this-is-for-jay-and-sarah-ok

jeon jungkook ruined my life: a story told through gifs

wey hey what’s up guys i’m back with another collection of rude gifs

this time our subject wll be the maknae and perhaps even the rudest member of bts: jeon jungkook

ok, time for the pain to begin

would any rude jungkook gif post be complete without a gif of this moment? i think not

idk what the fuck this move is trying to achieve but idc i’m still into it

again, what the fuck

don’t even get me started on this choreography, i’m thoroughly convinced that bighit was trying to kill me off

*googles* how to be a sweater

ok but seriously what do we have to do to get this hairstyle back because fucking hell

bitch i’m sweating he looks so good all dressed up n shit

hahahahahaha i’m not okay

*takes deep breath* isweartogodjeonmotherfuckingjungkookifyoudontbuttonupyourgoddamnshirtimgonnalosemyshit

i told myself that i wasn’t going to scream while making this post but it looks like that just went ouT THE FUCKING WINDOW

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

UUUUUUUUCK

hahahahahahahaha i’m not crying i just spilled a little water in my eyes

is this….. is this shit allowed

oh, you think this is bad?

well what do you think about this?

or this?

and we simply cannot ignore this

and i’m pretty sure that this is pornographic but hey it’s fine i’m FINE

that J on his jersey must be for “jerk” because that was extremely uncalled for

yup, it’s for “jerk” alright

tbh this stage was the sexiest shit ever and i’m still not over it

SUPRISE BITCH, THE CHEST HAS COME BACK OUT TO PLAY

AND THE ABS SEEM TO HAVE JOINED US AS WELL HELLO

ok u guys are probably sick of my comments by now so i’m just gonna hit u with straight up rudeness for a sec

OK OK OK I KNOW I SAID I’D SHUT UP BUT WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCKKKK

*raps to the beat of le hip thrusts* i. am. dead.

*yodels* fuck my life *dabs*

ok this was longer than i expected i’m so sorry i swear i’m done now peace out

(i don’t own any of these gifs)

I did some outdoors sketching during a brief glimmer of sunshine, but the on-flowing mysteries past the broad river-bend were barred by a beaked guardian.

a prose poem about ghosts

we’ll help you, my mother tells me, but you’ve got to want to help yourself too. my father, standing by my bed, saying, play the piano again for us, for your mind. i think of what it will mean to take medication: the white pill between my fingers like a secret, a pearl pressed flat on a train track. the cold water glass. my heart unfurling.

i dig through the dusty piano bench. pressed in a yellowed 60s copy of preparatory exercises are loose leaf pages, a secret. titled sebastian in someone else’s handwriting, scanned copy of notes drawn in pen on printed staff. sebastian, meaning: basket of marigolds, summer as rich as wine, brideshead, in the time before depression when my tongue was a moon crater still learning to how to taste the word man.

here, by the keys, my bones hum. melancholy is a night with no wind pressed up against my ribs. i hold on to my body as if it were its own secret, me, my blood, and all the words i cannot say. take my time with each note. my hands wreaths of rust, the dust spilling out of me. i think again of the pills, my heart prying itself open to reveal the real heart nestled inside, the red one, the one that beats.

summer is only a word, but it’s an orange word, a kind of burning. i play softly. there’s a ghost in the room somewhere. he might be sitting on the bench. he might be evaporating.

now that the “party” is over and sana doesn’t have to fear her parents finding out about her letting alcohol into their house, and the party that took place there, i think that this is going to be a good learning experience for her. because what would’ve hurt sana the most had they found out would’ve been knowing that they felt like their own daughter had disrespected them and their home, knowing that they were disappointed in her. she knows she could’ve really hurt her parents there, these two people who mean so much to her, much much more than any of the russ stuff. and hopefully this will help (it’s a process) her realize that there are compromises that shouldn’t be made, that she shouldn’t let anyone or anything make her feel like she has to make

People always shoot down my ideas and I’m sick of it. Two sentences in and everyone’s already shouting, “What the fuck that’s illegal,” or, “You can’t do that,” let me talk dear god!
—  Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, as if she acutally told people her ideas