#cons: it’s THESE ones….

[m1d-45]

judas

summary: who can be blamed for a world wide calamity? the executioner, the judge, or the jury?

word count: ~1.3k

-> warnings: mention of blood, implied death(you, but you revive after), um minor spoilers for inazuma and sumeru archon quest, as well as for kazuha lore

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (no pronouns)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

to see a god is a feat most strive their whole lives toward. to bear witness to one so much holier than you, to view a deity far beyond your time. mortals pray to statues and shrines, each vying for the eye of the heavens, a select few showing off their rewards in the form of a gleaming vision.

but even those with a vision cannot see the stars. true gods- the true god is a memory beholden to only a few, to those that remember the times prior to the archon war. before the creator lifted to celestia, sequestered away far from the petty meddling of people.

they’re missed. they’re always missed. the gods have a hole their gnoses are too small to fill, a deep ache that beats with their hearts, yearning for the one they called ‘home.’ it’s not unlike the feeling one gets on a clear night, looking up to the stars, knowing the world’s so vast and you are so small, unsure whether to be afraid or comforted.

so they wish their god a well recovery? do they grieve the idea that they may die before that happens? do they grab a bottle from the shelf and bear headaches without hangovers, do they sit at a worn table and drink tea nobody else remembers, do they sleep endlessly, hoping to dream instead? what does one do, when so alone? what does one do, when the stars blanket the sky and they are struck with the remembrance of their finite lives?

mortals get up from their blankets. look away, go to bed, rise the next day with the only star they know being the one that warms the stones beneath their feet. but gods don’t tire easily, and the nights are known for stretching far longer than days.

the unlucky ones die.

the cursed are given a false prophet.

“if you remember me, then i don’t care if anyone else forgets.”

the greater lord was kind. too kind. beloved. unfairly so. how strange, she wondered, fading to dust, that she did not see her god greeting her. how odd, she thought, that the closest she had come to heaven was within the moments before her death.

it’s not her fault. it never was. the eyes that watched from celestia were hard with iron and not time, cruel with choice and not purpose. so many died, so many didn’t have to, so many fell under the foot of a fraud while their true colors hid behind a mask.

“do you remember me?”

“do you?”

it wasn’t your fault either. it never was. your chosen warrior, your first picked, saved from the grips of the one who had stolen your place. so many people, so many names, so many conversations held within proxy. the earth remembered, the people rejoiced, and yet it was only your golden companion that questioned the sea.

(the waves calmed. eons old bodies finally laid to rest. the abyss itself stilled for just a moment, just long enough to stop and watch you smile, and even now occasionally lent an ear to your pride.)

how unfair, that you once laughed together but now cry alone.

to lay eyes upon the divine is one thing. to view with one’s own eyes even a fraction of true power is enough to blind the commons, and even the most ancient dragon must bow its head. but to touch? to hold, to grasp, to feel universes thrumming beneath your fingers, the power of giants hovering barely an inch away?

“we named a constellation after you.”

you had said hello. a god, a being so far beyond mortal understanding, crouching to one knee and extending a hand to a child that had fallen. you could have walked by. perhaps on another day you might’ve. but you didn’t recognize the world as your home, and she didn’t recognize you as hers, fleeing to the guards the moment she saw something a little too bright in your eyes.

it wasn’t your fault. the ground is stained with blue and that child’s hand burns with the fire found in the core of a newborn sun, hot and new far too much for someone so young to handle. a samurai will never be able to look at his sword the same way again, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for that either. his hand holds the grip as his own shakes, red eyes struggling to take in what he sees.

the human mind reacts strangely when it sees something it doesn’t understand. it fizzles, stops, the wiring going dull as it realizes its neurons are far too small to comprehend the unusual stimuli. unfortunately, this response does not lend itself to survival, and the drive to live overshadows your cries for the same.

he doesn’t like the visit that part of town anymore. he can’t look at maple leaves without remembering how they stuck to the ground, weighed down by blood. he visits a familiar grave, tucked between two sharp cliffs, lingering far past the settling of lavender melon on the ground. he kneels there for a few hours too long, wondering of all the what ifs.

it’s not his fault either. it’s nobody’s. they were given a candlelight and were told it was a star, even as they watched the wax drip. he was doing his best, and it just so happened that in the blind grasp for a handhold, he’d pushed you away. he couldn’t see. it wasn’t his fault.

“don’t blame yourself, kazuha.”

“the tide does not stop rising when asked. neither does the guilt.”

it wasn’t his fault.

you try to remind yourself of this, at times. so does he. the two of you lie awake at inane hours of night, searching the sky for an answer.

what happened? what went wrong? was it me? was it anyone?

celestia looks down with eyes of fake steel, looking between you and the empty throne behind them. they’d finally caved, thrown the one they puppeted for the vishaps to dissect and the hillichurls to pull apart, but now worried. they’d certainly be punished if it was known they’d allowed this to happen… was it their fault, perhaps?

eyes sought out others, the council known as ‘heaven’ lost for what to do. their eyes joined yours, as yours joined kazuha’s, all tilted up and beginning to turn glassy.

the universe is so big, each star their own system, and it’s so hard to feel like any more than sand when it’s displayed so clearly. maybe it was kazuha’s fault, for not recognizing the light you shed as that of the sun. maybe it was celestia’s, for continuing to entertain an impossible fantasy. maybe it was the earth’s, for guiding you where it thought was safe, maybe maybe maybe. it doesn’t matter. did it ever? your heart burns with grief—love—as you go to bed, sheltered within a hilichurl camp. kazuha stays up too late, punishing himself with the fog of sleepiness that lasts a little too long the next day. celestia doesn’t feel guilt, for when did it ever, but the next day is unproductive, something strange taking place of the air there.

maybe it was nobody’s fault. maybe the world was disjointed, unfamiliar with your presence, stuttering for a moment as it collected itself once more. maybe in that moment of confusion, of flickering light and a burnt out flame, tragedy had struck like lightning. the universe was illuminated, bathed in the gleam of your power, able to see what it couldn’t in darkness.

it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. scars still ached when it rained, and the skies were weeping as it realized what had occurred in shadow.

[casgirl]

people cosplaying on public transit are the backbone of our society and i am SO serious. there is no greater omen of good fortune than seeing hatsune miku on the bus.

[clannfearrunt]

Happy Grand Fest Gamers and Duelists

[deadpoolsmom]

as far as one piece antagonists go Crocodile truly gets absolutely scooby-doo’d at unmatched levels

He immediately falls for a phone scam and from basically little garden to rainbase he doesn’t even know the strawhats are alive (and clowning towards him at incredible speed). As soon as he does, they’re in his house tearing at his walls and bringing marines into his villain lair.

He uses a literal floor trap door over a gator pit to catch them, gets phone scammed again, full scooby-doo chase scenes after Chopper through the streets while still missing him, and suddenly his prisoners have escaped his impossible cage, and his giant bananagators are dead. and Nico Robin saw it all happen.

He then spends rest of the arc complaining about those meddling kids and their dog “strawhat pirates and their weird pet” and at no point does he even know how many strawhats there are.

Like yeah he keeps having plans on top of plans to stop everything Vivi can do but also she keeps coming up with a new thing to do (Tom and Jerry ass dynamic).

Part of it is that he’s underestimating them and keeps grandstanding villain monologuing but also teens keep killing hundreds of his grand line bounty hunters and he straight up does not know what is happening.

Cause he IS trying to kill them he’s sending top assassins after them and ripping out luffy’s organs, the whole time he’s yelling HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?? DIE. as whack-a-mole Luffy keeps inventing new ways to hit him.

[taccoman]

Standees ♡

[datcravat]

pe ru so na

[damienthepious]

oh

i also cosplayed theeeeeeee protagonist? i cosplayed You from Slay the Princess at mag. ONE GUY recognized me and he's my homie for life. gaze upon my visage i worked SO hard on those fucking gloves actually. Also the dot eyes are reflective tape and they fucking GLEAM with the flash on.

[bloobydabloob]

I don’t know if this is worth a post on here. We post anyways maybe (?)

[bluechanas]

mono de lufi....

[izzy-hands]

You don't know the first thing about piracy, do you? It's not about glory. It's not about gettin' what you want.

[kingworm]

overstimulated con artist catches public transport during a heatwave

[souldagger]

some mostly-handmade murderbot merch i wanted to share! :] (designed them myself + embroidered the Peri hoodie by hand)

[philtstone]

the thing with almost every "shawn becomes a criminal" au that ive seen is that they always seem to miss the most core canon premise. a shawn spencer who did not become a P.I. isnt a thief or a robber or a hitman. shawn spencer is and always has been a con man, and any subsequent au you write can ONLY be, to a frankly uncanny degree, the plot of "catch me if you can"

[madelynraemunson]

joe breaking the fourth wall is so fucking funny to me PLEASE

[f1-stuff]

Australian GP '24 // Post-Race Press Con

[starheavenly]

Pixel Standees I've been working on!