MY FATHER IS PROFIT AND I HONOR HIM DAILY.

multimuse written by j.

[grandschemed]

MUSE LIST UPDATE — 1/29/2021.

han joongi / yakuza: like a dragon. wolf / sekiro. theseus / hades. diluc / genshin impact. zhongli / genshin impact. cloud strife / ff7. marco adriano / gangsta. sakusa kiyoomi / hq!! hawks / bnha. uchiha sasuke / naruto. trafalgar law / one piece.

JUJUTSU KAISEN MULTI HERE.

[grandschemed]

@warpaved / zhongli & xiao.

they say all adepti are bound by contract to protect liyue from evil, but where do adepti come from?  some say they are gods themselves, descended from celestia to lend their support to rex lapis.  some say that adepti were once human, risen to the ranks of divinity after facing spectacular challenges presented by the gods themselves.

however, the chemistry of life is an extension of the chemistry of earth.  after all, blood is made of iron.

zhongli remembers the day of xiao’s creation well.

when zhongli was known as morax, the god of war, he knew he would one day require the aid of splendid warriors to fight at his side and to carry on protecting the city from all evil.  for days, he wondered what kind of soldiers would best serve his cause.  for days, he debated the cruelty of bestowing life only to take it away.  without question, his warriors would experience pain, loss and grief, but he hoped that they might earn the right to experience joy, compassion and love.  such were the traits of humans that he so admired from afar.  he hoped they could experience what he could not — the ability to live so beautifully no matter the expense.

it stormed on the day of xiao’s creation.  without doubt, it was a sign of the future trials his adeptus would, one day, be forced to face, but morax knew that he would learn to overcome his own nightmares.  it is the burden they all bear.

upon the highest peak in liyue, morax decided to sculpt.  from this height, he imagined that his warrior might appreciate the golden beauty of liyue when the setting sun bathed the land in cheery light.  working with the finest clay, morax began to carve out a set of feet, sculpting the heels so that they would be strong and support the rest of the body well.  fast as lightning too for he required this warrior to be swift and light as a feather.

once the feet were finely formed, he shaped the rest of him: well-muscled legs, sturdy knees, a lean set of hips and so on and so on.  he crafted the hands with such tender care for hands were the most important.  after all, it was with these hands that his warrior would learn to hold a weapon, to take a life, to learn how to love.  this heavy juxtaposition was vital to morax.  he hoped his warrior would too understand, one day, what cruelty and love hands are capable of and the heaviness of that burden that his shoulders would carry.

now, all that was left was the head.  for several more days, morax contemplated what his warrior would look like.  of course, like most gods, he too had a great fondness for beautiful things, but beauty takes form in many different ways.  the ocean is beautiful not only she is placid, but also when she is tempestuous.  the sight of his favorite tea shared with his most treasured companions on a yellow afternoon especially after years of drowning in endless battle is equally beautiful.  maybe it was these memories that led to the vibrant emerald of his warrior’s hair, the burning gold of his crimson-winged eyes, painted and crafted with precision.

perhaps, it was a little impish of morax to fit as many things as he loved about the world into one being, but morax was pleased with himself and with his hard work.  finally, the endless storm ended and he finished sculpting his warrior at long last.

and he was magnificent.

he was slim and graceful like a wild cat that he observed the movements of for days to burn the memory of its walk into his mind.  he was strong, built to counter any evil that dared to cross his path, complete with a divine heart of gold that would never tempt him to stray from his path, but should he ever waver, morax knew that he would, one day, find his way back.

now, all that was left was the gift of life.  with care, morax brushed his warrior’s cheek with a tender knuckle, reluctant to part ways so quickly, but he had already stalled for long enough.  “your life will be difficult,” morax sighed into the warrior’s mouth, heated, sparking breath steadily filling his lungs, and he could feel the warrior begin to stir beside him.  no longer was he a painted doll, but he was breathing and living.  he watches him open his eyes for the first time to drink in the sight of the pale gold valley underneath them.  morax can’t help but smile, as if he too was gazing upon liyue for the first time.  such youthful wonder.  “but you can always come find me, i promise.”

zhongli sighs, looking up at the lantern floating above his head.  a lot has happened since that day.  both of them have experienced unimaginable pain, loss and grief, but unimaginable joy, compassion and love too.  “no matter how hard life becomes, it is always worth living,” he remarks softly, hands behind his back, and xiao appears, seemingly from shadow, to answer him with silent understanding.

today marks the first night of the lantern rite festival.  the future is always uncertain, but tonight, zhongli thinks they have earned a little well-deserved rest.

[grandschemed]

@warpaved: “did you just smell me?”

it begins as a mission.  ‘find out everything about tianyou zhao.’  and if songhi tells him to jump, he asks how high.  never the type to half-ass anything, joongi works hard to learn and memorize all he can about the man … from likes and dislikes, what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with, what he’s eating, what he likes to drink, his favorite season, his favorite fashion designer, the length and width of his cock — and so on and so on.

because all intel is good intel.

which is why it’s very important for joongi to smell zhao and commit his scent to memory.  hm, it would be ideal if there was an article of clothing he could subtly take, but it’s much too obvious of a solution.  so, joongi simply leans over and sniffs with care … 

interesting.

underneath the smooth cologne lies an undertone of some kind of spice that joongi can’t quite place although he assumes zhao could were he not the person who bought it.  terrifying and impressive sense of smell, this man.  exquisite taste in cologne as well.  no doubt expensive, but not tastelessly overwhelming.  his hair does smell like strawberries though.  no, wait, peach?  hm … something sweet and inviting … he wants to bury his nose into the warm crook of zhao’s neck and lose himself in his body heat and commit everything to picture perfect memory.  

for uh, work purposes, of course.  all intel is good intel, remember?

“did you just smell me?”

joongi blinks, finding himself pressed to zhao’s lean shoulder, completely befuddled as to how he wound up this close.  embarrassed, he pulls away, but the expression doesn’t show on his face save for the rosy tips of his ears.  “it’s for work,” joongi insists, coughing a little into his fist, looking away.  technically, it’s not a lie.  “... i like your cologne.”  also not a lie even if it sounds like one.  part of him wishes zhao smelled absolutely terrible, but that’s the part of him he can’t bring himself to acknowledge.  why does he want that?  he shouldn’t want anything.  and yet, he already knows he’s going to be thinking of his scent tonight while he takes care of ... ah, neglected needs.

he sucks in a breath, hoping he sounds more convincing than he feels.  “where’d you buy it?”

[grandschemed]

@warpaved: tacenda — things better left unsaid.

with plenty on his mind, joongi looks out his side of the window, refusing to address the elephant in the room.  he stares at nothing in particular, simply lost in the bright neon of kamurocho, nostalgic for a life spent what seems like years ago now.  a place he once called home is easier for him to acknowledge than the man sitting beside him in the taxi.  in fact, joongi pretends like zhao doesn’t exist at all, ignorant of the way ichiban and his friends divided them like this even though it makes more sense to split two cars in two groups of three.

damn, this ride shouldn’t feel strange.

it’s not like he doesn’t know zhao.  for how many years has he known the eclectic leader of the liumang now?  how many meetings has he attended?  how many drinks?  how many niceties exchanged between them?  but lately, something feels different.  without joongi realizing, their dynamic has changed somehow … granted, their set of circumstances have brought them together as close allies, but even so … even now, joongi can feel himself wanting to look at zhao, but the idea that zhao could already be looking at him makes his stomach twist in a way he’s never felt before.

too dangerous.  it’s not a risk worth taking.

so, joongi keeps his gaze averted, enduring the ride in contemplative silence save for the muted radio chatter and the occasional lo-fi tune playing between commercials.  he’s grateful for the dark of the taxi, casting everything in blue shadow, which makes it easier to hide any hint of expression.  makes it easier to hide from zhao in general.  but joongi imagines the way passing streetlights must illuminate zhao’s face in inviting gold and it takes everything in him not to confirm all too romantic notions.

ah, when was the last time he’s felt this way?  when was the last time he felt at all?

he opens his mouth to break the spell, but decides some things are better left unsaid and lingers in the comforting quiet for just a little longer ...

just a little longer.

[grandschemed]

if endeavor bad then why ass fat 🤔

[citrussalt]

i have been utterly consumed by yakuza brainrot since february

[grandschemed]

morememesforall​:

word prompts compilation

complies THIS MEME // THIS MEME // THIS MEME

ADD ++ FOR REVERSE

[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention

[ wake ] for your muse to wake mine

[ cover ]  for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket

[ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.

[ kiss ]  for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning

[ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair

[ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair

[ embrace ]  for your muse to hold mine

[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room

[ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer

[ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger

[ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s

[ weep ]  for your muse to catch mine crying

[ eat ] for your muse to offer mine food

[ hit ] for your muse to attack mine

[ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance

[ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine

[ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap

[ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring

[ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually

[ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support

[ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

[ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did

[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine

[ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap

[ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down

[ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away

[ dream ] for my muse to share dream with yours

[ nightmare ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare

[ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury

[ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine

[ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger

[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine

[ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine 

[ goodbye ] for my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye

[ secrets ]   my  muse  sharing/confiding  a secret

[ bloody ]   for your  muse  coming  to  my  muse  with  blood  stains 

[ drunk ]   your  muse  takes  care  of my very drunk muse 

[ bed ]  my  muse wakes up in  the  same bed as your muse with little  recollection  of  the  night  before

[ scream ]   my  muse  hears  your  muse  scream  and  runs  to  them

[ trail ]   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scars,  asking  them  about  it

[ piggyback ]   my  muse  gives  yours  a  piggyback  ride

[ jump ]   my  muse  holding  yours  up  by  their  thighs

[ carry ]   my  muse  carries  your  muse  to  their  house

[ lighter ]   my  muse  pulls  out  a  lighter  and  lights  it  for  your  muse  to  use  to  light  their  cigarette

[ shot ] my  muse  gets  shot  and  struggles  to  your  muses for aid

[ wound ] my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten

[ fight ]   my  muse  stops  your  muse  from  getting  into  a  physical  fight  with  someone  else

[ arrest ]   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  

[ hospital ]   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened

[ betrayal ] my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them and  confronts  them  about  it

[ nude ] my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  accidentally  seeing  them  naked

[ karaoke ]  for our muses to sing together

[ wet ]   your muse  strips  down  to  their  under  garments  and  runs  into  the  water,  motioning  for my muse  to  join  them

[ crawl ]  for  your  muse  to  crawl  into  bed  with  mine .

[ flower ]  for  your  muse  to  offer  my  muse  their  favourite  flower

[ gift ]  for  my  muse  to  surprise  your muse  with  a  gift

[ homemade gift ]  for  my  muse  to  make  your muse  a  gift

[ bestow ] for your muse to give my muse a gift, bought or handmade ( bonus if you add what it is )

[ serenade ]  for  my  muse  to  sing  to  your  muse

[ caress ]  for  your  muse  to  gently  run  their  hand  down  my  muse’s  face

[ caught ]  for  your  muse  to  catch  my  muse  wearing  their  shirt .

[ love letter ]  for  your  muse  to  give  my  muse  a  love  letter  they  wrote  for  them

[ boop ]  for  your  muse  to  boop  my  muse  on  the  nose

[ date ]  for  my muse  to  ask  your  muse  to  go  on  a  date

[ confess ]  for my muse  to  confess  their  feelings  to  your  muse

[ sleepy ]  for  my muse  to  slowly  fall  alseep  on  your muse

[warpaved]

"you are what you cover up."

the sentiment holds some merit, zhao figures. but to think it came from one of his greatest foes...

in retrospect, things went to shit faster than any of them had anticipated. kingdoms, no matter how expertly guarded, do fall. and easily too, turns out, but zhao has always known that cultivating peace in times of adversity would never bear fruit. try as one might (and he hasn't), peace is fleeting when all it serves is to water the barren wasteland that is their precious gray zone. what it thrives on is blood, and for blood to trickle all the way down, the cut has to be deep enough.

so, walls crumble, muscles snap under continuous, insurmountable pressure, and much like the network of vulnerable nerve endings it exposes, zhao feels raw in its wake.

"overthinking again, han-chan? you know how i worry about that clever little mind of yours." always scheming, always plotting. not that zhao isn't scheming or plotting in equal measure. but he trusts the man spread out underneath him now.

the grunt his good-natured jibe earns him is all strained, residual heat, distracted in a way that confirms his suspicions. it draws a breathy chuckle out of zhao, who holds the trembling length of joongi's body through the first ripples of pleasure, his firm grip steadying the hips that threaten to give out on him and smoothing sweet insinuation down whipcord musculature with a smile as sharp as that of a knife.

"c'mon, use your big boy words," he croons into his ear, drawing another choked gasp out of the other when he bottoms out with a single, well-aimed thrust that rocks the combined weight of their bodies forward, draped over joongi's flushed back like a second skin.

"i'll... pass," joongi grinds out, breathing ragged and head hung low between his muscular arms as fissures of tension helplessly spasm around the base of zhao's cock. physical intimacy has never been his forte, but moments like this one are as startling and evident as blood on his hands, damning in a way that leaves no room for argument, because he's reacting to zhao and zhao alone, pushing back against him, imperceptible but there.

zhao huffs. pulling out of him languidly, his fingers mold to the shape of joongi's deflating ribcage, counting every ridge and furrow, every stuttering breath that hisses past the tight prison of his clenched teeth, spurred on by the rapid drum of joongi's heart and the slick of his sweat.

"then, if it's all the same to you, i'll take my sweet time," he drawls, voice guttural and tinged with promise, as if he has no other plans but to stay right where he is and let joongi unravel around his cock until he’s satisfied. and judging by joongi's reaction, he knows it, too.

poor bastard. zhao never could resist the unapproachable ones.

[grandschemed]

@warpaved​ / childe & zhongli.

exasperated, zhongli laughs to himself, helplessly amused by his coworker’s shamelessness, and decides to reward such honesty with honesty of his own even though he doesn’t understand the young man’s desperation.  “one at a time now,” he chides, ruminating, “let’s see ... i have no preference for men or women.  my last relationship was with a woman and i’ve never been in a relationship with a man so this is admittedly a first for me, but it’s a little exciting.”

maybe he’s a little too candid, but he has nothing to hide.

he pours himself another cup of rice wine before answering the remaining questions, slowly sipping in between.  “i’m a very busy man, i have no time to be bored — so that must mean i like you to some extent ... but as for my type, i like people who are passionate and stick to their convictions.  it’s a vague, unrealistic type of answer, but ... do you have a type, childe?”

[infiniteterritory]

reminds me of you — from satoru, to suguru.

the shadows on the wall.  big, calloused hands.  red spider lillies in peak bloom.  winter dusk.  sugar on the rim.  the way sweat clings to skin.  the laundromat down the street.  the calm before the storm.  twinkling wind chimes.  water slipping between my fingers.  dark chocolate.  green tea in the morning.  hands around my throat.  all-obscuring fog.  the softness of fresh laundry.  the perfect blue of a cloudless summer day.  black coffee.  blood in my mouth.  a politician smile.  endless conveyor belt sushi.  a puzzle left incomplete.  secrets kept under lock and key.  the warmth of your hand in mine.  a final sunset.  sweetness melting on the tongue.  the pearl in the dragon’s mouth.  a fox’s charm.

[infiniteterritory]

i went in for coffee and most of me never came out.

@curseforged / i went in for coffee and most of me never came out.

"how's it going?"

it's going badly.  it's been going badly for a while.  not for gojou — every day, he becomes faster, stronger, more like god.  every day, he feels the pleasant energy of the world build and build inside him until he becomes infinite, boundless and overflowing.

everything else melts away and he floats above the universe and he sees everything.

but what is the point of omniscience if he can't even see past suguru?

lately, it feels he doesn't know who suguru is anymore. ( but maybe he's never known at all and the possibility grounds him, terrifies him at his core.  how could he not know everything about his most important person? )

and suguru knows him.  suguru knows he likes a little bit of coffee with his sugar and cream.  suguru knows he doesn't drink alcohol — not because he's on call 24/7, but because he can't handle his alcohol well at all.  suguru knows he hates his family, likes the color green and has a fondness for cats even though he's allergic.

gojou can't answer a single question about suguru.  how does he have any right to ask 'how are you?'

"haha, i'm fine, satoru! why wouldn't i be?”

the air in the cafe is wrong and they talk like they usually do.  they talk about things that don't matter, pretending like things are the way they've always been, pretending like gojou knows who this person is sitting in front of him wearing suguru's skin, wearing suguru's politician smile, talking in suguru's voice.  afternoon light filters through the blinds and makes suguru's eyes shine the mischievous way he likes it, but even that doesn't look right.

something is eating his friend alive.

and something about the way they reminisce sounds final.  gojou thinks a lot and thinks too little.  was he too late?  is there nothing else he can say?  a part of him wants to believe that whatever is eating his friend will stop and everything will be fine, but gojou forgets that just because everything is possible for him does not mean everything is possible for everyone else.  and this is one curse he doesn't know how to break.  

( this one wasn’t meant to be broken by him anyway ).

they talk some more, but the words don't mean anything.  gojou shakes his way through repeated stories of the ‘good ol' days’ and suguru plays along, laughing at the same stupid story for the fifteenth stupid time.

and the sound of suguru's empty laugh makes gojou feel lonelier than he's ever felt in his entire life — even if he knows none of it was ever real.

haha, oh ... what a well-crafted veneer!

[kaigyokus]

hello, hello, hello!! name’s izzy & i’m here to push my jujutsu kaisen agenda. go ahead and rb / like this post for me (if you’re so inclined) and i’ll check out your blog! i desperately need more mutuals to interact with. 🙏

[axeeeee]

🔥

[heartwilled]

so i hate to do this but uhhh

khepri [ riegastrung / exaltears / exaltborne / bxstiae ] is racist, ableist, and transphobic. i have written a document detailing the shit he’s said here. 

obviously like, don’t go harassing him or anything, and this isn’t me trying to tell u who you can / can’t interact with, but i think it’s important for people to know. 

[fivenightsleft]

he’s actually had other incidents of racism and even cop bootlicking on bxstiae. here’s the post, and here’s the google doc he’d put up. even despite supposedly apologizing for this, the anons he received afterwards show that he hasn’t changed much.

( here’s a backup of the google doc in case he deletes it, hope ur fellow cops see it bro )

[grandschemed]

anyway, my claude hates hilda and her entire family and i will absolutely not ship with any hilda writers by any means.

[grandschemed]

TO WHICH CIRCLE OF HELL DO YOU BELONG ?

LEVEL 7. Guarded by the Minotaur, who snarls in fury, and encircled within the river Phlegethon, filled with boiling blood, is the Seventh Level of Hell. The violent, the assassins, the tyrants, and the war-mongers lament their pitiless mischiefs in the river, while centaurs armed with bows and arrows shoot those who try to escape their punishment. The stench here is overpowering. This level is also home to the wood of the suicides — stunted and gnarled trees with twisting branches and poisoned fruit. At the time of final judgement, their bodies will hang from their branches. In those branches the Harpies, foul birdlike creatures with human faces, make their nests. Beyond the wood is scorching sand where those who committed violence against God and nature are showered with flakes of fire that rain down against their naked bodies. Blasphemers and sodomites writhe in pain, their tongues more loosed to lamentation, and out of their eyes gushes forth their woe. Usurers, who followed neither nature nor art, also share company in the Seventh Level.

tagged by: stole it from @cindrelle​ ! tagging: dash !

[grandschemed]

i love ushisaku because they're still rivals but sakusa has the utmost respect for ushijima and they genuinely fuel each other and encourage each other to work harder and they're perfect for each other send tweet