Beep Boop Another Fan Animatic.

The saga continues

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.

“ Laith ”

This one goes out to all the peeps asking how I imagine cat-sized Kiri handles bath time.

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

Hey losers

The saga continues

Getting silly with it

Part 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • √

Just a wordless bonus because I love drawing fluff so muchhhh (and the other part was already 10 panels ;P )