MindControl

jesus in the hades art style

Take a break~

Art by Léa Pinto

My night has been

MADE

Art by lei chu

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 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.”

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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 ♥

you

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.

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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