♡ Yumi could stay on the phone with Soojung for hours, and that’s not even an exaggeration. In fact, it’s the highlight of her day. There aren’t many people who Yumi would consider herself close to, and she’s usually a bit distant. But Soojung is like a sister to her, and she swore there was no one she trusted more. Because of this trust, she knew she could count on Soojung for anything, no matter how mundane it may be. “I’ve been thinking,” she said with her phone pressed against her ear. “I kinda want to start a Youtube, or maybe just a blog. Do you know any cameras that are good for that?”

💫 friendship / pre est. memes 💫 ; accepting.

Midterms were over and a humongous weight was lifted off of her entire body, the amount of stress and lack of sleep was nearly taking a toll on her- though it wasn’t her forte to talk about herself constantly. There was a certain ambiance about her that seemed somewhat mysterious yet confusing, how she stayed positive despite the fact of multiple stresses or concerns surrounded her. Since her childhood she has mastered the art of keeping lowkey, not that she had anything dangerous to hide but memories for her own good. She kept a humble and sweet tone even though their situation turned rather troublesome, fiddling with a few records within the store- fingers grazing past each vinyl casing as they collapsed steadily one after the other. To find the classics that were meaningful to Soojung were hard to find, Al Green, Chet Baker and many more intrigued her mindset- though being a disc jockey took way more effort into being open to anything that seemed to be interesting.

“Ah yeah, but I don’t think it’ll be too difficult though. I do need your help with finding something good or what looks like could be good. I have to find something to mix hopefully, plus I do have a record player at home hooked up with my setup for us to listen if you want?”

(  ` ☆  :  although he hasn’t studied ever since he had graduated from high school, and considerably taking in a wealthy paying job that doesn’t require him to leave his apartment, he does understand the stress and the attempts to binge down work because of it’s due date. looking over the female’s assignments made him thankful he didn’t continue on in education. he would’ve been a better help if he was actually interested in the topics she’s majoring in and creating projects that over-exceeds his talent. the best thing that he could do is put words onto a sheet of paper that could make one’s mind burst. pursing his lips together at her comment, he noticed that she was only trying to find the good side in stressful situations like these, in which he has admired greatly. straightening his back after hearing that she specifically needed his help, he hums softly, trying to process a way for him to not seem negative about their current position.

‹‹ it might not be too difficult for you, but it might for me. although if i try really hard, i might be able to work it out. if you give me some options to find out between the good and the bad, it’ll make things a lot more easier for me. and yes, of course. i’d love to listen. ››

Art, in its definition, is an expression of skill and imagination intertwined together to create a product of emotion or beauty. It is a powerful weapon. One that can brighten the lives of millions with an array of words put together to tell a story. One that can make even the strongest of beings feel weak and hopeless. One that can make even the most heartbroken of individuals feel soothed and whole again. One that can bring understanding from one individual to another.

Art, in all its forms, is something that is powerful. Something to be feared as well as revered. It tells stories, it resonates within people, it puts feelings to words, to images, to sounds, to colours. It is emotion in a form you can feel, hear, see, taste, smell. It is emotion manifested. Something that you cannot truly destroy, not once it touches the hearts and souls of individuals.

Art is powerful, and so are the artists who bring their emotions and stories to life. Anyone who creates art is powerful. And that’s something no one could ever take away from an artist. 

It is with that knowledge that Blyoeu finds himself drawn to this female’s story. The way her hands play over the keys, slotting sounds together, pulling them apart and rearranging them until they tell the story the way she wants them to. Even if it’s just nicely timed beats to hype up the dancing crowd. Even if it’s ‘just’ remixing one song to sound different, or mashing together two pieces, the passion reads clearly, nestled between the beats, the lines and the instruments. 

It’s alluring. It’s breathtaking. It’s storytelling. 

And maybe that’s why Blyoeu finds himself staying behind instead of leaving when the excitement turns into satisfaction of a night gone well, when the darkness begins to lift and a new day begins. Even as the melting ice clacks against his empty glass. Even as he remains at the bar, watching the female soak up the last bits of the reaction to her in her element. 

Hey I wasn’t aiming for compliments but it just so happens to be the truth you know? You’ve got good taste and I mean if others don’t tell you often they’re probably missing out but you’ve got someone like me to remind ya right. Besides it’s our job to save them with our music taste right? They’ll cross over soon enough. But I’ve always got time to kick back and chat about music, didn’t I tell ya? I’ve actually been doing nothing but spending time in the studio so I can kick it and take a listen whenever! That Majid Jordan remix? I’m slacking and you’ve probably got tons of songs to throw at me right? C’mon enlighten me I’m all ears.

@soojngz​ // SOURCE // NOT ACCEPTING!

“We’ve already banned you from the aux cord are we going to have to ban ou from the fridge as well.” It was a particular privilege in the salon, being able to touch let alone go near the fridge. Opening it was another story completely yet here she was munching rather contently on the newly bought tub of ice cream. It wasn’t as if they ever busied themselves with the items in the fridge, half of the time it was for busy days and the customer convenience. when the shop was packed on summer days the packages of juice and frozen treats helped to quench the line of customers getting their hair done,. it also helped for the end of the summer but the summer rush was gone and no one had a need to touch the tub, he doesn’t even know why he bought it.

“ah! that’s the emergency tub.” now he remembered. it happens when he finally makes his way over, hands clean and ready to start again and eyes falling to inspect how much was supposedly left in the tub. he didn’t mind, he didn’t crave sweets consistently so he could live without much left. he does however look at the brand and the flavor she’s called out as the memories come back. “you’d be surprised how many late night distress calls we get. last girl ate the rest of the tub and well, she jumped so quickly back into the relationship again we thought we should buy another in case she was back. nothing soothed heartbreak like a tub of ice cream apparently.”

“and you, will need more than a styling if you let your hair fall in the cream like that. or at least something for a stomach ache.” he’s tsking but laughing while leaning to retrieve the tub from her. “how long did you wait?”