#⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; THREADS.

[axdently]

@choixander​ // SING, O MUSE, OF THE RAGE OF ACHILLES

he spends his spare time ( when not locked away in a tiny fishbowl ) reading. there are books he likes to search for of non-fiction: The Noma Guide to Fermentation: Including koji, kombuchas, shoyus, misos, vinegars, garums, lacto-ferments, and black fruits and vegetables, OR Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures, and books he knows he will find: The Odyssey, The Aeneid, Medea, Oedipus Rex, Antigone, and well, Homer’s The Illiad. it’s nowhere to be found in its spot upon the shelves. his first pick–– his preference of the great Greek warrior Achilles slips away from his grasp as he brings The Breath of a Whale: The Science and Spirit of Pacific Ocean Giants to the front desk. he’d like to tread waters of whalefall, he decides, if his romantic tragedies are unavailable. he meets his favorite librarian, or rather assistant librarian. though, in his opinion, Han preferred Lex above the others. perhaps it was their similar demeanors or the slight deja vu he felt when speaking to him.

he greets the other with a casual smile–– before peering behind the desk. he doesn’t speak his concern immediately ( the lack of copies of The Illiad ). Han Jae Song beats around the bush. he settles for small talk, despite how nonsensical it truly is to him. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Is this a me issue, or a you issue?” it was likely his own fault–– prior engagements have limited their regular check ins. “It’s good to see you, nonetheless.”

[axdently]

@grxmincvdescxnce·· // BEGIN QUEST 003: THE WARNING OF A GODDESS 

         ⸻ “ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇, 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕? ” from HERE

the dreams of Han Jae Song could be considered entirely far too iniquitous for that of a normal human to understand. behind door number one lies the whale fall– a debris of carnage– the terrors of the fractured mind. clattered around them are broken and rotting picture frames, scattered and cracked skulls, a foliage of blight ridden herbs and leaves– they all float their way down, down down, until they meet the end of their journey. scuffed leather loafers fall next as broken bottles of kombucha create another melody just behind his head. Han is certain the so-called niece of his is used to these dreamscapes. though, he can’t remember the last time she’s visited. he greets jasper’s friend with a tug of his hat – a tentacle with beautiful blue rings pull at it’s brim. “When it rains, it pours.” a soft little chuckle spills from lips as he sits upright at the chess table. 

“Let’s play a game of chess, dearest Liggies.” he extends his neck out to ensure her safety– to watch her as she takes her steps forward– to alert her to not step on his precious things.  “Careful for your ballerina slippers, dear, there is glass everywhere. It’s all falling apart I’m afraid.” he can’t hide his frown. “Winner gets the first bite of the other. Deal?”

[axdently]

@ofthcshvdes //  before you left your spores ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟎𝟎𝟐 )

"Thankfully they aren't lickshrooms." he says this because lickshrooms are known for their toxic saliva that can terminally paralyze others. instead he senses a dance fever- a hallucinogenic spiking of the food. hopefully it wouldn't be the case of spreading disease, otherwise he'd be subjected to working after hours. he continues to grab specimens, a gloved hand intrudes the formal wear he'd shown up in. and in the magical disappearing briefcase he has, he continues to set those samples of cakes and tarts. only after shutting the case closed, Han Jae Song, fixes the glasses at his nose, and he peers into his champagne. "I wouldn't eat anything, if I were you, but the drinks are very pleasant" he's looking after Val, his almost husbands, well, he didn't quite know how to put it- his rival, his coworker, his friend. "But now that you've provided lookout for me, I'm at your service. I suspect there is a valuable piece of treasure we are to find in these hallways?" he gives her a mischievous smirk.

[axdently]

@chocalafolie​ // SONG - MUHN RESIDENCE ( EX -SONG ) MONDAY NIGHT

the irony in thinking that being a dreamshade was the worst thing in the word– makes Han Jae Song laugh at himself now. little snorts, chuckles, exhales through his wrinkled nose pair with eye rolls when he so much as entertains that notion. he doesn’t find this ironic, nor does he believe in those happily endings he was once deluded into grasping– soiled hands out of reach, sore arms outstretched and muscle aching. the fact that the younger self-hatred he felt for his conditions of filth and all that he could manipulate from that muck within could be cured with with spoiled veins and golden flecks of putridity was an unfortunate circumstance. like the days old, of torture and experimentation, he can feel the ghosting of wounds blighting his skin. the newer of those scars would be the bite mark still present upon his arm– a bite mark he’d only sustained about four weeks ago... and so yes, his natural born gifts were nothing compared to hating the curse within him. when he so much as leaves his home now, he’s certain to cover the glowing mark upon forever tainted skin. but for Gil, honesty is given. for Gil, masks are unworn, and he greets the other with his back flesh in the opposing armchair the cursed mark in plain view for the best of friends to see.

“I didn’t want you to think that I was ghosting you, or that I didn’t value our traditions...” it had been exactly four mondays since he’d last seen Gilbert. he was expecting and yes, he missed their banter.

“Looks like you saved my life for nothing, huh?” he licks his teeth as ABC continues to tease the double bachelorettes in the background. he owes his life to Gilbert Gladstone. but he had never been at liberty to speak that in its full entirety. now that his life seems irreparable perhaps it was time for that real spin class moment. 

“I could use some advice.” he takes a brief pause, “And I don’t mean for at home remedies for dandruff.”

[axdently]

@vicioushauntings​ // THE SONG - MUHN RESIDENCE ( EX- SONG ) 

there was something about watching from behind the smaller glass that pulled harder at the heartstrings within the blue ringed octopus. it seemed as if he had more than enough arms, but those appendages could never reach that family of his ever again. 

the little girl with her curls and winsome decor clutches her notebook against her chest. johanna’s medical notes have grown from scribbles to fragmented sentences about her twin’s conditions, and how her days transpire. the medical diary converges between both her pretend doctoral life and her real life. jasper begins chasing her with a pill bug, it coils and recoils in his hands as she smacks her brother with that black composition notebook. good girl, Han thinks to himself as he cheers on from afar. the twin boy then sticks his tongue out at her, but her glares tell him to scram. were Han’s beak able to speak he’d have instructed the two to settle down and wash up before dinner, but he no longer has the luxury of working as a team with his partner, Simon Muhn.  muffled by the surrounding water, instead he can hear static from plastic bags of take out and a baby sitter chattering on about dinnertime before Simon gets home– he’s running late.

instead the pair of children gravitate to him– Han Jae Song– as his tentacles flourish and he floats in the water of that small aquarium tank. he spins for his children– a razzle dazzle– sneaking attention from their curious eyes. the babysitter calls him repulsive and slimy. she also makes a note to tell Jasper that in some places people eat live octopus, and that octopus tastes just like chicken but slipperier. Han makes a note to instruct Simon to fire her once he transforms into his full form, and to also look up the word slipperier in the dictionary. Jasper soon rewards his dad with that pill bug. the rollie pollie sinks down, down, down, and though it’s no tasty crustacean, Han Jae Song, the blue ringed octopus, eats his treat.

the rest of the evening is slow, but as the clock ticks and the sitter takes her nap upon the couch, Han realizes it’s now or never– if he wants to speak to his children he has to disobey his husband– crawl out of that aquarium and slide upon hardwood floors.  he leaves trails of mildew and goo as he sneaks and slips. the bathroom is his first stop. bones grow and crack to frame flesh and blood as he shuts the door behind him. the cephalopod transforms from tentacles to two arms and two feet upon the ground. he takes Simon’s robe to cover the water marks and golden bite upon his forearm. he doesn’t stop to dry his hair– he walks the halls of his home as a ghost would. he haunts in the same somber manner as pale pruny skin grows clammy from the high ceiling fans. he was only a part of that home in the enchanted picture frames of smiles and laughter– that revelation hangs his head lower. Jasper’s room is the next visitation. 

the young boy holds his finger out in the middle of his bed– a bead of blood bubbles over as he explains, “Liggies bit me !!” furrowed eyebrows glare at his pet lizard. Liggies, the reptile, scurries towards the door to make her escape. the scent of blood drowns out anything else for the cursed blood– Han’s vision blurs, he grows faintly dizzy, his throat itches in rawness, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to his son. ( he definitely doesn’t hear the front door open– he misses Simon’s entrance completely– he isn’t keen enough to notice the babysitter exchanging loud words about children tucked safely in their beds- he doesn’t know Liggie is heading out to essentially tattle on him ) 

the horrible happens, truly disgusting event worsens once Jasper approaches. jumping from his bed– and holding out his boo boo to his father, the little boy airs his whiny complaints, “Dad, I need a bandaid nooooow.” the child drones on as Han holds back a menacing snarl. leaving his tank was, a mistake– though he didn’t wish for Simon to be right in his admonitions. finally he speaks, “Jasper, you know where the bandages are–“ he doesn’t inhale as he tries to redirect the boy to the bathroom across the hall. “I believe the last time we were at the store, Johanna picked out a set of Pokemon ones for you.” he pinches the much tinier finger between his own as he takes a moment to investigate the wound. eyes hyper fixate on the mortal blood as it continues to taunt him. thankfully he Simon’s scent enters the room to stop him from the inevitable...

“That lizard needs to be put down.”

[axdently]

𝒕𝒂𝒈 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒑⸻

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; INTRO.

self explanatory

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; STUDY.

muse inspo

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; MUSIC.

playlist stuff

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; VISAGE.

just LJS spams

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; AESTHETICS.

outer appearance things

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; STARTERS.

self explanatory

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; THREADS.

self explanatory

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; CLOSED.

self explanatory

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; PROSE.

where we stick prompts and stuff

⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; ANSWERED.

where we stick asks that have been answered

[axdently]

@ofthcshvdes​​ // GIOVANNI’S BOUTIQUE 

Han Jae Song has exactly fifteen pairs of shoes in a closet that he shares with Simon Muhn, which isn’t exactly the problem. ( if you asked his almost husband, though, you’d learn that Simon would complain about Han’s shoes taking up too much space, but shh )  the problem is that he hasn’t had access to that home he’s shared with Simon, since they both agreed that his presence wasn’t helping alleviate certain fears that he wouldn’t try and eat his family.  the human children he’d adopted, fathered, and homed had potent mortal blood–  blood that Han Jae was meant to stay away from until he could learn to control his thirst and intrusive bloodthirsty thoughts. the automatic magical doors open to the boutique and he begins his steps, squeaking his way between aisles and displays. he’s never looked worse. a work tie is loosened– his button up is slightly wrinkled and there is a pen stain at the pocket of his already disheveled appearance. work is hard, but living in general is harder. 

he squeaks his way into a corner– wet, waterlogged soles that smell of mildew infiltrate the choices and selections of moccasins, loafers and leather oxfords. perhaps he should try a brogue pair or a nice set of ankle boots. he’s also conflicted by color– but alas, what is the point if he ruins them with water? “Excuse me.” he calls out to anyone who’ll listen. his tone is of pesky annoyance– “attendant?”  

shuffling to a walkway, or perhaps any open space, he asks, “I need something water proof.” he doesn’t know how to even begin to describe the recent plague upon his life, but he thinks the mess he’s created ( involuntarily– it may be stress induced at this point ) suffices. “Size 11 preferably no laces... they tend to fray...”