Jungkook X New Beginning At Fila

Trapped in my own memories

One of my friends passed away recently from COVID and was a Nahua just like me who wanted to revitalize our language and inspire others to engage with their cultures. Instead of sending me freakish and weird messages, please help fund Indigenous mutual aid and learning programs to show you actually care about Indigenous people and not what they look like from two pictures you’ve seen.

atzin.org

womansearthalliance.org

globalgiving.org

culturalsurvival.org

Society of Native Nations

Nahuatl Dictionary

Smarkle is not appreciated and y'all are trash for that

16,597’ ❘❙❚❙❘❙❚❙❘❘❙❚❙❘❙❚❙❘ 🪖

boyfriend!seungmin — instagram version (female reader)

jeongin | seungmin | felix | jisung | hyunjin | changbin | minho | woojin | chan

masterlist

instagram au: modern day deities (1/?)

even more concept playlists <3

i too, like a character from a wes anderson film, wish for nothing but a gentle escape from my reality, for a chance to run off into the woods with the love of my life until our legs burn and we reach a field of wildflowers situated below the most picturesque sunset visible to our mortal eyes

the time is well past midnight and whilst you don’t want to leave the party entirely, you need a moment of rest as you sit outside on your best friends parents patio listening to the violent thump of the music muffled through the glass screen door

perhaps there is more to life than late nights huddled under an itchy blanket on your family couch but, if we really are being honest, is there anything more comforting than that though?

here is a cordial invitation to join me and the gang by the coastline pier where we can skate across the boardwalk and steal ice cream right out of the plethora of stands lined along the shore 

the summer, as always, approaches slowly yet with little warning before the heat overtakes suburbia and it’s golden rays begin to entice vibrant flowers out of their buds and into the warmth of the day, that same warmth that melts ice cream down your fingertips as you walk barefoot across the burning concrete

despite the fact i managed to drunkenly confess my love to you last saturday without reciprocation here you are, still being nice to be whilst i absentmindedly tug at your sweatshirt

gazing across the abandoned factory in which you sit atop empty crates, you accidentally make eye contact with the ghost that watched the world turn to ruins. their stare is somewhat vacant but the way they wrap their non-existent arms around your bruised torso in a slow waltz to the vintage tunes playing between the radio silence makes you feel more alive than you did shooting at those bastard runaways 

how to be a REAL fan

like the thing