reckless abandon

[visual-17]

[wrcns-blog]

thelittledollie:

in my defense, i was left unattended

[jihnq-blog]

OCTOBER 5TH 2016 : ONE YEAR ANNIVERSAY !

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[littlemingyu]

[grimgott]

(  ☾  )

      the vagrant picks up his ailing corpse so that he may sit upright, and with his arms laid lifelessly in his lap, he watches the stranger. there’s a lop-sided grin on his stupid mug. “always a slut for some ice cream, my man.” and then he’s scrambling to his feet, a bruised hand reaching out for the boy in offering to assist them up. “you basically read my mind!”

[wrcns-blog]

it’s hard not to take the lop-sided grin he’s presented with in stride - counter it with his own crooked declaration. the prominent crook of canines glint dumbly, distastefully drawn, under the artificial flickering of a lamp post taking its eighteenth on nineteenth final puff of life in just as many minutes. he’s beginning to suspect its immortality. (especially when more than one of them had come tumbling into its gut at a high enough velocity to cause blunt force trauma, and it had still somehow come out victorious.) 

his dark eyes flicker up to the puttering dome of it distantly, thoroughly impressed at its sheer tenacity and regular fuck it attitude towards physics, before his attention shifts. the way the boy scrambles to his feet in a flurry of movements is too fast for wren’s exertion fatigued brain to even register - it’s a feat, really - but he’s clasping fingers around the hand offered to him before the thought worms its way in. well, that is hardly the usual response. 

“a hero,” he quips back, carding the fingers of his free hand roughly through silver hair until it’s more of a bird’s nest than a brier patch. 

“i knew you looked like a reasonable guy.” he doesn’t. neither of them do to be honest. banged up and tussled in all of the worst ways as they stand their grinning in a decrepit back alley where the statistical probability of murder is characteristically high. “chocolate fan? no - strawberry - damn, you also have a mean right hook.”

[wrcns-blog]

           “aw, that’s a cute name.” looking down at the feline, her eyes practically sparkle in admiration, just as they always did when she held a cat. quite frankly, she didn’t even really think the name was CUTE. what she meant to say was that it was unique but ‘cute’ slipped out– not unusual. it was probably her top most used word. she finally looks back up at the male upon hearing both his answer and his query. her eyes are quite wide at first but she later on offers a smile. “the name’s maddie. nice to meet you, wren.” she quickly turns her attention to the creature in her arms and scrunches up her nose. “and nice to meet you, edison.”

he has bits and pieces of a response mingling against the forefront of his mind, quirked lips parted around half-formed syllables before the girl’s attention is diverted elsewhere once again. elsewhere, he thinks, when he actually means the smug ball of fluff still laying prone in the girl’s arms. he does exhale a brittle sigh this time, reaching his arms out for the dirt-trodden, flower and leaf speckled nuisance. “he’s a grumpy old man under all that fur, but it’s nice to meet you too.” he adds as an afterthought, sure she’d be more interested in the purring mess of his cat. “tell me you have a cat too,” he adds, wondering vaguely if she’d kidnap his.

[wrcns-blog]

@grimgott

this is where he finds himself, his bleary-eyed gaze just on the precipice of a dingy, post-prime awning on the verge of decay, the starless black void of this city’s skyline just on the other side. all he can do is look up. this is wren, drowning in half caught breaths, gravel embedding assorted patterns into his back, and the potential bloom of already purpling bruises sitting pretty below his rib cage, waiting for the opportune moment to rear its bestial head. this is wren, losing himself to the roaring candor of time, the low ticking of it beneath the muted hum of traffic. and then he hears the puffing exhales. breathing. in tandem with his own but not. propping himself up onto his elbows and forearms - and then further until he’s sitting up, all wren can make out is dark hair and the rise and fall of a chest.

he nudges it.

“hey.” the syllables are raw and edged with misuse but distinctly bright. and he almost sighs in relief. (there was a second somewhere between the first shove and the inevitable crumpling to the floor where knuckles had ebbed at his windpipe hard enough, he thought, to render him maybe eternally speechless.) 

the muggy humidity of early autumn hits him like a brick as he tries again, careful to brush off the worn denim of his jeans as if that will bring it back to some semblance of decency. it doesn’t. he leans over, the lanky bulk of his left arm outstretched in invitation as the distantly familiar features of the other’s face finally register. “that was kinda fucking wicked. i thought i was dead for a second there.”

he offers a flash of teeth, the quirk of it crooked and amused, and marked with the metallic tang of blood. iron copper magnesium sulfur nor-epinephrine endorphin dopamine - the smile does not fall as he continues. “i’m thinking ice cream and air conditioning as a reward for not dying. you in?”

[visual-17]

[wrcns-blog]

              “what’s his name?” it was like the male’s warning slipped through one ear and went out the other. radioactive, my ass. the way she’s holding the pet implies that she’s giving him back to his rightful owner but there’s something in her stance that says that she’s not ready to return him just yet. a thought occurs to the girl when she asks the question and finds herself mentally hitting herself on the head. “oh, right. uh… what’s YOUR name?” she says it with genuine interest, just to show the male that she’s not ignoring him completely.

“edison,” he offers back, taking a step closer as the grey ball of fluff continues to ignore him in lieu of practically vibrating in happiness. he freezes at the question, eyes wide, before he straightens up, unconsciously straightening out the hem of his shirt. he’s in joggers and a long t shirt, and, despite it being proper jogging attire, wren knows he’s looking particularly disheveled. the best kind of first impression, he thinks idly. “wren - i’m wren. what’s your name?” he quips back, imitating her tone with a grin.

[wrcns-blog]

maybe she did go a bit overboard and yes it was a cliche however at this point in time she was incredibly desperate to sneak away without being detected by her father’s pesky little helpers. the girl can’t help but laugh at the male’s remark, amusement coloring her face. “if that’s what you want. i can get you the fancy black leather suit they always wear. or would you like a motorcycle to match the leather suit?” she can’t help but let a hearty chuckle escape her lips at the mere thought, but lets out a sigh of relief the moment he lets her through, passing through quickly before looking back at him, flashing two thumbs up. “just two cartons of strawberry milk? why not go for a year’s supply — but alright. it’s a deal! you can’t go back on your word now!”

he makes a point to tap his chin consideringly, his own features drawn tight in thought before he lifts a shoulder. “i don’t reckon i could pull off a leather suit on a motorcycle, but i do have long legs. maybe a strappy black dress with a cup up the seams.” lightly, he takes a step back into the sterile silence of the laboratory, dropping onto the closest stool as he gestures vaguely. “welcome to my lair, 007. i can offer a chair and sweets, but my wit has run completely dry.” he wonders how long he’s managed to just sit in the lab today alone - or is it the next day already. “you can’t offer a life supply and then take it back.”

[wrcns-blog]

he watches the other walk towards the counter, brows furrowing wondering if he needed anything else, or he should just do what he was going to do–get those damn daises and get himself a flower pot if they have them. he’s dropping his gaze back onto the phone, several clicks later he’s back on the home screen when he hears the other once more. shoving the phone into his back-pocket he then raises a brow, taking curious steps closer towards him as he speak. he blinks at the stranger, the word ‘patisserie’ alerting him that he needed to pay attention. he wondered if the other was bribing him with the patisserie since oscar had too eagerly mentioned his love for the donuts; or any sweet baked good depending on the time of the day. he follows the taller, only hoping he wasn’t a murderer who picked his victims in a flower shop; he had no intention of being a victim of such tragedy after all. first he was too young to die, there were many things he had to do and eat. oscar  then picked up his pace, rushing to walk beside the other, gaze falling onto his hands and then onto his face. “I know taekwondo just so you know” he warned.

it’s not as busy as the potential would suggest, the usual mid-morning tide of people meandering past them sparser, and wren cups a hand over his brows to glimpse up at the sky, wondering if the weather is the problem. he wonders vaguely if the half-stranger will even follow him. he hears the other’s footsteps pulling up beside him, light and practiced, but rushed, and his lips turn up a bit crookedly, as if only half convinced of the novelty, until the words register, and he turns sharp eyes down to meet the other male’s thoughtfully. after a moment, he just beams back, giving a cheeky salute. “got it. no funny business because i don’t know any martial arts and could die,” he offers back, though wren can’t help but unhelpfully quip back seriously with a “but you shouldn’t give away all your strengths, hydrangea-ssi.” he can see the patch of would be flowers fast approaching, and he nudges the boy’s wrist lightly before bolting towards it just to falter a few metres off. he points to the mess with his flowers. “i ran that entire garden over with my bike - so i have to make it up to the bees.”

[visual-17]

[wrcns-blog]

he blinks at the male, wondering if he’s actually serious asking that question or he usually blurted out ridiculous questions to confuse people. he doesn’t answer anyway, head instead shaking and wondering why a bee would even want any paper. bees weren’t supposed to attack the bunch of flowers the other held, they were for the person who needed the bouquet. he also doubted they’d be a happy chappy seeing a huge bee loitering around the flowers; or even several. that’d be a disaster and oscar was just suddenly glad he wasn’t going to witness the exchange. gaze lowering he drifts off into his own world since the stranger didn’t need him anymore. taking out his phone, he opens up his last message, instantly then remembering he needed to grab the daisies. his train of thought stops once more hearing the other speak up and he looks at the male, brows furrowing for a moment until he smiles awkwardly showing his teeth. “umm not ruined it, that would take a lot more. my facial expressions aren’t helping, but i’ll be fine after donuts.”

the silence that meets him is - understandable, wren supposes grudgingly, though he can’t even begin to fathom how the urgency of the situation can be defined as even remotely trivial. the bees. his trains of thought are difficult to understand at any given moment, and the comprehensibility only decreases staggeringly the more spontaneous he’s feeling. (which is a lot, at the moment.) it doesn’t usually bother him. despite this, wren can’t help the need to be understood in this particular situation. he’s not chronically insane, just a bit barmy. slapping more than enough slips of cash to compensate for his bouquet, he turns heel, gesturing the other to follow him as he forgoes the paper. “this’ll be just a few minutes, and you can go back to your day. it’s only about a half a block away, and close to a patisserie -” he calls back, trailing off as he tucks the fragile stems close. and then he turns a corner towards the small park without much else in terms of explanation. wren could be some raging maniac, but it’s broad daylight, and it didn’t seem as if the half-stranger was incapable of defending himself. regardless, he doesn’t think remarking on it will do him any good.

[pijichu]

When it comes to academia, Suji’s confident she’s got a general grasp of her current situation- her schedule’s (schedules, actually.  for the next three years in fact) been meticulously planned out, notes prewritten, textbooks bought.  Key word: general.  It’s some time in the afternoon when she realizes that she’d left something very, very important.  She spots a familiar tuft of silver hair- it’s hard to ignore, and she’s seen him hanging by the labs before.  He seems like he’s leaving, and with a sudden burst of desperation she grabs his sleeve- “Quick, lend me your coat!” Never mind their height discrepancy. “I’ll return it.  Please?”

[wrcns-blog]

wren is upbeat - he muses distantly - and friendly, for the most part, but, when he is in his element, immersed in his books, he is an entirely different monster. when the cogs in his mind are whirring at full-force and he is pushed to think harder, work faster, challenge himself further, his expressions are subdued to the point of complete disinterest in the rest of the world. and there have been rumours of a nineteen year-old robot. this is why it comes as a shock when anyone approaches him in the science building at all, let alone - whatever it is she’s doing. “eh?” he blinks down at the girl, lips parted and eyes a little too wide. “my - lab coat?” he pauses, plucking at his coat before he shrugs out of it quickly. “are we saving the world somehow?”

[wrcns-blog]

             he’s weirder than i thought. when she notices what he’s looking at, her eyes glance at the plants at her feet. it doesn’t bother her, however, because it’s not like she can’t fix it later. her attention returns to the ball of fur in her arms as she lovingly pets it as if it were her own. “oh, this adorable baby? i highly doubt it.” even as she says this, though, she knows cats and cat owners well, and in the back of her mind, maddie can tell that the male is telling the truth. this doesn’t stop her from embracing the cat as if it were her own child, though. “don’t worry about the pots and plants. i have a cat who does this quite often so it’s no biggie.”

wren realizes that he must look borderline mental, breathing still out of sorts and silvery hair a mess of flyaways from their impromptu chase, but the recognition does little to alter his disposition even the slightest. not until he continues watching the contented puff ball in the girl’s arm relax even more, and he wrinkles his nose, sagging slightly as his head catches up with the rest of his body. “be careful. he may be radioactive,” wren manages with a frown, settling down onto a crouch on the ground with a yawn, “or whatever the hulk was. one moment, he’s too lazy to even walk to his own food bowl and the next he’s sprinting into-” his gaze flickers down briefly to inspect the plants once again. “-basil. or something.”

[seungchul]

“when i see you, it’s breathtaking normally i’m not like this.”

[wrcns-blog]

“What type of flowers are you thinking ‘bout because I highly doubt that you smell ANYTHING like that.” She rolled her eyes at him as she continued to pull out more clothes, shoving a couple dress shirts towards him while tossing some of her own clothes over her free arm. “It would work if you actually ARE a cartoon character but sadly, you’re human and real.” She added, nodding her head to herself before grinning rather cheekily at her own words, her head turning towards him as she arched a brow. “Slow down now, Abercrombie. There’s nothing wrong in trying on clothes. Stop being lazy and go before I push you!”

“rafflesia arnoldii,” he offers unfalteringly and with far too much cheek. all of which diminish with the addition of crisp dress shirts to the prominent mass of fabric already taking up residence in his arms. “how can you be so sure? i could just be a figment of your imagination. some entity you thought up because maybe your life was going to well, and you wanted some stress to keep you on your toes.” wren is still making faces in complaint even as he is on his way towards the fitting rooms, body still turned in her general direction. “you wouldn’t push me,” he hums, though he ducks into one of the open rooms before she gets a chance to prove him wrong.