybe after I'm finished with Sendak...
Premise
Imagine your life. Imagine your family and friends. Imagine the best future can offer is now within your reach. Now turn that around. Your world is no longer peaceful. Your loved ones are battling ruthless creatures that devour everything in their wake. And you are now, their enemy.
Summary
After three years of hiding and recovering from a traumatic experience, Argent Cross' life finally starts heading for the better—only to have it turned upside down in one night. He wakes up ten years older, without a clear memory of what happened in between, in a warring country that sees him as their enemy's spawn. Going back requires his lost memory, but does he want to remember, when the last thing he remembers is the death of a loved one?
Welcome,
Here is the new prologue of my story, “For You I Call”. If you like fantasy in renaissance setting, humans-vs-hordes-of-monsters, or simply my style of writing, then this story is for you!
What is this all about:
alternate universe
epic battles
politics
love
fantasy warfare
you-know-they-are-dating-but-I-won’t-say-it
Warnings:
ruthless-ness
tragedies
non-straight relationships (male and female version) and straight relationships
present tense style of writing
TLDR: this is basically Muv-Luv Alternative in fantasy setting. Yeah, I love those innocent-hero-thrown-to-alternate-warring-world stories and wish there’s a straight-gay version of it—but there are none, so here it is. Enjoy!
I follow Vert into the coach. To my relief, the coach is a closed type coach with windows and curtains. Not to mention the seats are cushioned leather seats that looks like a sofa. I can close the curtain and pretend we are in a moving house instead of being outside. If it doesn’t work, I can just lay down and sleep. It’s wide enough to contain my upper body.
I take a seat across Vert, who sits right behind the driver side. Once I’m seated, she closes the door and orders Rosalys to go.
“You can go now.”
“Yes, lady Vert.”
Rosalys ring a bell, and the coach moves, accompanied with the pegasuses snort and flap of wings. Nobody stops us from leaving the inn.
-7-
“We will take the main road and head to the north. On the next town, we will use the train to head south east, where my home is,” Vert says, continuing her explanation from before. “There will be a checkpoint, of course, but it should be fine with our disguise.”
“Won’t they know my face?”
“I doubt it. It’s easier to tell people to look for a white haired young man than distribute a portrait they may have or not have. Besides, you look very different from when I found you. Nobody would recognize you—not immediately.”
“That’s a relief. What should I do at the checkpoint?”
“Just play as a visually challenged nobleman who has a really sore throat; let me and Rosalys handle the conversation.”
Visually challenged. That’s one way of putting it. In other words, sit tight and don’t do anything. Simple enough.
“Speaking of visions, your sight has come back, right?”
“Yes, but it’s a little bit dark. I can’t see very well.”
“Maybe you need more light. Hold on, let me turn up the lantern.”
Vert leans sideways to reach the lantern placed on a small plank fastened between the seats. She turns the knob, and the room becomes much darker.
“Vert, you got it wrong. You made it darker,” I say when Vert makes no attempt to fix it.
“No, I didn’t. I made it brighter.”
“But it’s darker for me,” I say, earning a frown from Vert.
“Perhaps…” Vert reaches the knob again and turns it to the opposite direction.
“How’s this?”
“Better.”
Vert turns the knob further.
“And this?”
“Much better. I can see very well now.”
“And I can’t. I think I know what’s wrong with your eyes now. They’re weak to light.”
“So I can see when it’s dark, but not when it’s bright?”
“Yes. That’s probably why you can suddenly see. It’s night now. When you woke up, it was noon and the room was bright from sunlight.”
“I see.” It’s a good news, but troubling. How am I supposed to do activities on daytime? It’s not like I can turn off the sun.
Wait.
That’s it!
“I need sunglasses.”
“Sunglasses? What’s that?”
She doesn’t even know sunglasses? On what century is this place?
“Glasses with dark lenses. Lenses are plates of small glass that you can wear on your eyes.”
“I know what glasses are,” Vert says with a huff. “I just don’t know what sunglasses are. But it’s a good idea. Perhaps we can fashion one at a glasses shop.”
“Yes.” I hope it won’t be like grandpa Cor’s round and old fashioned glasses. The lenses are too big and he looks like a mad doctor when he wears it.
The conversation ends there. Vert adjusts the light so both of us can see. After that, it’s silence between us.
It makes me think. Now that the hectic-ness subsides, questions surface in my mind. Where am I? Somewhere far away from home, that’s clear. But where—or when—exactly? The past? No way, they have pegasuses and back at home pegasuses are only a fantasy creature. Another world? Most likely, since there’s another Vert and another me here. But how did I get here? And why there are people looking for me?
Or maybe the explanation is much simpler; I am still sleeping and this is all just a dream. But no. This is too lucid to be a dream. There’s no way I can replicate the sensation of riding a coach in my dream—because I’ve never rode one—and there’s no way I can imagine Vert’s adult version face in this much detail.
Speaking of Vert…
I sneak a glance at her. She has closed her eyes and appears to be taking a nap. Now that she relaxes, she looks even more like the Vert I know. She still has some baby fat left and only now I notice how stern and mature she looks when she’s awake. Now, she looks like an ordinary girl sleeping.
And I’m disillusioned with how she looks in her dress. Sure, she’s wearing a cream colored, long sleeved blouse paired with a green, two layer skirt and black high-heeled boots, but she does not look feminine at all. It’s like I’m looking at a pretty boy dressing up as a girl. How did she manage pulling that off? Is it the boots? The short hair? Her face? Or is it the way she crosses both arms and legs?
Vert opens her eyes. They’re green like pine’s leaves.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I just thought you really look like Vert—my sister, I mean, you look better with pants.” I lie straight away.
Vert sniggers. “And you too, like my brother’s long lost twin.”
Boy, does this Vert eats my lie raw too?
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“…You’ve been calling me brother and only now ask my name?” I ask incredulously.
Vert shrugs. “It just occurred to me that you may share the same looks, but not necessarily the same name.”
“Right. It’s Argent. Same with your brother?”
Vert sighs. “Yes. Why you’re not my brother again?”
That question is rhetorical, but I answer it anyway.
“Because we think memories and blood ties are necessary to be brother and sister.”
Vert goes still. No wonder, even I’m surprised by myself.
“Are you saying that we can pretend to be brother and sister if we want?” Vert asks, voice tight.
“Yes. Not as a replacement for each other though,” I quickly say.
“Sounds interesting, but I’ll have to think about that.”
“Me too.”
“Why you too? You’re the one who suggested it.”
“Yes, but on the spur of the moment. I need to prepare my heart to handle another Vert in my life,” I say, half serious half joking, which earns me a raised eyebrow from Vert.
“Surely my counterpart is not that bad.”
“She’s a dirt magnet. Everyday she comes back as if she has rolled a hundred times on the ground and thousand times on the mud.”
“Oh, then I’m as bad.”
I want ask what that means, but I notice the coach slows down to a stop.
“Checkpoint time?”
Vert peeks through the curtain and shakes her head.
“No. It should be further down the road. Rosalys? What’s wrong?”
“There’s a huge line in front of us, lady Vert. I have yet to know what is wrong though.”
“Can you see the front?”
“No, milady. It’s too dark. Please wait for a moment; I will inquire what’s wrong.”
Rosalys comes back a minute later.
“The army is sending reinforcements to north-east defense line. The road is closed to allow them to come through.”
“The reinforcements should be taxied by the pegasus riders. What do they need the main road for?”
Vert’s question is answered by a tremor.
“...oh, right. I forgot. There’s that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why don’t you look outside? It’ll soon pass.”
Another tremor. I lift the curtain and look forward. At first I only see other coaches, pulled to a stop for the same reason. Then the sky shifts.
No. It’s not the sky. It’s a lizard. A giant, around thirty stories high and several blocks long freakishly over-sized lizard. Its torso is shaped like a round bread, but its skin is like cone shaped rocks put together, especially on the back. Its tail is short; only half of its torso’s length, but its end is shaped like a club—with spikes. Its head is like a turtle’s but with scales and two short horns.
I close the curtain and face Vert.
“What is that?”
“A stone dragon called Groundsweeper. Cute, isn’t it?”
I look at the lizard again. Yeah, it’s cute; if it was palm sized and weighed several hundred grams instead of several hundred tons.
“And you’re saying that that overgrown lizard is the reinforcements.”
“Nah, that one is the reinforcements’ weapon of mass-destruction. The real reinforcements are the army escorting it. You can only see the pegasus corps from here though.”
Vert is right. There are tenths of pegasuses flying alongside the dragon. Some maintain their altitude close to the dragon’s head, wings flapping only once or twice as they glide beside its unblinking eyes.
“Amazing. How do you put something that big under control?”
Vert hands me a spyglass. “Here. Look at the top of its head, between the horns.”
I do as instructed. I see several uniformed people riding on their pegasuses before I find the spot mentioned. There are silhouettes, people sitting in a circle between the horns.
“See those people? They’re its summoners; the only ones who can give command to it and bring it under control.”
“If it’s a summoned being, why make it walk? Why don’t you just summon it on the battlefield?”
“It’s not that simple. To summon a grand class familiar like Groundsweeper, you need years of preparation and tremendous amount of resources, so you can’t just dismiss and re-summon it as you like. Of course they summoned it near the battlefield where it’s stationed. But now they’re being moved because there’s another battlefield that needs its assistance and they can’t wait for years.”
The noise grows outside as Vert explains the situation. People are getting off their coaches to see the dragon better. There are ‘ooooh’s and ‘aaah’s accompanied with excited finger pointing; a complete opposite to Vert, who isn’t fazed by the sheer scale and grandiose of the dragon. She just stares at another direction, looking concerned.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s strange,” I give Vert a questioning look, and she elaborates. “The Groundsweepers are the west Ulrika base’s familiar. I heard they’re planning to send one to the northeast Geneche base, but I see two.”
“Two?” I look out again and yeah, there’s another Groundsweeper, quite far behind the first one. There are less pegasuses around it. “What’s wrong with two?”
“Think about it. How much resources and time will it take to move a creature of this scale across the country? The answer is two battalions of combined corps and three weeks. That means for three weeks, the whole border defense is one familiar and two battalions short. Anything can happen within that span of time.”
“If they’re that concerned, why send the army too? Don’t you have it under control?”
“To keep the creature in line in case it goes berserk of course. Groundsweepers may appear calm, but they’re actually very sensitive. If they accidentally acknowledged a city as an enemy because some idiot provokes it, then, well, it’s hard to change its mind.”
I look at the dragon again. It’s blinking again, so slowly. Yeah. I think it can flatten a city or two before it can be convinced otherwise.
“Long story short, moving a Groundsweeper takes months of planning and calculation. You can’t just plus one when you feel like it. Even if you’re desperate.”
“Perhaps they have no other choice,” I say, trying to make sense of the reason behind.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. In any case, this works for us. It’ll take around three to four hours to let the dragons pass. The checkpoint will be lax with the growing line.”
“And the patrols?”
“Won’t come. They trust the checkpoint guard to do their job.”
Fanfic: Lord Zarkon is Never Ready - Holiday Special
Thank you for always reading this fanfic! Here’s my end of year present to you! (I had no time to write with my usual format, so sorry T_T)
I love to hear your reactions, so feel free to comment or write something when you reblog!
### Lord Zarkon is Never Ready to Give Presents ###
Zarkon: No
Alfor: Why?
Zarkon: I’ve explained it three times already. Giving rewards without reason will only make them lazy.
Alfor: But we do have a good reason! It’s the end of the year!
Zarkon: According to the universal calendar, it is not.
Alfor: It is on Earth! And according to an old culture in Earth, New Year is everyone’s birthday, so we have to give them presents!
Zarkon: I could care less. You just want to have an excuse to spoil your daughter.
Alfor: How did you know? Wait, don’t try to steer off the topic!
Zarkon: Off topic or not, my answer won’t change.
Alfor: Aw, come on you party pooper. Will it kill you to give a trinket or two to children?
Coran: (clearing throat through the comm) Apparently, it will, your highness. In Galra culture, everything you own must be earned. It is a sign of weakness and spoiling to give presents to their offsprings—beside their family weapon which they’d receive on their adulthood ceremony.
Zarkon: (resumes typing) It is as your advisor said. Presents are only for the weak.
Alfor: (stares at Zarkon with narrowed eyes) Huh, I see. You’re refusing because you can’t choose presents.
Zarkon: (breaks his keyboard key) That’s not—!
Alfor: Don’t worry, mate. You have me, the king of good taste, as your savior! Just leave everything to me. I will prepare presents that will not sully your name!
Zarkon: Alfor don’t you dare—PROROK! Don’t let that Altean escape!!”
A few days later in Shirogane residence…
Matt: Shiro, what are these?
Matt is pointing at the dolls neatly lined up on the floor. The design is cute, and they are made to resemble the Paladins, their lion, and their subordinates.
Shiro: I don’t know. The card says it’s present from the Black Paladin for us, but I don’t know who is that. There’s no return address too.
Matt: Maybe it’s the rider of the Black Lion?
Shiro: Maybe. His doll seems to be Keith’s favorite.
Matt: And it seems like that purple alien doll is his least favorite.
Matt points to Keith, who’s hissing like a cat at a giant doll that bears great resemblance to Sendak. It’s not long before he starts attacking it, assisted by mini-Red, accompanied with Zarkon doll that’s tied securely on his back like a backpack. It seems like it’ll be a long battle as doll-Sendak is quite heavy and well balanced.
Shiro: Really? I think he’s having fun, especially compared to Allura and Katie.
Not far away from them, Allura and Katie are fighting for the possession of Green Paladin doll. Allura should be the superior one, but mini-Green makes the fight fair. Slightly.
Matt: (sighing) I better secure the Green Lion doll. (walks away)
Shiro: (looks around) And I, this one.
Shiro picks the smallest doll of all. In fact, it can be considered as a fairly large keychain instead of a doll.
It’s baby Keith in his berserk form[1].
Notes:
Shiro considers it as a safety charm and takes great care of it.
Extra:
Alfor: (snickers) Look, they are enjoying your presents.
Zarkon: (glares at Alfor, and then uses a keyboard shortcut to change the video feed) You are right. Especially this one.
The screen now shows Baby Blue munching the head part of Alfor doll.
Alfor: AAAH! Handle it with care! The hair part is made of real Spindle Silk!
Baby Blue responds by playing a tug of war with mini-Blue using the doll as the rope. Alfor screeches, and Zarkon’s laugh can be heard to galaxies beyond.
Zarkon is more OOC than usual, but I have no regrets.
Here is the new prologue of my story, “For You I Call”. If you like fantasy in renaissance setting, humans-vs-hordes-of-monsters, or simply my style of writing, then this story is for you!
What is this all about:
alternate universe
epic battles
politics
love
fantasy warfare
you-know-they-are-dating-but-I-won’t-say-it
Warnings:
ruthless-ness
tragedies
non-straight relationships (male and female version) and straight relationships
present tense style of writing
TLDR: this is basically Muv-Luv Alternative in fantasy setting. Yeah, I love those innocent-hero-thrown-to-alternate-warring-world stories and wish there’s a straight-gay version of it—but there are none, so here it is. Enjoy!
Chapter List:
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids (1 & 2, 3 & 4, 5)
Episode 1: Arachnids
Previously:
“One of the patrols left their baton here,” Vert explains. “That spooked me. I thought they’re here for another inspection.”
“Me too. Hahahaha.”
“What’s so funny?”
“I almost got a heart attack because somebody forgot their baton.”
That earns a snort from Vert. “Yeah. That lucky guy didn’t know how close he was from getting injured. I almost attacked him when he got so close to the closet. You did a good job keeping silent.”
“Yeah, we’d be screwed if that was a real inspection. We should leave as soon as we can.”
“Not immediately though, it’ll only raise suspicion. Speaking of which, I should tell you the escape plan I prepared.”
-6-
The plan is pretty simple. We wait until it’s night before checking out of the hotel. We will then act as a pair of noble siblings who got their vacation interrupted by an urgent matter. Rosalys will leave earlier to check on the train station. Depending on the situation, she’d either come with us or go separate ways.
“If it’s too dangerous, she’ll rent us a coach and pick us up at the hotel,” Vert finishes.
“Coach? As in horse drawn one?”
“Yes.”
“Why not a car?”
“Like I said, we’ll use the train if it’s safe.”
“No, not train’s car. I mean the four wheeled car,” I say, before it occurs go me that if this Vert doesn’t know soccer, then she might not know what a car is. “It’s like a coach, but moved with machines.”
“Oh, you mean a mechanical coach. Nobody rents that. The price is too expensive; and it’s a horror to maintain.”
I wonder what could be so horrible in maintaining a car. The worst it can do to you is make you dirty and smelly.
“I’m talking about the price of the spare parts and its fuel,” Vert says as if she could read my mind. “I admit it’s cleaner and less smelly than a horse, but who needs one if you can fly with a pegasus.”
“Fly with what?”
“Pegasus. We have them as taxis—until they’re all conscripted for the war.”
“I-I see.”
After that comes the preparation. Vert dyes my hair to black—it was, apparently, turned to white while I was sleeping for ten years—and asks me to strip so she can put on the change. Fortunately my furious refusal works, so here I am, back in the closet, struggling with the clothes.
I am in the middle of figuring out which end is the dress pants’ top when someone knocks the closet door.
“Need any help?” Vert’s muffled voice comes through the door.
“Nope! I’m fine! I’m on my last garment here!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
Even so, I take approximately fifteen minutes to put the pants on. Fortunately I don’t take a second longer because Vert opens the closet door right after I finish zipping the pants.
Vert gives me a once over and a hum of approval.
“You look good in it. Like a real noble,” she says, with a hint of awe. “How does it fit?”
I move limbs around to test for any tightness. “The shoulder part is a little restrictive,” I say as I rotate my right arm.
“It is supposed to be like that. Now wear this.”
Vert helps me putting on a jacket coat on top of the dress shirt; the end result, as she describes, is me looking like a born and bred gentleman.
“What are you going to wear?” I ask.
“What I’m wearing now. I’m already dressed as a noblewoman before you woke up.”
“I see.” Wait a minute. If she’s dressing as a noblewoman, then, “Are you wearing a dress?”
“Yes.”
“With skirt?”
“Yes. What kind of dress that doesn’t have a skirt?”
“Oh my God.” Vert is wearing a dress. A DRESS. A dress, damn it. The Cross family’s biggest mystery is standing right in front of me now and I can’t even see it! Arrgggh! Why do I have to be blind right now?? This is so unfair!
Distracted by my own misery, I don’t notice Vert leaving the room until she comes back.
“Come on, our ride is ready.”
The disappointment of not seeing Vert in a dress makes me forget my fear of going outside. I don’t even notice we are outside until Rosalys calls out to Vert.
“Lady Vert!”
I look up and my jaw drops. Not at the coach, but what’s pulling it.
I thought she meant another type of transportation called pegasus. But I see that she meant it literally.
“Thank you, Rosalys. Come on, brother. Let’s get on this and go to our way already,” Vert says as if two dark skinned pegasuses pulling a coach is a quotidian sight.
“They’re pegasuses,” I say, finding myself unable to say something more intelligent.
“Yes, they are. But not the ones which can fly. Their wings are too small—probably a cross with a wingless horse,” Vert says, explaining why we have pegasuses pulling the coach instead of the normal horses. “Wait, you can see now?”
“Huh?” Now that she mentions it, yes—I can see the pegasuses, a grey haired maid sitting on the coach’s driver seat and a slightly childish looking adult with Vert’s face, her signature short hair, and… green eyes? I don’t know. It’s too dark to make out the color. “Yes, but why?”
“I don’t have any idea. Let’s ponder about that in the coach. Hurry up and get on,” Vert says before getting in herself.
I follow Vert into the coach. To my relief, the coach is a closed type coach with windows and curtains. Not to mention the seats are cushioned leather seats that looks like a sofa. I can close the curtain and pretend we are in a moving house instead of being outside. If it doesn’t work, I can just lay down and sleep. It’s wide enough to contain my upper body.
I take a seat across Vert, who sits right behind the driver side. Once I’m seated, she closes the door and orders Rosalys to go.
“You can go now.”
“Yes, lady Vert.”
Rosalys ring a bell, and the coach moves, accompanied with the pegasuses snort and flap of wings. Nobody stops us from leaving the inn.
I'm having a hard time choosing lock screen wallpaper. These fabulous space kitties are courtesy of @snowyspacekitten. I hope you don't mind me using this meowbabies as wallpaper. Original image: http://snowyspacekitten.tumblr.com/post/149847761815/fooooorm-voltron
Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.
An AU where the Voltron universe is a peaceful universe, Zarkon is the Black Paladin he was supposed to be and the only things he hate with passion are Coran’s goo and a boy named Takashi Shirogane.
***Inspired by @inariazuha’s works.
***Thank you for the permission to credit!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Chapter summary: Alfor goes Kingsman to spy the kids’ trip to Earth. He didn’t expect he’d really use the spy gadgets.
### Lord Zarkon is Never Ready for Spy Work - Part 2 ###
“What was that sound??’
“Alfor, are you alright??”
Rax and Red Paladin’s voice entered Alfor’s comms at the same time.
“Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t even feel the blast wind. But I know that sound.”
Rax and Red Paladin looked at each other worriedly. They knew that sound too. Too well in fact.
“Ground Blaster The Second, right? But didn’t you ban its production years ago?”
“Banning doesn’t mean stopping completely. Besides, whoever it is, they might be using the already made ones. It’s notoriously easy to make too—for Alteans at least.”
Alfor took a step towards the sound source but Rax and Red Paladin hurried to stop him.
“Wait, where are you going? You’re still carrying a baby!”
“What all good paladins will do. I will bring the situation under control before the humans military are involved. Coran said their base is pretty close from my current location. As for the baby, he’s in the safest place on this planet: beside me.”
Rax sighed exasperatedly at Alfor’s baseless confidence while Red Paladin still fought to stop him.
“No. Wait for us. We are coming.”
Alfor shook his head. “You are not. You can’t use the castle’s warp device without an Altean royalty and even if you use Zarkon’s ships, it would take four hours to reach Earth from Balmera. There’s no telling how much damage would be done by that time. I have to go.”
“Fine. But pull back when it’s getting too dangerous. Don’t forget you have a kingdom to rule.”
“Don’t worry. I have no plan for dying. Besides, I haven’t found my successor yet.”
Oh Alfor, you have no idea.
“When you go back you better install a warp system that can be accessed by all Paladins.” That was a promise.
“Alright. But don’t tell Coran about my situation. There’s no need to make him panic needlessly.”
“Got it.”
With that Red Paladin and Rax stopped bothering him. Alfor was going to go, but a shift of weight in his arm reminded him of his current charge. Alfor looked down and the baby stare back at him with wide, innocently confused eyes that showed zero understanding why people around them were screaming like a crazy murderer with machine gun were chasing them. The goo-candy in its small hand made the contrast even more visible.
Yep, definitely not leaving him alone.
“Alright baby Blue, let’s do this.”
Alfor took a forgotten baby carrier placed conveniently close to him and carried the baby on his back. Mini-Blue latched on the baby’s back to protect his head and torso with its own body. Confident that the hold was secure against extreme jolts, Alfor set off.
Alfor approached the center of chaos carefully while dodging people. It was when he heard louder screams from the back that he realized that the bomb was not used to kill: it was used to herd humans to a slaver ship’s waiting jaw. It was Galra made and that meant it had the tractor beam. The ship easily sucked humans like they were dust to vacuum cleaner.
“Lion-fuckers,” Alfor cursed, earning a chiding telepathy from his lion. He told her to wait as close as she could to the beach and get ready. He didn’t plan using her to stop the slavers, but having a backup plan never hurts.
Now back to the problem at hand. Alfor unfortunately had experience dealing with slavers without lion, so he knew what exactly to do: destroy their tractor beam and force them to come down.
Alfor took his umbrella and pointed it to the slaver ship, aiming for the beam’s ‘lamps.’ He waited until there was a slack in the suction, so the humans wouldn’t fall from a tall height, and fired. A small, almost unnoticeable device, shoot out of the umbrella’s tip, hit the lamps, and short circuited it. The red beam blinked and disappeared.
As expected, the ship landed and two slavers came out of the ship, brandishing electric guns that would make people faint and not kill. Alfor quickly used his disguising device to change his suit into a tourist’s attire. The shoes turned to sandal, pants to shorts, shirt to whistle, and jacket to vest. His black umbrella transformed to white and blue beach umbrella and he held it like a lance. Apart from that ridiculously long prop, he blended well with his surroundings.
“Take out the ones inside the ship first,” Red Paladin suggested. “Then you can take out the ones outside.”
Basically, take care the invisible enemies first then visible.
“Got it.”
Alfor slipped past two trigger happy slavers—Alteans, to Alfor’s disgust—and infiltrated the ship. Once inside, he scanned for life signs and identified his targets: three people. This would be a chinch.
Two electrocutions and one umbrella-to-face later, Alfor went out to take care of the rest. Not even five minutes had passed and the beach was considerably quieter than before—a testament of Altea’s military might, despite in the lowest possible level. The slavers were now conversing to each other in Altean as they picked which human they would keep.
“Hey, this one is cute. I think I’ll keep it.”
“Bad taste as always. It’ll be nine hundred thousand. Plus five hundred thousand if you want it reprogrammed.”
“That’s so expensive!”
“Are you new in this business? It’s not only you that have bad taste.”
“Aw, fine then. I think I’ll just have it once then return it.”
“You still have to pay the same amount. The market of used goods is cheap.”
“Just repair it with a healing pod. They won’t notice the difference anyway. Hahahaha!”
Blood had never climbed so fast to Alfor’s head. The slavers were talking about a little girl, not even ten years of age. It also helped that the girl’s chocolate skin reminded Alfor of Allura.
Before he knew it, he was already stomping straight to the two slavers, with Rax and Red Paladin screaming at the comm for him to stop. His loud footsteps caught the slavers’ attention and they turned to him. They had the gall to laugh at their king.
“Stupid human! If you want to play hero, you should sneak behind us!”
“Not that it would make a difference.”
Alfor paid them no mind and simply opened his huge umbrella. When the slavers started to shoot him, he held the umbrella in front of him as if he was shielding himself from horizontal rain. The electric shots hit the sheet and disappears harmlessly. The slavers discontinued shooting when they realized it wasn’t working.
“What the in the world—”
The umbrella closed, revealing a royally pissed Alfor. Mini-Blue was now on his shoulder. He gave the confused slaves a cold stare before speaking:
“Freezer, slay.”
Upon hearing the command, mini-Blue opened its mouth and shoot a blue ray towards the slavers. With a slight twist of head, the laser hit both slavers and froze them in a tick.
Peace descended upon the beach. There were several ticks before Red Paladin spoke.
“Can Lailah[1] do that too?”
“Yes. Our successors might be facing danger, so I installed defense mechanisms on the cubs,” Alfor answered casually as if he didn’t just freeze people with a toy. He petted mini-Blue—or Freezer as he called it—on the head for its good job.
“Forget about that. You two’s naming sense sucks,” Rax said in disgust.
“Like you can talk. You named your mini-lion Hunky-Bulky.”
“It’s Shay, not me.”
“If you have time to argue, please help me think about cleaning up. I think the humans is not ready to welcome extra-planet beings.” Good thing the slavers were using camouflaging screens so people outside the screen wouldn’t know what was going on. But it wouldn’t hold forever, not with the hotel so close by and people would question why they couldn’t enter the beach.
“Just use your handy forget-me-gas.”
“It’s memory-erasing gas, Rax. But they have a particular side-effect to humans and not really effective.”
Alfor was referring Shiro. The poor kid had a premature white hair thanks to that gas.
“Then find another way. I have zero idea.”
“Before that, go patrol the area. There might be more of them,” Red Paladin, the ever sensible one, advised.
“That’s too much work,” Alfor complained, his lazy king side surfaced after the adrenaline subsided. “Coran, can you check my perimeter?”
Surprisingly, it was Zarkon who replied to him.
“Don’t talk to him now. Green team is having a situation.”
Alfor tensed up. Thanks to the slavers he just dealt with, his mind quickly supplied the worst scenarios.
“What situation?”
Zarkon answered by sharing the channel with him.
“No. Don’t help them right away. Stay back and watch, there might be more of them hidden from sight.”
The speaker was Thace. Alfor couldn’t help but notice how bizzare the situation was. The Galra advisor was advising his advisor.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Coran asked, half whining.
“Collect as much information as you can. They recognized the Green Paladin so they’re going to demand for her lion soon. She wouldn’t be able to refuse with the kids as hostage—“
“The kids??” Thace stopped at Alfor’s outburst and Coran ‘eeeped.’
“I’m sorry your highness, but princess Allura is—“
“Say no more. Do as Thace say. I will be there in a moment!”
Unfortunately, Thace was right. The other group of slavers wasted no time in demanding the green lion’s location. When she refused to tell them, they threatened to hurt—of all the kids they could choose—Allura. The subject was of course, not pleased at all.
“If you don’t let me go now, I’ll tell my father and he will come to stomp you!”
The slaver just laughed at her adorable attempt to be threatening and repeated his demand. They didn’t realize just who they had in their hands because Allura looked like a normal human girl now. For that, Green Paladin pitied them. There was no one more unfortunate than people who angered Alfor. Zarkon might be the emperor of a borderline barbaric race, but the Altean king was the dictator of the two.
The loud commotion woke Keith from his nap. The baby blinked and yawned—a cute sight many would enjoy if not for their current predicament. His fluffy ears flicked whenever a particularly loud voice appeared and his face crunched in irk. It didn’t take long for him to glare at the bad guys with Galra eyes.
I mean, literal Galra eyes. Golden, shiny, and narrowed pupils.
Shiro noticed the change and quickly turned Keith so the baby would face his chest—eyes hidden from the world. But then Shiro felt the baby’s smooth skin became prickly. This was bad. Keith was transforming.
Shiro started making shushing sounds and pat Keith’s head to calm him. It worked. Keith started to get sleepy again and his skin stopped purpling. But then the slaver hit Allura to shut her up and grabbed Katie from Matt for another hostage. The baby girl’s cry of distress and Matt’s frightened scream made Keith an angry baby Galra.
“Keith,” Shiro called softly to distract the baby. Keith stopped growling and looked up. “Can you hold on your transformation for a moment?”
Shiro’s gentle request were like magic. The baby somehow understood the need to calm down and his transformation was reversed on its own. His skin turned back to cream and eyes to violet.
Immediate danger avoided, Shiro went back to assessing the situation. His eyes watched the slavers with an unnatural calm while his head working overdrive to find a way to get them out of this situation. He understood he wouldn’t be able to take the slavers on his own, so what he was looking for was an opportunity to give Green Paladin a chance to fight back, without endangering any of them further.
Shiro’s hard work was answered in the form of a brown skinned man carrying a baby. The youngest of Shirogane clan saw a mini blue lion on the man’s shoulders and guessed correctly that the man was Green Paladins’ friend. Like Green Paladin, the man was also looking for an opening—and that, was something Shiro could grant.
Before that, he needed Keith out of the way.
“Keith, can you please turn small and go there with Aka[2]?”
Shiro pointed to one of the observatories and Keith replied with a soft ‘ai!’ and turned himself small. He was an adult’s palm size when Shiro kneeled to let him hop on to mini-Red’s waiting back. Nobody saw the baby-&-toy-lion pair as they travel across the open ground to dive behind one of the observatories. They were all focused to the slaver leader demanding the lion’s position from Green Paladin.
Seeing Keith safely hidden, Shiro took Kuro into his arms, took a deep breath, and started wailing. He was so embarrassed, especially when he noticed Matt looking at him like he was another person, but he didn’t waver. He had to be as real as possible to make this work.
And it worked. Shiro’s wailing attracted attention. Predictably, one of the slavers told him to shut up or else. Shiro obeyed, because his role was fulfilled. Alfor managed to slip past undetected.
“Don’t move!” the slaver leader warned Green Paladin, who was eyeing for a timing to escape. He didn’t realize she was just another distraction until a large hand landed on his shoulder.
The slaver leader turned and saw Alfor smiling to him like he was the honored guest of a kingdom, but the words coming out of the king’s mouth spoke a different story.
“Excuse me, could you take your hands off my little princess—and the baby too, you space trash?”
Allura looked at Alfor as if he was a miracle unicorn.
“Father, you came!” she exclaimed. She did say her father would came, but she didn’t expect it to be this fast.
Unfortunately the slaver was not an easy man to intimidate. Especially when the intimidator was a man in a beach suit carrying a huge ass umbrella—and a baby.
“And what can you do? If you hurt me, my men will hurt everyone else.”
It sounded like a well rehearsed line. No doubt he had said this to many before. Alfor tried to not sneer and ruin his friendly face. As the king he had an image to maintain after all—even to the most despicable men. Besides, he couldn’t set a bad example in front of Allura, who was plenty barbaric as she was.
“Oh really?” he asked, keeping the tone light while he snapped his fingers. Within a tick several lines of light struck the other slavers and they were out like dolls cut off their strings. “Good thing I’m not alone then.”
The other Paladins would later know that Alfor had a group of ultra long range snipers and a small army capable taking over a system or two standing by on Earth’s stratosphere. As expected of an overprotective father who happened to be a king.
“We are not the only ones here,” the slaver leader said. “My right hand men would—“
“If you mean those losers who are too poor to purchase a slave, they are sleeping in my men’s hands now.”
The following silence made it easier to hear the screams of the other slavers mixed with a satisfied growl from a huge…animal. It appeared that as Alfor spoke, some of the slavers who were still conscious after being shot were trying to sneak back to their ship—only to meet their demise in Keith’s waiting arms. Shiro, who realized his error in choosing a hiding place for Keith, hurried to the baby’s side, only to have himself turned into a human teddy bear who was powerless to do anything but reminding the big baby to be gentle.
And apparently Keith’s definition of gentle was to smack the slavers on the face with his free hand and use their unconscious bodies as napping cushion. Those slavers were fortunate that Keith wasn’t as big as when he first transformed.
The leader was intelligent enough to realize he was defeated and surrendered himself. Allura was freed and Katie was back to Matt’s arms. Alfor gave Baby Blue to Green Paladin so he could apprehend the slaver and stop Allura from kicking the defenseless man in the balls. Freezer, who somehow ended up in Baby Blue’s arm, deactivated itself once Alfor was far enough.
“Your highness! Princess!”
Everyone turned and saw Coran running towards them. He was wearing green down jacket and cream colored pants, looking like a proper human in vacation.
But Baby Blue, holding the deactivated Freezer in his chubby arms, saw the incoming Altean and got the urge to do what Alfor did fifteen minutes ago.
“Wizer! Srey!”
Freezer’s eyes turned on. Even if it was badly pronounced, it still recognized the command and opened its mouth. By the time Alfor realized the danger, he was powerless to do anything. Coran was a brilliant statue of ice in a blink and Baby Blue was one hell of a smug baby.
Rax was the fastest to comment.
“Congratulations. It seems like you’ve found your successor.”
Alfor looked at Baby Blue sadly.
“But I still haven’t found his parents.”
I told you it’ll be like Kingsman.
[1] Name taken from a fire seraph from “Tales of Zestiria”
[2] It means red in Japanese. Yeah, Shiro’s naming sense sucks.
Here is the new prologue of my story, “For You I Call”. If you like fantasy in renaissance setting, humans-vs-hordes-of-monsters, or simply my style of writing, then this story is for you!
What is this all about:
alternate universe
epic battles
politics
love
fantasy warfare
you-know-they-are-dating-but-I-won’t-say-it
Warnings:
ruthless-ness
tragedies
non-straight relationships (male and female version) and straight relationships
present tense style of writing
TLDR: this is basically Muv-Luv Alternative in fantasy setting. Yeah, I love those innocent-hero-thrown-to-alternate-warring-world stories and wish there’s a straight-gay version of it—but there are none, so here it is. Enjoy!
Chapter List:
Prologue
Episode 1: Arachnids (1 & 2, 3 & 4)
Episode 1: Arachnids
-5-
“About my memories—you said it might not be wrong.”
“Ah yes, I did. What about it?”
“You never explained why you think so.”
“Right.” I wonder if I should have kept my mouth shut. Vert sounds totally disheartened. “I was saying, it could be because you’re not my brother—at least not the one I know.”
“What do you mean?”
“…Come here,” Vert says, pulling my arm. She makes me sit down on the bed before sitting down beside me. She let out a long sigh, and I wait for her to speak.
“I lost my brother ten years ago,” Vert begins wistfully. “Then I found you at the place where I lost him. You’d have to forgive me for assuming you’re my brother. You look just like him, at least if he’s grown up to twenty four years old. But now I’m not sure if you’re really him.”
I blink. “Twenty four?” Where does that number come from?
“Oh sorry, it’s just my approximation. He was fourteen when I last saw him, and it’s been ten years, so I assume you’d be the same age if you were my brother. I apologize if I get it wrong.”
“No, you’re probably right. My body feels weird. Me growing big must be the reason.”
“You don't know you've grown up?”
“If there's one thing you're right about me, it's the ten years sleep part. I was fourteen before I woke up,” I joke, but Vert doesn't share my humor. I can tell she is staring at me.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I just thought you’re so calm for someone in your current situation.”
I can’t help but I laugh at that. “Honestly, I don’t know what to feel right now. My sister died yesterday—at least that’s how it seems like for me—and I’m not even sure if that’s true or just a bad dream. The next thing I know I’m blind and ten years older. On top of that me and a person who sounds like an older version of my little sister are now a wanted person for reasons unknown. I suppose I’m just too confused to panic.”
Vert takes a moment to come up with a response. “Understandable.”
“Right. But enough about me. You’re still unsure if I am your brother or not, right? You should ask me questions that you know how your brother would answer. Something like preference or hypothetical question. My memory doesn’t seem to be reliable after all.”
“True. Let me think about it.”
Vert really takes time on thinking that I almost fall asleep when she finally asks her question.
“What did you give me on my fifth birthday?”
“Huh? But that question—“
“—is a memory related question. I know. Sorry. I can’t come up with any preference or hypothetical question right now.”
“It’s alright. I understand,” I say—and I’m not saying that for politeness sake. She doesn’t show it, but she too, must have much thoughts and worries in her mind right now. Who wouldn’t, if you just discovered your long lost sibling might not be your sibling? She has to think about getting away from the patrols too.
I search my rusty memory and get the answer.
“An old soccer ball. Mom and dad hate me for that. They said I turned you from skirt hating tomboy to mud loving tomboy, even though it’s you who asked for it.”
Vert snorts amusedly. “That’s what you say, but it’s actually because that was the only thing you had when I asked you for present, right?”
“Exactly.” No shame in admitting it. Vert already knows about that. Wait, if she knows, “Then—“
“But you didn’t give me that.”
Aaaand, the bird of hope is struck down before it can take flight.
“I don’t know what soccer is, but it’s definitely not a ball that you gave me.”
“Oh? What is it then?”
“A wooden sword.”
“A wooden sword? Why would I give you that?”
“Because that’s the only thing you had at that time.” Woah, deja vu. “But of course you won’t admit it. You said—”
“—this is a legendary item used by heroes of the past. Use well,” I finish, channeling my inner wiseman, then wait. I know I’ve just stunned Vert to silence with that line.
“You remember that?” Vert asks when she finally finds her voice, half astonished half hopeful.
“No. But I’ve always wanted to say that once, if I ever give someone a sword—not that I ever,” I add quickly.
Vert sighs in disappointment, but then chuckles.
“I think you two would get along just fine,” Vert answers. “You and my brother, I mean.”
“…Yeah.” It’s already clear that her brother and I, although similar, are two different people. But I still want to make sure. “Sorry, but I want to ask a question too.”
“Sure.”
I take a deep breath and ask.
“Who ate the cherry tomato cake on the table?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t remember that? Then what about ’is your red-head friend with you?’”
“I do have a red-head l-friend, but she’s not with me right now. But how do you know I have a red-head friend? I didn’t meet her until a year after the accident.”
“Well, that’s another memory difference. My Vert had been friends with a red-head since she entered school, but that’s not why I ask you those question.”
“Why then?” Vert asks, demanding for explanation.
“Me and Ver, used to ask those questions before we open the door for the other.”
“That’s… a unique way of greeting,” Vert says, but it’s evident that she doesn’t understand yet.
“It’s not a greeting. It’s our safety password. For example for the first question, if you’re alone, you answer ‘there’s no cake on the table.’ If you’re bringing a friend, you’ll answer ’you mean the strawberry cake?’ And if you’re with a bad guy, you’ll answer ‘I did.’ That way we know if it’s safe to open the door. Of course we change the question and answer every now and then, but this is the first one we used.”
“I see. But why go through all that trouble?”
“Because there was one time where I opened the door for Ver, who turned out to be forced to ask me unlocking the door for a robber. We don’t want a repeat on that accident, so we set secret questions and answers. That didn’t happen on you, right?”
“It didn’t.” Vert sighs. “So we really are not each other’s brother and sister then.”
“It’s—“ I pause to find the right word “—too bad.”
“It is,” Vert solemnly agrees.
No further words exchanged between us. Of course the dead won’t come back that easily. I wonder if Vert regrets asking me those questions, because I do.
“What now?” I ask after gathering myself.
“We escape from here,” Vert answers. “But after that, I don’t know. I didn’t exactly plan for the alternative.”
The alternative which is I’m not her brother. Understandable.
“Do I look like him that much?”
“Too much. Like a grown up version of him and more. So rest assured, I won’t just leave you here if that’s what you fear,” Vert says jokingly. “Besides, I can’t exactly return you to where I found you either.”
“And where is that?“
A knock on the door stops Vert from answering. Who could that be?
“My lady, it’s me.”
Oh, it’s Rosalys.
“Quick, hide!” Vert hisses, pulling me up from the bed I’m sitting on.
“Eh? Why? It’s only Rosalys,” I ask, keeping my voice low just in case.
“Me and Rosalys have a code, just like you and your sister!”
And what Rosalys said just now indicated to Vert that she wasn’t alone. Great.
Vert shoves me through a door—probably a closet, judging by the woody smell—and orders me to stay quiet before answering the door. I can hear her talking with Rosalys, but it’s not clear. Not knowing what’s going on makes me tense, even more than when we were hiding from the pursuers above us.
Two sets of footsteps approach. I freeze when they stop in front of the closet.
“There it is!”
I squeeze my eyes shut in reflex, fully expecting the door to be opened. But it doesn’t happen. The two footsteps retreat and the room’s door is closed. I don’t dare to breathe in relief until Vert tells me it’s alright.
“One of the patrols left their baton here,” Vert explains. “That spooked me. I thought they’re here for another inspection.”
“Me too. Hahahaha.”
“What’s so funny?”
“I almost got a heart attack because somebody forgot their baton.”
That earns a snort from Vert. “Yeah. That lucky guy didn’t know how close he was from getting injured. I almost attacked him when he got so close to the closet. You did a good job keeping silent.”
“Yeah, we’d be screwed if that was a real inspection. We should leave as soon as we can.”
“Not immediately though, it’ll only raise suspicion. Speaking of which, I should tell you the escape plan I prepared.”
