#I distinctly remember copying this pose from a photo...

[toushindai]

was looking through old files in my Procreate and discovered this sketch, so I slapped some colors on it last night. gosh I miss Meg

[carlislesimms]

The Monkees were my world at age 8, and Peter was my childhood favorite. 

I don’t think I’ve really processed the news yet. Meeting Peter Tork was everything I’d dreamed of and more. This is going to be far from my most eloquent post, but here are a few of my fondest memories:

I drew a little picture book for him around 1996, called something like “All About Peter Tork.” Each page featured a different fact about him and a drawing. What I remember most distinctly was the last page, which said “He has a heart of gold.” I drew him with a cartoon heart, colored in with a gold crayon or paint. I believe I sent him a copy of this “book” as my strange version of a fan letter. I first saw the Monkees in concert at around that same time (my first ever concert, in fact), but I didn’t actually meet Peter until much later. 

I first met him in 2011 after a Monkees concert: the line for the meet and greet was long, everything was chaos, and fans were informed by an employee that the band was in a hurry to leave and we would have to be quick once we got inside for the photo op. Peter obviously felt bad about this, and after a while of waiting in line, suddenly there he was. Peter Tork came out with no security to joke with the line of fans. I don’t remember his exact words, but he said something like, “When you get in there, we’re going to really push and shove and manhandle you!” in that goofy tone he did so well. Yet when it was our turn, rather than rush us through the photo, Peter stopped to chat. He asked our names, made some comments about mine and how he had a friend with the same name. He made sure that brief meeting was memorable and special. A dream come true for my childhood self, even though I had already grown up by then.

I was lucky enough to meet him several more times after that. Each time, he made it special and personal.

Meeting him one on one for the first time after a Shoe Suede Blues show later in 2011. “Have we met before?” he asked, seeming to mean it, though it was extremely unlikely that he would have remembered that brief encounter. Chatting with us again when he didn’t have to.

Going to the Monkees Convention and talking to him about the ancient copy of Headquarters we wanted him to sign, and he asked us about the two last names handwritten in the corner (my mom’s written when she was a child, then mine when I was a child). “That’s not you, is it? That is you?”

He drew a little arrow pointing at his own silhouette on the cover of our copy of PACJ (while his lovely wife, Pam, struck up a conversation with me about how much she liked my Doc Martens).

Getting a photo with him, and while facing the camera and posing, he suddenly reached over to cup my face in his hand, unprompted. One of my favorite all-time photos.

At the next convention, I was waiting in line for someone else’s autograph while dressed in my Nez costume, eight-button shirt and wool hat and all, and I turned to see Peter sitting alone at the booth next to that one--making direct eye contact with me, then pulling the most ridiculous face for me and making me crack up right there in line.

Checking into my hotel for the last ever Mike/Micky/Peter concert in Hollywood. Seeing Peter across the lobby, checking in too.

Such small moments, but all a thrill to someone who grew up loving this band. To a child who loved Peter Tork.

I went to see the Monkees as many times as I possibly could, so I’m proud to say I have almost no regrets (the exception being missing the 2014 tour). Each time, my memories specific to Peter are the ones that stand out. He was always so colorful, so full of life. It really does not feel like he’s gone. Maybe it never will. 

I love you, Peter.

[melonkooky]

ghost [park jisung]

requested

word count: 1305

genre: ghost!au, childhood friend!au, a lot-mucho-depresso espresso kind of angst, smol fluff

author’s note: I LIKE THIS ‘SHU ANON’. however, i wrote this request terribly 😂😂😂😂. i hope you like it anyway. also, i didn’t exactly go through to check for spelling or grammar mistakes...

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

masterlist

you and jisung were born on the same day: february 5th, 2002. although you came exactly an hour and thirteen minutes after him. your mom and his mom were best friends and they so happen to be pregnant at the same time. it was all a mere coincidence, is what you had been told every time you asked for your mom to tell you the story about you and him being born. growing up, you and jisung were practically siblings. he was your older twin brother that always took care of you. your parents always allowed you to play with him. in fact, there was hardly ever a time you and him were apart. because you two were so close, you stayed over at his house a lot. you practically lived there. and jisung was always at your house. around the age of seven, he took it upon himself to make you smile and laugh. doing so allowed him to develop a special talent for dancing. sure he wasn’t good at it at first. but over time, he became the best dancer you’ve ever known. you loved jisung so much. and your parents knew that so they enrolled in the same school jisung was going to. there, you and him were great friends. everyone assumed you and him were actually siblings and you eventually gave up telling them that he was just a good friend. 

but one day, you had asked your mom if she could take you to jisung’s house. a solemn look fell upon her face and it gave your thirteen-year-old self an anxious feeling. what happened? you already felt tears in your eyes and you didn’t even know what your mom was going to say. she bent down to your level, her hands coming to cup your tiny, growing shoulders. her own tears pooled in her own eyelids. you would never forget the tone of her voice as she informed you, “baby, jisung and his mom and dad got into a very bad car crash a few days ago.”

you just couldn’t process that. “what? jisung is okay, right?”

she looked at you. “he didn’t make it. none of them made it.”

the next few years were very hard on you. you had to go to therapy for separation anxiety and depression. three years of therapy was enough to at least get you back on your feet. 

it was february 5, 2018. jisung would have been sixteen years old on this day. you were stuck in your room, going through an entire box of photos that were taken of you and him together. the photos always gave you a sense of comfort but afterwards, they gave you a sense of longing. you missed him a lot and although you were doing a little better since his passing, you still hadn’t gotten over it. you thought about him constantly and now being a capable teenager, all you could think was about all the things you and him could do together.

you picked up a picture of you laughing at him while he posed during a dance he was performing for you. you and him were six and you distinctly remember the day being the first day of school. you smiled at the picture, your fingers gingerly grazing over his adorable face. a tear suddenly fell from your cheek, landing with a light plop onto the picture. you sighed and put the picture down, leaning back against the wall as you sat on your comfy bed. the room was quiet and still. it made you feel empty. but it didn’t make you feel alone. you always believed that jisung was with you, either watching over you or his spirit following you around. you never believed in the supernatural, but you could never forget the feeling of his presence with you. you looked to your side at the box of pictures. you had only gone through half of them. just as you were about to reach for another stack, there was a bump in your closet.

you jumped, a gasp coming out of your mouth. your heart was about to burst through your rib cage. you were hesitant to investigate your closet. you didn’t have the slightest idea of what could’ve caused such a sound from inside your closet. you slowly slid off your bed, your feet planting on the ground ever so softly. you crept towards your closet. things suddenly felt different in your bedroom and the change of atmosphere heightened your senses. you reached out and pressed your hand onto the closet handle. you pushed the door to the side and about jumped out of your skin when something collapsed onto the floor. you were shaking from the sudden events that had taken place. you looked down to see a box, it had landed perfectly flat with the lid on top as it should be after it tumbled out of the closet. it was dusty on the top. you don’t even recognize the box. you crouched down to get a closer look, anxiety pumping throughout your body. you knelt closer to see something written on the lid, noticeable on the dust.

‘sungie’

“sungie?” you repeated to yourself. it was clear that it was fresh. that’s what frightened you. how could something be written onto a dusty box from inside your closet. someone would have to have camped out in your closet so that you wouldn’t notice and then write that. but even then, why? with more thought, you came to realize that that was the nickname you had given your best friend jisung as you were growing up. 

you looked around your room, getting a feeling that you weren’t alone. you were scared out of your mind, scared that you really were becoming crazy. you didn’t even know what to do. but this box captivated your mind. you had never seen it before. you touched the lid of the box and lifted it up. you peered into the strange box, looking at its contents. a single picture of jisung laid on the bottom, so tiny. waste of a big box honestly. you picked up the photograph. jisung was smiling so happily in the picture and it made your insides churn. why was it there? you turned it over and immediately recognized jisung’s handwriting. ‘to the beautiful y/n. i will love you forever.’

you felt tears well up in your eyes. nothing was processing in your mind and now you just encountered a tiny photograph inside of an excessively large box that somehow fell out of your closet. you felt like you were going mad. suddenly, you felt a presence again. but this time, you welcomed it because you felt familiarity with this presence.

jisung.

upon feeling this presence, it didn’t feel negative. it felt like jisung. you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings, all kinds of emotions came spilling out. you felt so happy, so depressed. you were crying. you felt the presence wrap around you, almost like it was trying to hug you and comfort you. you just knew it was jisung. jisung was there with you. 

you then happened to look down and your eyes widened when there was more writing on the dust-covered lid. ‘please don’t cry’. how could you not when your best friend had suddenly blessed you with his spiritual presence?! you couldn’t help but cry. you cried until you found yourself laying on your floor, falling into a deep sleep.

the next morning when you woke up, you didn’t feel sad or depressed. you didn’t feel empty. you felt whole again. you felt better mentally. your thoughts went to jisung but they weren’t sad. all you could think was that jisung was there with you. he was actually there. and no, it wasn’t in person. but the feeling alone was enough to give you a great sense of comfort.