#re:demption

[vlinderknife-blog]

♥~ BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing will happen, but it’s sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out. ~♥

i don’t deserve any of this why is everyone so nice... thank you so much

[vlinderknife-blog]

"Are you fucking ignoring me?"

@ofkngs // his eyes are anywhere but on seungjun. specifically speaking, he’s purposely watching absolutely nothing as he blows out smoke from his lungs. he imagines them blackened, just as black as he knows the man’s eyes are right now. he doesn’t have to check to know. it’s a weird feeling, one he hasn’t felt before. daniel rarely, if ever, feels agitation, and if he does it’s not with the so called king (somewhat self-proclaimed? he doesn’t express these thoughts out loud). but a few times too many king’s been stepping on his toes lately. it’s always about him, in one way or another. could be any type of situation, and it’s always seungjun. normally he wouldn’t oppose, just let it slide off him. showing up at daniel’s doorstep like he owns the place didn’t work today. not today. 

for the past thirty minutes, seungjun has been talking about nothing and everything at once. daniel recalls a few topics, but doesn’t engage in any conversation. in the beginning, seungjun doesn’t notice. after all, it’s not unusual for him to have days when he’s not adding much feedback, just letting a mouth spew whatever shit it needs. it takes about thirty five minutes for the atmosphere in the living room to change. even bandit goes completely silent (she usually howls the moment she sees a ghost enter through the door) and retreats back into her bed, pretending to sleep. no one’s sleeping right now. instead, the comment is enough to spring a shock through his spine even if he doesn’t move. not an inch in any direction.

seungjun’s always been particular with his ways. he wants eye contact when you speak to him, respect in every time of way. “i am.” is his simple answer. he’s surprised, astonished at how tranquil he sounds. it’s as if someone’s sedating him. technically speaking, he should be more worried than he is. considering what a man stands before him, he really should. a man who kills when needed, not second guessing himself for a fraction of a second. daniel wouldn’t even be able to pull a trigger if he was forced to. not a glance elsewhere but in his own lap is a signal enough. “i’m tired of your shit, jun. if i’m gonna respect you, you should at least try and respect me.” a shit storm is coming, definitely. strap yourselves in, because it’s going to be a hell of a ride. it’s not fear he feels, but relief.

this has been an inevitable outcome and would’ve made its way out sooner or later anyways. the dramatic one in a situation like this isn’t him, it’s clearly going to be the man that requires utter respect. daniel lights up another smoke, scooting a little closer to the balcony that’s barely open. he’s prepared. as well as he can be, at least.

[vlinderknife-blog]

"You've gotten new tattoos, right? You should show me them sometime."

@pullstrings // Her hands look the same. They smooth out like the polished surface of the table they’re sitting by in his shop. Mahogany is a great contrast against the paleness of her slender fingers that subtly move around. He doesn’t look at her face more than necessary, preferably not at all. It’s too nostalgic and images pop into his head involuntarily. Therefore he avoids it as much as possible without seeming all too bitter and impolite. Her eyes are suffocating, and the feeling of them gazing at him doesn’t exactly get better when she leans forward over the table; a little closer. Daniel stubbornly (like a child) focuses intently on his phone screen, but in actuality he’s making a tame attempt to reply to a text message. It doesn’t end up sounding anywhere near professional, so he decides not to send it and give in. The phone sneaks back into his pocket at he makes eye contact for the first time in a while.

One thing he notices when sitting like this, in a busy environment and it feels like it’s only them there. Her eyes are different, if not the opposite. They don’t seem as alive, but he can’t exactly point out what’s changed. It’s definitely not the color or shape of them. Oh well. Not important, nor none of his business. He could say he doesn’t care, but he probably does. Instead he opts for the next best thing, which becomes not thinking about it. The coffee stings a tangy aftertaste onto his tongue as he grabs the cigarette behind his ear, balances it between his fingers. It’s been quiet for a few minutes now. He should say something.

Before he has the chance to think of anything, her lips part into a sentence. Her eyes are elsewhere but his face, the space between his collarbones has been filled in, since last time (a year ago? maybe?), she’s right about that. He’s not stupid though. Her comment is in no way just to announce that she’s noticed. Jungah’s voice tells him otherwise, as well as how she used to study his tattoos like they were new land. The tone is something he recognizes quicker than anything else about her. Daniel feels his heart pick up speed, and his brows furrow into a tightly knit expression.

“Knock it off. ” It comes out harsher than intended and expected, yet he regrets nothing. “You should ask someone else, don’t you think? Sure they got tattoos too. It’s not that taboo anymore.” A scoff, and the last grainy bits of coffee slide down his throat. It’s a warm day and his arms are well exposed in a short sleeve dress shirt, as well as his collarbones. She’s still looking. Daniel isn’t one to lose his temper. Especially not to her. No matter how much he denies it, he can feel agitation chewing at his bones until they crackle. “Or get a few yourself. You love yourself so much anyways you’ll have all the time in the world to admire it.”

[vlinderknife-blog]

fuck me..

daniel’s eyes don’t widen. in fact, there’s no reaction at all (at first). what did he just hear? he must’ve heard wrong. no one actually blurts out something like that. instead he raises an eyebrow, not sure what to make of the comment. in reality, taken out of its context, it could mean a lot of things. but for some reason, he feels like he already knows what it’s supposed to mean. quite literally speaking. could be a figurative way of saying what a fuck-up someone is. the chances for the second option are minimal without anything else being said. a blank stare is all that’s received, and a scratch to the back of his head. what does this really mean? does it mean what he thinks it does? “first off, relax.” a low laugh leaves him, but it’s barely there. stuck somewhere between his esophagus and his mouth. daniel clears his throat instead, wondering how he’s gotten to this point in his life that people feel that way.

“thanks for the offer— i guess? it’s understandable, dopamine is the neurotransmitter causing you to say that, considering you probably don’t know me. the chemical reaction in your brain creates your impulsive behavior. amphetamine would make you even more impulsive, maybe it’s that? interesting nonetheless, but i gotta kindly decline.”

[vlinderknife-blog]

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy. Then send to the last ten people in your notifications anonymously! 🌟

one * her smile becomes the first thing that pops into his head— involuntarily. daniel has too many fond memories of her, but she no longer exists in his world. she’s somewhere far away, still alive. not within reach. sometimes he thinks of what her life might’ve become, only to realize that he has no idea. she could be any type of person. he doesn’t know her anymore, yet he doesn’t feel sadness when thinking of her. madeleine is no longer sixteen, and nor is he. years have passed, but daniel still hopes she’ll do well. she always did, even if he wasn’t the best of influences. “we’re moving back to london.” a bittersweet ending, leaving the taste of iron on his tongue. a first love is always too many emotions at once, but he concludes that she was made out of joy.

two * a gold-enameled wristwatch that glimmers under the hot victoria sun. it’s december when he actually mentions it. daniel is six years old and his father is pushing him in a swing in the nearby park. the sand tickles his bare soles, his stomach tickles every time he asks for more, and the swing is almost close enough to the sky for him to touch the clouds, at least in a child’s eyes. the watch looks like a gold version of mickey mouse, he thinks. the gears at the top that adjust the time seem like little ears, and he imagines a face in the middle of it. the design of the watch stays with daniel even to the age of fourteen, when he asks his father to inherit the watch at some point. it’s one of the few times his father just smiles in response, nods and agrees. they haven’t felt the same way about anything since daniel was below school age. fourteen years old, and his skin is tainted for the first time. it’s a depiction of the mickey mouse-looking watch on his wrist, and although his mother screams in terror, his father defends a sin under god’s holy book for the first and last time.

three * an uncle daniel wasn’t supposed to be left alone with. the uncle that everyone stayed away from as much as possible, but he was more so intrigued. a silent man whom could mainly be found at the back of his garage, polishing his motorcycles. not a word in english directed at daniel although the man had lived in port moresby where english reigned the land. every time a young boy curiously peeked inside while he was working on his bikes, a stern command in tok pisin told the boy to grab this and that tool. the names of them where never mentioned, only what they looked like. the smell of oil and metal mixed to together infused into the boy’s clothing, with a few stains here and there. the boy slowly but surely grew older, and the uncle also. grey hairs in contrast to young, restless muscles that took over the work in a few years time. a cane in contrast to carrying heavy parts and attaching them to the bikes in a robotic fashion. “ducati’s are the best. nothing can beat their impeccable design.” and so daniel receives a ducati at his front door in korea at the age of twenty, two years before his uncle passed. every time he sits on it, it takes him back to the days in a stuffy garage with no ventilation. sweat drips, laughter ensues.

four * whenever daniel sits down behind a set of drums, his blood starts rushing. it’s almost to the point that he can hears it flood his veins and make it impossible for his fingers to stay still. he grabs the worn out drumsticks and creates a beat for his friends to follow. the bass joins him in a muffled tune, and the strings of the guitar dance on the consistent waves of his snare. when music came into his life, everything didn’t feel as hopeless anymore as an angst-filled teenager. he plays until his hands are sore and his knees are weak. daniel doesn’t regret a thing, instead he shouts in excitement when his heels start to give up every time he forces his foot down the pedal of the bass drum. rock might be unholy, yet again, but he decides it’s worth being unholy for.

five * a fluffy black and white puppy sits in a little glass box in a pet shop in incheon, clearly much bigger than the other pups in their boxes. daniel just walks by as the puppy chases her own tail in boredom. a glass box is no place for a dog, let alone a malamute cross. he reads a little handwritten not on the window that the puppy howls a lot, but wants love nonetheless. in that moment, daniel slows down. she howls with her barely audible voice, it’s more of a squeak than anything. he knows you’re not supposed to support pet shops by giving them money for a dog. he knows that very well, but he still doesn’t stop himself from walking into the store and picking her up. in pure excitement she wags her tail fast enough to almost fall out of his arms. she squeaks again, pushes her wet little nose into the collar of his shirt. daniel comes home with a puppy that chews up a pair of way too expensive loafers and knocks a few plants down. he still wouldn’t replace bandit with any other companion, even when she scares the living out of his neighbors as she grows, and grows and grows.