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NESW (도착지:너)

이번 생엔 너가 나를 찾았어.

우리가 어디에서 어떻게 존재 하던 우리 둘은 서로를 찾게 돼. (맞아, 우연이 아니야. 우연이라기에 너의 미소는 언제나 한결같고 영원히 머금을수 있는 진정제 같아.) 내가 태어나지 않았을때 부터 널 알고있었던것 같이 넌 그렇게 미소 지어. 알아, 뭔가 조잡하고 엉성한 운명에 대한 이야기 같단걸.

근데 말이야, 넌 초월적인 힘이란걸 믿어?

-응, 넌 안 믿어? -난 잘 모르겠는데. -왜? -그렇다면 우리가 여기서 이러고 있을까. 너무 볼품 없는거 아니야, 우리? -우리가 뭐 어때서?

우리가 뭐 어때서. 그렇게 말하면서 나를 바라보는 너의 눈동자는 잠잠한 밤 아래의 호수 같아. 별들을 담고 있지만 그래도 흔들려서 반영이 흐려. 근데 그 빛 만은 확실해. 넌 여전히 나보다 당당하고 확신에 차 있어. 우리가 어떻게 삶을 살던, 어떻게 하루를 보내던, 딴 사람들이 우리를 어떻게 생각하던 너는 전혀 상관하지 않아. 그러면 난 또 그런 너의 태도에 위로를 받고. 또,

이기적 이게 다시 한번 너를 내 가슴 한 언저리에 담아. (너가 허락한거야, 알지?)

-…그러게, 맞네. 우리가 뭐 어때서. -그래, 맞아. -뭐가 그렇게 뻔뻔하냐, 이지은.

내가 푸스스 웃으니까 너도 웃어. 맞아, 생각 났어. 넌 전에도 그렇게 웃은적이 있어. 근데 어제도 아니고, 작년도 아니고 몇십년전도 아니야. 아마 꿈에서 본것같은데 그것도 확실치 않아. 아마 우주비행궤도 어디선가 본것은 아닐까. 널 이번 생에만 알았다기엔 넌 너무 익숙하고도 아련해. 내가 너의 손을 잡기만 하면 넌 내 옆에서 사라지지는 않을것 같아.

(그러니까 내가 그 손 잡아도, 원망 말아주라.)

-우리 둘중에 하나는 그래야하지 않겠어? 넌 겁쟁이잖아, 겉으로만 단단하고. -…그래, 세상 당당해서 좋겠다, 넌. -응, 좋아. 그러니까 너도 그랬으면 좋겠어.

그래, 이제 알았어. 넌 가만히 있어.

(내가 더 노력할게.)

동서남북(NESW) 어딜가도 도착지는, 너. | @clementide

#laiji.#i'm fine

whitelai

‘stop shaking your legs, yihyun. it’s bad luck.’ @clementide

past the window, there is a red-faced sunset with a soft stroke lavender. the boy, unmindful, moons about how colors and memories can be intertwined and then engraved in the back of your subconscious. a forgotten woman’s voice passes by like the wind, and promises a revisit.

when he looks down at the girl fast asleep, the jitter of his leg gradually dissipates. her head perched halfway on the edge of his lap, she breathes as if there is no dissonance in the world. as she should, he thinks, but quickly comes to the realization that she is, in fact, sleeping on the epitome of calamity. how would god describe him? a washout? the bane to everyone who shares a word with him? a black sheep with a smidgen of hope, perhaps?

the back of his fingers gingerly kisses her cheeks, mindful of her repose. the soft features of her face are paradoxical to his indelicate hands, and it prompts him to withdraw his fingers. it frustrates him, coming to the realization that his head is buzzing with too many thoughts and unspoken words. his boundless perception of life is now overcast, rowdy with everything about and of her.

“i wish you’d just leave me.” he whispers, too hushed to be heard and made solid. “but i don’t want to see the look on your face when i go, either.”

he paints the scene with blues in her eyes. lai, don’t leave me. she’ll cry, won’t she? she’d probably clench her small fists and throw them at his chest, too. it’s only the most appropriate scene to be played, yet he closes his eyes to shut off the preview. the boy wishes for a plot twist.

“..lai?”

when he starts untangles his knotted thoughts, she chimes in as if she knows the amount of unnecessary contemplations he’s collecting. he doesn’t know if it’s the weather that’s gotten cold altogether too quick, or if it’s just this particular day that’s making him feel like everything will suddenly evanesce. ‘everything’ as in her, and her only.

instead of throwing some casual, browbeating words, he blinks slowly while studying her features. it’s all a sudden impulse mixed with irrational fears when he imagines this exact moment without her warm skin upon his, without her in his sight. he leans down to wrap his arms around her waist, picking her up just slightly to lie his head close to her neck. he hugs her as though there is nothing else to depend on, and it’s only the unvarnished truth.

“don’t leave me, ji.”

but i still hope you will, someday.

#*#i hate this #risen ur way out of here

jieunology

160619 Moon Lovers Fansupport cr: baemal

#:)

@whitelai (from meme i’m too lazy to find)

midday traffic spills all around her. everything is too loud and the air is too brisk, biting at her cheeks as she brushes through a quick goodbye. what the hell was his name again? she hopes the sweet smile will make up for her lackluster attention.

all she can really see is the red in his eyes. the purposeful calm of his stride. the tip of her tongue as it swipes along dry lips. she's not nervous, no.

just at a complete loss of words is all.

silence runs uncomfortable and prolonged. like static. like the lull in her train of thought when she starts to wonder why a defensive excuse was the first to slip by her crooked smile. “why're you getting so worked up?” a sour twist to her expression before, “what’s up your ass?”

there’s a dry huff of laughter as she combs her fingers through her hair. the exasperated flush of her cheeks compliments the weather perfectly, and she flashes a sarcastic grin to match. “jealousy isn’t really your style.”

#whitelai #( t. )#ok noots

whitelai:

[ kkt: ㅁㅊㄴ ] ? [ kkt: ㅁㅊㄴ ] 바쁜데 어딘지는 왜 물어봐 [ kkt: ㅁㅊㄴ ] 오기 싫음 말던가 ㅡㅡ

( kkt // ㅁㅊㄴ ) 내 맘이야 ( kkt // ㅁㅊㄴ ) 응 싫어 니가 와

#whitelai #kkt.

@whitelai

( kkt // ㅁㅊㄴ ) 몰라 나 바빠 ( kkt // ㅁㅊㄴ ) 홍대는 왜

#whitelai #kkt.#ji: mohae bich

jieunswifeu

#( vis. )#i promise im trying #@moon

whitelai:

( & july. ) he heaves a laughter with a pound of effort, because it’s just so damn painful. it’s all the more challenging because he sees the exasperation in her expression, yet his cuts and bruises feel like they’re shouting for mercy whenever he takes a breath to laugh. so there is july, hands latching onto the side of his stomach to howl his amusement away. he also greatly appreciates the way she takes a deep breath before carefully lacing her words, because she’s probably oh-so-very-done with his bullshit at this point.

“yeah, and that explains why ‘ya stick around all the time. good one, ji.” july dusts off his remaining laughter as he straightens his back, suppressing a grimace as the soreness comes back around his way. it’s kind of hard to realize how much pain you’re in when you’re having too much fun; fun as in messing around with jieun, annoying jieun, angering jieun, and just jieun. though her reaction could’ve been much better, he doesn’t complain and deems that he’s thrashed enough spoofs around for the day. not to mention he’s barely holding the urge to just sprawl all over the street, he’s dead-beat!

“if not, are ‘ya gonna carry me home?” he snorts and taps her back to cue their walk back to her apartment. a path he’s taken a few too many times to be considered reasonable, something that goes against his whole essence, the big game. it bothers him, but he tells himself ‘just for today.’ a line that he’s also recited far too many times, but he uses the whole beat-up thing as another excuse. “don’t complain if you get blood all over your couch. it was your call.”

she cringes at the effort. and by that, she means the way his lungs give out with every bit of laughter he squeezes out. ( or tries to, anyway. ) there’s something to be said about the way he always tries to pick at her nerves. push at her buttons. even if it means he’ll end up bleeding out on the goddamn street.

“i know you’re happy to see me, but you need to calm down.” seriously. with another roll of her eyes, this time much more obvious than the last, she considers kicking him right in the shin. maybe then, he’d learn to clean up that mouth of his. maybe then, he wouldn’t be scouring around the city in negative-who-the-fuck-knows-degree weather. so much for good samaritan values.

“uh. if you think i’m gonna get my hands anywhere near that -” she motions half-heartedly at tattered clothes and bloodstained everything else. “- you’re wrong.” she shakes him off a beat too late, but stays close, anyway. just enough to hear those mismatched footsteps of his against the concrete. just enough to know he’s still there. good. “who said you get to sit on my couch? that’s still my call.”

#whitelai #( t. )#istg

bcyqod-blog

MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR !! ( 200+ FOLLOWERS. )

So I’ve been through some serious ups and downs to the point I almost didn’t come back to River at all. Thankfully, even through all the mess this horrible year, it’s because of River that I met some wonderful people– so it’s time for me to give a gift and thank all of you who stuck by River and I these past months.

Keep reading

#ooc.#omg #thank u bby ;;

whitelai:

( & july. ) it’s an odd mix of both stubbornness and defiance that has him trudging. he still peers adamantly when she speaks to him with a tone laced with benign disaffection, tugging at his wrist. half-dried blood makes it harder for him to see, and he crinkles an eye. july doesn’t feel like unveiling whatever that is keeping him headstrong about going with her acts of concern; he just knows that he hates the idea of getting used to things that are ‘better,’ or any picture with two, not one. one being himself, singular.

“if ‘ya wanna fix beat-up things on the road, go pick up some strays out here instead.” a moment is spared before her hand on his wrist is shaken off, his moue steadfast and unyielding. he doesn’t really know if he’s bothered by the fact that she cares, or the way he’s treated with some sort of pity. maybe both, but july also hates overthinking! whatever he’s dissatisfied with, he’s dissatisfied with–––and that thought transitions right into a frown.

“don’t treat me like some helpless dog, i’m not dyin’ out here. also not dyin’ to get to your place, i just happened to bump into you on my way. unluckily.” he sneers past all the aches on his body, the sole motive of bantering her driving his almost-empty stamina. he can either walk his beat-up ass back to where the boys are, or compliantly follow her back to her house–––yet he stalls obvious decisions, soley for untimely shenanigans between him and jieun: a classic!

“get over yourself,” is said with a prompt roll of her eyes. something that ripples across a neutral expression, quick and fleeting. she gives him that much of a reaction. it's all she can do to stop herself from bursting out into laughter, from wounding an ego she knows is too big to be true.

“i've seen strays that look better.” a pointed look, shot up and down his frame until it lingers on the cut above his eye. her fingers curl into her palm. unfamiliar with the tempting itch to reach up and just --

she sighs. a puff of air blown up at her fringe before she shoots him another look. a look he's familiar with by now.

inhale.

( i'm gonna beat your ass myself, you little shit. )

exhale.

instead: “you can still walk, right? let's go.”

#whitelai #t.#only bc i'm 10 yrs late w this #merry xmas b xo

lookwhaticreated

#( vis. )#'i hate lai' moodboard

@whitelai from here:

“good. don't.” she wrinkles her nose out of habit. there are times when she feels a little too childish. feels like lai has shaved a couple years off her conscious (and height), and is standing loud and proud, just to prove it. she frowns. this time, out of spite.

“i don't love you that much yet, either. but you're bleeding all over the goddamn floor.”

in some ways, it's true. he's got bloodstained pants, bloodstained skin, bloodstained goddamn everything, and jieun can't find anyone else to blame but lai himself. she meets his gaze head on, eyes set in scrutinizing slivers. mouth twisted in that way that proclaims her inner turmoil over her sentiments towards the situation as a whole. towards lai in general. what a fucking pain in the ass, she thinks. and yet,

“c'mon, loser.” fingers curl around his wrist. too tender to be labeled as anything but outright sympathy for the kid. for now, anyway. she sighs, tightens her grip, and tugs him just like that - all the way down the street.

“let's go home and fix you up.”

#whitelai #t.#anyway

whitelai

for; @clementide.

( & july. ) “i can’t hear ‘ya, ji. maybe go get a step ladder so your words aren’t muffled down there.” july stands just a few inches away from jieun, a mouthful of incompliance on his face as always. boyish gleam in his eyes basks in all the impish, childish spiels and glowers being tossed back and forth. their arguments never hold any sort of substantial essence, yet none of the two would let any diffuse. july hates wasting time, however it is justified in his empirical philosophy. and perhaps, it’s what gets him going in these mindless plays: none wasted in terms of gaiety that comes from capers, as well as disused empathies. (sentiments? what’s that?)

she tosses a few dumbass’s and asshole’s, and as much as july would respond with utterances just as uncouth, he looks off in cold blood for the moment. one, to distract himself from spouting words that might possibly set her off in another route, and two, to think about their breadth. jieun’s always been at hand, rare for anyone to be with him. yet, she’s still always behind a thin wall of glass, transparent yet still opaque in terms of how she would ply at him. as it may be, she is simply giving as much as he is–––unspoken but cognizant with the line he’s drawn between them. between him anyone else.

maybe this is all just a weird impulse. a makeshift indulgence in something he hasn’t ventured before. anything can be rationalized under his erratic caliber, his go-to cop-out for everything. silence is something that neither of them are used to, and just when the lull on his part gets too long-winded, he stops. it’s as if jieun’s only half his height from his point of view, and july quickly changes that by lowering his back with both hands linked behind, his bearing just a thin layer away from hers.

“what’s that? i’m feelin’ kindly for once–––so ‘ya can say it right to my face.” in coherence to what he’s half-expected, jieun doesn’t muster up anything in instant. she stares, the sprightliness in her eyes doused down for what he’s posed as a surprise, almost overmodest. he takes in her dainty features, as if scrutinizing a countenance he’s never seen before. he reaches a hand out when she finally looks away, not giving her any leeway with her chin in his hand. it’s not at all stringent, the way he’d hold her in his gaze; yet he pries. “and don’t tell me you’re shy, toots.”

#( f: lai )#im here for this