onehundred &eightfeelings

but the war won't stop for the love of god. 佛 | 意 | 經

[writingbox]

The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.

Maya Angelou (via hephapimp)

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

psa. i am an agonizingly slow roleplayer — my muses are fickle and some days all i can manage is chat threads or shenanigans. other days i can pump out longer threads like no one’s business. if it takes me a while on your thread it has nothing to do with you as a writer or me losing my muse for the thread. 

[veyduh-blog]

She lived out her days exploring her own thoughts and emotions, giving them full reign, feeling no obligation to please anybody unless their pleasure pleased her.

Sula, Toni Morrison

[yodan]

[thexundeceived-deactivated20140]

Would she be surprised to learn that he had done all this himself? Perhaps. But he was hardly in the right state of mind. Even know, when he’s slowly coming back to himself, he isn’t entirely sure what triggered this episode. It’s all a mixed blur, jumbling together after a certain point, but if he thinks about it, it only makes it worse.

His hands fall from his ears when she leaves, only for her to return a few moments later. Julian clasps his hands together, fingers pressed to his mouth as he glances at the glass through the mess of his hair. He stares, consider it for a brief second before he shakes his head, refusing it. “No.”

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

All things considered, he's a grown man, and the chaos of the apartment must have an explanation-- but from the look of things he doesn't seem to be in the mood to discuss such matters. She's well aware it's not in her place, none of this is but instinct had brought her through the thrown open door and it's instinct that keeps her crouched before him. The water grows heavy in her hands, so she plants it a safe distance away from his feet and broken glass. It's likely that sooner or later he'll want a sip.

"I'm Faye." She quietly begins, korean careful on her tongue as she takes in his haggard expression. "What happened here?" With the help of her oversized purse, which she makes a point of carrying with her everywhere; she retrieves a pack of tissues and offers one wordlessly. The disarray of the apartment will need more than just a napkin to clean, but his skin mottled with sweat is a haphazard beginning. 

[phxlomel-deactivated20150208]

Nocturne was taking quite a liking to the guest, watching her pet warming up to the stranger without any complaints whatsoever, the most she has seen Nocturne being this comfortable with anyone else beside herself. Which is good, for that would mean she would not have to apologise if Nocturne attempts to do any harm and she having to get the first aid kit from the deep scratches that Nocturne can leave behind. Nocturne may be lazy and all that, but if she needed to put up a fight or if she feels threatened, she will not hesitate for even one moment to unleash her claws and let it be known that she was not an easy thing to win over. “Learning a new language is always difficult. Even those who has been speaking it for years struggle from time to time so you do not have to worry so much about how great your Korean is as long as it is understandable and that your sentences make sense.” It always takes her a long time to even get to the beginner’s level in a new language mostly because she likes to go in depth and making sure that she has understood all of the basic sentence structures and words to use along it before wanting to get to the next level. She never once felt the rush to make sure that she was able to hold a long and stable conversation in a language she was acquiring, for she had all the time in the world to ace it, as shown by the few languages she had picked up along the way. She may not sound like a local but she understands what is being said if others speak of it.

"Work? What do you work as?" She was a little surprised to hear that the woman was or is still, going through a divorce, for she would have thought that she would be one of those women who were more interested in having their career planned out than spending some time with some girl or guy. Goes to show that you truly can never judge something or someone by its cover, wondering how long had the couple been married before they just decided that one day, enough was enough and that it was time for the both of them to head into separate ways. "So you are very much living the dream, in a sense." Hong Kong does not sound or look any different from Seoul, as much that she can gather from the things she read or seen about Hong Kong so it would not take long for someone to adapt to Seoul if they come from the Pearl of the Orient especially. "How has Seoul been treating you? Other than the encounter just now."

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

The ease in which the other woman spoke slid over her skin in slow familiarity. She was soothing, and the rhythm of her syllables and the phrases they formed reassured Faye in hitches of english that had settled beneath her bones over several years. Though english was far from her native tongue, it still brought on the excitement and newness of her time spent in new york after graduation. That year had proven itself important in more ways than one; instilling a sense of staunch independence and accomplishment that differed from her growth over four years in hong kong. The city had been bigger than any western film could've attempted to explain, the first weeks it had swallowed her whole but by the time winter and christmas lights that lit up brighter than the chinese lanterns in beijing-- she'd felt her tongue loosen and her body find the rhythm of a city so many had come to call home. "It truly is, especially now that I've gotten older.. if only I'd taken the time to focus on my language books like I'd focused on my cassette tapes. As soon as I stop practicing, I lose all my words. Maybe one day korean will become muscle memory-- that's how english is for me." As she spoke, she let her fingers linger in the tufts of soft hair of the feline. She found the gestures to be a comforting one. Distracting even. Both things Faye quietly decided she rather liked at the moment.

It was fairly easy to note how the other woman had sidestepped the vague topic of her divorce, and she was unsure as to whether she was relieved or amused by the discovery. All the same, she rose her gaze to the other's face and replied quietly, returning her hands to her lap. "I'm a ghostwriter. The title has always seemed a little misleading to me, but I write music. More specifically, lyrics for musicians in their stead. I emulate their style so they're able to take credit, and everyone's all the better for it." Sarcasm tipped the corners of her mouth, the beginnings of something closer to her grin threatening her lips. The dream... her thoughts briefly slid to methodical doctor appointments. Faye swallowed back the start of a snort, and let a huff of halfhearted amusement rattle in her throat. "Far from it.. unless the dream has changed and I've yet to be notified. Things are far from ideal, but I make due with what I've been given. As for the city, it's been relatively kind, your last visitors notwithstanding. I visited once before, but to move here on such sudden terms. It's very different." Moving her fingers absently over the lines of thread running along her pants, she wondered of the woman who had let her into her apartment without protest. "Is Seoul your hometown? We've only just met, but I can tell you're acclimated to it very well."

[fukasumin-deactivated20140909]

shefightsacoldwar

[fukasumin-deactivated20140909]

   Although it has been quite a long time since she released her best-selling novel ‘Air Chrysalis' was released, the book was still on display in these Korean book stores. Sumin didn't dare to wonder in. There was a picture in the back cover, one of a beautiful young lady, one with dark hair and clear eyes. It was her picture.

   It would be troublesome if she were to be caught up in questions and discussions regarding her (or rather, her ghostwriter’s) work. 

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

The day had proven itself slow and it caught Faye by surprise. She had accounted for a meeting, if luck remained on her side-- two, but before she'd even risen from bed, a prompt voicemail and short e-mail went about telling her different. Still, she took to eating a filling breakfast and sliding notebooks into her purse on her way out the door. Free from making her way immediately to the confines of the office; she took to wandering wth half formed lyrics in mind. Meetings cancelled, there were still pieces she'd yet to finish. Slowing before a bookstore, her eyes cast over the display, mouthing the title in careful korean. She would see the book from time to time, had even had it recommended by a few coworkers but had yet to get around to reading it. It would make for good practice she supposed. Quietly noting how a beautiful woman stood somewhat awkwardly at her side, she followed her gaze to the books displayed on the other side of the glass.

"That book... have you read it? People keep telling me to." Her korean is less awkward than she'd anticipated, but her mandarin accent still tinged the end of the foreign words. 

[minusregina]

Gabbana bowed to no one. Even rarer still, she never bent down to pick anything up — mostly because the occurrences at which she would drop things would be few and far in between. It wasn’t befitting of a budding young socialite to be terribly clumsy, after all. What irritated her was not only the resistance that was met by her demand, but the slow manner in which the stranger spoke. Is she stupid? Judging from the way that she was dressed, she seemed like it, and Gabbana would normally have no trouble in pointing out such a fact had she not been more concerned about the fallen sketchbook. Huffing, she picked it up quickly, and held it between two fingers – she’d have to replace it later, and had to go through all the trouble of transferring sketches from this old one to w new one. How troublesome.

“You could do with less sandwiches in your life,” she commented bitterly. It was mean, and cruel, and that was the whole point of the whole snarky retort. The sneer upon her petite features was not uncommon, nor was it aimed at the sketches she now flipped through –and grieved over silently. Not that any of them were very good lately. There was something missing, and perhaps it was inspiration that she needed, but currently did not have. Nonetheless, the sketchbook held a few decent – sadly, not decadent – designs that were somewhat salvageable to some degree. Huffing, she finally tucked it under her arm, the pencil beginning to senselessly twirl between her fingers as she glared at the woman before her again. How absolutely annoying. “Maybe then you wouldn’t be in the way of so many people.”

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

Faye found herself near amused by the way the stranger’s fingers had taken to wrapping around the fine edges of her own notebook. She pondered on the possibility that perhaps she was a phobic when it came to germs. Though judging from the expression scrunched across the other woman’s face, she relented with the thought it more than likely had more to do with the fact she hadn’t gotten her way. Her earlier command had said as much and Faye had far too many other concerns to be bothered by something of that nature. 

“Is that so? Perhaps I’ll look into eating something less likely to fall from my hands after colliding with people such as yourself.” The easy mandarin that flew from the end of her tongue was instinctive, her slow korean briefly replaced for her native tongue. As for what she meant with the last of her words, she hadn’t been completely sure herself but the easy to erupt anger of her earlier years had been subdued to barely subdued passive aggression most recently. Her years spent in hong kong had gradually cooled the immaturity she had brought with her from beijing. It seemed that vague remnants had tagged along with her on her impromptu move to seoul. Could people ever really change. Letting her eyes fall to the sketchbook now tucked under the annoyed woman's arm, she drew her tongue briefly across the inside of her lip so as to taste what was left of her sandwich promptly tossed in the trash. "What is in that?" Korean careful, she looked on in curiousity. She could only assume its contents were of some importance if her annoyance were to mean anything.

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

[thexundeceived-deactivated20140]

He isn’t aware of anyone else until they speak, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, trapped in memories that refuse to let go. The voice startles him and he finds himself trying to press closer to the wall, hands clamping over his ears, refusing to look up at the stranger. It was hard to tell if the voice was real, or another figment of his imagination, but perhaps if he ignored it long enough, whatever it was would leave him be. “Go away, go away, go away.”

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

She barely makes out his rusty words, but the hushed plea draws heavy lines of concern between her brows. Unsure as to what it is that makes her stay, the chaotic mess of the apartment is dizzying and shocks her through the stolen glances of her peripherals. Moving closer, fingers tighten around the thin strap of her oversized purse; the air is heavy, reminds her of the chinese smog she’d grown so accustomed to. It’s without any reservation for second thought, she treads into the stranger’s kitchen, glass and porcelain strewn across the floor and what looks to be milk leaking from the fridge. Despite all things, she steers through the disarray and pulls a glass free that she wordlessly fills beneath the tap. Her instincts urge her to return to the man huddled against the wall, and crouch in her sandals, something crunches beneath her. “You need to drink. Here." Korean quiet and slow, she offers the water to him, waiting for a sign that his opinion’s changed. His dark hair hangs in front of his face.

[emmelialpha]

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

「 skosh 」k&f.

[onceuponacrow]

Release parties were only fun for two hours or so before she was itching to escape to a quiet corner away from it all. In those moments she felt like her old self again. The quiet child just trying to keep her head above water in a sea of foreigners. Spending major development periods abroad had pushed her to grow up quickly. When you’re in a classroom full of children who don’t speak your mother tongue and your English isn’t that great, you learn to find other ways to catch their attention. She learned to let her drawing skills do the talking until she was able to do so herself. That skill would be of no use to her here. In this moment, she was feeling overly stimulated and looking for the nearest exit.

No such luck, her management wanted her to make good use of her time in Seoul. Kavka’s career was just starting to gain momentum and these gatherings were prime opportunities to make connections. Through out the night, she had been pulled around the room in an effort to do just that. 

After exchanging a few more near genuine smiles and polite conversation like the good artist she was, Kavka excused herself to refresh her drink. Instead of alcohol, she was surviving the night on water and punch. Being tipsy or worse at such an important event would not be looked upon kindly. The drummer had just been about to return  to the madness when her eyes caught sight of movement near the emergency exit. To her surprise, the alarm stayed silent as the woman slipped through and this gave Kavka an idea of her own. Her gaze quickly returned to her management, making sure that they weren’t looking for her before she followed suit. Walking with purpose as she slipped past a chatting group of musicians and out the door. Despite her tall stature, she was very light and quick on her feet. 

Resting against the closed door, she let out a heavy sigh of relief as the evening air brushed against her skin. It felt as if all her anxiety had fizzled out and a sense of calm relaxed her shoulders. Turning to her fellow escapee, she had opened her mouth to make a joke when a look of recognition took over her features.

“Faye? Is that you?” 

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

     The smoke burned inside her chest where she held it for a long beat. She enjoyed the brief strain it put on her insides, and the exhale lined in relief and white smoke once she let it out. It was relief enough that the evening had proven itself warm. It lacked the claustrophobic heat simmering within the party. Faye could only quietly suppose it had something to do with her age, or her particular circumstances ultimately resulting in her move to Seoul. Unlike her current state where the buzzing of people seeking connections and murmurs of the ones maintained; Faye could remember her past ventures in hong kong as a student where much of her spare time was spent singing in bars and drunkenly dancing to the rhythmic neon lights of the growing underground club scene. It was hard to picture herself doing those sort of things anymore, though she knew twenty-eight wasn’t considerably old. Still, the thought brought something like a grin to her lips around her cigarette.

Light filtered in from the reopening of emergency exit. Faye quickly prayed it wasn’t a coworker, or worse, her boss, looking for her. Brows furrowed, the figure was slighter than any of the people she had expected and as the door shut, the woman ceased to be backlit. There was a familiarity to her and it wasn’t until her name was whispered in english that Faye took to inspecting the female behind the short billow of smoke she released.

“Kavka? It’s been a while, hasn’t it. I should have expected to see you here." Her realization had been rather quick, and her own english easy as she plucked the cancerous stick from her lips and held it between her fingers to speak. Even in the fading light of the evening, Faye could make out the drummer’s face and decided it didn’t look much different from when they had last met. Her last visit to Japan had been months back, work on an indie dream pop album led Faye there and it was chance that always seemed to bring them together. They had yet to work with one another, but Faye had worked on the music and lyrics of their mutual friends- it almost seemed as if she had. So was the business.

“These parties always go too long and far too big. If you were to ask me, they’re a waste of money. But I suppose I should keep that to myself, hmm." Mused in low english, Faye was unfazed by her own honesty and took to casually pulling free her carton of smokes from her purse. She offered the musician the pack, gaze curious as she did. If memory served her right, she thought the japanese drummer smoked. But she couldn’t be completely certain. There encounters had always been brief and musically-focused.

[wordsnquotes]

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.

Merton, Thomas. No Man Is an Island.

[phxlomel-deactivated20150208]

"You do not have to repay me, nor do you have to feel guilty about this situation at the moment if you are. You only did what your instincts told you and if you had reacted differently or hesitated for a moment, it might have been a different story altogether." You never know with men nowadays, for they have the ability to go from end end of the spectrum to another in a matter of seconds, never really sure what to expect and always having to be on your guard. What more with this day and age that there are men out there who just be nice to women in hopes that in exchange they will get sex and if they were to get rejected or turned, the woman will automatically be labelled as many things or the man will just be lamenting as to how he was ‘friendzoned’ yet again from another girl for being ‘nice.’ The worst scenarios she has read about is how this one man thinks that he is a personification of a gentleman and goes around shooting whichever random woman he sees because they have failed to realise the true alpha male he was. Thanks to such men like him, it leaves women like herself and this stranger wondering, ‘What do I say or do that will not get me killed’ whenever approached by a man, what more by more than one of them?

"It is not that it is easy to tell. I just made a guess, since you are able to converse better in English than Korean at the moment." Three months was not a long time, herself trying to remember the time where she first came to the city and wasn’t really what to do or where to go for the first few weeks, while everyone else around her seems to have a plan of sorts each day. With how the city was constantly bustling 24/7, it did not take her long before she adapted to her surroundings, matching herself up with the pace of the city and so she was sure that with just a little more thing, and a little more Korean learned, Faye will do just fine here. “Did you come here by yourself?”

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

She was left to nod slowly while her mouth softened from the gratefulness that only seemed to increase tenfold as the other woman spoke. Faye couldn't say her reaction would have been the same, had their positions been switched. But she also assumed she was lucky in the sense she had happened upon another woman's apartment-- there was a mutual understanding between those of the same sex. The chances her saviour had experienced something of a similar nature were higher than those of a male. It was an unfortunate tale spun from a globalized culture that left far too many men feeling entitled. Nocturne's head was small beneath the palm of her hand, where the feline rubbed and situated herself comfortably. The sight brought something closer to a smile across Faye's face.

"My english will probably be always better than my korean, but I'm improving. Slowly but surely." Spoken in comfortable english, the foreign language had grown familiar on her tongue over the years. It had proven itself to be an asset not only in her line of work, but in general day-to-day going ons as well. In hong kong she had found herself working with many foreigners, and her familiarity with the language made some relationships easier than others. The sound of Jiwon's question though encouraged Faye to take a seat on the couch, the feline had made the cushion look quite comfortable and for good reason it seemed. The anxiety of before had somewhat slowed under her skin, but her ears still listened for noise outside the woman's door. "Something like that. I moved here for work, and I needed a drastic change of scenery for a few reasons; one being my divorce. Hong Kong stopped feeling the same.. and I couldn't very well return to Beijing where my family lives, they'd suffocate me with their worry." The details of her move had never fazed her, at least not the ones she chose to word out loud. There were some best left unsaid, that she kept hidden under the front of her tongue. It was only in the case of necessity she provided the main reason. Her gaze strayed up to the beautiful woman she knew she owed her sanity to, perhaps even her life tonight. Her fingers absently curled between Nocturne's ears where she stroked the soft tufts of fur. "They were looking for a few of us to come to Seoul. I suppose you could say I leapt at the chance."

[thexundeceived-deactivated20140]

                       The front door of his apartment has been left wide open, revealing the chaos inside. Things have been thrown off the shelves, upturned. Pictures have fallen off the wall, smashed glass scattered over the floor. The living room is worse. Couch on it’s back, cushions thrown everywhere and Julian is huddled up in a corner, trying to remember how to breathe normally. “Fuck—.”

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

Her latest writing session had proven successful, if not impromptu. Departing from an apartment that wasn't her own in which she had been sprawled across a leather couch and writing madly for what felt like hours left her exhausted but accomplished. As she searched her too big purse for a pack of smokes she could have sworn she'd shoved inside, she found herself slowing in front of a doorjamb. The sight inside is pandemonium at best. Her shoulders stiffened as her gaze methodically took in the mess scattered about the apartment, suddenly stopping on a form, curled up in the middle of all the chaos. Unsure as to what it was that drew her inside, whether it be concern or confusion, she called out in careful korean, sidestepping glass and broken things that would need replacing. "Hello... are you okay? Do you need me to call 119?"

[fleurishes]

turning so many people into poems that sometimes I forget to turn them back

[shefightsacoldwar-blog]

「 skosh 」k&f.

     The years spent in hong kong; schooling, making haphazard amateur cds, and exploring the nooks and crannies of her growing self-- had made her believe parties were some of the few things she delighted in. The parties of her youth though had been freeing, and made room for the widening space of her identity between walls covered in posters. Short coffee tables wobbling under the weight of half drunk beer bottles and dollar store ash trays. Her current predicament vastly varied from the dalliances of her past. The collar on her sleeveless tunic felt tight around the turn of her neck, even though she knew it wasn't. Everything and everyone felt stuffy-- release parties were running rampant lately, it was her third one in a month. This one celebrated the release of a korean/english version of a japanese album that had gone to gold in a mere two weeks back in the artists' home country. She had heard of him, here and there in the corners of her office as a coworker of hers who had joined her on the move from hong kong to seoul, worked with the musician.

        She supposed if there was anything to gain from the get together it was the free food. They made it a habit of going out of their way of stocking these things with an ample amount of finger food and drink. It was a near shame she couldn't linger with alcohol on her tongue, though that in and of itself was a lie. She knew she could, but ever since the clean cut of the divorce and her ex-husband's too late reveal-- her health had become of the utmost importance. Cutting back on her smokes had been harder to transition from completely, but she had whittled the habit down; barely smoking two packs a week. It was somewhere between a stilted conversation with a coworker that had already made one too many passes on her, and another stick of broccoli tempura as she traded words with studio owners and recording managers that she excused herself and made a beeline for the emergency exit. She knew from experience that it wouldn't sound, and it made a good space to thump a cigarette into her hand from her carton of smokes. The noise of the city and the muffled rasp of korean lyrics and chatter filtered out above her head where she leant. She figured it was only time until her hideaway was found out. Faye had every intention of finishing the lit cigarette set between her lips.