#i remember they were doing a world tour way back when and the closest they came to belgium was england | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katz-chow · 3 months

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i remember everything...

synopsis: in which johnny deals with the lingering feelings he has with his coworker 🏷| fluff, american!reader, gn!reader, reader is described as having hair long enough to have to towel dry (its like one sentence), mostly in johnny's pov, prompt 29, culture clash, part of @glitterypirateduck's soap it up challenge

masterlist | taking orders | main menu

“Strange words come on out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broke. Pictures and passing time, you only smile like that when you’re drinkin’…”

“Do you like it?” You ask him, as you both sit on your respective beds in the hotel room. The soft glow of the hotel lamps mixed with the pristine, white sheets gave off the allusion of an ethereal heaven. You both untucked the sheets and wrapped them around you and on the bed in your nests of bedding, shielding away from the blasting AC air.

Johnny groans, falling back onto the firm queen-sized mattress. “If I have to hear another Southern accent, I’m gonna blow my brains out. Yours is enough!”

“Bitch!” You scream and laugh as you throw a pillow, aiming for his crotch. A sharp breath stopped itself in his throat as he groaned in discomfort. Another laugh was pulled from you as you too, squirm around in bed.

Eventually, he recovers and sat back up. “Bonnie, you remember when we first went on this world tour of ours?”

A world tour, that’s what you both referred it to. In reality, it was just a guest speaker program on international joint bases. You were there in the UK as an American, part of a joint company operation. Then Kyle pointed you out when you shared some memories in North Carolina together. Hitting it off with Johnny was just pure fate (maybe, he thinks).

The first time he saw you, you and your squadron stood shiny in the unfamiliar dress blues in front of that board meeting. An hour later, he discovered you’re all American service members, here on an ally program.

The second time, fate forced you both together. Chow Hall at dinner time proved to be both bliss and the Thunderdome at the same time– which was no foreign territory for the Americans. They were loud, Johnny thought. The more he heard their wide range of accents, the more intrigued he became with this new group.

He gazed at them, you included, deciding when would be the right time to bud into the conversation. That’s when you spoke up, hinting at the cutest, slowest speech he’s ever heard; a real, Texan accent.

“I dunno about all this, y’all…It kinda looks, like, bland…” You say as you look at the food on your tray. Kyle right over your shoulder with your friends crowding around the “experimental plate”.

Kyle laughed and cut open the pastry with a knife, moving the peas around. The meat inside spilled out of the puff pastry as everyone oo-ed and ah-ed and not in a good way. “You telling me you’ve never had a meat pie?”

“Closest thing would be chicken pot pie…and even with that the peas are inside and I don’t have to look at it when I eat it.” One American laughed. Johnny noted that his accent sounded “standard” compared to your more regional one.

Another woman piped up as she shoved his arm with hers, “Chicken pot pies aren’t all that, Johnson, you’re fucking weird.”

“Cut that shit out, Phillips…I’m gonna…fuck your husband.”

Johnny snickered and interjected himself into the appropriate conversation. “How about you shag me instead? A true Scotsman right here.”

“I mean, if you want…” The Standard American, now he knew as Phillips, responded as he turned towards him and smiled.

He noticed the group of Americans all turned their bodies to include him in their small circle, even when he was about three feet away and on a different table. They were kind and eager, friendly even.

From then on, he decided to always stick around the group of funny Americans, who always seemed to do the weirdest things. He also got to know the mirage of people within this seemingly rag-tag team. From Edward Phillips, the Washingtonian Linguist, Michelle Hernandez, the New Mexican demolitions expert, and then you, the Texan.

After that, he just gravitated towards you, like an asteroid in your presence. He revolved around you, hovering when you need him and jumping in. Never far for you to hold onto, he was right beside you, an equal rather than someone to catch you if you fall or a subordinate waiting upon your every command. You liked that about Johnny, how he’s a partner, and thus on par with you. Your strengths are his weaknesses (reading comprehension) and your weaknesses are his strengths (chemistry).

Johnny often questions whether fate is real or not, must be the Catholic in him, but the critical, logical part of his brain won’t let him fully believe. He wonders if fate is real if there truly is a bigger spirit that predetermines whether or not he will die horrifically in battle, or how many kids he’ll have— if he is allotted more than one. More often than not, however, he finds himself wondering if he somehow made the right choice to speak up with that lewd comment that led to meeting his best friend. Or was it how God had intended it? Or, perhaps, it was the Roman Moirai that had strung your paths together. In either case, he could only hope that he was making the right choice now.

The AC continued to blast in the dim light, something he had to get used to. Months ago, when you were merely just a coworker, he had to adjust to the fact that you were afraid of sleeping in the dark. Teases and playful jabs seemed relentless, night after night as soon as you went to turn on the bathroom light and crept the door closed. But now, as whoever’s above fated it, he quite likes the addition to his nightly routine.

Things are simpler, more clear, and more concise. It’s a lot different building bombs, and awaiting the next mission than simply giving a briefing on demolition safety and code of conduct. One might even say it’s boring, but what’s more boring than your job? At least he’s talking about something interesting! Says the man who eavesdrops on your talk whenever he’s not busy.

Johnny has more time to journal, draw, and…think. It became routine, you getting ready for bed while Johnny props himself up on his pillows, thinking and scribbling away. So here he is, nightstand lamp casting its low, orange glow against his even yellower pages. Odd drawings of the desk chair in front of his bed, some notes about your lecture, and an odd sticky note drawing on your side profile he did while he waited for you to finish your talk.

Never leave a man with his thoughts, one of the lessons he had learned when he started to let his mind wander from station to station, train of thought visiting back on when you caught his eye, or when you fell down the stairs and your nose started to bleed (Johnny had never felt his stomach sink so low), and just last week when you convinced him to try authentic Indian food…he thinks of you.

It's almost as if he no longer even lets his mind wander but now he lets his thoughts loose into Your World. His bonnie. His. Fuck him, He rubbed his face with his palms, exasperated.

“You good?” Your voice snapped him away from his consuming thoughts, hands falling to close his leather-bound journal with a snap.

He looks at you. You had your head tilted, hair falling into the towel that you’re crunching up to dry it. “‘m fine, Birdie.”

Birdie, his songbird. His ears hear the way you scoffed, swinging back into the bathroom to set the towel up and get yourself into the twin bed next to his, the space separated by just a small nightstand holding the phone and now his journal.

You hop onto bed, throwing the already jostled-up sheets onto you as Johnny stands to turn off the light on the opposite wall. Your laptop, which had now been turned off per his request, tucked itself under your bed, barely peeking out just for a reminder for when you both leave the next morning.

“I don’t want to go on base tomorrow. I hate Newport.” You say to break the silence between the both of you, simply sitting in the not-so-dark.

Johnny groans, having heard you say this since the two of you had landed here in Rhode Island. “Oh haud yer wheesht, we’re only here for another day,” he reasons.

You’ve heard that phrase a lot lately, especially as your World Tour is coming to an end soon. Two more bases, a fortnight left. But you can’t blame him, your whining was getting a bit much.

A comfortable silence fills the air again as you hum in reply to him. Both of you find yourselves lost—or leashed in your worlds, thinking about what’s next.

He’s going to miss this; miss waiting for you to get ready for bed, miss listening in on your colloquies, miss the way your body wash smells, miss your awful music…”Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.”

“What?”

Johnny freezes, he takes back about the time you fell: this was when his heart dropped the furthest and fastest it’s ever fallen. Almost like the New Year's ball in New York. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Johnny, what did you just say?” In his peripheral, he sees your head turn to look at him. he turns his head to you.

He prays that you don’t see the way sweat begins to fall from his skin or hear the quiver in his voice. “I said, I’ll miss you.”

You giggle a bit, letting your head fall back onto the plush headboard, eyes up at the popcorn ceiling. “It’s not like I’m going to die anytime soon, I’ll still be here.”

“I don’t want you to ever leave.” He blurts out quicker than his brain can even pick up. Blood rushes into his ears, he feels his body get hot as he awaits your reaction.

The tension grows thicker, even as the AC hums. He sees your feet under the sheets moving side to side, you’re thinking of how to respond, formulating the perfect response. God, you were perfect, thinking about what you wanted to say rather than just blurting things out like how he is. You’re so different than him, so precise in your doings, always thinking ahead, always planning for the worst outcomes. And not to mention how good of a teacher you are with those in your field, you spoke eloquently, formally– yet just enough casualty that not only demanded respect but provided a sense of comfort.

He looks back over to you quickly, your head still in the same position as before, eyes closed, however. For a quick moment, he sighs in relief, thinking you had fallen asleep from talking and whining too much. But instead, when he snaps back into reality, he sees your face smiling at him.

“I think I’d like that a little too much.” You scrunch up your nose just a bit at the end of your sentence.

He doesn’t know what to make of them, but he smiles back nonetheless. “Yeah?”

You hum again, thinking. Silence washes over the two of you again. You two don’t look at each other, Johnny can feel disappointment wash over him, ready to just retire for the night.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You blurt out, already reaching down to pull your laptop out from under the bed. He looks at you quizzically, but agrees anyway.

To his surprise, however, you find yourself throwing the laptop gently on his bed, shooing him over (which he obeys), and getting under the sheets with him. His heart flutters as he instinctively rests his arm behind you. You scoot closer to him, pulling your laptop onto your lap. But you stop, and his breathing does to match.

“Is this okay?”

Johnny nods and smiles softly at you, seeing your worried expression dissipate. You decide that Johnny gets no say in what the two of you watch, and honestly, Johnny seems more interested in the fact that he can smell your shampoo and feel how soft the tips of your hair are in between his fingertips. He zones out after that, rejoicing in the moment as your breathing steadies his old heart.

You turn your head up to look at him, raising your head slightly from his chest. He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“I’m tired.”

He smiles wider at how your eyes droop down, even after insisting the two of you watch a movie. The screen pauses as he presses the spacebar, timestamp at 23:09. He huffs a laugh. “It’s late, I ken, I ken…”

“Can I sleep here?” You ask, already resting your head on his chest and sinking further into the now-warm sheets. Johnny shifts over a bit, closing your laptop and tossing it carefully over to your empty bed. The strands of your hair lift up a bit as he absent-mindedly messes with them. Your arm found itself hooked under his bicep, the other arm thrown over his chest.

His lips reach down and places a soft kiss on the crown of your head, burying his nose into the inviting smell of almonds and cherries.

You hum in contentment, yet sleepily mumbling out something just a tab bit too quiet for his ears to pick up. “Speak up, Bonnie.”

You whine and his heart skips a beat. He wonders how long this can go on before he dies of cardiac arrest. Hopefully for decades. “It was always going to be you.” You pout, before nuzzling into him again, not once opening your eyes.

Johnny freezes, and the stands of your hair fall from the tips of his fingers. He looks down and sees how your chest rises evenly now, body heavy and warm against his. “Birdie?”

When you don’t respond, he knows you’re dead asleep. He sits there for a while thinking about the choices he made that led him to this position, as a body pillow for you– not that he is complaining. Surely it wasn’t when he tripped over a pinecone in year 5 right? Or when he decided to disobey orders and blow up a base anyway right? No, it has to be much simpler than that– when he had decided to skip lunch that day the two of you met? He thinks about the choices he made, and how he could’ve missed all the signs you gave him showing him that you were also in a state of yearning for him. And why did you turn on a lame rom-com, knowing you were going to fall aslee– oh. Oh.

Was this your plan the entire time? Clever Birdie. Of course, you had planned this out, had planned on turning the AC up, whining about the cold. Leaving your laptop on a movie website already, drying your hair even when you never really do. You just had to find a window of opportunity: him.

It was always going to be the two of you. He was just a bit behind.

masterlist | taking orders

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spgothkidsheadcanons · 1 year

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Goths taking care of s/o when they’re sick

Henrietta:

- MAMA HEN ALERT

- I REPEAT, MAMA HEN ALERT

- She’s all over you, fussing at you whenever you try to do something yourself

- She literally babysits you and makes sure that you have absolutely everything you need

- Medicine? Check

- Water? Check

- That one really good soup you love from the restaurant all the way across town? You bet she’s getting in the car and making the trek to get you that soup

- She loves you and she’ll do anything for you

- Please just let her baby you, it’s in her blood to make sure that you feel good at all times

You were laying face down in your bed, stripped down to a tank top and a pair of shorts to escape the heat from your fever. The covers of your bed covered one half of your body, trying to keep a happy medium between being hot and cold. Henrietta sat in a chair by your bed side, one hand rubbing circles on the exposed skin of your back and the other scrolling through a remedies list on her phone. She had not left your side since you started sniffling last night. When you woke up this morning hacking up your lungs, she jumped out of bed and got you every kind of medicine you might need to get you through the day.

You picked your head up, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, throat burning like fire and only being able to semi breathe through one nostril. Turning to look at her, your laid your head back down, your eyes studying her as she intently scrolled on her phone. You smiled at her. The medicine she had given you just a little bit ago had made you loopy, and all you wanted to do was sit there and stare at her.

“Henri, I love you.” you squeaked, voice sore from your multiple coughing fits. She looked to you, giving you a soft smile. “I love you, too.” she responded, looking back to her phone. “No, I really do love you. You’re seeing me at my worst.” you added, closing your eyes as exhaustion started to set into your body. She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Trust me, this isn’t your worst. I was there on your 21st birthday.” she responded, setting her phone down and turning to look at you. You cringed as you remembered how drunk you got that night, barely able to make it inside your home before you tossed your cookies.

Her hand moved from your back, causing you to whine at the loss of her touch. She stood from her chair, making her way to the side of the bed that wasn’t occupied. Henrietta pulled the covers back, sliding into the bed beside you. You waited until she made herself comfortable before you turned on your side and slid closer to her, lazily wrapping an arm around her. She ran her fingers through your hair, smoothing the strands that stuck to your forehead. Your eyes closed, and soon, you were knocked out, holding onto your girlfriend like your life depended on it.

Michael:

- Michael is another baby-er

- If he was on tour, he’d send his parents over to go check on you and make sure you were doing okay

- If he was in the studio, he was immediately driving to you to personally take care of you

- He cuts himself off from the social world just to stay home unbothered, turning his full attention on you

- He’s the kinda guy who, if you ask him for something, instead of stopping for a second and thinking, he’s already on his way to the store

- On foot

- He forgets he has a car if you ask him for something, instead he’s right out the door walking to the closest store

- And don’t be surprised if he comes back with a lot more shit than you needed. He just picks up anything that makes him think of you

Michael’s keyring jingled as he fumbled through them, looking for the house key. He had just got back from the store, stocking up on anything you might have needed to help you get over your temporary illness. Finally finding the key, he jammed it into the lock and opened the door, stepping in and locking the door behind him. He quickly shrugged his jacket off, not bothering to hang it on the coat rack, instead letting it fall to the floor. The only thing on his mind was putting up your ice cream and making his way back to the couch to sit with you.

Michael quietly stepped past you, snickering to himself as he say you laying stiff as a board with a cold washcloth on your head and a sleeping mask to block out the lights. Making his way to the kitchen, he put up anything that needed to put up, grabbing a glass of water and a bag that had a different assortment of medicines. He didn’t know exactly what to get, so he opted to just get everything that he thought would help.

Stepping back into the living room, Michael made his way over to the couch you were laying on. He took notice that you had begun to breathe through your mouth, your nose having gotten stuffier while he was gone. The tall man sat on the edge of the coffee table and placed his hand on your arm, gently rubbing it to show he was there. “Hey, (Y/n). I know you’re sick, but you need to sit up for a second.” he whispered, not wanting to be too loud. You groaned in response, being cut short as another coughing fit racked through your body.

Michael winced as your body finally relaxed, assisting you in sitting up just long enough for you to take the medicine. It was painful to swallow, and you took a minute to recoil from the burn. Tears welped up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. Your boyfriend frowned, reaching his hand out to cup your face. Leaning into his touch, you relished in the fact that his cool hands helped to ease the burning of your cheeks. All too soon, Michael removed his hand and moved to the couch, pulling you to lay against him. He ran his fingers through his hair, humming some random songs until you managed to finally go back to sleep. Kissing the top of your head, he decided to take a nap himself, holding one arm around you.

Pete:

- Remember how I said he doesn’t like when you take care of him when he’s sick?

- Well forget that if you’re sick

- He’s over as soon as you wake up and tell him that you don’t feel good, carrying a few different containers of soup.

- And yes, he had been up almost all morning making those for you

- He will cuddle with you no matter what kind of sick you have

- My mans just loves you a lot, and while he doesn’t want you getting sick from him, he’ll gladly get himself sick trying to take care of you

- Really, you both end up sleeping all day

- He found out the hard way that when you’re sick, you’re clingy, and you’re not letting him go

Pete had just finished warming up some of his uncle’s homemade chicken noodle soup for you in your kitchen. He poured it into a bowl he pulled from your cabinet, grabbing the exact spoon that you prefer using (the little spoons are 🤌🏻🤌🏻), and made his way into your bedroom. Thankfully, you were just dealing with a nasty cold and not the flu, your only major symptoms being a sore throat, sneezing and a cough.

Opening your door, he stepped inside, shutting it behind him. He looked at you sitting up on your bed, picking at your nails as you put your full attention onto some random show that was on the tv. You had definitely gotten over the worst of it, but you still felt bad. Thankfully, Pete’s been there since you came down with the sickness (Oo ah ah ah ah), and he’s been nonstop caring for you. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t have been taking your medicine as steadily as he made you.

Walking to the bedside, you finally noticed he had come in, turning your head and smiling at him. Scootching over to give him room, you grabbed the soup from him, allowing him to get into bed beside you before tucking in. You had practically begged him to get his uncle to make his famous soup recipe, and his uncle happily agreed when he heard that that you were feeling sick.

“Dude, if I could marry soup, I’d marry this soup right now.” you mused, happily enjoying the meal. He smiled, amused at your words. “It would go bad in a few days, I think it’s fruitless to marry soup.” he quipped back, looking at you. You sighed, pretending to cry about what he said. The medicine you’ve been taking has made you a little loopy, it didn’t take a fool to see that. “My soup husband. My soupsband.” you mourned over the loss of your pretend marriage. “Gone but never forgotten.” Pete added, causing you to cackle, only for a cough to rack through your frame. Your boyfriend rubbed your back, his heart breaking at the groan of pain you emitted after you settled.

“The only soupsband you’ll ever have is me.” he said nonchalantly, taking your empty bowl and setting it on your nightstand. “Yeah, probably. Oh well. As long as you make me soup and baby me when I’m sick.” you said, leaning on your boyfriend. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, letting you lean against him as you both laid back. The rest of the day was filled with soup, tv, and the comfort of each other.

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #sp michael #sp henrietta #sp pete #south park michael #south park henrietta #south park henrietta biggle #south park pete #south park pete thelman #sp pete thelman #sp henrietta biggle x reader #sp henrietta biggle #sp henrietta x reader #south park henrietta biggle x reader #sp pete x reader #sp michael x reader #south park pete x reader #south park michael x reader

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harrytheehottie · 1 year

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ALWAYS & FOREVER: A HARRY STYLES ONE SHOT

A/N: This is a part of The Sweet & Spicy Fic Challenge 💘 shoutout to @harry-on-broadway @hslllot & @harrysblackcoat for all the inspo.

rated: m 💘 word count: 3.3k 💘 masterlist 💘 tell me your thoughts 💘

You met on a night out. It was classic, really, your friends begged you to go out and after much negotiation and begging you said yes. And that was the night you met the love of your life.

Although, the two of you remember the story differently. You swear he approached you and so do all of your friends but he stands firm in his theory that you were constantly making eyes at him and he had no choice but to see what you were on about. And his story still proves yours right because he was the first person to walk over to you.

You flirted, danced and had way too many shots. You quickly found out that night that he was affectionate and touchy after a free drink. His body clinging onto yours and telling you just how cool he thought you were, you teased him for months about it asking if that was his signature chat up line. He swears it wasn’t.

You went on a few dates most of them occurred during the day time, a walk around the park when you were on lunch, a 4pm coffee on the days you’d leave the office early. You never ran out of things to talk about he’d let you listen to demos but only through shared airpods and pinky promises that you wouldn’t tell anyone, not even your closest friends. You’d tell him about your work drama and he’d always tell you where you were on the right, even if you knew you weren’t.

It wasn’t easy, you had to navigate his demanding career and merge your lives. You dreaded the months away and savored those moments on the side stage when he’d look over just before he walked to the microphone and you’d cheer him on like it was your first time. The moments you had with just the two of you - no cameras, no second guessing where you should stand or look, just you and Harry the way it was always meant to be.

He asked you to marry him on a walk through the Heath. He spent the entire walk fiddling with his jacket pocket and talking about how much he loves you and what your relationship meant to him. He just came back from another row of sold out shows and had a preselected two weeks off before he was on the road again. You thought he was just being his sappy self until he stopped walking and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him.

You cried and cried and said yes and cried some more. You spent those two weeks wrapped around each other and definitely broke the world record for how many times two people can say ‘fiance’. You had your ceremony six months later — you didn’t need to waste time planning. It was in Harry’s mom’s backyard, an intimate ceremony with all your friends and family.

A month after you got back from your honeymoon you realized you missed your period. You thought there was no way it could’ve happened that quickly — you’d only been off the pill for a few months. You went upstairs and took one of your tests you knew you had in the bathroom. Harry was on one of his morning swims and you knew you had a limited window of time before he came back. You took the test and waited patiently as you waited for the longest two minutes of your life to pass by.

There it was.

Pregnant.

You were overwhelmed with joy, doubts, anxieties. The next two years of you and Harry’s life had been planned for you already; tours, albums, award shows, photoshoots. And now, you are going to have to plan a baby around it. You wanted this more than anything but you were in pure disbelief that it was real. And after what felt like an hour of double checking that you weren’t reading the results wrong and rummaging through the downstairs drawers to find a second and third pregnancy test.

You dreamed of this moment, starting a family with the love of your life. It felt so far away for so long, right before you met Harry you were certain it would never happen the way you imagined. And here you were at this moment, married to the best man you knew and about to start a family.

You were going to throw up.

You let yourself take the moment in, checking your phone to make sure that Harry wasn’t on his way back yet. You took the first pregnancy test and washed it before heading down to your storage room.

One of your first trips after your engagement was in New York City. It was one of your favorite places to go with Harry because of the connection he had to the city and the friends he introduced you to along the way. It was also one of the few places that you and Harry could walk around and blend in. You were in one of those cute knick knacks shops in the Lower East Side just browsing when Harry picked up a baby onesies that had a taxi embroidered on the front with ‘NYC’ in black underneath it.

“Do you have something to tell me?” You asked when you noticed him picking it up and putting it down.

Harry laughed, “No, just think” he paused thinking through his words before speaking again, “would it be nice to get a present as a way of manifesting?”

“You want a baby with me?” You teased knowing that it was something you discussed at length, many times. Your mutual desire for children when it felt right. And the fact that it was something that was already on his mind confirming that you made the right decision.

“I always knew you were the one. Just had to work extra hard and make you realize the same for me.” Harry closed the space between you, stealing a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing the onesies and heading towards the checkout counter.

“Oh, so I was right - you were the one that approached me that night.” You said as you followed quickly behind him. He smiled big, the kind that always made you melt, where you could see all his teeth and his eyes crinkled up and his lips disappeared.

“Touche.” he replied with a wink.

You found the onesies in your storage and quickly ran around trying to find a gift box to present it in. You checked the time, it had been an hour and a half since Harry left for swimming meaning he would be home anytime soon. You found a box, placed the onesie in it and on top of that the positive pregnancy test.

You were buzzing with excitement and nerves waiting for him to walk through the door. You paced all around the house trying to take your mind off it and when you heard the ring of the security system letting you know someone had just put in the code and saw Harry in his hoodie and sweatpants make their way to the front door you were filled with nerves.

You knew he would be excited and overjoyed but you knew once he knew, your lives would truly be changed forever. He walked through the front door greeting you with a hug and a kiss. You tried to make small talk, and asked him how his swim was.

“Somethings wrong,” Harry immediately picked up on your weird nervous energy “you seem.. off.” He said examining you from head to toe as you stood in front of him. He knew you too well.

“I got you a gift and was just waiting for the perfect time to give it to you” you nervously said walking over to the box that you left on the kitchen table. You wanted to keep the memory of this moment forever, the moments before you knew his life would truly change forever. It wasn’t album sales, music awards, accolades that you thought would be the best moments of his life but this one would truly.

You handed him the box. He looked up at you, the same face he made in that pub way back when. His brows quirked up in wonder, his forest green eyes meeting yours, his mouth melting into up in a soft smile. You watched closely as he slowly opened the box, his hands were ring free, minus the wedding band - you still got butterflies looking at.

His eyes scanned the materials inside once, twice , and three times over. You watched as he studied the items slowly raising his head to look up at you, “What? Is this real?” He spoke, you could see the tears forming in his eyes.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, took three tests to prove it.”

You closed the gap between the two of you, your lips crashing into one another the love you had moving through your bodies. You wanted to be as close to him as possible. Harry moved his hands from your back to your legs and hoisted you up on the kitchen island. His mouth moving from your lips down to your neck to your collarbones. He moved back and lifted up your shirt.

You watched as Harry began kissing your stomach whispering lowly, “Our baby is in there.” as he left kiss after kiss after kiss. You wanted to wrap this moment up and keep it forever. The two of you, the only ones in the world that knew you were expecting and going into this new season of life together.

You told your families first. Buying every ‘Worlds Best Grandma’ and ‘World Best Aunt and Uncle’ shirt you could find. Everyone’s excitement for the two of you makes everything more real. You were most nervous for Harry to tell Jeff -- he was his best friend but also his manager and you knew the second he told him after the excitement and celebration, you’d have to be looped into conversations about how or what Harry was willing to share.

“I told him that I didn’t want to tell anyone that doesn’t have to know. No exclusives, no confirming or denying stories. I don’t want anyone involved in this that doesn’t have to be.”

“Do you think it would be easier if it was on our terms?” You asked, “Rather than a rumor that gets reported on by others?”

“No. It’s ours.” Harry’s was speaking fast and direct something he did when he was serious, “I’ve shared so much of my life when I didn’t want to, I shared you for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to share this -- I don’t want anyone in this that doesn’t have to be.”

You were two years into your relationship before people online began to catch on. You blended into his crew of people. It wasn’t until a picture of you at his family Christmas made its way online - a phone call from Jeff made the two of you aware. Harry remained calm letting Jeff know that he still didn’t want your name anywhere but if any media outlets reached out just to say he was happy. It didn’t stop anyone from digging and finding out as much as they could about you but it didn’t matter because both Harry and you knew that this was it.

Harry held your hands in his, “I’ll protect you,” you looked at your belly and then back up at you, “and you with everything I can. I love you so much and just want to keep this to us. We can let the people talk and speculate and wonder but it’s our family and our story to tell. I wish I didn’t have to deal with all of these logistics but”

You cut him off, “Harry, I love you baby and I understand. The way you go above and beyond to protect everyone around you doesn't go unnoticed. This is the one thing that we can keep as ours.”

And you did. You lived your life as normal, went to his shows and supported him through his career concealing your bump through skirts and dresses. Your pregnancy went by quickly, one day you were barely showing and the next you were already planning your baby shower and then you were in the hospital in labor with Harry by your side and after 16 hours of labor your bundle of joy was in your arms.

You never felt love like that before. It was indescribable holding the human that you helped create, learning how to breastfeed, change diapers and navigate this new chapter in your lives. Watching Harry as he stayed up late reading and researching on all the milestones that you should be looking out for. You’d catch him singing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ as a way to make her fall asleep and it always melted you

Your life was built on routine.

You wake up at the same time everyday to give yourself some uninterrupted time in the morning. You brush your teeth, do your skincare before heading downstairs to get the day started. You clean up the kitchen and tidy up the living room but mostly, your favorite part of your morning was your cup of coffee. You make the same cup of black coffee, almond milk and two sugars and leisurely scroll through your phone basking in the silence and solitude that you felt in the early morning hours before being interrupted by anyone else.

Some days you’d have longer mornings than others but when you’d hear your monitor begin making sounds you make your way back upstairs to your nursery.

Motherhood was something you always wanted for yourself but there came a point in time where you weren’t sure it would happen in the traditional sense. Relationships were tough and you had your fair share of negative experiences. It would always be good at first, the honeymoon stage clouding all of your judgments until it was a year and a half in and you realized you were hitting a wall. You got to the point where you were content with continuing life without a partner - looking back, it’s funny that the moments where you’re giving up is when the right people come into your life.

Today was different.

You woke up to the sounds of Harry in the kitchen. He was singing along to his playlist as he made you breakfast. Your daughter was a little older now and was spending the night at your mom’s house so you and Harry could have uninterrupted time together. It was few and far between these days with work schedules, daycare and playdates. Harry was currently working on his next studio album and moved all production to be closer to your family so he would no longer need to be traveling back and forth from the US to London.

“No, no, no, you were supposed to stay upstairs I had it all planned out,” Harry was playfully shouting as you made your way down the steps and into the kitchen. He was wearing a matching set of pajamas. The top was completely unbuttoned; the butterfly on his chest still had a market left on it from when your daughter was using him as her personal coloring book.

He had everything laid out on the table; eggs, hash browns, waffles and was currently putting together a fruit bowl to finish it off.

“You didn’t have to do all of this for me?” You said as you walked over and gave him a kiss.

He stopped what he was doing and pulled you in closer for me, “S’why I’m doing it,” he met your lips one more time before whispering “for you.”

Your mouths clashing again as you melted into each other slowly taking your time, there was no toddler that you had to worry about walking in or waking up, it was just the two of you. You moved your hands up his chest and pulled the rest of his pajamas top off making what you wanted known. He quickly followed your lead helping you out of your pajamas of choice, one of his old touring shirts.

“The food is going to get cold,” Harry mumbled between kisses as your hands moved down the waist of his pants to get them off of him fast.

“Don’t care, need this” You began kissing up his neck licking and sucking the spots that you knew drove him crazy, down his jawline and below his ears.

His hands were moving from your breasts to where you wanted him most. You were always ready for him after years of being together he still turned you on like it was the first time. “S’fuckin wet for me,” he whispered under his breath the anticipation sending goosebumps through your entire body. Harry used his finger to start moving circles around your clit. You had your hands squeezing at Harry’s shoulders before taking your own right hand to stroke his dick through his pants. You felt like two teenagers that were feeling, touching, exploring as much of each other as you could with some of your clothes still on.

The fire inside you was ignited when Harry dipped his finger into your center, arching up and hitting you immediately where you needed him most. Slowly a second and third followed and your moans filled the kitchen as the sweet sounds of his playlist, “Harry,” you moaned encouraging him to keep going as you haphazardly tried to please him as well. He pauses for a second, fingers still deep inside you and says, “S About you now, don’t worry about me, just want to make you feel good” his voice deep and low giving you the permission to enjoy yourself for once before worrying about others around you first. You kissed him again as he continued to pump his fingers instead of you, your hips begin matching his movements and you can feel yourself getting the heat inside you intensifying as you squeeze your eyes shut. You felt like your body was on fire as the sweet sounds of his fingers against you and the playlist he loves the most and his whispers in encouragement brought you to an orgasm.

You slowly began to catch your breath and watched as Harry put all three fingers in his mouth, one by one, tasting every bit of you, a dopey grin on his face whispering “Never gets old,” as he closed the space between you.

You spent the rest of your day like that eating and having sex and wrapping yourself in each other as much as you could. You were grateful for your life and your husband who always put you and your family first.

And when you got into bed that night, Harry asked you for permission to do something he never did before. You thought long and hard about it and you felt like it was the right moment. You watched as he scrolled through his camera roll trying to find the best image before landing on one you took. It was of him and your daughter at your favorite overlook in Malibu. It was a place you spent a lot of your time with your family allowing for the privacy that Los Angeles proper didn’t. You remember that afternoon clearly, she was tired and cranky but you had just got there for the sunset and Harry had her asleep on his shoulder in minutes. You snapped a photo as the blue sky was slowly turning orange.

Harry looked over his shoulder at you before hitting ‘post’ you gave him a nod just as he hit it. A picture of Harry and your daughter with the caption “Isn’t she lovely, made from love.”

Now, the whole world knew and it was on your terms.

#harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #always & forever #sweetandspicyficchallenge #nervous nervous nervous please let me know what you thought!#this is very differently from anything ive ever written but I love it <333

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spiderfreedom · 4 months

Note

About this post, out of curiosity, when do you think it all started? Is there research on like how far back it goes? It obviously isn't inherent to human nature; I know it's not. Is it just one of those toxic things that started from the beginning of organized religion :( ?

There's research, but there's a lot of controversy on when/how patriarchy developed. The most important thing to note is that Greek/Roman/Chinese/Japanese style misogyny is not universal and has not always been the norm. Societies differed a lot in how much power and autonomy women had. At the same time, we must be conscious even the 'best' societies of the past still had faults surrounding women.

Some places to start are:

Alice Evans: Ten Thousand Years of Patriarchy: This article looks at it from an economic and cultural perspective. I strongly recommend reading her Substack, where she travels around the world interviewing Third World Women and Feminists to see why their women's liberation movements have succeeded or failed! From the linked article:

Our world is marked by the Great Gender Divergence. Objective data on employment, governance, laws, and violence shows that all societies are gender unequal, some more than others. In South Asia, North Africa and the Middle East, it is men who provide for their families and organise politically. Chinese women work but are still locked out of politics. Latin America has undergone radical transformation, staging massive rallies against male violence and nearly achieving gender parity in political representation. Scandinavia still comes closest to a feminist utopia, but for most of history Europe was far more patriarchal than matrilineal South East Asia and Southern Africa. [...] Why do some societies have a stronger preference for female cloistering? To answer that question, we must go back ten thousand years. Over the longue durée, there have been three major waves of patriarchy: the Neolithic Revolution, conquests, and Islam. These ancient ‘waves’ helped determine how gender relations in each region of the world would be transformed by the onset of modern economic growth.

Another thing to remember/consider when it comes to studying the past is how few resources we have. We only know so much about how pre-historical humans organized their societies. Colonialism destroyed evidence of other societies with different ways of approaching gender. Many of the great apes we study are endangered. And literate societies happened to be patriarchal societies (likely related to literacy going hand in hand with bureaucracy and agriculture and the development of a state?) so we don't know as much as we could about women in literate regions.

Organized religion definitely codified a lot about patriarchy, but the major religions (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism) arose in regions of the world that were already patriarchal. So it's kind of a chicken and the egg problem when it comes to patriarchy and religion. We know that religions that worshipped goddesses, like Greek and Roman paganism and Hinduism, can still coexist with sexist societies.

These aren't great answers, but it's a big question and there are a lot of people working on answering it! It ties back into the bigger question of what our human ancestors were like, and whether we're kind of doomed to violence and xenophobia or whether there are alternatives. Some other books I've read that may be useful reading on this front are:

The Dawn of Everything. A long book, but it's a tour of human history and different societies and ways of organizing society. One of the chapters is on women, if I recall correctly.

Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years: Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times. Women have been working with cloth for a very long time. In some societies, this allowed women a high degree of status (see the Minoans!) and in others, women were worked to the bone producing textiles (Ancient Egypt).

The book "Demonic Males" looks at the birth of patriarchy from a primatology perspective. Our ape ancestors show male-dominant behaviors and societies. It's controversial the extent this is directly responsible for misogyny and male violence, but I think it's likely that our ape inheritance influenced the structure of early humans - so we basically have a lot of baggage.

Broadly speaking, reading books on feminist anthropology will help you, because a lot of what we know about patriarchy is based on highly literate societies, which as we established, are also agricultural societies with bureaucracies and a hierarchical culture. That's hardly representative of the human condition. As an example, look at Inuit society - on the one hand, there is arranged marriage and all that it implies; on the other, we do not have the same ideals of silent women who stay at home - women are valued members of the society and their skills are explicitly recognized as necessary for survival. Compare Western cultures that view domestic tasks as "support" tasks while the "real" work is done by men.

Finally, this one is a bit old (1974), but it may give you a starting point for understanding feminist anthropology and the search for the origins of patriarchy: "Is Female to Nature as Male is to Culture". It can help us understand how female subordination manifests itself in different cultures, and to know what to look for.

I hope this has been helpful. If anyone can recommend good books on the origin of patriarchy/female subordination (especially for non-Western cultures), please feel free to add in the replies or reblogs!

#asks

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hostilemuppet · 2 months

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what were your thoughts on the episode where creek returns (i think it was called creek week or smth like that????)? i can't remember if you ever said your thoughts on the episode but i wanna hear em, you always have interesting thoughts on tbgo episodes involving creek

I watched that episode before I became so utterly unbased and Creek pilled so I think before world tour I will rewatch that episode too. But I generally don't like the way the episode went.

I think it was ooc for basically every character who forgave creek, or pretended to forgive creek, except biggie bc hes a nice guy. Poppy literally tried to KILL him when she found out he was getting HER KINGDOM killed! And you're saying that not only did she accept him back into what really is HER kingdom now (she's queen!) But she even let him try and become friends with him again? Sure it never went anywhere and creek is only acknowledged when it comes to branch (hold on a sec) but poppy would NEVER want to be anywhere near him again. Even if you don't think they were together (I think one of the directors said they weren't but... cmon. We have eyes) he was definitely 100% without any doubt her closest friend. And he betrayed her. She shouldn't pretend to forgive him, and sit back as he parties with her friends. She should HATE him

Which brings me to my SECOND point, that is less about creek week and more creeks character as a whole: he should not have been branchs adversary. He should have been poppys. For one, branch has both creek AND cloud guy while poppy has no one (you could argue archer pastry, but I think its not the same and he disappeared anyway). Poppy should be able to have a character she cant stand, she should have actual heated conflicts with characters that aren't branch and aren't magically fixed in 10 mins. For two, like I said before: poppy SHOULDNT forgive him. I do think shed pretend to but shed genuinely hate him. For good reason! Why does BRANCH get TWO rivals? Hes already got a bully! Have creek focus on his literal ex girlfriend instead of this random guy FUCKING his ex girlfriend

#ask

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littletxt · 2 years

Note

okay, i’m back with little beomgyu x cg reader again.

beomgyu and reader got into an argument/fight and reader got so mad that she left the house. this made beomgyu scared till he regresses.

(at this rate, i think i’m angst anon🥺)

~🌙

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

FEM-READER | ANGST

Warnings- mentions of alcohol/intoxication/swears

Wc: 2k+

Taglist: @pinkheadflowers @sweetiehyuka @woonie-muffin @desatando-me @ethie @djdudjdjkw @chariottie @kiki-woo @pastel-princess-please

This is better…

“You’re already going back on tour next week! How is it so hard for you to comprehend that I just wanted time with you? Was that not important enough to remember?”, you didn’t know when you’d started to raise your voice at him, all you could feel was how hot your ears were burning, spreading, boiling through your cheeks, your whole face as the anger you felt festered from the ground up. In reality, it wasn’t really anger; you were hurt, you felt betrayed. And nothing else could make you feel so small.

“Y/n! Are you kidding me? I already apologized!!”, your boyfriend snapped, throwing his favorite flannel off and onto the back of the couch, the relentless heat not doing anything to help his mood. Beomgyu was mad. And he rarely got MAD. Not to mention he was drunk and he’d dealt with you calling him all night when he was already out, already with the guys, already unable to do anything about what he felt was just a mistake that he’d have to take care of later. It wasn’t as if he purposely planned to hang out with the guys over the plans he’d made with you. It had honestly slipped his mind. Usually understanding himself, it didn’t sit well with him how you couldn’t do the same and he was frankly exhausted.

Drinks with the guys was how he celebrated a successful first tour, finally being home again, though it wouldn’t be for long since the tour was far from over yet, and seeing his friends again after being away for an entire month. Of course, he wanted to do the same with you; his love, his world. He wanted to share his happiness and cling to you for dear life to recharge his energy after being away and working so hard for so long. When Heeseung called him out to meet up, I’m a word, he got excited. Beomgyu had just wanted to share his adventures on tour in America with his closest buddies, relax and have a drink.

So, yeah. It slipped his mind that he’d planned to go out for dinner with you that night. Why you were upset wasn’t a mystery. But the only thing your boyfriend could do more was get down on his knees, beg and kiss your feet after apologizing so many times. There was no way he could go back and undo it, yet you couldn’t let it go, it made him a little frustrated to say the least.

The way he raised his voice at you, even though it was simply a response to you doing the same, was all too much. Tearing up, your car keys scraped loudly against the counter as you grabbed them and turned to leave with the bitter aftertaste of heartbreak.

“Where are you going?? Y/n, don’t do this. Come on!”, Beomgyu’s words slurred as he dizzily trudged toward the door to stop you. Admittedly, he’d drank a little more than he should have. So, how he’d stop you, he didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he was met with a door slamming shut and a spear through the heart.

“Y/n…”, he turned his back against the door, the white walls that surrounded him spinning far too much to try to run after you. Tangling his fingers through his hair as he pushed his bangs from his sweaty forehead, he felt that awful, familiar stinging as tears flooded his vision. Was he really this pissed? No… he wasn’t. He felt like a disappointment.

How could he have forgotten and put you off this way? You were constantly on his mind when he was away, wishing you’d have gone with him. But when he comes back he goes out and gets drunk instead of making up for lost time with you.

“Good job, dumbass.”, he croaked, hot tears free-falling as he lowered his head, “You really fucked it up this time…”

You’d never took off like this before and he wasn’t sure where you went or if you’d ever come back. But of course, you would. Your things were still there, after all. But what if that was the only reason you’d come back…

“Please, no…”, he sniffled, trying hopelessly to rub the tears away as they came. Using the somehow slippery door handle, he dragged himself to his feet to search for his phone. If he had to apologize a million more times he would, he couldn’t just let you go like this.

How hard could it be to find a phone?? Apparently pretty damn hard since he’d torn through everything in his bag, his jacket, the decorative bowls on the counters and came up empty handed. Finally, at a loss, he stumbled to the bedroom you shared after pacing a groove into the dark wood floors of your apartment for what felt like hours. You were gone. He was all alone.

“Mommy hates me??”, shrinking into a puddle on the floor, Gyu hugged his knees, feeling the tears coming again, this time he feared they’d never stop. They splattered the knees of his worn jeans, a steady stream dripping from his chin as he sobbed out his heart.

The world felt to big, too scary. And his mommy left him all alone cuz he made you mad. Grabbing at himself; his chest, his arms he tried to hold himself tightly to combat the tight aching in his chest, his breath becoming frantic as the air around him thinned. With nothing left to do, he climbed into bed and fitted himself into his small pile of plushies. Caring little about the oven-like heat, he clutched the first one he could get his hands on. As he squeezed it tighter to his chest, doing his best and failing at self soothing, your scent reached him. It smelt of you.

“Mommyy-“, he choked out, sobbing harder, almost wailing into the fluff of the poor stuffed animal he was squeezing the life out of.

Walking down the isles of the 24 hour convenience store, under the harsh fluorescent lights, you found yourself struggling not to cry. What was all of this fighting for. Yelling at him? Was that really necessary?? He worked himself tirelessly, practicing when he wasn’t performing, constantly socializing and running himself ragged. You could forgive one of the most caring and attentive people you knew for being exhausted, couldn’t you? The poor thing was probably drained completely, your little introverted baby. He probably hadn’t regressed since the last time he had with you. It was something he needed.

Sighing to yourself, you grabbed some icy cold strawberry milk from the refrigerator and a pack of gummy bears before making your way back home. Wishing desperately that you could drive a little faster, you cursed the rainy season and your wind-wipers, the red traffic lights blurring through the smears and thudding splatter as they swished back and forth.

The door hadn’t been locked, to your relief. So, anxiously you turned the handle, only hoping he wasn’t still angry with you. But suddenly you began to wish he had been rather than being greeted with the heart-rendering weeping that filled your ears as you bit your cheek and latched the front door behind you.

No matter how much he cried, mommy still wasn’t there to hold him. Beomgyu had soaked through his plushy completely with snot, sweat and tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from the uncomfortable sticky, wetness, where it still smelled of you most. Whenever he regressed he completely lost concept of time. He couldn’t tell if it’d been hours or not even one since his mommy left him.

“Come back…”, his voice was hoarse from wailing and sobbing so loudly, terrified he was left alone forever, the world so scary without his mommy there to hold him.

He didn’t hear you come in or close the door. Nor did he hear your footsteps and the sharp inhale you took upon seeing his trembling figure curled up small amidst all the plushies you’d ever bought him. Though his heart was aching so deeply, his head was still in a floaty space and without you, it was so much more frightening than pleasant.

The yelp he let out when you broke into his headspace, slipping your arms around him as you lay in bed, your body circling his, it caused almost a physical pain. This wasn’t how you wanted things to go, how his first regression in so long should have went. With him feeling abandoned and panic-stricken due to your lack of understanding. Though it was both of your responsibilities, the fight, you couldn’t help but feel remorse.

“Mommy?!”, he practically shrieked, scrambling to face you and make himself small in your arms as close as he could possibly get until the two of you were molded together in a tangle of limbs. Neither of you cared what you’d been mad about anymore, only that you were together, unwilling to be a single centimeter apart until further notice.

“I’m right here, baby. Mommy loves you so so much…”

After some time, the sobs slowed to sniffles and Beomie nudged his face further against your chest wanting to smell the real thing instead of his silly plushy (sorry plushy).

“How are you feeling, baby bear??”, you lighting scratched your fingers against the back of his head, a little secret trick that always worked to soothe your precious puppy.

“Hungy.”, Beomie mumbled into your shirt, refusing to be separated from your body, still feeling a bit as if you’d disappear at any moment. A bit of warmth spread back through your body along with a smile, filling your baby’s tummy was something you could always do.

“You know that means we gotta get up, right, baby bear?”, your soft chuckle drifted into a sigh. Baby bear snuggles were your favorite but a happy tummy was good from preventing grumpy baby bear and you’d do just about anything to calm his anxieties after sending them through the roof.

The cutest little whines and grumbles poured from said baby bear as he squirmed to get impossibly closer, messing his purple hair in the process.

“What are you? My ravenous, feral baby bear??”, you tickled at his side.

“No, ‘m not!!”, he squealed away from your tickles.

“What kind of baby bear are you then??”, you pulled him back to your chest with a playful grin reaching ear to ear.

“Mmmmm… panda bear??”, Beomie giggled, red flooding his cheeks as he kicked his feet, still squirming away, knowing you were probably far from done with the tickle attack.

“With all this purple hair???”, you laughed, nipping at his ear through the wild mop of purple fluff on his head. Gasping, he reached for his favorite plushy and wedged it between you.

“Ryan bear!!”, he gave one of his usual, soft tee-hee’s and looked up expectantly with a sparkle in his red and puffy, boba eyes.

“I think you’re my Beomie bear”, kissing his forehead you brushed at his unruly, grape hair unable to stop yourself from beaming. All you’d been wishing for was to have time with him, to hold him and hear his sweet giggles after missing him so much.

Once you finally managed to drag yourselves out of bed, and through the picky bickering of your little who was still figuring out what he wanted to eat, you sat in front of the television, feeding your happily wiggling baby bear. After his tummy was full, he was back in your lap, cooling air from an oscillating fan blowing over the two of you in waves. Leaning against you, he sat in silence, feeling guilty, emotions creeping back on him.

“Sorry we didn’t go out, mommy…”, nuzzling into the side of your neck, he brought his arms close to his chest, trying to be smaller in your embrace. You cooed at how soft he could be, how sweet and sensitive, you’d never let him be sad. Holding him tightly, you yourself couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be. You could always talk about things another day but you’d never get this moment back.

“That’s okay, baby…this is better.”

🧸Endnote: Gahhhhh this one really 💔💔💔 my poor Gyuie baby. Why can’t I let you be happy? Hah it’s okay tho 🥺 mommy will make it all better. 🌙🌙🌙 Really my fav anonieee I always thought I hated writing angst but honestly I live for it and can hardly write without a little bit of drama hehe. My first Beomgyu fic since Birthday Baby Bear!! Did I do your request justice 🥲?? Love you love you love you! Have you guys heard Ring???? It’s one of the new songs for TXT’s Japanese gbgb comeback!!

🧸Masterlist 🧸

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thislovintime · 1 year

Photo

It’s not a Leap Year, but... remembering Davy Jones.

“Underneath his nasty exterior, Davy had a heart of gold. He’d always fight for what he wanted. I’d have to say he had the most feeling of any of the members of the group.” - Peter Tork, Sioux City Journal, January 1980 (x)

* * *

"[W]e’re playing to 18,000 screaming kids and Davy’s banging on the tambourine and he comes waltzing over to me right in the middle of this wonderful thing and he yells, ‘We’re gonna form a group!’ Which is why I love Davy Jones, because he noticed and he knew what it was about.” - Peter Tork, Hey, Hey, We’re The Monkees (1996) (x)

* * *

Peter Tork: "Davy’s extraordinarily funny.” Q: “Is he?” PT: “He’s said things — and quite deep sometimes, too. David has, he’s got some insights.” - GOLD 104.5, 1999 (x)

* * *

Q: “Which of the Monkees are you closest to?" Tork: “It's different with each. [Micky]'s the best pal, but my heart connection is biggest with Davy. Davy is capable of as much heart as anyone I've ever met. I kind of had a crush on Davy for a while.” Q: “That's sweet. Maybe it will work out for you two some day.” Tork: “Maybe. We'd have to talk to our respective girlfriends about that.” - St. Petersburg Times, June 23, 2000

* * *

Peter Tork: "Davy, for all of his virtues and glories, was very much into British music hall. Given his head, he would do nothing but ‘I’m Henry the VIII, I Am.’ I mean, not that he did that song, but that’s the kind of music that he would do, in spite of the fact that Davy could rock like nobody’s business. [At one point] Davy [did a version of] ‘Hippy Hippy Shake’ and nailed it! It just wasn’t what he wanted to do.” Q: “I think that demonstrates the dynamic of what each member brings to a band and to a situation and how they contribute things but are also there to tell you to pull back where necessary or encourage you to go further.” PT: “I’m only sorry that we didn’t do more of that by a huge amount. I only now have, in the last couple of years, come to understand how smart and good-hearted Davy Jones could be. I did not have the skills to notice that, even though I was drawn to it without knowing exactly why. But I certainly did not have the first clue of how to encourage all of the good stuff from Davy that I loved. I wish I could have known how to do it - and he might still be with us, even.” - Las Vegas Weekly, September 14, 2016 (x)

* * *

Clowning around at The Monkees' London press conference on June 29, 1967.

* * *

Peter with Dolenz, Jones, Boyce and Hart in 1976, and in 1977.

* * *

From The Monkees' Solid Gold interview in 1986.

* * *

Peter Tork: “(quietly) Yeah, I really hit him once.” Q: “You feel badly about this?” PT: “I sure do. My conscience was stricken for years. (perks up) Of course, the little sucker hit me first.” - 2000 The fight, in quotes and audio.

* * *

“Jones has a tremendous sense of fun.” - Peter Tork, The Post-Crescent, July 29, 2004

* * *

“When we first met, I was confronted with a slick, accomplished, young performer, vastly more experienced than I in the ways of show biz, and yes, I was intimidated. Englishness was at a high premium in my world, and his experience dwarfed my entertainer’s life as a hippie, basket-passing folk singer on the Greenwich Village coffee house circuit. If anything, I suppose I was selected for the cast of ‘The Monkees’ TV show partly as a rough-hewn counterpart to David’s sophistication. What stands out for me about David, however, were the several events through the years in which I came to see a man of extraordinary heart and sympathy. […] I felt this criticism [of The Monkees] keenly, coming as I did from the world of the ethical folk singer, basically honoring the standards of the naysayers. We did play as a group live on tour, including a concert in Osaka, Japan, in 1968. There, in the middle of a performance of Mike Nesmith’s ‘Sunny Girlfriend,’ we hit the pocket. The beat fell into place, solid and grooving. Rock n roll was happening there for us on stage. David came bouncing over to me and yelled above the volume, ‘WE’RE GONNA FORM A GROUP!’ David’s sympathy for my feelings about the criticism, his musical awareness and his sense of humor buoyed me that day about as much as getting into the groove. Later, when we four argued to be the musicians on our own albums, it was David’s agreement that provided the unanimity that made the difference. This was huge, actually; Micky and David came from an entirely different tradition. Actors sang on records made for them, and nobody thought twice about it. Folkies and rockers made their own albums!” - Peter Tork, Hartford Courant, March 6, 2012

* * *

Peter Tork: “Well, Davy’s always been a man of great talent and heart and I had just been hoping to work with him some more. He had such talent. He was probably the most talented of us all. He certainly had the best pitch and the best time. He should probably have been the drummer or the bass player of something. He should have been in the rhythm section. It’s kind of amazing – the two guys with the best time in the band weren’t in the rhythm section [laughs]. That was a little weird, looking back. And he was so able – there was just nothing he couldn’t do. I remember once in the middle of a tour, we said, ‘Well, we want to do this song, and we want to do it this way. But we’re missing a bass player. Davy, here’s a bass. Put your fingers here and pluck this string there.’ Next thing you knew, he was playing bass on stage like that night or two nights later or something. It was nothing major – he wasn’t popping strings and doing runs and fills, but he was laying down a bass and it was solid – it was solid. And that kind of ability is, I think, what I’m going to miss … what I’m sorriest to see go.” Q: “What was the last you had contact with him?” PT: “At the end of the last tour. We just said, ‘Goodbye, I’ll see you soon.’ I didn’t think I wouldn’t – partly because he was the youngest of us. That was too bad.” - LeHigh Valley Live, June 2012

* * *

“[Micky] and Mike and I have a very cordial relationship and share a lot of common topics. We go to lunch together when we're all in town and have a good time. I love and respect each of these guys in their own way, although the real joys that I shared with Davy were special. At one point we had some good hard connections but as the years rolled on, those things faded away. But I am sorry to see Davy go. He was the one member in the group that I had the strongest human connection with. I still have two guys that I love and respect left from the band, but we share a different dynamic.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag, May 27, 2016

* * *

“Davy adored performing, and adored meeting and greeting his fans. He was tireless in making himself available to sing a song, do a dance, shake a hand; whatever was asked. I had heart-to-heart moments with him that were among the best in my life. I was blessed to know and work closely with him. He was one in about 6 billion, give or take. We won’t see his like again. He left much too soon. I share your sadness. Thank you again for this chance to contribute. God bless and keep you all.” - Peter Tork in a note for a Pennsylvania memorial event for Davy, also shared via Peter’s official Facebook page, 2012

#Davy Jones #Peter Tork #Tork quotes #60s Tork #70s Tork #80s Tork #90s Tork #00s Tork #10s Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #<3 #Michael Nesmith #Micky Dolenz #long read #(since it's not a leap year but there has to be a remembrance)#Peter and Davy #2012 #can you queue it

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not7wu · 5 months

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Chapter Six: A Symbiotic Relationship

Recap: You might have remembered why you woke up naked in Jin's bed...but the hope you had to explore something more came to a screeching halt when you learned about Rule Five and Jin's first love. Jieun instead encouraged you to spend less time on Kim Cho-hee and more time with your family of eight, so you do just that. Oh, and you have a cleaning lady, apparently.

Tae is waiting for you with a corsage outside of your apartment. Both dressed casually and comfy, the corsage brings a note of whimsy so uniquely Tae that honestly you should have expected it. Wrist now decorated with periwinkle, thistles, and eucalyptus, you walk hand in hand to the parking garage.

When you tried solidifying plans with Tae earlier in the day, he said he wanted to surprise you, so you happily settle in and enjoy conversation with him as his driver navigates the streets of Seoul. There’s a mischievous twinkle in Tae’s eye when you pull up into an alley. You’re led through a backdoor, through the kitchen, and down a staff hallway to a secluded, closed dining room. The table is set low with seating cushions. The wood accents from the trim to the table are rustic with blackened knots and scars. It’s beautiful and you wonder if Namjoon has been here before. Your server enters with water and menus and you finally find out where you are.

Ossu Seiromushi, Jin’s brother’s restaurant. You peek over the menu at Tae who is staring back at you unabashedly. You don’t know what he’s planning, but you can’t do anything but go along with it, completely at his mercy. After your order is put in and your juices placed in front of you, the silence stretches, but it’s different than what you’re used to–the comfortable silences, the anxious silences and the silences that are too loud. This silence feels buzzy and slinky, like an animal crouched, waiting to pounce. The Tae sitting in front of you is the same Tae, but he seems different from the persona he normally projects like he has decided to set aside his hahoetal mask for a short time.

“Hello,” you murmur.

“Hi.” He seems to take the measure of you, stripping you of your own mask that you hadn't realized you had on. Though it's not like he's ripping off this protection you made for yourself, but more like he's letting you breathe unhindered for a while.

You clear your throat. “How are you?”

He settles into the cushions to consider, leaning back on his arms in a calculated way to seem casual. You know he's trying to allay your anxiety, but you're actually okay. Everyone says he's your first friend, one of the ones closest to you, if friendships were to have levels, and even with this given fact, you've never felt deceit from Tae. All of his emotions and reactions have been genuinely and sincerely broadcasted to you. You trust Tae.

“Today, I’m content. It’s a rollercoaster otherwise,” he shrugs.

“Why is that?”

His smile turns half-hearted. “Our Map of the Soul Tour got canceled. That sucks. And you'd think we would have more time to take breaks and see family, but our schedule is still going at the same pace we usually do, if not more, to make it up to Army.”

The pandemic has been difficult for many people. Even you know that the reason you rarely venture outside their condo isn't entirely to isolate and guard you, but because the world is on edge with these social distancing regulations. But social distancing for a performance group like BTS, whose relationship with fans is more intimate than most fandoms, must be agony. “I’m sorry. I know you were all really looking forward to the tour.”

“Yeah, concerts are the endgame prize for all our hard work and it got snatched away. We can’t even blame anyone. So I guess our schedule is a double edged sword to protect and distract us from depression. Idle idols are not a good thing. On the other hand, the Tour being canceled wasn’t all that bad either.”

“Because…”

“Because it means we can stay home and spend more time with you.”

“What?” That was an unexpected turn. The boys love performing. It’s the only time they can see the people they’ve inspired to move to the beat, to live life to the fullest, and to dream quietly or loudly. And Army is like a mirror in that way, inspiring the boys to make the beats, to breathe life in verse, and to accomplish their dreams. You suddenly feel like an obstacle and it doesn’t sit right with you.

Tae chews on his lip for a few seconds, assessing your stricken expression, your face an open book. "Can you handle some heavy conversation? Or do you wanna put a pin in it and we can come back to it when you have the emotional energy for it?"

You want to blurt out that you can handle it, but you respect him for considering your well-being, so you instead take a moment to actually gauge yourself. Your mind is calm, your emotions are stable, and you feel safe here with Tae. Confidently, you say, "I can handle it."

His expression is grave, but there's some pride there too, like he's proud you weren't carelessly eager.

He wets his lips, his next words deliberate and conscientious. “Your attack happened near the beginning of 2018. We were already burnt out. We hadn’t seen our families properly in over a year, and then you got hurt. It felt wrong to leave for the Love Yourself Tour while you were still in the hospital, confused and disoriented. And the hits just kept coming. Jungkook’s foot injury. Jimin’s issues with his muscles and overworked voice. We became submerged in a blue and grey fog, but that wasn't fair to Army, so we used Army as our focal point. The guiding constellation until we could be home again.

"But I still felt out of focus, like double vision. I was giving it my all, but my angel's voice would be drowned out in cresting and ebbing waves of this other voice whispering things like 'Y/N doesn't know who you are. She doesn't recognize anyone and you abandoned her. She doesn't have anyone else and she's scared and sad and panicked. And you left her. You left her line of sight.'

"And I worried. Worried that the people we left behind to care for you wouldn't know how best to quiet your brain, how best to cheer you up, how best to distract you. And as all these worries piled up, I realized I needed you to quiet my brain, cheer me up, and distract me, but you couldn't. I couldn't call you for encouragement or comfort. Like a snake biting its own tail I just went round and round in the guilt and depression. And it wasn't just me. Jin-hyung, Hobi-hyung–we wanted to leave. Not just the Tour but everything."

Tae was right to ask if you could handle this. It's a lot to take in. You're trying your best to listen, to process, because this moment is for Tae. He's been holding all of this in and steadily marching on for you. So you anchor yourself, determined to hold his ship steady.

You prompt him, "But you didn't leave."

He plays around with the condensation on his water glass. "No. We didn't leave. Yoongi-hyung convinced us to stay."

“How did he do that?”

“Eh. He said that we had more power now to advocate for ourselves in contract negotiations and more means to delegate. But the ultimate selling point was when he said you would kill us if we left," he chuckles here, melancholy lacing the velvet of it. "He said you wouldn’t want us to break up.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, Yoongi-hyung tattled on us to you during one of your 'lucid' moments and you really laid into us.”

“Good.”

Tae rolls his eyes at your satisfaction, but he shares your grin. He leans in almost conspiratorially.

“You know, you’re the reason why I’m even in BTS.”

“Bullshit. You’re in BTS because of you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No, seriously. I’m here because Park Haneul asked you to go with him to an audition, but you couldn’t ask off work. So, you forced me to go with him instead. It’s funny cuz’ you were oblivious that he was trying to ask you out and then I passed the audition. Actually, now that I think about it, that super sucked for him.”

You giggle, “Oh, shit, that’s horrible. Is it too late to send him an apology gift basket?”

“Eh, I don’t know if that would help or just rub him the wrong way.”

“You’re probably right," you concede. "Still, even if I got you to the audition, you did all the hard work.”

“Oh, Y/N. What people don’t tell you in this business is that you can work as hard as you want, but it all ultimately comes down to luck. I was lucky. We were lucky. Now we’re racing towards a ceiling and we can’t predict when it’ll all come crashing down.”

The humor subsides, Tae looking the youngest you've ever seen him, troubled and vulnerable. You’d do anything to erase that expression forever, but you don’t think you have the power to. You want to try though.

“Tae. It might hurt when you reach the end, but you’ve got parachutes. You’ve got people like me who are more than ready to catch you. You say it's all luck, but we are lucky to have you. Trust that we've got you. And, it’s all ultimately out of your control, so let’s just enjoy the ride.”

“Advice you could take too, you know.”

You flinch, his words stinging a bit. “You’re right,” you admit. “That was a bit careless. I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings. I just meant that I’m here for you, no matter what state I’m in. And I know you’re here for me too, that all of you are. I’ve never once felt neglected or abandoned. If anything, I would understand if you guys put me up in some hospital and went on with your lives. Seriously, you’ve gone above and beyond what any normal person would do for a friend.”

“Family, Y/N. You’re family.”

“Yes. Above and beyond what any normal person would do for family, then.”

“Well, you should know by now we aren’t normal. I adopted you when I was just a scrawny kid with ears too big for my head and you were just a bookworm who stubbornly refused to get glasses.”

“I don’t know why you’re so dead set against glasses. But fine. Let’s ask seonsaeng-nim to move you to a desk in the front,” Tae suggests. He’s sitting on your desk before class starts, drawing abstract cartoons on the desktop. There’s a little alien character saying ‘Fighting! You can do it!’ You’re gonna have to erase it before the test, but it’s still nice to have this reminder and encouragement beforehand. In turn, he’s making you draw cartoons on his shoes with markers. You decided to go with a plant theme and he giggles when you add sunglasses to a cactus.

“If I move, we wouldn’t be sitting next to each other, Tae. ”

“Aww, you love me," he coos at you.

You huff. “We have a symbiotic relationship at best.”

“So you’re saying I’m a clownfish and you’re my sea anemone.”

“Yeah, Tae, you’re a clown.”

“So zappy. Nice.” You stick your tongue out at him and he sticks his tongue out at you, crossing his eyes. It inspires you to draw googily eyes on a sunflower, earning you an approving pat on the head that you bat away. “Well, just cuz we don’t sit next to each other doesn’t mean we won’t see each other. We can make it fun! Passing notes is not a challenge when you’re literally sitting right next to me.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to sit next to me.” You mean to say it as a joke, but a tinge of hurt manages to bleed through. He’s been pushing this idea for the past couple of days, ever since you mentioned your nearsightedness. Now, you wish you hadn't.

You know he means well, but it’s hard for you to make friends. Well, it’s not like you don’t have other friends. You could end up sitting next to Hanuel or Bora and it’d be fine. But they’re not Tae. And you’re the only one who can help him concentrate during lessons. As you’re thinking that though, you fight off the knowledge that, ultimately, Tae would be fine without you. Yes, Tae is your person, but Tae is so friendly and charismatic, he doesn’t need to stick with you.

Tae gets up with no warning, making you accidentally draw a red line through a sunflower, as well as getting a bit of ink on his khakis. Whoops. He doesn’t care though, draping himself over you and almost strangling you in the process.

Some classmates think that you’re together when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Many of them are beginning to be interested in things like kissing and sex, so they find your physical closeness suspect, but Tae has confided in you that while he doesn’t think he’d mind kissing, the idea of sex makes him nauseous, makes something wriggle and itch under his skin, so he isn’t interested, nope, no way. You, on the other hand, aren’t interested in kissing and sex because you’re barely comfortable with hugs.

You remember the first time Tae hugged you. This boy plopped himself next to you during lunch and proclaimed he was adopting you. You were particularly sensitive that day being in a new school alone, afraid people would notice that your secondhand uniform (or rather fourthhand) was frayed. That people would notice no one had dropped you off or would pick you up. Afraid they’d know you’re an orphan, something abandoned and not worthy of nice things like friendship.

Orphanages are survival of the fittest. You only get adopted if you are young and pretty or cute or handsome or charming. You know you aren't ugly. Objectively, you think you look generic. Cookie cutter. Not only that, you know you aren't charming. And while your facility tries to be fair and equal, there isn’t always enough to go around, so you often are skipped over for things like new clothes, toys, and treats and get smaller portions of meals, the caretakers citing your apparent 'independence' and 'maturity.'

But your independence is not voluntary. It's loneliness. You are not mature. You are resigned. And here was a boy who had already guessed all this, smelled it on you, and was making fun of you for it. The little hope you had for something different, for something completely your own, died.

You burst into tears and the boy panicked, stumbling over an apology and eyes wildly searching for help before he dove at you, squeezing. You immediately froze, unused to skinship, arms awkwardly hanging by your sides unsure what to do with them or where you should place your hands. No one had ever hugged you or held your hand. None of the caretakers ever tucked you in bed or comforted you after nightmares.

Like a plant, you wanted to soak it all up like water. Like sunlight. You didn’t know how you could prolong it, how to keep this or even if you were allowed to. So, you froze because maybe if you didn’t move, if you held your breath, this boy wouldn't let go.

He did eventually let go, but he stayed. He didn’t ask you questions, but he patiently waited for you to reveal parts of yourself until days, weeks, months went by and you realized he could see all of you. The world didn’t end and he continued to stay. He saw your insecurities and he built your confidence with attentive prodding and careful wheedling, drawing you into seemingly innocent arguments and discussions that emphasized the double standards you set for yourself. He saw how anxious you are and he listened to music with you, introducing you to jazz, trap, emo-rock and a healthy coping mechanism. He saw how touch starved you are and he hugged, cuddled and held your hand, wearing down your awkward hesitancy with exposure therapy. Now you grab his forearm and squeeze. He returns your squeeze bodily, the weight of him grounding you.

“I’ll always be next to you,” Tae says. “You can’t get rid of me. You’re my sea anemone, remember? I just won’t be in your direct line of sight is all.”

“Well, I’d still rather see you than the board.”

“Aww, you do love me.” You duck your head, but can’t fight the smile. His declarations of love are apparently also part of his exposure therapy. No one has ever said they love you, except Tae. You only ever read about it in books, books with passionate romance, covenants of friendship, and embers in the hearth of home. And you think you feel love for Tae too because his love feels like home.

Tae laughs and ruffles your hair. You huff in feigned annoyance, shrugging him off and smoothing out your hair. He moves back to his desk, reaching to ruffle your hair again and you bat his hand away. “Okay, so if you don’t want to move to the front then you could, I don’t know, get glasses? You know, those things people wear so they can see? Come on. You can get the round ones like Harry Potter! It’ll be magical!”

“Tae, for the last time, glasses are expensive and–they won’t turn me into a wizard,” you say breathlessly. Your eyes refocus on the present moment and the first thing you see is Tae stunned, eyes wide.

You remember him as he was in your youth and you now see this beautiful man. He really has grown into his ears. The freckles on his nose, cheek and lip are more prominent now from so many days in the sun. His eyes, though, still hold the same child-like wonder you’ve always admired. His face lights with that boxy smile, the one that holds so much joy his face can barely contain it.

“Aww, you love me,” he teases. His expression and tone is playful, but there’s a sincerity, a gravity, a note of bittersweet, a whisper of a question at the end. His words don’t encompass like a blanket or taste like strawberries. They don’t weigh you like an anchor or light you up like a firework. The words flow through you like a river, the surface running free, vibrant and frolicking, but with depths that cut paths in unexpected ways. A path that connects you to him. So you have no hesitation, no doubt when you say, “I do. I love you, Tae.”

He beams and you can’t help grinning back. You stick your tongue out at him for old time’s sake, but instead of returning the sentiment, his smile softens. “You know, that’s all we’ve ever needed. I’m in your corner and you’re in my corner. As long as we have this, then nothing else matters."

“You’re right," you nod. "I just–I just want to remember more. It’s like I have all these pieces to a puzzle, but I’ve lost the box, and every time I remember, I finally get a glimpse at the picture of what I’m supposed to make. Our experiences and memories make us who we are, Tae. I wanna complete my puzzle so I can start living my life, you know?”

“But you are living your life. No one’s puzzle is complete anyways. It’s constantly changing. We’re different from when we were twelve and we’re different than we were yesterday. So even with all that’s going on, you are allowed to be different and to change. We can make new memories. Have new experiences.”

“Still. Those memories are precious. I don’t wanna throw away the box completely.”

“Then I’ll remember for you. You can take or borrow any piece you want.”

“What if I stray too far from the original design until I’m too different for you to handle?”

His eyes issue a challenge. “I can handle it.”

You believe that. You do. It’s just–

“Plus,” Tae continues. He cocks his head at you. “No matter how many times you’ve reset, you’re still the same at your core, even if you can’t see it. You’re resilient and kind. Anxious in yourself, but fierce for others. And you still baby me.

"You know, I’m the oldest hyung in my family. I always take care of my brother and sister and all of my cousins. I’m expected to be the rock of my family, and in a way, I guess I succeeded. I worked hard to be where I am so my siblings can do whatever they want. But you were the first person to let me be me without any expectations. You let me be silly and strange. You follow my whims and encourage my weird.

“And if you hadn’t, I don’t know if I could have made it with the hyungs. I’m a hyung to Jungkookie, but without you, I wouldn’t know how to be a dongsaeng to the hyungs. To be soft so they can be hard. To let go of control so they can be in control. You gave me time to figure it out. So you can be you without any expectations. You’ve always taken the reins so I can daydream. This is your daydream now and I can take the reins.”

You’re deeply touched, and you get it. Just as you see the twelve year old him still buried in the man he is today, in the way he smiles, the dare in his eyes, he’s still just your Tae. But you lightly scoff. “Thank you for taking care of me, but you don’t fool me, Tae. You still act like an oppa, like a hyung. You take care of everyone in your wily ways. You really are our dramatic alien, but I also know that you turn it on, on purpose, for BTS to give them energy. I know you turn it on, on purpose, at home so everyone can turn off and get comfortable. I know you turn it on, on purpose, to bring out the oppas’ instincts. I know you turn it on, on purpose, so Namjoon-oppa, Jimin, and Jungkookie can be silly dongsaengs with you. You are my silly dongsaeng, but you are also my oppa, Tae.”

“Just let me take the reins, noona.”

You watch the switch happen. This conversation has been much too serious for far too long and, being called out for his ways, Tae retreats now, putting his hahoetal mask back on with that grin, his eyes twinkling in the way they do, impish and goofy, but wiser than anyone suspects. The perfect disguise for the enigma that is Kim Taehyung. And just because you know it’ll please him, you tell him, “You’re an enigma, Kim Taehyung.”

He pumps his fists in victory. “Yes! That’s all I’ve ever wanted! Wait! Does that mean I’ve peaked?! I’m too young to peak!”

You’re so fond of this man as he rambles on a mile a minute. The boy who adopted an anxious girl and a girl who was chosen by a fearless boy. A Tom Sawyer who wanted you to be his Huckleberry Finn. You know you fall short, but he’s always had enough Tom and Huck in himself that he never cares that you don’t. That’s why you will always play along wholeheartedly.

You scoff. “Oh, please. I have no doubt you’ll always find a way to top yourself.”

“Ooh, kinky. That’s what they call self-cest, right?”

“Oh, my god, Tae, are you reading fanfics?!”

“If Army didn’t want me to read their dream journals, they shouldn’t post it online.”

“But you’re asexual.”

“There are some asexual fanfics.”

“Then how do you know about self-cest?”

“Trial and error. Lots of error. Sometimes I can’t help myself, okay?”

You both laugh because if that isn’t Tae’s motto, you don’t know what is.

The rest of dinner goes much like that, tangents you can’t fathom how you found yourself on, but filled with humor nonetheless. By the end, you feel more settled than you’ve ever felt. Maybe Tae’s right. Maybe you can let him take the reins and just be the person you are right now. Figure it out as you go along.

The both of you are waiting for the bill and you’re trying your best to reenact Jieun getting caught by Bang PD-nim doing an impression of him rapping, Tae giggling manically, when a man you don’t recognize enters.

“Jung-hyung!” Tae shouts. He tackles the man as you smooth your hair down, hoping this guy didn’t catch the last bit of your reenactment of Bang PD-nim flailing because when he sat down in Jieun’s chair, it was too tall, so he pulled the lever to lower it and it shot down too fast.

The man pulls back from the hug and says, “I saw ‘Vante’ on the reservation list and had to come say hi. You know that pseudonym doesn’t fool anyone, right?”

“Yeah, I should have used Y/N’s name cuz’ she’s not as famous at all,” Tae says, pointing his thumb at you.

You sigh, but don’t take any offense to his teasing because you’re honestly grateful you’re not famous. You don’t know what you would have done if your privacy was invaded on top of all your other issues. You politely bow to the man and his lips quirk in amusement. “Y/N,” he says, startling you. “It’s been a while. I hope the dongsaengs have been behaving themselves.”

“You hope for too much,” you say with a straightface, earning you chuckle. Apparently, you have some sort of relationship with this man? You try to silently communicate your need for assistance to Tae, but he’s paying you no mind, too busy climbing the man like a tree. You don’t have to worry though because he receives your telepathy.

“Noona, Seokjung-hyung is Jin-hyung’s hyung.”

Realization dawns, Seokjung remembering that you might not remember him and you remembering that you’re at Jin’s brother’s restaurant, so this really shouldn’t surprise you.

“Aish!” Seokjung exclaims. “I’m so sorry, I forgot. I’m your Jungie-oppa. I give Jin shit. You give Jin shit. We’re the give Jin shit team.”

You like the sound of that. You can see a slight resemblance now, except he’s taller and has broader features than Jin. His easy going nature immediately sets you at ease. The charm must be genetic.

“All you need to remember is that I’m your favorite oppa,” he says with a very Jin-like wink.

“It’s just me here,” Tae says. “If you want to sow the seeds of chaos, you need to wait till the rest of the hyungs are here. Where is Jin-hyung by the way?”

“He’s at the park down the street with Areum and Byeol. Areum is my wife,” Seokjung explains to you.

“Areum and Byeol are here?! You’re saying I can hang out with all three of my favorite girls?!” Tae exclaims. He shimmies off Seokjung, nearly kneeing Seokjung in the groin.

“What about Jieun-unnie?” you ask as Tae crouches in front of you.

“Jieun-noona is a menace. A menace, I tell you! Hyungie, pay for our dinner!”

“I already did.” Seokjung rolls his eyes with no heat.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously. Tae remains in his crouched position and you have no idea what’s going on.

“Get on my back! You’re too slow!” “I am not and I will not!”

“Get on my back, noona, or I’ll bridal carry you instead!”

At the very real threat, you grumble as you clamber onto his back. He’s out the door before you can adjust yourself, but you manage to call out, “It was nice to see you, Jungie-oppa! We ate well! Thank you!”

“It was nice to see you too! Kiss Byeol for me!” he calls back to you.

Tae marches you hurriedly down the alley towards where you assume the park is. It’s funny watching all the plainclothes bodyguards trying to catch up with Tae’s antics.

“Who’s Byeol?” You sputter around wisps of Tae’s hair in your nose.

“Only the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world!”

“Wow, thanks. That was some helpful information, Tae.”

“Anytime!”

The park comes into view, pathways lit, faerie lights in some trees, and a dark lake reflecting the moon. You don’t know how Tae could possibly know where Jin is in this expanse, but he marches assuredly on. It isn’t long before Jin comes into view. There’s a small deck with a few benches. He’s standing by the railing pointing at something on the lake and you hear a child-like squeal. The sound seems to spur Tae on because he’s excitedly jogging with you struggling to find a comfortable position.

“Tae, lemme off!”

“We’re almost there, you potato sack!”

“I am not a potato sack! You forced me up here!”

“Cuz’ you’re slow!”

“I am not slow! I am efficient with my energy!”

“Whatever you say, sloth lady!”

“I am not a sloth lady!”

“Okay, sloth man!”

“Tae!”

Your argument alerts Jin who turns around with wide eyes. The deck is a bit in shadow, jutting out from the path and its lights, but you think you see him panic as you both approach.

“Taehyung, what are you doing here?” Jin asks incredulously.

“I’m here to see my niece! Seokjung-hyung and Areum-noona have deprived me of her for too long! Hand her over!” Tae drops you unceremoniously and you stumble to catch your balance. When you find your equilibrium again, Tae is blowing raspberries into the belly of the most adorable giggly little girl you have ever seen. She can’t be more than two years old with pudgy cheeks and flailing miniature limbs. She has Seokjung’s eyebrows and nose, and her dark hair is short, curling at the end. This is not doing good things to your uterus, oh my god, she’s so cute! “Byeol, look who’s here!”

Tae points you out and Byeol babbles happily, reaching out to you with chubby hands. Who are you to deny this little one? Byeol settles comfortably in your arms with no fuss, her little body tucked against all your curves. She grabs your corsage, crushing some of the flowers and looks up at you with big beautiful brown eyes and long soft lashes.

“Aren’t the flowers pretty? But not as pretty as you Byeol,” you coo conversationally. You pretend to nip her cheek and she squeals in delight and you wish you could make wind chimes out of it. You are literally melting, goo, a puddle. Byeol’s nose is so cute, you don’t even try to resist eskimo kissing her, her face scrunching up toothily.

“Noona, watch this! Byeol! Who’s the best? You’re the best! Kaepjjang!”

Byeol fists a hand and then gives a thumbs up. She’s pleased when you all break into laughter. Even Jin who has been quiet all this time laughs and you want to make a windchime out of that too. It’s squeaky and hiccupy, and it is such an odd sound to come out of a handsome man, endearing in its contrast.

“Aigoo, I can’t believe she remembers what samchon Yoongi taught her. Our Byeol is so smart," Jin says.

“Yoongi-hyung is gonna be so jealous we got to see her,” Tae states gleefully.

Byeol reaches out to Jin and emits an excited squeal as Jin immediately scoops her up making airplane sounds. You pout feeling bereft of her warm, sturdy, compact body.

As Tae points out a bird to the little one, you glance around, realizing you’re missing someone. “Where’s Byeol’s eomma? Jungie-oppa said she’d be here.”

“She’s here,” Tae answers instead of Jin.

Jin huffs a sigh. “Areum-noona is just a little ways down the path. The stroller decided it was the best time to malfunction during a night stroll.”

Tae begins playing peekaboo with Byeol, so you move in closer to Jin to catch her radiant expression.

“So you met, Seokjung-hyung, huh? And now you’re here to see Areum-noona and Byeol. How fortuitous.” Jin’s tone is weird. When you glance at him, he’s giving a pointed look at Tae who easily ignores him.

You suddenly feel bad, even if this wasn’t your idea. Jin hadn’t invited you to meet his family and you blindsided him. “Sorry for intruding on your family time.”

Jin instantly turns to you, expression horrified. “No, Y/N. Don’t apologize. Tae is just annoying. I just–you could never intrude.”

“Smooth,” Tae says like a brat. Jin responds with a jab Tae isn’t quick enough to dodge. “Ow! Help! Byeol, I’m dying!”

Tae dramatically flops to the ground to the chorus of Byeol's giggles.

“Now look who’s slow, sloth man," you say as the three of you tower over him.

“I’m not a sloth man.”

“Okay, sloth lady.”

“How did I get stuck with you two on my night off?” Jin despairs. “It’s like I’m watching three babies.”

“Wow. Filicide. Way to turn this biblical. I like it!” Tae says from the ground. He gives a thumbs up and Byeol gives him one too. Oh, you could just eat her up. So cute!

Instead, you lightly elbow Jin. "I don't think you have a leg to stand on with your Mario figurines and Maplestory plushies," you tease.

"Cuz that's so much worse than a room with my face plastered all over it like a shrine." Jin smirks at your growing horror.

Oh my god. You kick Tae who "oof"s. "Tae, I told you that in confidence!"

Tae's eyes widen. "You can't remember what you ate two weeks ago, but you remember telling me that in confidence?!"

"I didn't remember, but thanks for confirming, you dog bird! And no one remembers what they ate two weeks ago!" you hiss.

"Waffles. Chapagetti. Ojingeo bokkeum."

"You made that up!"

"No, I didnt!"

"Dog bird!"

"Y/N!" Tae whines.

There's no way you'd ever volunteer that info to Jin who is now squeaking the most you’ve ever heard him squeak. Of course, Tae told him. He’s a sucker for bribes and probably traded that secret for nothing more than dumplings. Tae begs apologies to you, but you're having none of it. You're so embarrassed you could die.

Byeol reaches for Tae so Jin carefully sets her on Tae’s stomach, who immediately pulls her down to nuzzle her ruddy cheeks. Ignoring Jin’s continued amusement at your expense, you dig out your phone and start taking pictures. As you snap pictures of the two, you can’t help but think this is what Tae meant. Making new memories. Having new experiences. You feel eyes on you. Jin’s laughter has subsided, but he watches you three, content. He winks at you and you wink back.

A small woman appears beside him. “You know, the other day, I almost thought Byeol was having a stroke, but I finally figured out her weird blink was just her trying to wink. I’m kind of scared to see what she’s gonna be like as an adult with all of you influencing her,” she says wryly as she parks her stroller.

“Well, at least she has Y/N and noona, so it won’t be that bad,” Tae coos, stroking Byeol’s back.

Areum waves his flattery away, for this must be Areum. Light brown hair and fae-like with her sharp eyes and sharp nose, but soft lashes and delicate hands. You’re immediately intimidated by her, but to your surprise she pulls you in and embraces you. For such a small person, she hugs like a bear. She pulls back and gives you a once over.

“You look like you’re in one piece, so that’s good,” she says, gently brushing your hair back. “I’m Areum, Seokjung’s wife and Jin’s hyungsu. I know you don’t remember me, but if you ever need anything, like a break from those crazy boys, you just call unnie, okay? You have my number in your phone.”

Her motherly tone is warm and inviting and you can't hide the eagerness in your voice. “I don’t need a break, but I’d love to spend time with you.”

Areum exudes a quiet confidence that you wish you could emulate. It isn’t arrogant or vain, even though she’d have every right to be with her looks, but rather it’s a surety in how she holds herself. Like she knows who she is and what she brings to the table. You could do with some of that.

You’re graced with a pleased smile. “Let’s do dinner on Saturday then. We’d love to spend one on one time with you. Plus, I think Byeol would love that.”

“Me too. Let’s do it.”

“What about me?” Tae whines. “I want to spend more time with Byeol.”

Areum turns a stern look at Tae. “I know for a fact you have a GQ photoshoot that evening. There’s no way you’re getting out of it. Don’t pout. You don’t think I’ve become immune? Byeol has taught me resolve of steel.”

Tae makes a sad cry when Areum lifts a sleepy Byeol off him.

“Sorry, samchon. You can schedule a different day. I need to get oppa and this little one home and into bed. Say goodbye, Byeol.”

Byeol rubs her eyes and half-consciously waves. Your eyes catch Tae’s and you share a telepathic contemplation of kidnapping, but you’re scheming is interrupted by the sight of Jin kissing Byeol. With a sleight of hand you’re not normally capable of, you manage to take a picture in time. It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, and you secretly set it as your homescreen. Movement has you looking up as Areum starts moving away.

“Wait! Seokjung told me to give Byeol a kiss.” Areum pauses and kindly waits for you, her smile encouraging despite your outburst.

Byeol is already asleep in the stroller, hand clutching a blanket and mouth open in a soft o. You stroke her hair and press your lips to her soft cheek. “Sweet dreams, Byeol.”

You place your corsage next to her, petals brushing her hair. You know Tae won’t get mad at you for passing the gift on. It just feels right to do. The three of you watch Areum make her way out of the park, carefully pushing Byeol.

Your hair stands on end. Your heartbeat quickens and your body tenses, your gut clenching. You’re not sure why, until you spot people following Areum and Byeol. Your mind sounds an alarm, words like ‘stalker’, ‘sasaeng’, and ‘protect’ blaring. You move to chase after them, but Jin catches your naked wrist.

“It’s okay. Breathe, Y/N. They’re just bodyguards,” he explains. He rubs your wrist and takes a deep breath, showing you how to breathe. And now you see it, when Tae and Jin’s bodyguards nod to those people. You continue the deep, steady breaths, the ball of panic dissipating.

Tae tugs the hem of your sweater from your hand. You hadn’t even noticed you were fiddling with it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” you answer weakly. You suddenly feel exhausted. Exhausted from a full day. A good day that you refuse to let the last thirty seconds ruin.

Jin shifts his hand to interlace your fingers. “Let’s go home.”

You nod and Tae loops your free arm into his, a note of whimsy in your steps as you all stroll home.

Previous Chapter <- - -> Next Chapter

Back to the Multiverse - Join the Taglist - Back to Series Masterlist

Taglist: @miksancheese @justamomnamedamie

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #not7wu #not7wu masterlist #not7wu fanfic #not7wu fanfiction #tonight #tonight by Jin #tonight by not7wu #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n

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nialls-gorgeous-colors · 11 months

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Shawn Mendes and Niall Horan Timeline

Year 2017

JAN 2017 NIALL’S PICTURE WITH ‘THE BOY’ IS HIS MOST LIKED IG PICTURE OF 2016

FEB 2017

Feb 5 Niall posts on SnapChat:

Feb 12 Fans see Niall and Shawn together at a Top Golf in LA. Niall posts a video of Shawn golfing. According to later interviews, they watched the Grammys together.

MAR 2017

Mar 2 An interview with Shawn in Japan that I can’t find an active link to:

Mar 5 Shawn talking to an interviewer at the iHeart Awards: Totally [working on new music]. Yeah, and we also just hang out a bunch. He’s a really cool guy, so he’s been really sweet, and once we get the actual time to get to the studio, we’ll make some stuff happen.

Mar 7 Niall mentions The Collab at the Rays of Sunshine Event.

Mar 10 Niall talks to Pop Buzz about The Collab: Shawn Mendes. Again, we’re good mates and if we ever get the chance to – you know, he’s on tour here now. I go to America this week. It’s kinda like, back and forth. We spend a couple of days tog –

Interview: Busy, busy lads. (Hey dude, why’d you interrupt that, I need to know what he was going to say about them spending time together!)

Niall: Busy men! And we’d obviously love to but – you know it was great. Shawn’s new song, Holding Me Back, he played it to me – he wrote it the day before the Grammy’s and he played it to me – he had a demo, he played it to me in the car. We were driving up to my house, we’re going to watch the Grammy’s at my house, and he played it to me in the car. And he’s like ‘man, I really like this song, I wrote this yesterday.’ And then he posted a picture on his Instagram last week of the cover of his new single. And I sent him a voice note of me singing the song – I’d remembered it, I just remembered it saying “Holding Me Back” on his phone. It’s that catchy. Great song.

April 29 Shawn gets asked about The Collab: “There’s nothing happening yet, but I’m really good friends with ‘Noral.’”

MAY 2017

May 1 Shawn talks about The Collab with fans: Hopefully soon… I’m really, really good friends with him, actually. Probably one of my closest friends within the music industry. But we just don’t have the time, he’s working a lot. So, one day we will.

May 5 Nick Grimshaw brings up The Collab: You’re good friends with Shawn Mendes, right? And you’re going to work with him? ‘Cause I saw that video of you and him singing in a dressing room somewhere.

Niall: Yeah, that was actually my sitting room, thanks!

Nick: Was it really?!

Niall: Yeah – ‘your sitting room looks like a dressing room.’ […] After the AMAs, the American Music Awards. Yeah, I’d love to, but it’s just finding time. He’s over here touring, I’m about to go back to the States. It’s all a bit mad. Hopefully at some stage, do something together. He’s a good lad, too.

May 9 Shawn mentions The Collab at another Q&A: I haven’t seen Niall in a few months. We haven’t gotten to the studio yet, but one day, we’re going to be something. I know I keep saying that, but it’s not like we’re in the studio everyday, he’s on the other side of the world.

May 22 Niall talks about The Collab with fans: Whenever we get the chance. We’ve jammed a few times, like when we’re at the house and stuff like that, but… Yeah, and I keep finding like, ‘Shawn Mendes’ picks all over my house. Like loads of ‘em, just ones with ‘Shawn Mendes’ – how many times has he been to the house? Looks like he just emptied his pockets when he came in.

1075theriver miscaptions the video: NiallOfficial talking about finding photos of ShawnMendes around his house. Niall corrects them:

JUNE 2017

June 2

Niall sees Shawn at the O2 Arena!

Christiaan Bezuidenhou

t posts a picture and we crop it:

Jun 9 Niall chats with an interviewer about seeing Shawn at the O2: I’m good mates with Shawn Mendes and he was playing the O2 the other night, and I went to watch him. I’m 23 and I’m standing there, he’s 18. And I felt like a proud older brother in a way. He’s 18 and selling out arenas. I was thinking, ‘[One Direction was] doing that as well.’ It was a bit of a head-bender and it was good to see.

With another interviewer: Do you ever come up with some songs and you think 'we should release these’?

Niall: Yeah there was one time when me and Shawn Mendes were in my house and we started jamming out, and we had a few beers and forgot.

Jun 10 Shawn about Niall at the Summer Time Ball: I’m definitely going to see Niall. I don’t know where he is but I’m going to go find him now.

Jun 19 Niall talks about Shawn coming over to his house: we had a couple of beers, and we were jamming a little bit, and I played a couple of songs to him, and he seemed to like them!

Jun 20 About Shawn: I love Shawnie. He’s the man. He keeps saying to me: ‘I’m so new to this!’

Interviewer: So what kind of advice do you offer him?

Niall: He gets really nervous a lot. He’s 18 years old! We all forget ‘cause he’s 6′5 and looks like Michael Phelps doesn’t mean that he’s not 18.

AUG 2017

Aug 5 A fan asks who Shawn’s favorite member of One Direction is: 'I love Niall.’ (I’m the girl in the background saying ‘Niall’ like DUH.)

Aug 8 Niall posts:

It’s this fellas birthday ! Happy birthday shawnmendes .

Aug 20 Shawn confirms The Collab, once again, during Q&A

Aug 28 Niall posts to IG, 'watching the lad’ perform at the VMAs

SEP 7, 2017

Awww... 🥰

Oct 5 Again with The Collab: Seen him last week in LA, but we were just going for a beer, we didn’t go and write songs.

Oct 19 Niall for Dan Wootton: The fans would love it. He’s in the middle of his album at the minute so if we can get something rustled up in the next while, we’ll see what happens. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Oct 20 Niall does a Q&A – mentions wanting to collab with Shawn, and his favorite songs: “Obviously, Mendes’s got some big tunes out at the minute.”

NOV 20 2017 THE AMERICAN MUSIC AWARDS!

The seating chart

They sat next to each other.

Stared lovingly into each other’s eyes. Shawn posted it to his IG, as one does:

Bonus: Zedd is us and we are Zedd

Dec 18 Fan asks Shawn a Need To Know question about Niall: If you were a girl, would you date Niall Horan? Oh, absolutely.

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sizzlingpatrolfox · 4 months

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I don't know if anyone has asked you this but what do you think or do you have an opinion about JM and JK choosing the buddy system for their military enlistment. Cause like you I too thought they were not that close during this solo chapter and for them to choose that system to enter is a bit shocking (and never knew there is such a system for Korea Military Service). At first I really thought that the tattoos were the reason but when reading and checking and those other bullshit regarding the military, both of them could easily chose to go alone especially when it was quite a procedure to achieve the buddy system itself and to be done as early as August? Do you think the company was the one pushing both to enter like that?

I didn't know there was such a system either, but frankly I don't know much about the military in general except for the most basic stuff.

No, I don't think the company pushed them to it or anything, they probably don't have that power over their will. They all enlisted at the time they wanted, within the date limitations because they still wanted to be back for 2025; but still, the timing was the members' decision.

One of the first things I said about it was that I wasn't surprised, and that it was probably Jimin's idea. I wasn't surprised because this has always been my opinion on their friendship:

It's the first link on my pinned post.

And I believe it was most likely Jimin's idea because that's who Jimin is. He cried during tour in 2018 because he had a room for himself and wasn't sharing with the members anymore.

It didn't change what I thought about them the first half of the year, tho. And it definitely doesn't make me think they're together together romantically.

They weren't seeing each other that often, and to me it just meant that they weren't a couple or like.. they can't live without each other kind of thing, like many people belive. They just didn't see each other that often because why would they, they're just friends and you don't see your friends everyday no matter how much you love them. It was pretty clear too that Jungkook wasn't seeing Hoseok or Namjoon everyday and nobody questioned that, it wasn't the end of the world. Armys were saying vmin divorced every single day, and at some point they actually started discussing on twitter why taekook were so separated from Jimin.

Jikookers only made a big deal of people saying "Jimin and Jungkook don't hang out that much" because to them it also meant that they weren't in a relationship. When I said that they aren't as close as I thought they were, or as they used to be, I just meant that they weren't relationship-close. I'm not afraid of saying things, so if I thought they didn't like each other I would've said it, but I never said they aren't friends the way I would never say namkook aren't friends, even if they don't see each other everyday. In fact, I remember saying a lot of times that they were clearly on good terms, just not as good (or close) as jikookers believed.

Whatever happened since hiatus didn't erase anything that happened before hiatus. Jimin and Jungkook also suddenly doing things together after months of not, doesn't change what happened since mid 2022. It's just like that. Just because things seem to change, doesn't mean that the past didn't happen. Just because they enlisted together doesn't make Jimin saying he was the closest to Hoseok and Yoongi, go away. It doesn't make go away the fact that for more than a year, we only ever saw Jungkook and Taehyung hanging out together.

I think probably the most ""radical"" thing I insinuated or maybe said it, I don't remember, was that like crazy was a break up song and that's why Jungkook ignored it jskdjf.

Everything that happened last year or maybe even since mid 2022 makes sense with them being friends. You're friends with people in different ways.. you think Jungkook wouldn't have enlisted with Mingyu or Eunwoo if he had the chance? Because I definitely think he would've. Why does he send good trucks for Eunwoo, or goes to Seojoon's movie premiere, but never showed up for Jimin? Just different ways of being friends with people.

I think many people also repeat "BTS are family" without even thinking what it really means. They are the closest thing to a family, and, I know this from experience because I also have friends that I know for more than 20 years, people I've been friends with since I was 5 years old. We see each other only a few times in a year and still they're people I can trust, and people I would tell secrets to. Their relationship, and even enlisting together makes sense to me in that way and it makes sense with Jimin's personality, too.

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enigmasandepiphanies · 6 months

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the last weekend was one of the top 10 best moments of my life and if I told the younger me about it, she'd never believe me at all. isn't that what adulthood is about after all, doing things that would make the little girl with braids who still lives inside you happy. i went to the eras tour movie with my best friend who is also my musical soulmate there was something in the air that day that was unlike any trips we'd taken—we have to travel quite a lot from college to reach the city. it was this humming anticipation but it was a gentle refrigerator like humming filled with comfort. then after a great breakfast, arriving at the mall and reaching the theatre, the humming became loud buzzing as my best friend and i couldn't contain excitement. we were like a container of overspillng strawberries.

we met so many swifities and when the movie began, IT BURST. we never sat down on the seats, singing loudly to all songs for 3 hours, waving flashlights, screaming all fanchants, running across the theatre stairs to the screen dancing all the songs of our childhood and girlhood and songs that shaped us, hugging, holding hands. i have been part of fandoms, I have found most of my belonging in fan communities—they have nurtured who I am today. but I have never been to a concert, this was the closest I have been to one and it was everything. we were probably the only people who knew lyrics to all the songs. there was so much fluorescent happiness, you know the hazy kind, the one which you look back in life to and think it was a surreal dream. it was surreal, I still don't think I remember every bit of it. I just remember happy screams, loud singing, feet hurting, jumping and waving and being enveloped in my best friend's love. people looked at us when we danced near the screen stage on 'our song', it is taylor's old album so not everyone knew but it felt like a main character moment to know and when my best friend made me twirl to it, I remembered listening to this song for the first time on YouTube, it was one of the first Taylor songs after love story that I had heard and I fell in love with its country storytelling, 11 year old me wanted that love. and when my best friend told me there was no one I would do this with except you, I almost wanted to crush her in my embrace because same but also because it is not just about the movie and fandom and celebrating your love for music which whispered your soul alive but also about people, people who you share that love with and the sharing is such a love multiplier cause love is not just stored in my best friend but she returns me love with interest, with more dividends with just more love. god i love her so much!!!

we were planning to stay in the city in a hotel with our other friend whose birthday it was and celebrate her birthday with good old fashioned alcohol and going to a nightclub. yes very first world country I think but I am not from a first world country and it was like my second time going to a club. after reaching at the hotel, we ordered wraps and showered and got cozy under those white comfy hotel comforters. we took a cuddly nap and then woke up late in evening when the sun set, sky was the darkish greyish blue and vehicles were honking during evening rush. oh wait btw I just got legal so I legally brought alcohol from the mall btw, they didn't even check my id cause the way I asked about alcohol seemed like i was experienced and old even though I have like a baby face. we ordered some noodles, chicken, snacks and mixers BUT THERE WAS NO BOTTLE OPENER for the mixers and my friend used a spoon to open it IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL, I literally gave her three bows on my legs. I had the most fun pregaming experience cause I was with the people I felt so comfortable and loved by, we got ready while pregaming. I often talk about girlhood interrupted due to being in 20s but with my best friend doing my eyeliner, mixing drinks, dancing to paper rings and 2010s bollywood songs, pregaming on bhajans, wearing sparkly dresses and jewellery and just hugging my friends for no reason was when my girlhood was interrupted. my best friend ordered an auto in her tipsy state.

and we went to the club, saw the cool college group from uni turns out they are very boring, they didn't even dance. they played some amazing songs so we danced, my musical soulmate flicked my glasses off and a kind girl from the cool college group also helped me find it, my best friend found it. there was that obnoxious male attention which we downed it with one shared long island tea, the club asked us for a picture idk how tf that picture turned out cause we were so drunk, I remember being so happy in that moment just holding my best friend and dancing to songs in languages I didn't even understand. and then when it was time to go home, this guy flirted with both of us (I called him mufasa from simba idk why I told him he's hot but dont you dare think you're getting away flirting with both of us men ugh he was hot tho) , I fell off sone stairs a bit not hurt don't worry, the sober birthday girl called a taxi, I emergency dialled my parents (yes they are all stories for some other). I cleaned my best friends puke, held her hair, broke a cup during cleaning, I puked. it was quite a wild night, we cleaned up, had the best sleep of our lives. I just I think the aftermath of returning is when I truly realized how I love my friends like I didn't mind cleaning up after them, it was natural. they took care of me—shoving antacid in my mouth, cuddling me post breakfast while we watched gilmore girls, it was yeah. it was a surreal dream, true textbook fanfictiony being in your 20s experience that you tell your kids but that is not why I loved it the most, I loved it because I was with people who made me feel so loved. ughhhhhhhhh

#eni life stories #musical soulmate tag #saved #eni tag

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animals-love-jordan · 9 months

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🚀- Where do you want to visit?

"That's a good question, honestly. I've done quite a bit of traveling since I was born. Being Immortal gives you plenty of time but I can't say that I have seen EVERYTHING the world has to offer." Jordan says "I think I'd like to go on a safari in Africa, pick the brains of the of the animals there. I've never visited Africa. The closest I've gotten was when Dad and I volunteered for free healthcare in the Middle East. I think meeting a few feral versions of the big game shifters I have contact with in LA will help me understand their animal side better and what better way than a safari on Africa where I'd get to see the tigers, lions, bears and leopards up close and personal? Though I'd probably terrify the tour guide by asking to get off the bus and walk straight up to a wild tiger and just start petting it." Jordan laughs.

👊🏼- Something you hate?

"My life involves having more contact with animals and shifters than humans so any time I see someone harming an animal it pisses me off. If you don't like an animal, fine, just leave them alone don't freaking abuse them." Jordan says "Our little fur baby was a former victim of abuse and someone threw her off a bridge when we were still living in New Orleans. Kevin jumped in and saved her even though he's terrified of drowning so doesn't really swim like that. I was so insanely proud of him."

📝- Story from your childhood

"I was born and raised in Brooklyn to a single mom who immigrated there from Korea right before I was born. We weren't exactly poor but we weren't wealthy either, we got by. On weeks when Mom could actually afford to splurge a little we'd go get ice cream and head down to the dog park because she noticed I was always more comfortable around animals. I remember sitting on the bench with her and telling her about all the things the dogs were saying that everyone else without my gift couldn't hear. She would just laugh and listen as I talked about it so naturally. I got teased and called Dr Doolittle a lot groaning up, other kids thought I was crazy because I would talk to animals but not my mom. She got sick right before I moved to London to finish getting my Vetrinary license from Oxford, where I met Mason and he adopted me as his own. I went back after I graduated with Mason and we offered to cure her but she was tired and ready to go. So I sat with her until she passed. She had Mason promise to always take care of me and treat me like a son since I never really had a dad since the demon that got my mom pregnant just fucked off back to hell. I changed my name to Han after she passed but I kept her name as my middle name. I am grateful to my Dad but I do miss her sometimes."

✌️- Want any piercings?

"Well, I only had my ears for the longest time before I met Ryland and Ethan. Ry convinced me to get my nipples done, so I let Ethan pierce my nipples. Shocked the hell out of Kevin, but he likes to play with them." Jordan laughs."I thought about getting my tongue done since I heard it makes oral better for my baby, but I'm not sure yet. If Kev wanted me to, I'd get Ethan to do it today.

#ask

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pitchshitterarchiver · 22 days

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A Pitchshifter interview with PETA2 somewhere I think pre or post none for all and all for one single

I found this off the psirecords old site under media and then interview

PETA2: Can you tell new PETA2 fans a little about how it all started and what makes you tick?

J.S.: Basically, we weren’t hearing the music out there that we wanted to hear. Thirteen years later, we’ve recorded nine albums, toured 25 countries, and started our own record label. Not bad for a bunch of punks on a crummy housing estate in the Midlands. What makes me tick? A passion for life!

Mark: We have all been possessed by music for a long, long time. Tours have included the Vans Warped Tour and Ozzfest USA. Our aim has always been to get people to think and question everything.

PETA2: What issue involving animals is closest to your heart?

J.S.: My brother and I have always tried to involve our beliefs in Pitchshifter and often donate tracks for anti-fox-hunting compilations. I think education is the key for progress on the ethical treatment of animals. If people don’t know the full story, they won’t make an informed decision. As with everything, education is the key.

Mark: I despise animal cruelty in any form. Factory farming and seal culling make my blood boil.

PETA2: What was the event in your life that made you decide to stop eating meat?

J.S.: As I remember, it was The Smiths, Crass, and a bunch of punk bands—from the music, I got into the lyrics and then into the ideas. So music really sparked my interest in animal issues.

Mark: I bought the Meat Is Murder album by The Smiths. The track “Meat Is Murder” begins with herds of animals screaming before they are slaughtered. After that, there was no turning back.

PETA2: How did your friends and family react when you went veg?

J.S.: I think I was 15, and Mark was 17 when we first dropped the bombshell on our family and friends that we weren’t going to be eating meat anymore. I remember them all looking at us like we were insane, but we slowly won them over, and they came to accept it. The irony now is that a lot of my friends and family have gone veggie or eat way less meat for health reasons. So you could say it got them in the end.

Mark: At first, people just think it’s something you do to be cool, just a phase you go through. But that was 17 years ago, so I think people have got the message now.

PETA2: Does being veggie tie in with your other ethics and your outlook?

J.S.: Well, I just believe in trying to do the right thing. Human beings are the most complex, astounding, creative, energetic, persevering life form on the planet. We are so beautiful, and yet many of us choose to be so ugly to our species and so many others. It blows my mind. I just try and treat everyone and everything the way I would like to be treated.

Mark: Totally, being vegetarian goes hand in hand with wider environmental issues. If the world farmers farmed soya instead of cattle, then I believe the world could be fed. The world’s resources are being destroyed and people, governments, and countries need to make massive changes.

PETA2: How is being vegetarian different today than it was when you first made the choice?

J.S.: Well, these days, the food is great. These days, you don’t have to “miss out” to go veggie, you just have to realign your purchasing and you’re there. I am loving veggie hot dogs this month. Can’t get enough of them!

Mark: Going to restaurants is really good now, [before] as a non meat-eater, there would only ever be one or two choices. Now vegetarians are being taken seriously.

PETA2: You have been granted the power to change the world. You sit and consider the first thing that you would do. What is it?

J.S.: Well, if we’re going to go into the realm of fantasy, I will take it one step further: If I was given the power to change EVERYTHING and do anything, I would give everyone the knowledge of what it’s like to be everyone else, of every species. Kind of like a ‘day in the shoes’ of everyone and everything. I think if we had that kind of an insight into life, there would be a lot less cruelty going on.

Mark: I would eliminate world hunger and ban hunting.

PETA2: If people are reading this site and trying to decide whether to go veggie or vegan, what would you say to convince them?

J.S.: If nothing else (i.e., you don’t care about it ethically), think of your health. The surgeon general agrees that a diet rich in fruit and vegetables extends lifespan and facilitates a better standard of living. That ALONE should be enough reason. What do you need … a money back coupon and a free set of soup bowls!?

Mark: We are an intelligent species who have evolved to the point where we do not need to eat meat. DO something about it. Watch some films on animal factory farming, and you will be disgusted with the whole industry. Go veggie!

#alt #alt metal #alternative #alternative metal #metal #metalhead #nu metal #pitchshifter #industrial #industrial metal #industrial nu Metal #2000s #mid 2000s #2006 #2005 #British metal #none for all and all for one

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reflections-on-self · 30 days

Text

On Choosing a Career

The next most difficult question, after determining whether or not I intend to have children in this world, is the question best phrased in the title of Vladimir Lenin's What Is To Be Done?

What is to be done?

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a jet pilot. I was terrified of jets. They were loud and I hated loud noises as a child. But there was something magical about them: they were in the sky! They were with the birds, but they flew much, much faster than the birds. And the planes were all beautiful to my childhood eyes: it is difficult to describe the feeling evoked when one witnesses a pass of America's Blue Angels in their signature blue-and-yellow F/A-18 Hornets. Being a kid at the time, this especially had a big impression on me.

I must not have been a completely clueless child, for, from an early age, I was aware of the relationship between the jets I saw in the sky and the US military. But you could imagine that, lacking any kind of serious adult influence to convince me otherwise, I truly believed that the jets I saw in the sky were defending that vague idea I knew at the time as "America."

So, for the first quarter of my short life, I believed I wanted to be a fighter jet pilot. Through middle school and early high school, I prepared myself to join the US Air Force or the US Navy. I joined the Civil Air Patrol (CAP) and went to a private military school for the first half of my freshman year of high school. I wanted to become a cadet at one of the military service academies, which I hoped guarantee me a job as a pilot.

Sometime in high school, I believe my sophomore year, I took an introductory psychology class. It was my first exposure to the concept of psychology. I immediately found the topic interesting, so I switched from wanting to join the military and become a pilot to wanting to join the military and become a psychiatrist. I think I remember at the time that I believed I wanted to help people and serve my country.

This was a dramatic shift, and it reflected the fact that I began to believe in high school that I would not qualify to become a pilot as a result of my eyesight.

I performed relatively poorly in high school. Public high school in the US, as I would guess any reader who has had the misfortune to experience it might agree, can be a nightmare for self-discovery. By the end of high school, I still had no idea what I wanted to do except the vague notion that I wanted to serve the public in some way. I'd won the school's election for senior class president, which boosted my confidence in believing that I could perform well in some kind of government-related work. It is perhaps here that I decided that I wanted to become a foreign service officer, shortly after a tour I was given of the State Department headquarters in D.C. with a group of CAP cadets.

I enrolled at a nearby college and began taking political science courses. My professors were brilliant and honest. They were not shy about the realities of the wild history of the United States, with its many political contradictions and class-based internal conflicts. This was at the height of the Trump presidency, so debates about the state of what we collectively understood as "our democracy" were frequent.

Around this same time, I was very lucky to meet one of my closest friends, who first introduced me to the basic ideas behind Marxist political-economic theory. We were both employees at a movie theater, so we had many opportunities to discuss these dense, generally philosophically-heavy concepts with each other while ushering theaters together. Looking back, it's all quite serendipitous. Had I not met that friend, I doubt that I ever would have taken Marxist ideas as seriously as I ended up taking them. That would come to be both a blessing and a curse, though, I'm happy to say that, even now, it is more of a blessing that I discovered Marxism when I did.

Being a Marxist-Leninist throughout college made choosing a career in the United States in the early 2020s rather challenging. I lived near a military base, so any job that paid a decent salary was associated with the military-industrial complex that I had come to despise, and therefore, out of the question. Obviously, there was no hope of joining the military and "defending my country" anymore: there was no "country" to defend at that point in my eyes, only class interests. To protect the class interests of the bourgeoisie – which I was not, to my understanding, a part of – seemed like one of the biggest wastes of my life that I could manage. Eventually, this kind of thinking would lead me to further conclude that a job as a foreign service officer working with the Department of State would be just as bootlick-y as joining the military, or working as a civilian for a military contractor.

This idea was intensified when I accepted an offer for a journalism internship with the Institute for Policy Studies (IPS), which is the most left-leaning think tank in Washington, D.C. During the summer of 2019, I conducted research and wrote articles for IPS. The work confirmed my Marxist tendencies, and, perhaps even more frighteningly, it seemed to confirm my Leninist sentiments, as well. D.C. is a beast. That's really the only way I can think to put it.

I returned from the experience and decided to switch my major from Political Science to Philosophy. What an idea. I believe it was one of the best and possibly worst decisions I'd ever made for myself. However, it was also the perfect major to become easily distracted with irrelevant problems. Luckily, I think that this is all part of the journey.

At this point, I was with a romantic partner with whom I can only guess the universe introduced me to so that I would learn a handful of important lessons that I will not go into in this essay. All that I think needs to be said about this chapter of my life is that I became very focused on little else but the relationship I was in with that person, and, looking back, this was one of the biggest mistakes I believe I've ever made in my life. I think I became very preoccupied with trying to make a stable life with that person.

One of the mistakes that I made in trying to make a stable life with that person instead of focusing on my own goals: I took on an internship for an Elon Musk-run company. I won't get into details, but needless to say, it was one of the worst experiences I'd ever committed myself to. I was lucky that it was only for a few months and that I was able to get out of the situation almost as soon as I'd realized how poorly the place was ran. It was there that I experienced firsthand that, wherever I work, the people who work there must be valued for their labor in ways that matter to them. No shortcuts around that.

I had a decent enough resumé that I was able to find a job back home at the institution I graduated from. I was a web developer for a little over a year between 2022-2023. Most of that year was spent recovering from the experience I'd had working at Musk's company. Then I met the person I wrote about in my first essay, which would completely change everything for me.

Had I not learned? Perhaps. It was a romantic relationship that pulled me out of my daily routine in September 2022 and would make its mark on my heart that, to this day, occasionally stings. When I met her, I suddenly didn't care about money anymore. To be fair, she, too, seemed to be a Marxist, and seemed to find this whole thing that we're all experiencing just as troubling as I did. Nobody else seemed to see that or feel it.

But, for this, I will cut myself some slack. I did fall in love, whatever the hell that means. Shortly after we met, I had this brief fantasy that we could both abandon the madness that was the world around us for a while and serve in the Peace Corps together. I wouldn't be rich, I wouldn't be quite "at home," I probably wouldn't even really know what I was doing – but I'd be working to help somebody, the work would be good work, and I'd be with her. That's all I wanted. That is, even now, all I want.

Well, anyway, the relationship was too brief and she was too whimsical (she was an accordion player) to realize how seriously I felt, how serious what we'd both stumbled upon seemed to be. She was too scared to be honest with me that she loved me, I could tell. I tried very hard to give us the space, the time, whatever it was that was needed for us to grow into something. But something went wrong. The fires in Canada, the distractive nature of our modern society, my stupidity in facing a real situation, shit, I don't know. If I could ask her, I would. But I am not interested in being toyed with, I'm not interested in someone who won't be just a tad more vulnerable and show me that they care.

For a short while, I resolved that I would live my life as if she were here anyway. The idea seemed beautiful to me. I thought it might honor best what I truly believed was supposed to be the big one. I even went through most of the process to join the Peace Corps, alone, and was bound to leave for Botswana later this year.

But I dropped out of the process. Not because I don't want to serve in the Peace Corps, not because I'm bitter about what happened between her and I and I'm taking it out on a life-changing journey in Botswana, but because the 2-year commitment feels just too long for me right now when I barely know what I want to do today. I believe that someday, if I can orient my life in that direction, I can live the dream of serving in the Peace Corps with someone that loves me, and that I love. That sounds wonderful. But I have a very, very hard time getting over this feeling of loss that was induced by the failure of that relationship. It seems fair to say that I should just wait on the Peace Corps until I'm in a much better place.

In the wake of her absence, sometimes, I've been both determined and distraught. I at least put some thought into the future I hope to build for myself, career-wise, before signing up for the Peace Corps. These reflections also had important implications for the decision I made to ultimately postpone Peace Corps service for a later time in my life.

At the end of the day, I don't believe that I ever wanted anything different from what most people throughout history have wanted: peace, community, love, purpose. That these attributes of life are stable, always accessible, and observable in my day-to-day experience. That, whatever I'm doing, I'm helping support those things, in my life and in the lives of others. This all with the deep understanding that others are me. A deep assumption. I could never claim to know such a thing. I want to stand up on a table and yell, like I'm Socrates, "I don't know anything!!!" – but I know that this would cause some trouble in the library I write this from. I assume that others are me in the deepest sense of being that I can express.

So the first thing I thought I wanted to be when I cleared her from my life's plans was a neurosurgeon.

Neurosurgery seemed (and sometimes still seems) like the coolest field in the world to me. We, humans, have managed to create a whole subject, a whole library of understanding, for manually fixing the most mysterious material "thing" in existence: our very own brains. God, what kind of things about reality do neurosurgeons know? How do they see this world? I have wanted to know. The immediate interest goes back to the very purpose of this blog: explorations on selfhood. What, I thought, could be more self-exploratory than learning how to fix problems that involve the nervous system and fixing them with my very hands?

Still now, it pains me to write that paragraph and wonder these days if that is truly what I want to do. Because it does sound interesting. I believe I have the intelligence, coordination, and patience to make a successful career out of it, if I were to really dedicate myself to it.

Community, love, purpose. I am just about certain that a career in neurosurgery would allow me to live with all three. But peace...

Neurosurgeons work, I've been told, absolutely horrific hours. That alone may not be such a deterrent, except for the fact that I'd be working in such high-stakes situations for such large amounts of time and that the risks could involve not only the loss of a patient's life but also legal ramifications were I to make a serious mistake. I am aware I do not make serious mistakes very often, but that is no reason to jump into a very difficult career path in my hubris.

My initial feelings about neurosurgery were likely influenced by the profound loss I felt that I'd experienced with her. I wanted to know what, at the source, was the cause of all of this pain. I could only point to my own brain and say that, somewhere in there, the intense suffering that I had felt and sometimes feel when I think about what happened between us is created. I have no illusions that neurosurgery can solve such problems. But the idea that I could know the brain so intimately so as to be able to work it, fix it, through my very own physical activity, seemed really awesome.

I briefly read the beginning of Dr. Henry Marsh's Do No Harm, a book about a British neurosurgeon's experience. Now, I think that it's just because he's British, but the book was quick to sour me on the idea of becoming a neurosurgeon. The guy had such a negative view of life and his career, although, the writing was outstanding. Marsh even said that he chose to jump into the medical field because of an unrequited love situation. I thought, what!? That's not me! and I began to consider alternatives.

Neurosurgery is awesome and I am not certain that I won't still try to pursue it.

The thing is, I happen to live near one of the best medical schools in the country and, supposedly, in the world. When I started to really think about what I wanted to do with my life, I believe I dove straight for neurosurgery because of a handful of reasons:

Being a neurosurgeon would give me an excuse to completely dedicate myself to my own work. Nobody could tell me I couldn't do this or that, because in the end, if I'm doing it for my career, then I'm doing it for the benefit of both myself and the patient in the long run. I can see this being quite the emotional barrier to put up between myself and the rest of the world.

Again, the surface-level prestige. The kid who wanted to be a pilot when he was a boy grew up and began to claim that he would like to become a neurosurgeon. Between these two positions? Lots of fame, public attention, a kind of fascination, even. At least that I've noticed in American society. This is not a good nor a bad thing in my view.

But also, the deep internal prestige. I work on fixing people's brains with my hands. Man, if I could say that to myself and know that it was true, I'd feel like the coolest guy in the world.

Financial security for myself and my future family (if I have one). As a neurosurgeon, if I wanted, I would imagine that I could move and set up shop just about anywhere in the world.

Being the leader of a diverse team. Neurosurgeons operate in contexts in which they work with fellow surgeons, other doctors, residents, nurses, health techs, etc. I'd love to feel that I am part of a community that values my work and are individual professionals in their own right.

In the end, good reasons, but not good enough, in my opinion. Prestige and isolation should not be the primary reasons to take on a job, I would think. Of course, there are situations in which perhaps that would be the best career path for an individual. I won't deny that I seriously believed for a while that this seemed like the only way I could feel "useful" to the world after losing her. But I am not Dr. Marsh, I'm not depressed, I should not make decisions about my career solely based off of the failure of a romantic relationship. No matter how hard it hurt me that it didn't work out, my choice to become any particularly laborious and intensely challenging role simply out of feeling emotionally invincible post-breakup simply doesn't feel good enough a reason anymore. The path to becoming a neurosurgeon is long, arduous, bound to cause immense suffering on my future self and the people whom that being will love. Lately, it has seemed a path worth letting go of.

I still believe I would like to become a medical doctor of some kind. First, because I feel an obligation to my fellow human beings on a fundamental level. Without a community of human beings to raise me, be patient with and properly reprimand me when I've failed myself or others, to educate me in various matters, and provide me with various desires and needs as well as the means to fulfill them, I believe my life would have been a very negative experience overall. Other people try. A deep assumption of mine is that I need to try, too. Perhaps what little practical applications of Marxism that are left in me are found in this core idea. I was not raised alone, but by a massive, perpetually changing village of human beings, mostly Americans, all with their own lives, yet, at times, so genuinely preoccupied with the state of mine.

I hate to admit, so beautifully preoccupied with the state of mine. At times.

I don't denote that the community that raised me is American to justify that I would inevitably become a doctor through the American healthcare system, which, with what little I know about that behemoth, I understand to be a very complex and likely flawed system. Rather, there is a more obvious and "unshakeable" crime that my people have committed that has resulted in my beginning to seriously question whether or not I should become a doctor anywhere in the world.

I must wonder, as I type this, if any potential reader is already beginning to catch on to what I'm about to begin writing about. That this crime is so deeply ingrained in our collective psyche now, that I haven't even got to type the words yet, and I believe there's a chance that someone who manages to find this and read it already knows I am talking about the war crimes committed by the Israel Defense Forces and supported by the United States government at the al-Ahli and al-Shifa hospitals in the Gaza Strip.

Anyone who is aware of what has happened to hospitals in Gaza might appreciate my reluctance to dedicate myself to medicine in the West in the aftermath. For a while, I was very angry with the world as the news poured in daily of Israeli airstrikes on civilians in the Gaza Strip. I work near people in positions of power in the United States, and there seemed to be no real sense of remorse, regret, indignation, no real sense of what was even going on, among just about every single person I interacted with. I still find myself seriously disoriented and often demotivated to do anything serious with my career after all of that. How can I take this world seriously anymore? Over 30,000 killed. More than thirty thousand people killed in five months. There are no words.

The truth is, I don't take this world that seriously anymore. I have come to value my own direct experience of life more than everything else. I used to want to change it all: I used to dream of a Red American future – housing, food, and meaningful labor for all; a single, tolerant, peaceful Palestinian state spanning the Jordan to the Mediterranean; a healthy Earth; a world that functioned in a kind of mutually-assured peace and harmony, without real borders. I still believe it's all possible, even probable, in due time. But I don't think I'll bother to waste my precious life energy toward any of those goals in particular anymore. I just don't feel the urgency of a burning world. I don't feel urgent about anything anymore. That was a world where she stayed, and while I'm sorry about how that sounds, I'm just about certain of my feelings on it and I wouldn't dare apologize for that. The world is not perfect. Its imperfection is most obvious right now when one calls to mind the suffering endured by human beings in and around the Gaza Strip.

Still, I must choose a career, as I don't intend to commit suicide (R.I.P. Aaron Bushnell). Since I don't intend to commit suicide, I must work with this body that I am expressing myself from and the situation that I have found myself in.

Becoming a medical doctor is still an attractive career path to me, because at the very least, no matter where I am, I am helping someone. Briefly, recently, I considered the path of the MD-PhD, or the physician-scientist. This is in keeping with my interest in studying the "self" through studying the brain, and I'd also get to be involved in clinical settings where I'd be helping people in my community. All of that sounds pretty neat to me.

Physician-scientists, however, are also victims of a system in which they work intense hours. They often compete for scant grant funding. While I'm sure I could succeed there, too, I ought to be honest with myself about the very real need for me to have time, real time, to pursue artistic interests on my off-time. Something tells me that MD-PhDs do not have a thing called "off-time," and it might be a really good idea to just pursue an MD or a PhD in a field that interests me, have that be my full-time, and do stuff like this, writing (and other forms of content creation), on the side.

To that end, I believe, that I have chosen as my primary plan to become a neuroradiologist and manga artist. For now.

A successful career in neuroradiology seems to provide me the ideal balance between working in a role that helps people directly, provides financial stability and a community of fellow professionals, allows me to work for established institutions, and lets me work relatively (to other medical professions) normal working hours. Also, brains. This will provide me with enough of an income to have my own place and, if, somehow, I manage to fall in love with someone else and we agree to start a family, assist in providing for them financially. And if I'm alone, well, I'll have money to travel.

On my off-time, I'm a manga artist. This is the funniest part of all of this: I know that, deep down, if I had all the time in the world and no pressure on me to do anything in particular coming from anywhere, I'd just become a 漫画家 (manga-ka) and write my dream manga. Since I was a kid, I'd always been into anime and manga. But early on, I was discouraged from drawing. My drawings were ugly as a kid. For a short time, I was involved in the Maplestory sprite animation community in my pre-teen days. I made some embarrassingly bad "Maplestory Music Videos" to Avril Lavigne and Breaking Benjamin. I gave up pretty quickly and turned my eyes skyward, bringing us back to the whole pilot ordeal.

I'd pretty much forgotten about all of that until I was with my friends one day, years ago, watching One Punch Man. I became inspired with an anime idea that was initially loosely based off a similar premise. Then, with a close friend of mine, we read Berserk by Kentarō Miura (RIP) together. That was the most inspiring graphic work I ever read at the time, though, it's important to note that it was my first real experience reading a manga. I began to form the dream as I read along of creating my own artistic masterpiece of Miura's level someday, his creative and visually artistic genius were truly impressive. I decided, eventually, that I would make a manga someday, no matter what. I haven't done any work at all to advance the original idea, but having let it simmer in my mind for about as long as any other important project, I believe I could create something truly interesting.

My drawing skills, in the current moment, are about the same as my childhood drawing skills. I'm 24 and turn 25 next month. I haven't even begun practicing again! I know that any artists who happen to read this will probably scoff at my treatment of this dream. I should be giving up that neuroradio-nonsense and throwing myself at the pencil and paper all the time! I should. I know I should.

But I can't. I feel better going for both. Even if I somehow fail, well, I'd rather have failed attempting to do both seriously than dedicate my life to one and become bored, deathly bored, with it. Besides – and I'm truly sorry to the soul that happens to read this and becomes exhausted at the amount of times I say something like this – this is all extra content to me since she left. I really wanted to not exist not that long ago. I love this world and the people in it, but that is true as well as the fact that I still feel completely lost without her. Completely lost. So, perhaps this is a symptom of that feeling of loss that I cannot seem to rid myself of. But that's all okay to me. As long as I'm allowed to process it the way I see fit, which is all of this, then I have nothing to complain about. Nothing at all.

So, here's what I think. I'm going to read the brain scans and I'm going to draw the cool characters and settings and tell some cool stories. To me, this all sounds perfect because it involves the use of my visual faculties so much. I love to see, to watch, to observe. To dig deep into a detailed piece of art with a mixture of my eyes and attention and extract that beautiful, vague idea that periodically appears, sometimes called meaning. I love that, and I'm not sorry for loving it enough that it keeps me on this often wretched-seeming Earth. Even if I'm an American.

I believe the path is there for me to make. I know I'll have to do some cutting. These days, anything goes. I no longer intend to look back, though I inevitably will again.

#essay #march 2024 #career #text

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