Latest Posts by maryan-lex - Page 4

⌛️ Speed PAINT: Here | More about VLD Fix it AU: Here

100% MY ART no Edit

Before S8 I imagined Lance in a higher rank. Now, for a better ending, he’s the head of the Galaxy Garrison. He stopped being a teacher when he steps as the principal. But when he has free time, the students can see him observing the classes, giving tips or jocking with them. He’s still the lover boy, but he’s mature and loves his job. And talking about his love life, he’s waiting for the right moment to propose 😉

P.S: It was going to be Shiro instead of Hunk. But I don’t usually draw Hunk and he deserves more love! 💛

Saturn

You taught me the courage of stars before you left. How light carries on endlessly, even after death. With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite. How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

- “Saturn” by Sleeping At Last

“He promised!”, the younger man cried. A heartwrecking, choked sound. “He promised he’d come back!”

Tears seeped through the fabric of Ryou’s shirt and slender fingers dug into his back with a force he’d never thought Keith possessed. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. No support he could’ve offered. He could only wrap his own arms around the smaller figure and hold him.

It had been two months. Two months since Keith fled the constricting walls of the Galaxy Garrison and vanished into the cold desert night. Two months and twenty-two days since Iverson’s spokesman announced the Kerberos mission was a failure. Two months and twenty-nine days since the comms of his brother’s ship went dead.

Noone knew where Keith went that night, except for Ryou. There was only one place in the world Keith would seek out for shelter. It was the only place Takashi had never shared with his twin. Because it was their place. Their shelter. Keith and Shiro. Only them. And Ryou had respected that, content with the fact that his brother had finally found love, even if Takashi himself hadn’t known that back then.

Now that Takashi was gone, he couldn’t help but venture out into the desert more and more often. He felt adrift and numb, left in a state of levitation before reality would finally come crashing in. Always looking for that special place that held so many memories of his brother. The shack.

Packed with supplies - food, water, wool blankets, lamp oil, a notable stock of lighters and all the little things Keith may or may not need by now - Ryou had steered his black hoverbike away from the Garrison this morning and straight into the unforgiving heat of the desert. Always looking for that one spot on the map that still held some of his brother’s very soul. That one damned spot that Ryou knew he should never seek out. For it held the only tangible evidence of his brother’s death. His absence at Keith’s side. And he knew this would break him.

When he finally found the shack, he knew Keith was there before he even saw him in person. The red hoverbike, parked right infront of the small porch, gave him away. Its black twin’s engine purred and finally went silent under Ryou. Before Kerberos, before everything went down the drain, the red bike had belonged to Takashi. A gift, Ryou had made for him. He still remembered the face Taka made when he’d seen his birthday present. Now that day seemed eons away… Surreal and alien like memories of a life that belonged to somebody else.

Keith opened the front door before Ryou could even make it to the porch. And for one moment it seemed like the world had come to a halt, remembering that there was something missing, before it started turning again with cold, regardless indifference. Feigning ignorance towards two now incomplete and broken beings. The universe had greater things to take care of.

Seeing Ryou - the spitting image of his lost brother - must’ve been the last straw. Keith hadn’t cried. Not when Ryou had called him after the ship went silent, not when the announcement came that all crew members were believed to be dead. Not even when he had left the base. He had punched people. He had seethed with rage and he had broken things, but never cried. Now however…

“He promised!”, the younger man cried. A heartwrecking, choked sound. “He promised he’d come back!”

Now, after three months, shock and numbness, disbelief and repression finally faded… Keith cried.

And it broke Ryou…

___

So…. uh… this… this got out of hand? All I wanted was to express my headcanon that Ryou and Keith knew eachother from their time at the Garrison and that Ryou visited Keith after he got expelled. And that they both mourn Shiro together. But somehow I ended up writing way more than I had planned. xD Oh well…

The new trailer for s3 kinda left me adrift because WHAT THE FUCK. Why they keep doing this to me with every new season?! Where’s Shiro? Why’s he not in the trailer?! Why can’t we just… have him back and be save for once? Not knowing if my poor baby survives every new damn season has me stressing like fuck! So I felt like drawing Keith coping with losing Shiro. And then I ended up drawing this and feeling bad for poor Keith! Now I feel like I want to cry my eyes out…

MindControl

Just got home not too long ago, but just skating in with Day #6′s theme based upon the ever lovely and talented @theprojectava  ‘s Kuro story. I hope to have the next one out soonish, though late for the day no less. 

It’s otherworldly. This electric pulse of a presence that ghosts along the periphery of his mind. Small at first, it builds and it builds until it’s not just an inconsistent buzzing at the back of his skull but a defined being.

Another mind spilling into his, and for a moment, Kuro thinks he has finally lost. This is the crack the Druids put inside of him, and instead of things spilling out, they’re tumbling in, trying to claim whatever they can of him. Impulse tells him to fight it.

Resist. Resist. Resist.

He’s isn’t broken yet.

Something else whispers to him of patience. It tells him this is not the same black that the Druids try to infuse him with. Neither callous nor cold, it offers a warmth, something innate to its very being. It flickers white then red, then black marbles throughout both hues until it’s burning within the back of his mind.

Persistent.

It wants something of him, something he thinks he can give and willingly at that. So, Kuro reaches out to it. He sets his hands upon that glowing orb, feels the heat beneath his fingertips, making his blood sing with life. It tells him he is his own entity, that the heart within his chest is his own and that it aches with concern for the one it had been modeled after.

The ones calling out to him ache just as much.

No.

More.

The feelings that steep into his bloodstream carry a desperation far deeper than anything Kuro has ever known for the man called Takashi. It’s a desperation born of intimacy, of hearts bound more closely to Shiro’s than Kuro could have ever claimed, and somehow, it’s that very thought that brings him to inviting them inside of all that he is. Because Kuro wants to know that too, wants to know what could bring someone - or someones - to the brink of hell itself for a man who had been built upon a lie.

Kuro wants to know what makes someone want to thread their lives together with another being so much they would risk everything for him.

So, he lets him in, the one whose voice called out the loudest inside of his mind. He gives him control, and he watches as Shiro stirs in response, called back from the remorseless depths of his own mind. And it sparks a quiet curiosity within himself, to see how someone can respond to a simple change, how someone can know the difference from one being to another just because of the energy they give off.

As if there’s a frequency inside of every heart, and Kuro’s has now magically aligned to another, and he’s watching as it matches Shiro’s, as it calls him home.

And from the observation deck of his own mind, he thinks yet again of how Shiro fought in the Arena. Because this, right here, is everything the man had been fighting for.

He thinks that a human heart isn’t such a bad thing to be beating within his chest.

Magic

A little late, but I’m officially in love with these two, and I cannot scream enough at @theprojectava for all the amazingness of the stories she has woven for Kuro here during this week! They have been absolutely wonderful and I hope everyone has loved them as much as I have for they are beyond deserving of that!

Magic happens when a smile spins more hope than starlight.

Magic forms when a hand reaches out and calls your soul back to the home it never thought it had.

Magic burns warm beneath skin and puts a tumble in your blood flow, so much that your heart has to race just to catch up with the breath trying to fill your lungs.

It’s that odd flash of feeling lighting up your brain and sinking into your cells, reminding you that there is infinitely more to all that you are than the world you’ve known has ever told you could be.

Kuro doesn’t know what sort of tricks Lance is pulling, but he knows that there is something unearthly in the way Lance moves against him. His whole body has gone stiff, prepared for war though Kuro doesn’t know against who or what exactly. But, the anticipation is there, putting steel into his muscles and reminding him that so rarely is there a thing called peace, even during his downtime. He hasn’t gotten used to the Castle just yet in that regard, still waits for the time when pain will creep into his sleep and the nightmares will infuse their logic into his dreams until he can’t tell them apart any longer.

He still doesn’t know what it means to fight for the greater good, only that fighting is what he had been made for, and in fighting, comes injury and loss. He waits for both like a prisoner the jury’s verdict over the crimes against his own humanity.

How does one salvage their heart from themselves?

Magic.

His shoulders are the first to give up their tension, relief cascading down his limbs like a river seeking its resting place in the sea. Bit by bit, he falls into silence and marvels at the way a human touch can unravel the hurt and the expectations held by his body. Lance’s fingers trace along the edges of a scar, and while Kuro could tell him the story of that particular one, Lance doesn’t ask. He simply lets his fingertips walk the outline of it as if coming to know its shape and the story it held by touch alone. The same way one can look at a crater gouged into the earth, and know, without hearing its tale, that something of a small disaster took place here. It left its mark, and still the world continues to move, still a heart continues to beat.

Life is tenacious if nothing else.

As Lance slides his hands around to his stomach, Kuro feels the tension threaten again, rising dark as shadows at sunset, only to find it reduced beneath Lance’s laughter. The sound is soul-saving. It’s the hand pulling him to shore after months of near-drowning in the inky seas he called himself. Lance’s laugh, warm and light against his shoulder, reminds Kuro that there is something solid of himself worth building a future upon.

Reaching down, he slides his hand along Lance’s, slowly sinks his fingers into the space between the Blue Paladin’s.

Come home shouldn’t be this easy, but with Lance, somehow it is.

And as Lance’s lips continue to drift along his skin, luring the pain from body and thought alike, Kuro starts to wonder where the magic really is.

⌛️ Speed PAINT: Here | More about VLD Fix it AU: Here

Two years after the war, Hunk traveled through the space to expand his culinary skills. At the same time, he worked with Shiro as a diplomatic at the Atlas. Both played a big part to motivated other planets to join the Galactic Coalition.

Years later, he became Earth’s Ambassador.  Elected for his political skills and for his cultural knowledge of various species in the universe.

He didn’t stop cooking. Even with his busy schedule as Ambassador, he opened a gourmet restaurant. Famous for his delicious recipes from around the universe.

Kuro (Dark!Shiro) Week!

We are so very happy to bring to you Kuro Week 2017! A week dedicated to our lovely dark Shiro~ This event will take place June 18th-25th with a bonus day ;B 

For those of you who don’t know how Voltron weeks work: There is a prompt/theme for each day an you guys create content related to these themes and post them in the tag #kuroweek2k17 where we will reblog them onto this blog for all to see and enjoy! 

Prompts/Themes:

Day 1 (June 18th) - Madness

Day 2 (June 19th) - Identity/Memory

Day 3 (June 20th) - Reflection/Mirror

Day 4 (June 21th) - Betrayal/Deception

Day 5 (June 22th) - NIghtmares

Day 6 (June 23th) - Mind control

Day 7 (June 24th) - Scars/Injury

Bonus Day! (June 25th) - Free Day!

Rules: 

You can make your content as dark or as lighthearted as you wish, feel free to interpret the themes as you want!

However you must tag any NSFW and triggering material (blood, abuse, non/dub con, etc.)  List of triggers here.

We will also be tagging the triggers as we reblog them. So feel free to talk to us about any triggers you would like to be tagged! List of triggers here.

We accept any content: art, fics, drabbles, edits, playlists, headcanons, videos, cosplay, and anything else you can whip up that is related to the themes!

AUs and ships are accepted! (Just make sure that they center around Kuro)

Tag all works as #kuroweek2k17 or tag us!

Submissions are allowed, but we strongly encourage you to post it yourself and tag it! So if anything were to happen to this blog all your work wouldn’t be lost. (Submissions will open June 3rd)

No reposts will be accepted.

And lastly no hate of any sort will be tolerated, all hate will be deleted and ignored. Just be nice jeez.

Any questions? Don’t be afraid to shoot us an ask or dm us! Its never a bother and we’d love to hear from you :D

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 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

Madness

So, @theprojectava drew the beginnings of her fantastic Kuro and like most things I see of hers, I itch to write something. SO - in honor of Kuro Week, a short little piece spun out of her description and drawing! 

There was method, and there was madness. Kuro knew the Druids were capable of both, had experienced it himself through countless excursions into the Arena, under numerous torments all excused in the name of science and learning.

He would be a crowning achievement. A hero, a thing to be feared and rightly so.

Ah, but he wasn’t Kuro then. He was Zero, a starting place, a nothing and a beginning. He was the launching point for a counter-resistance. He would be everything the Black Paladin was not, and in that he was supposed to be better. But how did a nameless experiment prove itself more than the original?

A name was something that grounded. It gave meaning. It defined an existence.

And he certainly existed. You had to be alive to feel the pain, and you had to have a heart to know that some of this was wrong. Very wrong.

So, how did he define himself?

He knew he didn’t want this. He knew he wasn’t Shiroor Champion, that he wasn’t better because an entity in and of itself could not be out-made as it was the only one of its kind. He knew you could share blood and genetics, but a heart and mind were something all one’s own. And he didn’t want the Druids to suffocate either of those, for they were his, and they told him he was better than this.

Better than the forced fights in the Arena. Better than a mechanical arm. Better than the endless hours of torture on that cold metal slab of a table. Better than the monster they told him he needed to be because that somehow made him better than a champion.

The Druids tried to define him by their methods, trying to carve him out of pain and slaughtering his fears, trying to fortify him with a killer’s finely honed instincts. They tried to make him something lesser while claiming he would be greater. And he may not have known much, but he knew this was a lie.

Their words sat like snakes in the very core of his being, writhing over one another and threatening to strike if he made one false step, let slip one too-human word.

So, he learned.

He became ruthless, digging his hands into the worst of all he ever imagined he could be. He tore through opponents, standing in the crimson of desired victory, and held silent at the knives slipping beneath his skin and the way his veins would sing with fire. The fear of death slowly drained from his eyes as they spoke of him, of the ways to make him better, of how best to strip the human from his heart.

He embraced madness, wore it like a second skin until the Druids stopping whispering malcontent and started to smile. And as their words fell to quiet murmurs, just enough to remind, he knew that he could play this role, bit by bit letting the blood run out on his humanity with every win in the Arena.

Bit by bit building a wall of iron around his heart.

He was zero, a nothing and a somebody.

KURO WEEK - DAY 2: Identity

“And I cannot help but wonder,

where does ‘he’ end

and where do ‘I’ begin?”

Even after their escape, Kuro still felt the cold pressure on his back – the ever watching eyes of the Druids. Always waiting, always anticipating his next move to be a failure. Always looking for a reason to get to him. To hurt him and tell him how he needed to become the Champion – Shiro. Over and over again. Until he would believe it. Until he would embrace the idea of losing himself to the arena, and become their greatest weapon.

He could still hear them comparing him to his original sometimes. He knew he was an individual personality. He had to be. And still, after all this time, Kuro was at a loss.

He still wondered, what was real, and what not. What was him and what was Shiro? Which traits, which quirks, which likes and dislikes were exclusively Kuro? And which ones were copied from the original? Which facets of his personality were his? Which ones were only a mere shadow of a man he loathed and loved at the same time?

He was at a loss.

After all this time, Kuro still wondered, where Shiro ended

and where he began.

___

Okay, so my poor baby sometimes wonders if he’s a real, individual person or if his mind, too, is nothing but a copy. Second entry for the @kuroweek 2017 :3

KURO WEEK - DAY 3: Mirror / Reflection

He hated his reflection. So much.

For it was the only tangible evidence of his shortcomings.

He would never be the Champion. He would never be Shiro. He would never fight like the gladiator he’d seen on screen so many times. Violent. Vicious. And with cruel precision. No signs of remorse on the hard lines of his face.

There had been times when he’d wished he could be like that, just to make the feeling of dread and terror stop. Some nights he had wished he could be as cold and indifferent as his original. So nothing would get to him. None of the things, they made him endure in the arena, would leave his mind broken in their wake, ever again.

He wanted to be like the Champion.

… wrong…

He wanted to BE the Champion.

So Kuro made sure he’d become the Champion.

Body and soul…

He broke the mirror in his cell.

He took a shard and looked – really looked – at himself, his reflection staring back at him through shattered glass. There was fear in his eyes. He let his gaze linger for a moment, taking in the most prominent indication that he was not the Champion. His eyes and his scars.

His scars…

They’d been there since the day he’d opened his eyes to this world. They weren’t his, though. For all he knew, they were Shiro’s. The fading lines on his own skin were mere echos, fading copies of wounds the Champion had received during his fights. They were signs of victory, signs of survival and power. But they weren’t his. He hadn’t bled for them.

To become the Champion he’d have to endure his own pain, get his own scars.

He’d become the Champion. He had to.

Body and soul…

And he’d start with the body, deepening the almost faded scars littering his pale skin. For now, they were the Champion’s – but he’d make them HIS.

___

Okay, so, uh… I have a feeling, that my entries for the @kuroweek turned out much darker than I expected? o_o But I kinda like it that way? Because it gives me the opportunity to dive into different aspects of my precious bean’s personality and past. He’s more than just the funny, little fool that likes to give Shiro shit. But he has suffered, too. He has struggled to finally come to terms with himself and the circumstances of his existence. And most important: He has learned to recognize himself as an indivual person - and to love himself for the way he differs from Shiro. ♥ …But for now we’ll stick to the angsty stuff. :3

Betrayal

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sz4dPa

by rinthegreat

He’d been so gentle – as if he were afraid one wrong move would break Lance. Lance can’t see any of that gentleness now.

——–

Kuro Week 2017 Day 4: Betrayal

Words: 1578, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Lance (Voltron), Kuro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)

Relationships: Kuro/Lance (Voltron), Luro - Relationship, Lance & Shiro (Voltron), Shieth if you squint

Additional Tags: Violence, not graphic imo though, Betrayal, Major Character Injury, Blood, Mild Dissociation

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sz4dPa

Betrayal

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sz4dPa

by rinthegreat

He’d been so gentle – as if he were afraid one wrong move would break Lance. Lance can’t see any of that gentleness now.

——–

Kuro Week 2017 Day 4: Betrayal

Words: 1578, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Lance (Voltron), Kuro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)

Relationships: Kuro/Lance (Voltron), Luro - Relationship, Lance & Shiro (Voltron), Shieth if you squint

Additional Tags: Violence, not graphic imo though, Betrayal, Major Character Injury, Blood, Mild Dissociation

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sz4dPa

KURO WEEK - DAY 4: Betrayal

“I couldn’t do it, you know…”

The Galra-hybrid looked at the glowing star maps and swirling galaxies surrounding them. One of his clawed metal fingers absently brushed against one of the floating holograms, that filled the darkened room. Too absently for Lance’s liking.

“Do what?”

“I couldn’t fight them without mercy, like he did.

I couldn’t even bring myself to beat someone up, without feeling guilty afterwards.”

A huff of laughter escaped Kuro. A humorless, dry little sound, that sent chills down the Blue Paladin’s spine.

“What a pathetic Champion I would’ve been… Bet that wasn’t what they had in mind when they created me.”

“Uh… Kuro? You do realize, that having a conscience is a good thing, right?”

“I know, I know”, Kuro sighed. “But back then everything was… different. In reverse. Upside down. Back then, being good was a weakess.”

Without realizing it, he’d leaned closer to Lance, seeking out the comfort of another body’s warmth. He could feel it radiate through layers of clothes, mingling with his own warmth. God, back then, during his time with the Druids, he hadn’t had much contact to others… At least not the well-meant kind of contact. And he hadn’t known he’d missed it, until he had his first taste of a hug.

Taking a deep breath, he cherished the feeling of the other man’s side against his own, before he continued: “And I never knew why I was so weak…

I never knew why I was this way, when the man I was copied from, seemed so cruel.

… Until I saw him in person. Right after Zarkon was defeated and Shiro was captured again. I saw him. I saw Shiro – the Champion.”

A warm, supporting hand crept up his back, stroking carefully over the soft, thin fabric of his jumpsuit. No doubt feeling the criss-crossing lines littering the skin underneath.

“And suddenly I knew what drove him to stay alive in the arena.

Suddenly I realized, that all his cruelty and blood-thirst were nothing but a facade. A show to hide the softness and fragility of his all too human heart.

I realized, that my own softness and caring, my own inability to be the monster they wanted as their Champion, all those ‘weak’ emotions I thought were my own wrong-doing-… I-… I realized they actually came from him.

That same stupidly good, human heart beats inside my chest.

He’s always been like this, so how could I be anything else?”

Kuro felt hot tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t control himself any longer. Too many things had happened. And finally, finally, someone listened. Finally someone cared.

“He was the reason I was this way… Everything I ever believed to be true… was a lie… The Champion was a lie.

and I’ve never felt more betrayed in my whole life.”

Okay so… Kuro has a sad? But this time he isn’t alone. :3 I’m so sorry I’m writing all this sad stuff, but trust me, it’s getting better with every day of the @kuroweek

KURO WEEK - DAY 4: Betrayal

“I couldn’t do it, you know…”

The Galra-hybrid looked at the glowing star maps and swirling galaxies surrounding them. One of his clawed metal fingers absently brushed against one of the floating holograms, that filled the darkened room. Too absently for Lance’s liking.

“Do what?”

“I couldn’t fight them without mercy, like he did.

I couldn’t even bring myself to beat someone up, without feeling guilty afterwards.”

A huff of laughter escaped Kuro. A humorless, dry little sound, that sent chills down the Blue Paladin’s spine.

“What a pathetic Champion I would’ve been… Bet that wasn’t what they had in mind when they created me.”

“Uh… Kuro? You do realize, that having a conscience is a good thing, right?”

“I know, I know”, Kuro sighed. “But back then everything was… different. In reverse. Upside down. Back then, being good was a weakess.”

Without realizing it, he’d leaned closer to Lance, seeking out the comfort of another body’s warmth. He could feel it radiate through layers of clothes, mingling with his own warmth. God, back then, during his time with the Druids, he hadn’t had much contact to others… At least not the well-meant kind of contact. And he hadn’t known he’d missed it, until he had his first taste of a hug.

Taking a deep breath, he cherished the feeling of the other man’s side against his own, before he continued: “And I never knew why I was so weak…

I never knew why I was this way, when the man I was copied from, seemed so cruel.

… Until I saw him in person. Right after Zarkon was defeated and Shiro was captured again. I saw him. I saw Shiro – the Champion.”

A warm, supporting hand crept up his back, stroking carefully over the soft, thin fabric of his jumpsuit. No doubt feeling the criss-crossing lines littering the skin underneath.

“And suddenly I knew what drove him to stay alive in the arena.

Suddenly I realized, that all his cruelty and blood-thirst were nothing but a facade. A show to hide the softness and fragility of his all too human heart.

I realized, that my own softness and caring, my own inability to be the monster they wanted as their Champion, all those ‘weak’ emotions I thought were my own wrong-doing-… I-… I realized they actually came from him.

That same stupidly good, human heart beats inside my chest.

He’s always been like this, so how could I be anything else?”

Kuro felt hot tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t control himself any longer. Too many things had happened. And finally, finally, someone listened. Finally someone cared.

“He was the reason I was this way… Everything I ever believed to be true… was a lie… The Champion was a lie.

and I’ve never felt more betrayed in my whole life.”

Okay so… Kuro has a sad? But this time he isn’t alone. :3 I’m so sorry I’m writing all this sad stuff, but trust me, it’s getting better with every day of the @kuroweek

Betrayal

Day #4 and can I say @theprojectava broke my heart with this one completely? I feel so much for Kuro, and all that he’s struggled with, and then Lance there…It’s all so good.

Kuro knew warmth the same way he came to know betrayal, as that intimate brush of a blade against his heart. When he was in the Arena, there was no denying that every point of contact with another body sent a flourishing of heat beneath his palm, his knuckles, every available swath of skin that could sweat and trickle with blood. Warmth was the way a body bled, including his own.

It was the distinct difference between the living and the not-so-alive.

Kuro knew warmth because it drained out of challengers and the fear-drowned just like the light in their eyes at the end of every match. Warmth faded and faded until there was nothing left but the cold reminder of everything that had once been. He felt it in the smooth lines of the bars that kept him caged, the ones he wanted to break; he felt it in the hopes that kept him collared, telling him there was a heart still beating in his chest.

Mostly, Kuro felt it in the way he failed everyone, including himself. Warmth was everything he couldn’t have because he simply wasn’t good enough to hold it.

Which is what made that first moment he had stood before Lance so painful. Not the very first moment. No, the first real moment, the one where he was acknowledged as something far beyond Shiro and this notion of Champion he had tried to cling to like a sinner to redemption.

But his faith in that was dying.

He could not be the Champion because the Champion he knew never existed. Instead, he was left looking at the remnants of a man who was just that - a man, defined by his own humanity, the very thing he could not shed.

Everything he had been told held weight, this idea of a life he had to measure up to and then exceed? All of it was no more tangible than smoke and dreams. Kuro could wave his fingers right through them and poof! they’d be gone, which left him with a handful of nothing.

Kuro knew the potential of betrayal. He just never expected it to come from his own constructs. Even if those thoughts had been built up around him like Babylonian skyscrapers, in the end, they could only to be devastated by Truth. It left him with a world of rubble to navigate in search of himself. A thousand different ideas, a thousand different words to try to define himself again.

But there was warmth against his shoulder. It was sliding up his back in a way that didn’t bring pain like his body expected it would. Lance’s fingers were gentle as they glided across fabric and scars alike, and it put a different sort of pain inside of him.

A different sort of betrayal.

It was the kind of betrayal that was broken open over his own expectations. Where memory told him pain would spark, there was only kindness woven beneath fingertips. Where he thought to bleed, there came only a quiet understanding to mend his heart. And when weakness reared up yet again, stinging at his eyes, Kuro found the warmth of a body wrapping itself around him, and for the first time, he began to consider the worth of a human heart.

Not Shiro’s, but his own.

KURO WEEK - DAY 5: Nightmares

Eeeh… so this is kinda long. But I loved writing it. Also: it’s from Shiro’s POV. So… have this:

Monsters don’t have nightmares…

It took everything in him not to scream. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Wouldn’t let them know how afraid he really was.

No…

He had survived this once… He would do it again. Because now he knew how the cruel machinery of the arena worked, relentless and precise like clockwork. He knew what the Druids would do to him. He knew the rules.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And rule number one was to never show your fear.

Shiro could do this, he would survive and find his way back home. Home… wherever that was. A small, fragile smile crept onto his face. Of course he knew where home was. It was somewhere among the stars… Sitting in a giant robot lion and hunting every single Galra cruiser down in order to find him. He would survive this… for now there was Keith, burning with the force of a thousand suns, fiery red and blazing with anger. He had seen glimpses of what the Red Paladin was capable of… This man would tear the universe apart and burn the whole Empire to ashes, if that’s what it took to get Shiro back.

For now he would stick to the rules and buy his friends as much time as possible to come and find him. Him and-

Movement from the shadows caught his attention, followed by a soft sob. If it hadn’t been so eerily quiet in their cell, he might’ve missed it. Shiro froze at the sound, eyes trained on the the figure that laid curled up on one of the cots.

The first time he’d seen him, Shiro had actually lost it. He still had no idea where he came from – it didn’t really matter anyway. Because he was there nonetheless. He existed. He breathed. There was a soul in his yellow eyes, when he gave Shiro that look. That look of utter betrayal, like he’d hoped for something more, something that was definitely not a beaten and bruised Shiro.

He couldn’t really remember when or how the guards had maneuvered him into the same cell he occupied. At some point he’d simply checked out, mind going blank and numb, because it was all too much.

The Druids had taken his arm, stripped him off any right he thought he had, put him through fights against aliens twice his size… but THIS. This had been the last straw.

It was the day he met his clone, that Shiro actually cried for the first time in ages. He cried for himself. It was the same day he realized, that this would never end. They’d always find a way to break him, to bend and twist him, until his mind turned into something ugly. The evidence, the actual personification of their madness driven efforts, sat right in front of him and stared at him with piercing yellow eyes.

He had no idea how long they’d stayed like this. Huddled against opposite walls of the same cell and staring off into nothingness, until one of them had started talking. It had been awkward, looking at his own face and listening to his own voice, somewhat sounding off. More guttural. Some words even sounded a little…purred? It was almost off-putting to see his own face staring back at him and moving with expressions that weren’t his. It felt like watching yourself in a mirror, but your reflection suddenly stops moving along with you. Familiar features turned into something otherworldly, because someone else controlled them and poured their very soul into every twitch and pull of muscle.

They’d created a whole new being. The clone might’ve looked like Shiro, but under their shared features, there was a different person. Individual. Original. And so, so human. He even had a name.

Kuro.

How fitting, Shiro had thought at first. But he’d come to realize quite fast, that Kuro wasn’t the dark, evil minded counterpart he’d expected to hide behind that name.

In fact, the more they talked, the more Shiro got the impression, that their Galra-hybrid was more human than most people Shiro had met back on earth.

He had suffered. He had seen horrible things, survived even worse. He’d been ripped open and put back together, just to be torn apart again. Some days he would find the strengh to laugh at all of this… And some days he would break under the pressure and fear. Like any human being would do.

Days had passed. It was easy - too easy - to believe that Kuro was anything but a monster. Especially so, after he’d been carried back into their cell, right after one particular hard fight. Kuro had won, of course… But was the damage his body and mind had taken really worth it?

Seeing him like this morphed repulsion and mistrust first into pity, then into something else. Something Shiro didn’t really want to think about. It felt way too close to compassion.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And sticking to the rules meant no sympathy for Galra-clones.

In the end the universe wouldn’t have any of it.

Another sob brought him back to reality. It tore through the silence that hung between them. As far as he could tell, Kuro was still asleep on his small cot, but he thrashed wildly against invisible enemies and restraints. Maybe he relived his latest fight? His latest torture? Tears glistened in the dim purple lights.

In this moment he looked almost completely human… Vulnerable and scared and just so much younger.

Shiros throat went dry. Kuro wasn’t a monster… never had been… And that tore at his heart.

Despite what the Druids wanted him to be, Kuro was anything but a monster.

Without thinking, Shiro stood up from where he sat, back against the wall, and silently made his way towards the clone. Said clone was a mess; twitching and and clawing at the nightmares that plagued him.

Another whimper. Small and heartbreaking. He couldn’t take it.

Shiro couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, trying to soothe Kuro with a warm hand on his shoulder. But it wasn’t enough to make the nightmares stop…

Fuck the rules.

Soon he found himself huddled up on the small cot next to the other man, arms wrapped around shaking shoulders and metal fingers stroking carefully over a tense back. There were scars on his back. So. So many… Shiro didn’t even want to know what had caused these scars. Or the nightmares.

This man was definitely no monster.

Because monsters

didn’t have nightmares…

___

I know I promised there will be a happy ending to my Kuro week… But for now… suffer with me? @kuroweek

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.

KURO WEEK - DAY 6: Mind Control

So… this turned out to be quite long again, but I don’t care. I had so much fun doing this :3

Kuro

Pressure. There had been pressure at the back of his head lately. It felt like something was pushing against his mind, trying to coax Kuro into letting it in.

At first he’d thought this was another terrible experiment, another sick joke the Druids were pulling to make him break and give up what little humanity he’d regained since Shiro was there with him. Their mind-tricks and brainwashing methods were the worst ones. But that idea was discarded quickly…  Because it didn’t feel cruel or malicious. It didn’t feel as cold and intrusive as Druid magic would. It was just… there. Warm and constant, but never demanding.

Shiro felt it to. If his searching gaze and withdrawn behaviour was anything to go by. Sometimes Kuro swore he saw something like recognition flit over those painfully familiar features. But as fast as it came, it faded again. Weighed down by the pure awareness of just where they were.

Kuro never asked about it.

Until that one day… the day the Druids let them see their newest creation.

___

 Keith

There was nothing he could do but wait. And that’s exactly what he did. Everyday, every single minute he didn’t spend on saving planet after planet - saving lives. Every. Fucking. Second.

He’d sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Some days he went mad with impatience. He had a feeling that time was running out for both of them, him and Shiro. And all he could do was sit in Black’s cockpit and concentrate. On what? He had no idea. It hadn’t been his idea in the first place. But Black had insisted on trying to get a hold of Shiro through their bond.

But sitting in his place, in his lion, playing his role as the leader of Voltron didn’t help Keith concentrate at all. It just made him more restless.

Still, Black insisted. Because she loved Shiro… And she knew Keith did, too. She had known it all along.

So they both sat in the Black Lion’s hangar and listened; reached out into the endless nothingness of space, trying to feel the familiar warmth of the Black Paladin’s soul. Keith had no idea how this was supposed to work - but he guessed it had something to do with Lion magic. Black had tried to explain it to him once… she had tried to explain that she, because of her own bond with Shiro, worked like an amplifier to the connection Keith and Shiro shared. She even tried to tell him something about two beings made from the same quintessence and fate and all that stuff, but Keith hadn’t even been listening at that point. All he knew was, that he wanted Shiro back. And he would do anything to find him.

The moment it had worked, the moment he felt the other Paladin’s presence emerge from the darkest depth of the universe, had him almost fainting with relief and joy. Shiro was alive. Above all the white noise and static of space, Keith could still feel him, like a signature his soul had left behind, and hold onto that. He was alive. And Keith would find him.

All he had to do was work with Black to establish a proper connection to Shiro, to get a grasp on him, and then find out where he was.

Well… easier said than done.

For there was something else. Something that distracted Keith time and time again. There was a presence, another signature the Black Lion could follow - could connect to in a way. It looked - or rather felt - like a faded, almost washed-out version of Shiro’s soul. If he’d have to describe it, he’d say it felt like looking at two different hues of the same color.

Keith didn’t pay much attention to it…

Until the day Shiro’s signature went silent. Still there, but unresponsive and still. Shutting them out. The only thing Keith could definitely feel was dread

That’s when he knew their time was up.

___

Kuro

They’d let them see. Because they knew how much it would affect Shiro. They knew it would break him. Make him give up all hope.

The Druids had showed them their newest monster. A giant made of steel and wires. Just for Shiro. This would be his final transformation. He’d become machinery - heart and soul. A robeast.

It had been his very first time witnessing a panic attack from up close… and it almost choked Kuro himself. There was just so much a human being could take. And Shiro had reached a point where he could take no more. All Kuro could see in the other man’s face was fear. Pure, all-consuming fear.

He’d die. He’d die. He’d die. HE’D DIE. Shiro would die. He knew it.

All Kuro could do was sit and watch with growing concern for his new-found friend. What should he do? How could he help Shiro? How could they get out of this alive?

He needed to save Shiro from this kind of fate. Because Shiro deserved it. He deserved to live.

During their shared time in captivity, the Galra-hybrid had grown quite fond of the not-so-monstrous Champion. Shiro was… well. Shiro was the closest thing Kuro had to family. There HAD to be a way for them to get out of this.

Shiro sat, huddled up into the far corner of their cell, shivering and breathing way too fast for Kuro’s liking. No words had been spoken since they’d seen the robeast in its hangar. Shiro had been eerily silent the whole trip back to their cell.

Come on, come ON!, he thought, wracking his brain for a solution. For a way out. There has to be something. Just SOMETHING!

Kuro didn’t notice the pressure in the back of his head growing… until it was too late.

Something pulled at the seams of his mind, something big and dark - but not evil. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the presence embrace him, encircle him with warm darkness.

Let me in.

… what?

Let me in, a deep voice repeated. He’d never heard it before… But still it sounded… familiar. Warm and thick like honey. He couldn’t tell whether it was a woman or a man speaking. It sounded…beyond physical manifestation; beyond the universe itself.

We will help you.

Alright, Kuro thought, now wasn’t the time to talk to voices inside your head. He had to find a way out of here. It was only a tad bit alarming, that voices, no one else seemed to hear, didn’t really faze him anymore. There had been worse, he told himself.

Who was “we” anyway?

Me and Keith, the voice provided.

Wait a second…. Keith? THE Keith? As in “Red Paladin Keith”? Keith from Earth? The Keith Shiro wouldn’t stop talking about?

The presence gave an affirming nudge, because yes, they were talking about the same person. Holy shit.

But why? How? He had so many questions. But for now only one was important:

Can you get us out of here?

A heartbeat.

Then another.

… Yes.

Relief flooded his very being. Good. This was- good. But they didn’t have much time. They had no idea when the guards would come to take Shiro. It could be any moment now.

You’ll need to hurry, Kuro thought, trying to dig everything he’d seen in that hangar up from his mind. You need to-

We know. We’re already on our way.

We’ll try to get your way, then.

Can you do us a favor, first?

Kuro hesitated. The soft pressure at the back of his head had spread over the past few minutes. Whatever they were, whatever kind of magical shit their saviors-to-be were pulling… It had spread over his body. Like something tried to squeeze into his body, beside his own mind.

What kind of favor?

Let him talk to Shiro.

Him? Keith?

Yes.

How?

You’ll see.

I don’t think I-

Please.

… This was crazy. This was so, so crazy. But was there anything left for him to lose? If this was a trap, would it really matter? Taking a look at Shiro, who still sat on the ground, shaking like a leaf and staring absently ahead without really seeing, Kuro decided it was worth a shot. Or his mind, to be more precise.

Fine.

He hadn’t finished that thought, when it already hit him. Red hot and blazing like a dying star; like a burning arrow shot right through his very core. Melting him, burning him… filling up the frayed ends of his mind, where the arena and the labs had taken pieces of him. Until he was whole again. Better than whole. He was more.

He could feel the blazing presence, the very soul of the Red Paladin melt into him and take control of what was his. His thoughts, his feelings, his body. And Kuro let him.

For he could feel everything the Paladin poured into his being. Desperation, sorrow, longing, love. A love that burned brighter than a supernova. Kuro could feel it sear his chest, his throat, his mouth on its way up. He could feel it pressing against his jaws, forcing them to open; his mind already giving the order to speak - without him realizing it. His mind wasn’t his anymore. But he didn’t care.

“S-Shiro?”, even his voice sounded off. A bit high-pitched, less guttural. “Shiro? Are you there?”

The former Champion froze. Wide eyes darted towards him, disbelieve written all over his face. It took him a few seconds to realize what - or better who- he’d just heard. Kuro could tell the exact moment it hit him.

“…. Keith?”

“Yeah”, the strange voice spoke again. The words felt fuzzy and alien on his tongue. “We’re on our way. Just hang on.”

___

Yay I finall made it :D @kuroweek sorry for the delay!

KURO WEEK - DAY 7: Scars

One day, while lounging in one of the observation decks, Lance had asked him about his scars.

Not the “what happened?” kind of question one would expect. No, Lance had known better than to ask this particular question. It was quite obvious what had caused most of Kuro’s scars.

Instead he asked: “Do they still hurt?”

That left Kuro pretty much at a loss of what to answer. Because… what was that supposed to mean? What was the Blue Paladin really aiming at?

It had taken longer than he’d ever admit to understand the true meaning of what Lance wanted to know. And when he did, he was even more confused. Because no one had ever cared about Kuro’s well-being, physically and mentally alike. He’d been put trough fights over and over again. No one had cared for the countless cuts and bruises, the abrasions and bite wounds. He’d been used as a vessel for the Black Lion and the Red Paladin. It helped them to escape in the end… But he’d felt more lost and torn than ever, afterwards. He’d felt raw and so alone. That feeling had only grown worse, when they’d returned to his new home – the Castle of Lions. The Princess, as well as the other Paladins had been wary of him. No one trusted him at first, no one really wanted him to even be on that damned ship. Well, except Shiro of course. And Keith and Lance, who’d found and rescued them.

No one really seemed to care that all this left scars on Kuro, that ran deeper than just skin and muscle. No one seemed to acknowledge, that he was human. That he was a living being that could suffer and hurt in more than one way. Or maybe they were just too busy tending to their own wounds…

Until now.

And here he was, trying to put into words what it really meant, to feel all of this; to laugh and be silly, but at the same time still be aware of the wounds that no scar tissue in the world could fix.

Well, to be honest, Kuro had never been good with words. So he opted for a “Sometimes” and a half-hearted shrug - for good measure. He’d seen Shiro do this and it seemed to work, at least for Keith.

“Mhm”, Lance, on the other hand, didn’t seem all that convinced. “They look different from Shiro’s.”

That was a statement. And one Kuro hadn’t expected. What he hadn’t expected either, was the stinging sensation that came with it. Like ice shards being pushed into his chest, it cut something inside of him open.

“That’s true….”, he agreed. “They do look different.”

“Why?”

It seemed like Lance had picked up on the sudden change of mood. But he asked anyway, because he knew this was something, that had been eating on the Galra-hybrid ever since he had set foot on the Castleship. And if he didn’t talk about it now, it would eat him up one day.

At least it was Lance who asked him. He liked the Blue Paladin. A lot.

“Well”, Kuro heaved a sigh. No turning back now. “You know, I like to believe that scars are like letters on a screen. They can tell stories about us like nothing else can.”

“Stories?”

Lance didn’t take his eyes off the beauty that unfolded right in front of them. Gas clouds and foreign constellations lit up the observation window. A whirlwind of color and light that bloomed like flowers in a sea of darkness and emptiness. But the way the other man leaned closer indicated he was listening intently.

“Yes”, he continued. “Shiro’s scars for example. They tell stories of battles fought well, of victories and courage… The will to live. And above all… They write ‘love’ all over him. In every possible way. Because everything he did, every time he killed, every time he survived… he did it in the name of love. He did it for Keith, for you, for his home planet. He did it for himself as well as for the whole universe.”

A moment of silence followed his little speech.

“And… what about your scars? What kind of story are they telling?”

Kuro thought back to when he’d cut himself with a shard of glass, in order to become more like the Champion. He thought back to every single scar he gained as a trophy, a sign of victory and strength, throughout his time in the arena. And to all the scars he’d gained in the labs… as punishment for simply not being enough.

“… Failure.”

“What?”

“They tell stories of failure. Because all I ever fought for, was an illusion. A lie. I always fought to become something I’m not. Something I’ll never be. And I failed… over and over again.”

__

Okay, okay, okay. I swear, this is the last time my poor bean has a sad. I promise, the last day of @kuroweek will be way happier. :3

Also: tomorrow is kind of a continuation to this one. So prepare for some luro content ♥

MindControl

Just got home not too long ago, but just skating in with Day #6′s theme based upon the ever lovely and talented @theprojectava  ‘s Kuro story. I hope to have the next one out soonish, though late for the day no less. 

It’s otherworldly. This electric pulse of a presence that ghosts along the periphery of his mind. Small at first, it builds and it builds until it’s not just an inconsistent buzzing at the back of his skull but a defined being.

Another mind spilling into his, and for a moment, Kuro thinks he has finally lost. This is the crack the Druids put inside of him, and instead of things spilling out, they’re tumbling in, trying to claim whatever they can of him. Impulse tells him to fight it.

Resist. Resist. Resist.

He’s isn’t broken yet.

Something else whispers to him of patience. It tells him this is not the same black that the Druids try to infuse him with. Neither callous nor cold, it offers a warmth, something innate to its very being. It flickers white then red, then black marbles throughout both hues until it’s burning within the back of his mind.

Persistent.

It wants something of him, something he thinks he can give and willingly at that. So, Kuro reaches out to it. He sets his hands upon that glowing orb, feels the heat beneath his fingertips, making his blood sing with life. It tells him he is his own entity, that the heart within his chest is his own and that it aches with concern for the one it had been modeled after.

The ones calling out to him ache just as much.

No.

More.

The feelings that steep into his bloodstream carry a desperation far deeper than anything Kuro has ever known for the man called Takashi. It’s a desperation born of intimacy, of hearts bound more closely to Shiro’s than Kuro could have ever claimed, and somehow, it’s that very thought that brings him to inviting them inside of all that he is. Because Kuro wants to know that too, wants to know what could bring someone - or someones - to the brink of hell itself for a man who had been built upon a lie.

Kuro wants to know what makes someone want to thread their lives together with another being so much they would risk everything for him.

So, he lets him in, the one whose voice called out the loudest inside of his mind. He gives him control, and he watches as Shiro stirs in response, called back from the remorseless depths of his own mind. And it sparks a quiet curiosity within himself, to see how someone can respond to a simple change, how someone can know the difference from one being to another just because of the energy they give off.

As if there’s a frequency inside of every heart, and Kuro’s has now magically aligned to another, and he’s watching as it matches Shiro’s, as it calls him home.

And from the observation deck of his own mind, he thinks yet again of how Shiro fought in the Arena. Because this, right here, is everything the man had been fighting for.

He thinks that a human heart isn’t such a bad thing to be beating within his chest.

vld YouTuber AU (klance, part 8)

(content warning for this chapter: medical stuff, surgery, hospitals)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

(full disclosure that I am not a medical professional! I did some research but some things might be off but it’s fiction so just, uh. go with it)

—–

Waiting had never been so hard.

Seguir leyendo

taytei Master Post

Because I panicked and deleted every link in every art piece I’ve ever made, I’m just going to make this here post so you can find whatever specific series you were looking for. 

General Art Tag

• Act Your Age Series

Prologue Part 1 - Being Found Part 2 - Team Discussion Part 3 - Pidge Part 4 - Allura Part 5 - Hunk Part 6 - Shiro Part 7 - The Lions Part 8 - Keith Epilogue

• The Blue Moon Cafe AU [IN PROGRESS]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

• Hogwarts AU

Sorting Hat Lounging with around with the Familiars He missed the stair shift Spiderman Hogwarts Kiss Pining Lance Pining Keith Potion Class Mishap Forbidden Forest Yule Ball Dance Cosmic Connection

• Bird bfs

Doodles Main Piece

• Zoo AU [IN SLOW PROGRESS]

Lance and Keith Sheets Candid Photos - Part 1

• Why did you become a pilot?

Keith’s Part Lance’s Part

This Post is most likely going to be consistently updated and added to

your childhood is gay, and there’s nothing you can do about it!

or, a celebration of some children’s characters we love to relate to (even if it makes cishets mad). hope you all had a happy pride month 🌈

Cute!

((Happy Birthday From Monster Sides To All The Sides of Thomas Sanders!))

((Happy Birthday From Monster Sides To All The Sides of Thomas Sanders!))

At some point you’re probably right, Miko and Bulkhead DO hang out. She can cruise on top of his shell all day.