or: the colors of the sky
what if…?
the removal of the Kyklos curse also removed your memories of your time when cursed?
jin x gn!reader
tags: angst :)
on ao3 here
The universe loved to play cruel tricks on Jin Kamurai. First with his sister, then his mother, and finally, you.
He should’ve known. He should’ve known that it was too good to be true. Your presence in his life had been steady, and he’d fooled himself into thinking that you would stay with him forever.
Was it truly so wrong for me to think that? Through storm and through tide, with his secrets and fears laid bare, you were there. You stayed.
You saw through the Jin Kamurai that the world knew, and instead saw a part of him that he didn’t even know he had. You helped him realize his identity. You saw him as more than an heir, a responsibility, an expectation.
With you, he had dared to imagine a life outside of expectations, outside of labels. He felt that he could learn to find himself.
And then, you left. Never had he felt so powerless before. Powerless to stop you. Powerless to forget you. Powerless to let you go.
He searched for you, after you left. It wasn’t hard to find you. The Institute had reinvented a new life for you, fabricated a story to explain the hole in your memory.
To you, he never existed. All of those small moments together, all of the secrets you’d exchanged, all of the shared pain and grief as the months before your curse ticked away. They never happened to you.
How blissful it is to forget so easily.
He never dared to approach you, although for whose safety he was never sure.
You stayed with him, haunting his every thought and every move. Even as other faces faded with time, the sound of your laugh, the crinkle of your eyes, the feel of your palm in his— they persisted. You were stubborn as ever, even in memory.
He buried himself in his work, becoming exactly who the world wanted him to be if only it meant gaining a single moment where he was not reminded of your absence. He became the perfect heir, then not just an heir. He somehow, impossibly, raised the Kamurai image to even higher heights.
The distractions worked, sometimes. When in the middle of a heated debate, or lost in the folds of piano music, he could, momentarily, forget you.
He could forget the persistent whisper in the back of his mind that you wouldn’t want this for him, that he was becoming exactly what he feared. It didn’t matter, anyway. You no longer knew him, so you could no longer pass judgment.
Any empty moments in his life were filled with one task or another, lest he drown in your overwhelming absence.
He’d do anything to forget you because he was right: the universe was never kind to Jin Kamurai, and you certainly wouldn’t be an exception.
“Please, Jin. Take a break. You’re not going to be able to keep this up for much longer. You can still fix this.”
The doctor had long since given up trying to persuade him to abandon the cigarette, but they had turned their attention to his work.
“Try taking walks, maybe. It’s flexible and doesn’t require much commitment.”
“Tch.” He’d be dead before he was caught mirroring Tohma.
“At least go outside, okay? No work, just relax.”
I can’t. Because taking a break means remembering you.
“Excuse me,” your breath clouded in the crisp autumn air as you finally worked up the courage to approach the stranger on the bench in the park.
The man took a drag from his cigarette and didn’t even bother to glance in your direction.
You’re a fool for doing this, chided the voice in your head. Perhaps it was right. Perhaps you were a fool. But this was too big of a coincidence to simply pass up.
You’d seen this man in the park several times before, on this exact bench. Normally, you wouldn’t talk to strangers, even if you’d seen them several times from afar.
But there was something about this man that made you feel like he was a clue to unlocking your lost memories.
There was something about him— something about the way he reclined, to the color of his hair and the shape of his hands that reminded you of a certain shade of blue. It was a color that you’d caught yourself looking for in the colors of the sky, or in the glow of ice. It was a color that you noticed every time it appeared, but you never knew why.
All of these mysterious habits must have been from the year you’d lost, but why is it that out of all the things to retain, it’s this exact shade of blue?
“What do you want.” The stranger had turned to look at you.
His eyes. It’s his eyes. They immediately brought back the memories of those dreams you have, the ones that dissipate with the first rays of morning light, leaving only an aching sense of familiarity and loss. Those eyes. They must have been in your dreams. Must have.
It takes you a moment to pull yourself out of the depths of his eyes. “Sorry, um. Have we met before?”
Something flashed in the stranger’s eyes before he turned away again. He took another long drag from his cigarette before he spoke. “No.”
“A-Are you sure?” You immediately sit down next to him. You couldn't have been wrong, though. His hair, his eyes, his voice. They all stirred something within you, remnants of memories that had once been vivid sensations.
You reached inside your sweater, fishing for the necklace. The necklace that had been around your neck when you’d woken from your so-called “coma,” the only keepsake you have of the time you’d lost.
“Did you give this to me?” You held the pale blue stone that hung from the chain to him, and suddenly everything clicked.
The colors that you found. The clarity of his eyes. The pendant. They’re all the same color. You've seen this man before, and he'd given you the pendant. Echoes of lost conversations surface, from a place in your mind you didn't know existed. Who was he to you? What did he mean to you?
A lot, clearly, for you to find his eyes in the colors of the sky.
The man turns again, eyes falling on the pendant. He only briefly takes in the pendant, but his eyes flick to yours, searching. Waiting. Do you remember him? Do you know who he is?
The memories begin to surface with exhilarating clarity. The way his eyes softened around you. The way he held you close. The way he let you, and only you, into the depths of his heart.
It was little more than an exhale. A small, barely-audible breath that immediately clouded the air between you. A word that felt second-nature to you, that you didn’t even know you lost.
“Jin.”
please do not reupload my works to other platforms or feed them to AI.
⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝ this one was inspired by a work by @.lilyinavalley, please go check it out!!
nightmare+Bedwetting omo, but where character A wakes up from a nightmare, all panicked and crying because of said nightmare, so much so that it doesn't immediately register to them that they wet the Bed. It's only after character B helps calm them down that they then realize they wet themselves- prompting them to get upset all over again.
My headcanon for my Merlin Aligar has changed since the new season came out. +New appearance (I'm diggin' the hair)
Aligar is a pretty boy. OH and I accidentally found a fun song for him to his friends before sacrificing himself during the 2nd divine war. Merlin straight up writes "I just hope my friends won't be too upset." And there's a line of "Did I disappoint you?"
Here it is, sad as hell enjoy. Ya it's from Arcane, but how my brain is working this it fits. It also creates some beautiful angst for him and Cyran imo. Especially since Cyran also lost his brother? Awful.
Lastly have this fun piece. I really want to draw more of them now that I was able to get over that hump of not being able to.
Please ignore that I’m late again. Several days late
Everyone has nightmares. Realistic or not, they still manage to terrify and torment the poor soul suffering from them.
Bell is no different.
Bell, of course, has to deal with night terrors on a daily basis. And unfortunately, her brain has lots to work with to make her dreams hell. So many traumas to choose from. That night on the Trazadon airport? The Cuba mission? The cliff when Adler shot her? Her past…?
…What’s in that bunker…?
…Open the door, Bell…
…That damn red door…
Every time she thinks that she’ll finally be able to get through that door or get any progress, when she gets to the door, it’s just another hallway. So she tries again once she reaches the other door again. Then again. And again.
Door after door after door after door after door
It’s just never ends. All the while Adler’s voice is ringing through Bell’s ears, demanding she stop screwing around. Demanding that she just opens the door. As if she isn’t trying to. By God, does Bell want to open that stupid door. Anything to make it stop. Are the halls closing in? Are the walls turning into the red bunker door, or is it just her? The doors just surround her, begging to be opened. She couldn’t escape them even if she tried. Bell could have sworn she felt blood trickle down from her left eye as she opened yet another door. More doors. Then, she’s falling. It’s like there’s nothing in this world but darkness and those red doors that seem to be painted with blood at this point.
Bell jolted awake, just barely able to keep herself from making any noise. Yet another nightmare about that godforsaken bunker door. As much as she hates those kind of nightmares, at least tonight it wasn’t reviving Lazar’s death or imagining the others dying. No, tonight, the torment was just restricted to herself, and not once did she ever die in it. Death would have been a mercy, wouldn’t it? It would have made her wake up sooner. Maybe that’s just her own subconscious saying that. Would death have been better that day? Should she have died at Solvesky? Even though she was awake now, a part of Bell could have sworn that her left eye was throbbing in pain.
…Bell turned to her side and wrapped her arms around Adler, holding back tears as she nuzzles her head into his neck. When she felt him stir and turn over to face her, Bell tried to tell him that she was fine. As usual, Adler knew that wasn’t the case. Rather than asking about what nightmare she had, Adler held her closer, kissing a tear on her cheek, murmuring reassurances as Bell fell back asleep. Ironic, she thought. Comfort from the man who caused some of her nightmares. Bell slowly dozed off again, feeling safe this time.
(Thank you @mellosdrawings for the inspiration! Your artwork gave me an idea for one of Bell’s nightmares. Amazing artwork.)
I have. SOOOO many ideas I want to draw NOWWW,, I am almost done with the prop I'm working on.
Also writing down another one so I have like. A list of them to do idk
SCOUT AND SPY TO "NOBODY PRAYING FOR ME" BY SEETHER
"I am fungus in the forest,"
Scout holding Spy by the collar, yelling at him.
"I'm a lizard with a poison tongue"
Spy calm and collected, arguing back.
"I'm the child in the manger"
(memory) Scout as a baby
"I'm the one who sacrificed his son"
(memory) Pans over to Spy walking out the door
"Rust is showing on my armor,"
(Back to present) Scout looks tired, breathing deeply, more banged up than the beginning
"I am wheezing like an old man, done."
Spy looks equally as tired, matching Scouts apparent anger now.
"I'm a product of my anger,"
Scout kicks Spy to the ground.
"I'm a bullet in a loaded gun."
Spy reaches for his side, for the holstered gun at his hip.
"'Cause if I stand up, I'll break my bones,"
Scout goes to hit Spy with a baseball bat, and Spy shoots him in the knee.
"Everybody loves to see a fall unfold."
Scout falls in front of Spy, but catches himself enough to lunge forward.
"Ain't nobody giving up."
Scout throws his fist at Spy.
"Cause nobody gives a fuck."
Spy intercepts it, and then the other, still holding a cigarette between his lips.
"Stand up, and break my bones."
Scout pushes off the hold Spy has on his fists, and lands a kick to his chest again. His knee is bleeding down his sock.
"Everybody wants what they just can't hold."
This time, Spy finds that his gun was knocked away during their tussle. He looks up.
"There's nobody praying for me."
Scout is standing over Spy with his bat drawn upward,
"There's nobody praying for - there's nobody praying for me"
Scout hesitates and drops it, dropping and wrapping his arms around Spy.
"There's nobody praying for me."
Spy hesitantly accepts the motion.
Fade to black.
