drippiesfm

[drippiesfm]

right, how could he forget? coffee first, always. his cousin could be quite grumpy without his hourly fix, but han was used to this sullen demeanor, often receiving verbal, nonverbal or written messages of : 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚃�� 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽 ⸺ to which he obeys for a week or so not wanting to get on bryan's cuntier bad side.

"you really shouldn't sleep haunched over your desk like that." he closes the door behind him. the coffee traveler caraffe in one of his hands and the manga tucked under his arm. "it's bad for you, and you could strain your muscles." hadn't he gifted the artist a neck pillow for his birthday one year? that would be handy about now. he takes a look around the room, maybe it was with them somewhere. setting the coffee on the desk ( where it isn't littered by drawings, etc ) he then takes a paper cup, pouring their favorite blend from the nearby coffee shop.

"coffee," he offers with a smile, the cup extending over the coffee paint cups ( of which han would love to test for molds and mildews ). "now answers, please, the nose." always a fixation of han jae song.

It's not often he has visitors to his office, although his apartment is almost as cluttered with art materials as his working space so sometimes it's difficult for him to tell where exactly he is. Upon an initial examination of the space, one would naively believe the artist to be absent from his little workstead, but if you paused and listened closely you would hear his soft snores as he dozed, slumped over his desk hidden behind sketchbooks and paint palettes. His head shoots up at the sound of his cousins voice, eyes bleary as he blinks a few times to bring himself into the present. A hand automatically reaches for a (brush filled) mug and he takes a sip, only to make a face and put it back down, murmuring a hushed paint coffee under his breath before turning and focusing his dark gaze onto Han and holding his hand out expectantly. "Coffee, then answers." His eyes are still dull with the lingering effects of his ill-timed nap, a yawn pulling his features almost in exaggeration as he flexes his fingers like a toddler demanding candy on a holiday.

[drippiesfm]

“do you ever take anyone with you? a friend, perhaps?” the question was aimed at her flights—those journeys through the skies. the concept of friendship seemed almost one-sided when it came to him, given the intensity of his attention on her, but he couldn't help his curiosity. though his imposing nature was, in part, a side effect of the strange slime that thrived within him. yet he wondered how it felt to be up there, untethered. "it must be a breathtaking sight, watching the world shrink beneath you as you soar. or do you spend your time focusing on navigation instead?"

his hands were gentle as they worked—soft, or as soft as practiced hands could manage, mindful not to aggravate the soreness in her shoulders. those shoulders might very well be his ticket into the sky, after all. “a good surgeon always sanitizes before performing an operation.” her caution is not unfounded. spores had a way of embedding themselves in the very seams of his being. "relax, sangah. un-furrow that brow."

goosebumps align against the edge of her spine. sangah loathing the creepy tone used when addressing her. friendly and overly intimate; causing sangah to overthink the manner of speech formed by han jae's swarmy lips. the concern most likely superficial, sangah theorized within the safety of her suspicious mind. probably wants to use me as a test subject! she then concluded, seething through clenched jaws; feeling distrustful as ever. ❝the word often does not exist to a dragon when mentioning the skies.❞ countered sangah, mapping the steps taken while he circled her like an insolent child.

his touch is the most unsettling aspect of this conversation. sangah blocking the urge to backhand the surgeon into next week when her muscles are kneaded like dough. ❝you better have washed your hands.❞ she sighs in defeat, the tension slowly dissipating from her aching muscles witnin seconds. damn him!

[drippiesfm]

"yo ⸺ " he starts to back away slowly, with his hands up in the air. thankfully the toddlings weren't around to see this. "say sike !!! did you really just maim that crow?" poor, kevin, like what if he had a husband and crowlings?! how is he supposed to go back home with a blade in his beak! "not cool, what'd you go and do that for?!" after a pause he asks, "i mean he's going to be okay, right?"

OPEN STARTER

“I’ve created something that kills people. And in that purpose, I was a success.” Aiyana looks at the crow perching on the bench beside her, the steel blade of a knife glistening in its beak. "It's the perfect weight to be dropped from the sky, and pierce through someone's skull. I doubt I'll ever want to do that, but it's still a fun idea."

[drippiesfm]

"depends," he responds with an all too candid honesty. having only witnessed the tail end of the match, he’s hardly in a position to choose a side with any certainty. he would remain unbiased despite having that unburdened connection with them. "but really, what’s so wrong with cheating anyways?" as far as his own moral compass (or lack thereof) was concerned, victory by any means was the only true measure of success. "do you think you cheated? and why do you care what they all think out there?"

@drippiesfm (for axel)

The organiser of tonight's fights down in the Crucible was immune to Bina's mesmerising presence, and made it clear that they thought she was a cheat. They made sure to find opponents for her that felt similarly, and it ended quickly with Bina suffering a bloody nose and a split lip. Grateful for the anonymity lent by the steamy haze in the atmosphere, she sits on a bench dabbing at her lip, hanks of hair hanging in front of her. She hunches over further still when she feels someone else come near.

"Are you gonna tell me I'm a cheat, too?" she asks, sullen. Bitter. She wouldn't usually say anything, to anyone, ever, but she's feeling sulky. Her face hurts. The blood is surely proof enough that she's not a cheat. Every mutant has advantages and disadvantages.

[drippiesfm]

although he hadn’t exactly set foot in sector six, the notion was far from unfamiliar to him—he had witnessed, interacted with, and occasionally collaborated with soldiers over the years. while not exactly on terms of friendship, he had encountered their face often enough to recognize them, recall their names, and exchange pleasantries when the situation demanded it. many of the victims of her exact specialty ( you know the broken bones ) required urgent trauma care, and as the attending surgeon, he was frequently the final set of eyes to witness the casualties. truth be told, he admired her work deeply.

“i’ve noticed i haven’t seen you around lately,” he remarked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “what’s been keeping you busy?” / @thaliaxtcrres

[drippiesfm]

"maybe there's a secret component we're missing." he jests, watching the pickled hand remain in the jar. while he was very doom and gloom, especially inside the terror dome of SSRI induced brain behavior, he liked to believe in the benefit of the doubt with people. maybe he hadn't been betrayed as much as he thought, i mean, the mutant was jaded, but he liked to let others live unless they were causing overt harm. "should we get him some butter? you know to lube it up."

OPEN STARTER

"I think some people should've been left up here to burn," Tenzin says, then takes a drag of her cigarette. "We need a natural culling." Her eyes are fixed on a man who is trying to free his hand from a jar of something pickled. "I wonder how long it'll take for him to figure out glass breaks."

[drippiesfm]

#same

[drippiesfm]

"trust me fins, as someone who is constantly being called dumb," he had haters everywhere, truth be told, and he was inclined to believe some of them, you know? "I think you're pretty smart."but that gets him wonderin' "wait so who called you dumb?" he's ready to issue out some good old fashion swirlies.

starter for @drippiesfm !! ( for skeet )

"...do you think i'm... dumb?"

[drippiesfm]

a little nose somewhere in the darkness is sniffing out the entrails of trash along the underground walls. the 90 degree angle at which the wall meets ground is a cesspool of intriguing snacks and doodads. so much was left to the waste, and he was one to benefit from those lovely spoils. so googles covered his nocturnal eyes, crumbs lined his whiskers, and trinkets filled inside of his jacket pockets as he continued on his way, a furry little metal detector in search of treasures as if he was a beach comb of some sort.

axel, too, thinks he's alone, but since he isn't too certain, he mutters to himself, the lyrics of a favorite ABBA song that is horribly off key and croaking from the frays of his tired voice, "all the things I could do" then a key higher, "if I had a little money," then he coughs, but finishes nonetheless, "in the rich man's world."

he thinks his nose can pick up on a familiar scent, and so he guesses, "yo, kei, is that you?" he pokes his head out, trying to search for that familiar cheshire grin of theirs. "you better not jump scare me !"

A labyrinth without a faun ; open 📍 Deep in the underground

The mutant had done a pretty good job so far at mapping out the more unexplored parts of the underground. It wasn’t exactly the first thing she had in mind when she had discovered its existence. Truly, she was just taking in the scenery (or lack thereof) and waiting until some poor soul had psyched themselves out to a point where she could jump in last minute to give them a really good scare. Unfortunately for her, there weren’t a lot of people there in general but there were a lot of other interesting things—bunkers and hallways covered in several years worth of dust.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t that interesting after all.

Kei had decided to abandon her Scooby-Doo Villain-esque plans for the time being as she walked and took note of her surroundings. It was all rather well-organized and fairly straightforward to navigate actually, which is about what one would expect from a place where people took shelter when the world ended.

The sound of faint footsteps gave an abrupt stop to her train of thought, the tip of her marker similarly coming to a halt as she placed the cap back on and stuffed her notebook back into place.

Someone else was here.

[drippiesfm]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: HAN EDIT ( 2 / ∞ )

[drippiesfm]

"your son is becoming a stain on society."

their son ⸺ in the twisted fate of it all. han had taken to referring to jasper lee song-muhn in such terms ( simon's sole responsibility ) due to the thirteen year old's recent behavior. han often found himself cataloging the boy under a litany of disparaging appellations when co-parenting wore him thin. at times, his words were laced with exasperation, but at others, there was an almost affectionate edge to them. today, however, marked a distinct exception, it's as if he really fucking means it this time, poison barbs upon his tongue and all. he sets his wire-rimmed glasses down with deliberate care on one of their dusty end tables, which also accommodated a wine glass stained with the faint pink residue of the sémillon rosé they'd shared after dinner. after a beat, his voice, heavy in frustration breaks the silence, "he let a lizard lose in the er-caused a lot of trouble when he was supposed to be completing his homework."

it was a fiasco unmatched: patients screaming in terror, rumors of a rat infestation spreading through the walls, a few fainting victims, and the echoing laughter of the adopted boy. even after jasper lee was sent to bed without dessert, the sneer on his face still lingered in han's mind. that small punishment, however, might have been a blessing in disguise for their son, who took far too much pleasure in the chaos of his messy room. there, amidst the disarray, finding refuge with the other reptiles in his possession—creatures neither han nor simon knew existed. there is a grumble in the back of his throat, a lasting reminder of the embarrassment a member of their family caused him.

on most days, han jae song adored the little life they'd built with one another. their past quarrels had built up something he'd have never envisioned for himself. it was all ⸺ 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 despite the ill fated attempts on each others lives. rather than kill one another, they were living for one another. then came a cataclysmic change of events, finding a set of twins who needed a pair of adults to watch over them. the song-muhn union was forever solidified in that moment, sympathy pulling at han's heartstrings and two new faces earning a place in his messed up heart.

all of that for jasper to act so repulsively? betrayal had a way of poisoning han jae song. with his jaw clenched, he's considered a execution of the lizard in question to teach the boy a lesson, but that would be too harsh, wouldn't it ?

"what do you suggest we do about this incident? or have you already checked out of the conversation?" / @starlessleep

[drippiesfm]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: AXEL EDIT ( 2 / ∞ )

[drippiesfm]

"i mean, when i'm a horse, i don't really have complex thoughts, so, yeah... it’s kind of freeing to just let others take the reins." he chuckles at that, effortlessly blending sincerity with humor. it’s second nature to him. but, now that he’s reflecting on it, no one’s ever really asked him how he feels about anything. it dawns on him that, perhaps, he’s shut himself off emotionally—locked away parts of himself he’s not willing to share, as though safeguarding something vulnerable. "sometimes, it’s easier being a horse, because the duplications haven’t figured out how to replicate in that form..." he punctuates that sentence with a hard shrug.

he considers the walkie-talkies and the color-coded systems, but the thought feels more like a fleeting fantasy than a realistic possibility. if it were truly that simple, he would have done it years ago ( right? ) back when he first discovered his ability to replicate. that sort of process wasn’t something he was accustomed to developing on his own. "maybe..." timidity swallows his voice again, "you could color-code them for me?" he asks, his lip trembling slightly.

but then, this is nothing compared to the deeper questions he's grappled with before. "sometimes i can read their minds, but only when the duplications are..." he falters, searching for the right word. "...live?" the concept of the hive mind is difficult to articulate. "if they’re offline, i can’t access their thoughts. so any information they might hold, when they’re not active, is lost to me."

at present, his only access is to the hive mind of the kyle duplications are of those who are currently active—which, in this moment, amounts to none. "i have to be careful when they’re live. i have to pay close attention to which kyle is replicated and track the thoughts of their duplication." he isn’t sure if he’s even making sense. "it’s like... notes stacked on top of notes. i have my notes on the first duplication, but once they duplicate again, it becomes harder to trace and harder to like... notate. does that make sense?"

he knows this likely sounds like utter nonsense to anyone who isn’t a mutant. he wishes he could explain it better. but there isn’t exactly a user manual for toddling minds and their duplications—at least, not yet. maybe with time, he could organize it into chapters, subsections, and detailed annotations and maybe a whole bibliography. but now, this is the best he's got.

when ren looks at him with a look of panic, he does what feels instinctively right: he crouches down and gathers the confused, lost chris into his arms. a big hug is given. his broad "kyle" frame envelops the little boy, and he gently rests chris’s head on his shoulder. "it’s okay, bud. shh..." he murmurs. once he’s leveled with the boy, assuring him that his dinosaur is "neat" and flashing him a trademark "kyle" smile, he adds, "this is ren. he’s a good guy, i promise. he’s really nice, and super cool. he just wants to know if you'd like to have a sleepover tonight! if not, that’s okay—we can take you back to your parent's house. no big deal !" he gives it a moment. he tries to give chris and ren their moment to bond before he asks, "do you know where your parents are, bud?"

"A horse." He repeats. By far, the mutation wasn't the strangest Ren had ever come across. Eyes glide over Kyle as he tries to imagine him twice as big with a dark brown mane and...he has a million more questions than answers, none of which he's sure how to ask. Would Kyle even know the answer? Based on their current conversation...probably not.

His weight shifts on his feet. "I mean...I've seen weirder..." Which is maybe not the best thing for him to say in that moment. "Do you...um...enjoy being a horse?"

What kind of question was that? Temptation arises to lock himself in the bathroom and bang his head on the wall. Instead, he tries to imagine life if there were six of him all trying to keep track of one another. "We'd have walkie-talkies. And color-coded schedules," He decides. If his life had been like that since childhood, Ren's certain he'd get used to it.

"Can you like...read one another's minds? Or is it just...an intuition thing? Are your duplicates ever older than you, or is it always just your age and younger? Are you ever scared that maybe your the duplicate? How do you keep track?"

His mouth runs faster than his mind. "Sorry. You don't have to answer any of that if you don't want to," He's not sure how comfortable Kyle feels. Or if he even has any of the answers. Ren leans down so that he's eye level with Chris. "Do you know where your mom or dad is? Is there anyone we can call?"

But the question only leaves the poor boy with his bottom lip stuck out. Tears begin to well in his deep brown eyes. Ren looks to Kyle in a panic.

[drippiesfm]

he remains thoroughly confused at the rules of the game. does he strike with scissors? should he wait for a beat before unleashing his move? how could he possibly discern the rules in such a state—surrounded by the frenetic energy of the bustling crowd of locals ? his fist remains clenched, a lingering gesture from the flow of the game. “so... does that make me rock?” he asks, still grasping for understanding. “wait, does that make you paper—or scissors?” the rules elude him entirely. "do we show our moves on 1 - 2 - 3 OR 1 - 2 - 3 SHOOT?"

Location: City Square Starter: Open Character: Rhyland Shaw

He had managed to get to the city square and explore around to kill some time. Though this wasn't his usual area (usually the underground). He wanted to familiarize himself with the town, he even managed to play rock, paper, scissors with the locals. "Ready?" he said with a small smile. It had been how long for this game?

[drippiesfm]

surprise flickers across his face. had they truly been like two spider-men pointing at each other in confusion all along? it was strange, encountering someone who wasn't a mutant FREAK like himself. yet, despite this, ren had never made him feel out of place. acceptance was one of the qualities he cherished most about their dynamic. even now, as he utters something absurd like "𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞," he doesn't feel misunderstood—he feels acknowledged, seen and heard ⸺ as if ren's POV of him wouldn't change.

"and you don't think it's strange that... i do?" a hesitant expression sweeps across his features, a fleeting concern that perhaps he's already overstepped too many boundaries. "turn into a horse, i mean."

"i mean, it's challenging enough to keep track of three versions of myself," he begins, his voice uncertain as he tries to explain. "but sometimes the other two me's make decisions i don't exactly agree with, and when that happens, i lose track of things." he pauses, then continues, his words tumbling out with a mixture of awkwardness and vulnerability. "i was diagnosed with adhd once, but i never received treatment for it. so, when things get like that, it's kind of uncontrollable because my brain can't really register it." his face shifts from surprise to concern, before settling into a familiar grimace. "i mean, if you had to manage six versions of yourself, i bet you'd struggle too, right?" he attempts to deflect, but even with his hands jammed in his pockets, a guilty tension lingers in his expression. "i just mean... i don't always know what the other kyles are up to. but i do keep the worst stuff in check—like murder, and the really bad crimes." he mumbles under his breath, "stealing, tax fraud, making new friends—those are passes in our book." he gives an awkward chuckle, still scared about being seen.

"uh..." he bites his lower lip, his eyes darting towards chris. "i mean, we could always ask him?" his voice trails off, but when he turns to look, chris is too absorbed in playing with a toy dinosaur on the ground to notice. "i'm sure five year old kyle knows this, but I don't really want him to jump out right now. don't know what else he's going to do.. how many more chris's he's going to bring home..."

Mutations were never something that surprised Ren. Despite not being one himself, he'd grown up all around them. Hearing about them...still isn't exactly the same, and he wishes Kyle had maybe been more upfront about it sooner instead of just Surprise, my younger duplicate brought home an orphaned young boy! Also, I can turn into a horse.

Too much information was being given at once.

"I, uh, don't have any glowing appendages actually. Or...any extra appendages," There wasn't anything special or unique about him, not in the way others were. Not in the way Kyle was. "What do you mean you don't know?" Ren didn't understand how or why Kyle wouldn't try and figure out every inch of his abilities. Maybe it was just something about mutants that would never - and could never - fully understand.

He doesn't like that feeling in the slightest.

So he grasps on what he can understand, the odd little boy who came from seemingly nowhere. "Um, that's okay, he can keep his M&Ms...do you have any idea if he has any family members left? Or even like...a family friend who might recognize him?"

[drippiesfm]

"heeeey, um, pookie????" the hesitation in his voice weaves through the words, a thread of concern that tiptoes delicately, like a fresh pair of white socks gliding over the hardwood floor. floors he's become intimately familiar with, having spent a few too many nights here since the bunkers finally released him ( he was finally moving in !!! ) . gab’s place was a far cry from his own apartment with kyle—no blaring 8-bit music flooding the walls, no endless bickering with that other bizarre guy whose name rhymed with HEN who always seemed to show up, not to mention the new kid they'd somehow ended up with. (or hadn't ended up with, considering the situation. someone really ought to call their parents !! )

"just tell me you didn’t have any of that tea," he urges, his voice laced with equal parts worry and disbelief. after all, it was shroom tea, the kind he’d gotten from some shady character whose name, fittingly, rhymed with DON. "or that pizza i made," he adds with a slight wince. that would be a double whammy for her senses. / @ofliarsandlovers

[drippiesfm]

"they appear sore ⸺" he murmurs, his voice low and measured, as his gaze scans her shoulders with deliberate precision, circling her like a predator. despite her impeccable posture, as flawless as it may seem, he detects a subtle tension in the muscles beneath—an imperfection only noticeable to one with the discerning eye of a seasoned surgeon, particularly one accustomed to the intricacies of trauma care. "have you been taking to the skies?" he muses aloud, his imagination painting a vivid picture of a majestic golden dragon tracing the clouds in flight. "not too often, i hope."

with a gentle yet assured movement, he places his hands on either side of her back, his palms smoothing over the scapula. he works with a practiced touch, kneading the taut muscles and tendons, his fingers finding their way to the deeper knots with the precision of someone well-versed in the human form. / @dragonkcn