Madness

AWWW CHECK OUT THIS ARTS MADE BY ONE OF THE CARTOON ANIMATORS🥹🥹

https://x.com/ScottForester17?t=m1L_H0zYhhVVXX8ziZI6wQ&s=09

Art by lei chu

jesus in the hades art style

Voltron wolfwalkers au. Keith is Robyn, Lance is Mebh, Allura is Moll and Shiro is Bill

I can definitely see it!

Nightmares

I didn’t think my heart would have broken anymore for Kuro after that last piece from yesterday, but yep. Seems it could still be chipped at a little bit more today. Since @theprojectava took the Shiro route, I thought I might try my hand at Kuro’s. I hope it turned out well!

He dreams he’s drowning in ink. There is black spilling into his lungs, staining the very life of him darker than the blood on his hands and the disappointment in his mind. It’s robbing him of breath, and it’s telling him that death will not come easy, that it will be slow and it will be painful and it will only arrive after he has paid the highest of costs.

He will never have a life to call his own.

But he can dream of it, and when he does, the nightmares come and eat the very best of them alive.

He cannot wake from them. As they devour the very best of all he could have hoped for, he’s made to watch, trapped in this pool of liquid devastation with his head just above the surface and his lungs burning for air. Every bit of the destructive nature the world wants him to embody sinks into his skin as he treads those waters, snuffing out the starlight in his cells and waiting for the entirety of him to go dark as a moonless night.

Until no hope can exist, no dreams can survive. Until there is only the remembrance of pain and loss, binding his will up as tight as Fate’s red ribbon, just as inescapable.

So, the dreams turn to horrors, and his sleep forgets what peace should be. He writhes and he turns, he cries out some nights, and on others, he simply cries. All of this outside of his own recognition, his mind lost to the harsher realities of his nightmares, for those projections seem real, feel real, are based on the very reality of his existence, and Kuro can’t avoid them for all he tries.

The day affords him control, however. Better control at least, enough to survive in the Arena, enough to not succumb to his wounds or the Druid’s tortuous machinations. He remembers the day Shiro arrived, and he remembers reminding himself that he still has control enough to not tear out the Black Paladin’s throat for the very lie that he has become, has enough wit about him not to claw into his mind for all the things he does not do. The Black Paladin simply sits there, watching, waiting, and Kuro hates to think that there might be pity in that stare, so he lets his dreams convince him there is hatred burning in those gray eyes instead.

And in those dreams that morph in the hazy mists of his subconscious, becoming monsters fit for the telling like all good stories need, Kuro lets himself pull apart the man that brought him to this, brought him his very existence.

Without Shiro, he would not be.

Without Shiro, he could be something else.

And then, Shiro starts to talk. His voice is calm, his words measured and even. There is a cautious warmth that permeates every syllable, a quiet need to understand. Bit by bit, Kuro begins to answer until the answers come easy, and he finds there’s something almost likable about this man who is neither Champion nor Black Paladin completely, but some human mix of the two.

Kuro comes to learn that Shiro is not him.

The nightmares still persist though, because despite that small flicker of warmth there in their cell now, the pain did not stop. Day in and day out, one or the other of them greet the Arena and its crowd. Night in and night out, Kuro dreams of drowning in a colorless void until there is nothing left of worth in him anymore. His dreams end when he becomes a monster that terrifies even himself.

He thrashes and he cries. He makes confetti of his bed sheets and gouges scars in the walls.

Until one night, something sparks in the nameless black of his dreams. Small and white, it bristles against the lifeless night, puts out tendrils of light that call warmth to his skin and calm to his mind. The monster he is supposed to be shrinks from its glow until it is nothing more than a shallow puddle, so threadbare Kuro can step in it without so much as a splash.

And then sleep comes easy.

Without Shiro, Kuro doesn’t know if he would have ever found peace.

Take a break~

KURO WEEK - DAY 1: Madness

It was madness, that brought him into this world …

It was madness, that kept him standing …

It was madness, that made him survive …

And it was madness, that tore him apart …

Or: How Kuro lost his arm.

When he was created, he was an exact copy of Shiro – not a sample of his DNA, replicated and cultivated, but more like a copy of a photo someone had taken from Shiro in that exact moment. A copy that looked just like him, but somehow darker and more animalistic, twisted and bent to look Galra. To be Galra.

The Druids wanted a brutal, mindless killing machine, after all. So if Kuro would survive being the backup copy and pilot project to the wicked experiments they wouldn’t dare perform on the original, he’d get to be the replacement for their precious Champion in the arena.

But Kuro didn’t want to be anybody’s replacement. He didn’t want to be cut open or prodded at, he didn’t want to be experimented on or changed into a weapon. He liked the way he was now. Strong, but still soft on the edges. There was nothing wrong with that.

Sensing, that their clone experiment was way too human for their liking, the Druids opted for a different strategy.

They’d break him. Crush what little human-stemmed defiance was left inside the clone and make him comply by force.

They’d get what they want…

And so they made him fight in the arena, without weapons, without armor.

And fight he did, tooth and nail…

But he failed, losing his arm in the process. When he came around again, cold, sharp metal pressed into his flesh; wires and circuity replaced what once had been bone and tendons.

In that moment he realized, that if he wanted to live, he’d have to succumb to their madness. Because next time it wouldn’t be his arm, or a leg… They’d let him die and create a new clone. One that would be more submissive. Simple, efficient, … mad.

They’d always get what they want…

So he succumbed.

___

Yaaaay. It’s 12:21AM and it’s the 18th June in my country - so time to upload the first entry for the @kuroweek 2017 :D Omg. It feels so strange, because I drew most of my stuff ages ago. And looking at it now feels kinda weird. But I stil love it anyway. So…uh. Have some background story for my Kuro AU and suffer with me? :3

KURO WEEK - DAY 8 (FREE DAY): Magic.

“Lance - what exactly are you doing?”, Kuro whined, feeling the freshly closed wounds on his arm and back strain with the movement. The Blue Paladin decidedly kept his usually chatty mouth shut. Instead of answering– or even recognizing– Kuro’s defiant tugging, he gently closed his grip around Kuro’s flesh wrist a little tighter and pulled him along.

Only minutes ago they had been at the Castle’s med-bay, tending to his scratches and cuts. Their latest mission had been rough. Although it was supposed to be a simple in and out rescue mission, it had gone awfully wrong. As in, Kuro was happy he’d walked away with his flesh arm and legs still intact and attached to his body. Thankfully, the rest of the group had had more luck.

In hindsight, they should’ve known better. They should’ve been prepared for the whole mission to go sideways with how heavily guarded the planet they’d freed had been. But saving planets and whole star systems from the ones that once had created him was their job now. It was Kuro’s job now. And nothing, not even the most hopeless situation, would keep them from doing just that. Saving lives.

This whole concept, the mere thought of him being one of the good guys, still had the Galra hybrid feeling adrift and somewhat out of place. He hadn’t been created for this. For killing - yes. For fighting, shedding blood and tearing whole fleets apart - definitely. But doing so for a good cause? A higher goal? On behalf of the whole damn universe? Nope. Just- no. Kuro would’ve laughed his ass off at that prospect.

But times change you, a small voice in the back of his head provided.

Averting his gaze from the back of Lance’s head and focusing on their somewhat awkwardly joined hands instead (he was still new to the whole human interaction and physical contact thing, okay?), Kuro couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Not times, he countered. People. People change you.

It took one more turn around a corner for Kuro to know where they were heading. Lance had asked him to close his eyes. What for, Lance  wouldn’t tell. Not even when Kuro stated how he knew they were going to Lance’s room. The Cuban boy wouldn’t have any of it; simply shushed him with a finger to the clone’s dry lips. There had been a gleam in those dark blue eyes. A gleam he couldn’t quite pin down, but made him want to lick that delicate digit pressed to his lips.

“Just do it already!”, Lance huffed and playfully put one hand over Kuro’s yellow eyes, before he opened the door to his quarters. “Or you’ll ruin the surprise.”

Had he been smiling before, he was downright smirking now.

“Lance, I swear to all deities out there, if the surprise is you taking off your clothes right in front of me, I-”

His teasing died right on Kuro’s tongue and came out as a sputtered, choked sound when he felt two warm hands grab for the hem of his own shirt and pull it upwards.

What the-

“Don’t open your eyes”, came Lance’s voice - a bit shaky, but determined nonetheless. “Just-… Take that off, will you? But please be careful with those scratches on your back.”

It took Kuro a second.

Then another two or three.

His mind had gone completely blank, out of order, Kuro.exe had stopped working. His hands however - oh he’d have to have a talk with them in the near future about not acting on their own, pulling his shirt off within a heartbeat, just because a certain Paladin told them to.

Cool air hit his bare skin - thanks for that you little traitors!, he glowered at his hands for a moment, before screwing his eyes shut again, waiting for Lance’s next move. Heartbeat thundering in his ears and filling the silence that hung over them for a few moments before the smaller man carefully took his clawed bionic hand in his own flesh ones and led him to the bed.

Even with his eyes shut, Kuro could still smell it; the way countless sleepovers made his and Lance’s scents mingle and cling to the sheets and pillows, creating a whole new fragrance that filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt before.

It smelled like home.

Home…

Something fuzzy, tingling unfurled in his chest at that.

“Okay, now sit down, please?”, he could hear the rustling of blankets being pulled back. Without giving a second thought to it, Kuro simply purred an affirmative sound and carefully sat down as not to disturb the straining and prickling wounds on his back any further.

When he’d finally arranged himself properly on the soft mattress, the hybrid heaved a sigh.

“And… what now?”, he asked, proud that the anticipation that caused his guts to twitch didn’t seep into his voice.

Around him Lance rummaged through the room, providing him with the softest wool blanket they possessed and finally turning off the main lights.

There was a soft pad of bare feet on the cold metal floor, followed by the now familiar feeling of a slender body’s weight sinking into the mattress behind him.

Lance shifted closer behind him, close enough that Kuro could feel his breath hit the skin between his shoulderblades. Warm hands crept up his sides until they rested on his ribs. Tender. Careful. So, so careful.

“Do you trust me?”

That question, though barely audible, caught Kuro off guard.

“Uh…”, wow, eloquent as always. “Y-yes? Yes, I trust you.”

He still kept his eyes firmly shut, but he didn’t really need his eyes to know what kind of expression flickered over Lance’s face when the smaller man inhaled sharply.

A heartbeat.

Then another.

“Okay.”

The soft hands at Kuro’s ribs gave him a reassuring squeeze, before Lance continued: “If I do something you don’t feel comfortable with… just tell me and I’ll stop. Got that?”

Another purring sound escaped the clone’s throat, followed by a small nod to make sure the other one saw his approval.

“Good…”

Before he could say anything in return, Kuro felt a hesitant pressure at his back. Warm and soft, barely noticeable, but still it felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes flew open. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

The room around them was mostly dark, the only source of light being the warm yellow fairy lights, they had attached to the ceiling right above their shared bed.

There were soft blankets and pillows everywhere, effectively building a nest around the two of them.

And right in the center of all this cozyness there was Lance. Sitting right behind him. Drawing lazy circles into his sides. Pressing his ever so soft lips to the tender, badly scratched skin between his shoulders. Kissing him.

“W-what… what exactly are you doing there?”, the question came out as a high, squeaky sound that made him cringe.

Lance however seemed to have regained some of his confidence over the first contact of skin to skin. For he dragged his lips over the expanse of Kuro’s wide shoulders, right to the next cut, where they lingered, as light as a feather. A shiver ran down his spine, while Lance replied - lips ghosting over his skin with every syllable: “You know, back on earth we have that term ‘to kiss away the pain’. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“O-okay? And is that… some kind of Terran healing technique?”

Trying and failing at fighting off the major blush that set his whole face on fire, he finally gave up and opted for hiding it behind his hands.

Terran healing technique? Seriously?! What the hell, Kuro?

This… this was so surreal.

Kuro felt like combusting would be an acceptable reaction by now.

“No, you silly goose”, came the huffed response. “It’s called magic.”

And with that the Blue Paladins lips continued their journey from cut, to scratch, to bruise, to scar.

Until Kuro’s whole body tingled with the warmth they left in their wake.

Magic…

___

aaaand there we go. My final entry for the @kuroweek 2017. I’ve been longing to upload this for so long now!! Especially because I made my poor bean suffer like hell. He was in dire need of something good and happy. :3 I had so much fun doing this - all of my entries. This week was super awesome! Thanks!! :3

paint by numbers except I’m making the numbers