There was no taking chances in the game that he plays unless he was at the advantage of winning. When his life was in potential danger, as thrilling and arousing as that thought is, he wouldn’t take it lightly. He had a whole Kingdom to protect and he wasn’t about to let anyone destroy that on him. The only one worthy of taking his life — is himself. Seungjun trusted Daniel to as much of an extent as he possibly could. He had no real reason to doubt him except for the raw munching of his brother’s betrayal eating him alive from the inside out. If someone that he was fully invested in, grew up with, and created a new world with could easily turn their back to him and turn him into shambles, how could he be so sure that Daniel wouldn’t? Doubt was a funny thing. Even now, with his blade pressed up against muscle ready to be torn into, he was hesitating. Things have changed and he was beginning to have flashbacks to when Red forced his hand to her neck to kill her. He couldn’t then and couldn’t now. It was the same this time around except he willingly threatened his best friend with his most valuable possession. If this turned out to be true, then he would have no choice but to look him in the eye as he put him to rest.
Could he take the chance though? What will you do Seungjun?
The King stared down at him with a contemplative look in his eyes though the rest of his face now held a neutral expression that was darker than usual. He breathed heavy through his nose and began to furrow his brows. He wanted to trust him, but either way, whether Daniel was in the clear or not, someone was going to die. The fingers in the male’s hair loosened drastically until he was practically smoothing out the strands with his fingertips. The blade stayed where it was and only pressed just a little deeper to say that he wasn’t going to let him off. He wouldn’t let him go fully because stupidity wasn’t one of his own traits. Even if the knife was somehow taken from him, he had his pistol resting beneath his shirt ready to go off and plunge silver into a warm body. “Oh, yeah, tell the guy with snipers pointed at his back to let you go so that you can have an easier time talking. Sure, that’s how shit is played nowadays.” There was a snort and though he moved to stand a bit straighter and peer down at him more comfortably, that was the only thing that changed.
“You know better than most people that the moment I decide to let one person fly under the radar, the whole thing comes to shit. So, if I were you, I’d piss on that angry tone of yours and start giving out the details while I can. You know me, Danny. You know the rules of this game. Don’t start pussying out on me now.” The fingers parading through his friend’s hair became just a little aggressive with his nails scraping the scalp rougher than anyone would like. Could he blame him for being angry too? He had enemies. He had to make sure Daniel was far from one. “Someone has to die and I only have to find out who. If not you, then who would be so fucking dumb to accuse you personally of giving away my position? I handpicked everyone living under me. Do you really think it would be so easy for them to point you out when you stand so close to me? I love you, Daniel. Don’t let that be the last thing you hear from me today.”
daniel doesn’t doubt a second seungjun has been going more and more insane from the day they met. that on the other hand, doesn’t mean that most of the time, seungjun is a man of logic. he calculates, is strategic like no other and hums a tune while he figures out his next move. unless his impulses kick in, of course. like today, and for many more days to come. daniel decides that the only way to make sense of these irrational actions are that seungjun is as per usual slowly (rapidly) losing his god damn mind. wouldn’t ever have called him a sane man, but this? almost shocking, except that he knows seungjun wouldn’t wait like this. sure, he would be willing to drag it out with someone else, but somehow, daniel knows that if there would ever be a situation were daniel was about to lose his life in the hands of a self-proclaimed king, it would be swift and sudden. he would take half a breath and die right there, halfway done. it’s already been a few minutes too long. the instinct of fear still erratically jumps around in his heart, tells him that he’s going to die today against his will even if he knows otherwise. now who’s not making sense?
when he feels the grip around his hair loosen, he’s luckily not stupid enough to move his head. instead, daniel’s eyes move up, travel along the other’s body and face until his gaze is etched to seungjun’s eyes. he stares, between attempts of calming his breathing. mixing fear with a disappointed anger doesn’t seem to be the best medicine in this situation. “you’re being ridiculous. might as well kill me off if you’re gonna be like this, fucking bitch.” daniel doesn’t know who’s speaking for him, but it doesn’t sound like him when the words come out. has he ever called seungjun names? probably not. hasn’t felt the need to get spat on or have his head shoved into a brick wall. right now he’d rather be smashed into a wall than sit here all day. “ain’t no shit to be played, jun. you just believe any shit you hear. thought you were better than that.” his voice stammers even though he tries to cover it up with the hoarseness of his throat when leaned backwards. the metal is cold to the point that it makes him shiver. he licks dried up, chapped lips. a cigarette would be good right now. if there’s any way he wants to die, it’s while sucking on nicotine.
“i would give you details, but for one it’s difficult to talk like this, and for one, there’s no details to be told. i fuckin’ know nothing. a guy came into my shop asking for you, i didn’t snitch. that’s it.” around a month ago, someone came in while he was talking to a client, interrupting with invasive questions, and daniel answered with empty stares and feigned raised eyebrows. the king? never heard of something more laughable. a laugh, and the guy had stormed out after throwing things onto the floor. nothing major, nothing violent. his gun had been left untouched right in the drawer where seungjun had placed it at the back of the shop almost a year ago now. he hadn’t needed it until now, and wasn’t planning on having to use it either. staying quiet resolved the situations for him more often than not. criminals of all sorts, for some reason, seem to have little to no patience. seungjun included. “save it for another day, then. it wasn’t me, prick. never has been me. i don’t talk smack, unlike you.” a raspy cough, and daniel quickly brings his hand up to grab seungjun’s arm. he doesn’t try to pry it off or even move it, he just squeezes the cold, pale skin between his fingers. “dunno who should be more disappointed, you or me.” somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, he closes his eyes, completely relaxes his head back against the couch and sighs. “who are you nowadays?”
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why are y’all so nice even though i’m dead and gone?
if i were a month, i’d be australian january.
if i were a planet, i’d be neptune.
if i were a mythological figure, i’d be marunogere.
if i were a sea animal, i’d be an anglerfish.
if i were a piece of furniture, i’d be an a worn out velvet armchair.
if i were a gemstone, i’d be a lapis lazuli.
if i were a flower, i’d be a tiger lily.
if i were a kind of weather, i’d be the drizzling mizzle you barely remember until you smell it.
if i were a colour, i’d be papaya whip.
if i were an emotion, i’d be thrill.
if i were a fruit, i’d be papaya.
if i were a sound, i’d be the old jazz on a record player your dad bought to remember.
if i were an element, i’d be cobalt.
if i were a place, i’d be at a rocky beach with aggressive waves.
if i were a taste, i’d be the mix of bitter espresso coffee and menthol cigarettes.
if i were a scent, i’d be salt water dried up in dirty hair.
if i were an object, i’d be a balisong butterfly knife.
if i were a body part, i’d be the tired, raspy lungs of an old man.
if i were a pair of shoes, i’d be italian loafers, preferably paul evans.
if i were a song, i’d be violet hill by coldplay.
She knows he stares when he thinks she’s not looking. People are funny like that– always searching for more, wanting more, hoping for more than what they’re given. Greed, harmless when left in passivity. And as giving as she is this just isn’t something she thinks she can entrust him with just yet. There’s nothing malicious about the expression on his face or the boyish reaction that follows so she surrenders just for a moment. She’ll give him that much today. "Yah, watch where you’re going,“ but her amusement’s written clearly in the untroubled steps she takes after him.
Sometimes she thinks he’s afraid of her– not in the rawest form, not in quaking pupils and clammy palms, but something else. As if she’s something capable of detonating at a moment’s notice, but interesting enough to be kept at arm’s length. Harmless, she reminds herself, footsteps slyly working up a half-step faster for him to keep up to.
"Should I be swooning?” Laughing, she allows him to keep ahold of her, shifting only to adjust the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder.
There’s a visible stutter in his movements that has curious eyes drifting to his, lips pursing soon after before she’s nodding. "Mm. I remember.“ Of course she does; she’s surprised that he had too, but she’s careful not to let it show. Some people are as unpredictable as she. He, of all people, is one of them. "The perfect pair, how could I refuse?” She grins at the sudden burst of Korean, laughter threatening to resurface. "Lucky for you, I haven’t got any immediate business to attend to. My errands can wait if I’m going to be treated to two of my favorite things.“ With the smoke she lingers back, catching his cigarette between two fingers before she takes a drag. “C’mon, let’s step to it- I wanna snag a booth so we can get buzzed and watch the sunset. Real cinematic.” She returns it then, both the cigarette and his smile before slipping ahead. They’ve only got thirty minutes to spare.
daniel doesn’t mind. he doesn’t mind the way she feigns agitation almost every single time, doesn’t mind the way she glares at him for doing absolutely nothing. it must be her way of showing appreciation, he’s sure. if haru gave any kind of first impression, it wasn’t that she’d be wasting her time around people she dislikes. something like that. somewhere behind him he hears a complaint, but it flies past him just like the wind, barely noticed. if there’s any kind of security to gain from this, it’s that haru always remains the same. her behavior never confuses him because she’s acting weird or differently, but because she doesn’t change because of him being there. it’s refreshing. females in this country have an unsettling tendency to cater to men because that’s what society tells them.
no replies, instead him continuing forward. he can hear the slight drag of the soles of her shoes against the sidewalk. daniel too, laughs, even if it’s not loud and only in the middle of a breath. “if that’s the way you wanna interpret it, be my guest. i would prefer you actually agreeing instead of swooning, though.” it surprises him enough that he’s allowed to hold onto her for longer than three seconds. not enough to make a comment on it, but it’s nice to feel like she’s still full of surprises. subtle, little surprises every now and then that make him question if he’s placed her in the right category. maybe this isn’t so bad after all.
“i knew you wouldn’t. believe it or not, but offering you booze makes you weirdly loyal.” ultimately not because of him, but it’s nice to know he always has tricks up his sleeves to make her less of a runaway convict. sometimes she stays, sometimes she doesn’t.
for a moment or two the cigarette that rests so comfortably in his right hand slips away, whirls smoke from her nostrils a while later. before he has time to react or analyze the situation, he automatically grabs it again when brought to his hand. not once has he offered her a cigarette, yet his packs always run out faster than normally when following her steps into the most westernized bars of seoul he can come to think of. she seems at home there, more than he does. the bows that nod his head down when he greets the bartender there always looks a bit confused by his customs. daniel casts a glance to his wristwatch. “buzzed in half an hour? you’re pretty ambitious for being so small.” and she’s always been, and that’s exactly why he quickens his pace to follow her. “two rights and a left and we’ll be there. and when are you gonna learn to bring your own smokes?” probably never.
♥~ 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
@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.
From this I reach what I might call a philosophy; at any rate it is a constant idea of mine; that behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we—I mean all human beings—are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass that we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.
"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.”
a both disgusting and intoxicating mix of the cologne ‘rain’ by the brand clean and piercing cigarette smoke that tickles your nostrils. an occasional waft of espresso and salt water. his skin smells of the sea more than anything, but clothing is different. strands of hair that smell like expensive hair gel, and again nicotine.
2. how often does your muse bathe? any bathing habits?
daniel prefers showering over bathing, hence why he only does it when at a public bath house. bath water seems filthy, even if he showers on beforehand. there’s a bathtub in his apartment that he rarely uses, but if he does he uses it to relax more than anything. preferably smoking at the same time until he gets his cigarette wet and gives up and hops into the shower instead. he showers daily, usually at night.
3. does your muse have any tattoos or piercing?
well. it doesn’t take a genius to understand that daniel is almost fully covered in tattoos. his arms, hands, legs and torso up to his neck are almost completely filled by now. the only exception at the moment is his back, which he has left bare. this is because he wants to use it as a way of reflecting over whom he is without his tattoos. his face is also tattooed, although it’s not a large area of it. a more intricate list of some of his tattoos can be found here. he used to have both a lip piercing and have his ears stretched, but they’re all removed. when his tattoos start to wash out after having them for many years, he usually retattoos a new design over them. currently he has done this on mainly several places on his arms and hands.
4. any body movement quirks (e.g. leg shaking)?
he drums his fingers against most tables when restless (this doesn’t happen very often). when listening to rock music, he automatically taps his feet to the rhythm of any drum present in the background rather than the general melody of the song. cracks his knuckles a lot, mostly consciously.
5. what do they sleep in?
a tank top and boxers. during the hottest summer months only boxers.
6. what is their favorite piece of clothing?
varies a lot. but daniel has a penchant for vintage clothing. long coats, white shirts (both dress shirts, t-shirts and others), vintage glasses and sunglasses. chinos and shorts that end right at the knee. low socks with leather shoes. usually wears expensive brands, a lot of it which he has received through modeling jobs or collaborations. cognac colored leather belts.
7. what do they do when they wake up?
if he’s waking up to an alarm, he usually only snoozes or stays in bed for five or ten minutes, preferably petting his dog bandit that waits for his alarm to start before she jumps into bed, wanting a morning walk. daniel grabs a package of cigarettes first, then gets dressed. he heads outside with the dog for a quick walk while smoking a cigarette or three. a small shot of espresso and toast, then he’s off to work. when he’s free or not in a rush, he might stay in bed and check his e-mails for a bit, again while brushing fingers through thick malamute fur. if he’s feeling motivated about breakfast, he’ll make rice and eat a bit of fish and kimchi with it. otherwise cereal’s always a good choice too. taking the dog for a longer walk, or maybe even to the dog park. he prefers rising up early, even when he doesn’t have schedules.
8. how do they sleep?
eerily still. once he finds a comfortable position when falling asleep, he usually doesn’t move at all until he wakes up. often found sleeping on his stomach with his hands under the pillow, head turned to the side. if he wakes up in the middle of the night, he might turn to his side and stay that way instead. if he’s sleeping with someone else in the bed, he moves around a lot more because it tends to get too hot sleeping with someone who’s glued onto him, or vice versa.
9. what do their hands feel like?
while he tries to take care of his hands for the sake of modeling jobs, it’s not unusual for his fingertips to be a bit calloused. otherwise they’re quite soft, his palms and hand bridge warm. when you squeeze his hands hard enough, you can feel his veins pulsating, as well as joints and knuckles crackling.
10. if you kissed them, what would they usually taste like?
marlboro red masked by peppermint gum or the watered down taste of an americano. in the mornings he tastes more like bitterness of strong coffee, or sickeningly sweet strawberry jam. a possibility is always a mixture of all of the above.
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.”
dededos
gummygunk
stormborns
annaxmalina
jbbartram-illu
vaporwave
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
titsay
origamiaround
kaledo-art
