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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 14: Fever]

A/N: I’ve written a lot of chapters for Tumblr, but this one was by far the hardest. Thank you for reading. 💜

Chapter summary: Queen enjoys an American tradition, Y/N struggles to be optimistic, John offers distractions, Roger makes questionable decisions (what else is new).

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, accidental intense flirting, inconvenient erections, drugs, overdoses, near-death experiences, medical emergencies, hospital stuff, pregnancy, babies, miscarriage, drama, sexual references, do I even need to say angst...? Y’all already know.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark @culturefiendtrashqueen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you!

It’s November 12th, 1977, and you’re six weeks pregnant.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother!” Your mom is positively giddy, beaming ceaselessly, patting the back of Roger’s hand at least once every three minutes. I was right about this delightful English boy and my future gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says. Your parents either never saw any headlines, or—a possibility that seems increasingly conceivable—didn’t believe them.

“I know it’s early to announce,” you add nervously. “But we figured...you know, since we’re here now...and who knows when we’ll be back in Boston...”

“Oh, I’m so happy you told me!” your mother peals like a wind chime. “Here, have some more sweet potatoes, and some salmon too, they’re so good for the baby...have you thought about names yet?”

“Roger Junior,” Roger jokes.

“Freddie Junior,” Freddie offers with a flamboyant flourish of his hand; his fingernails are jet black with glinting flecks of silver.

“A few,” you tell your mother, rolling your eyes at Freddie. “But there’s still plenty of time to figure that out.” In truth, this whole having a baby thing still feels rather nebulous and untrustworthy, like it’s a dream you might wake up from, like it’s a desert mirage that will evaporate as soon as you stumble too close, parched and ravenous and aching for it. Roger slips his arm around your waist, and you don’t exactly dislike that; but it feels a little like a mirage too.

“We’re so happy,” he says, with a gentle wistfulness that is striking on him. Roger is happy, as happy as you’ve ever seen him. He drinks only in moderation. He does his physical therapy. He’s taken up meditation. He fucking meditates. He wants to get clean for the baby, for you, for this second chance at a future together. And you don’t entirely trust this—because everyone lies and everyone disappoints and everyone carries around mortal shadows in the marrow of their bones—but you are beginning to let it make you happy too.

“You’re next, Fred,” Brian says. “You’re the only one left. Come on, it’s your turn. Cough up an infant.”

Freddie cackles. “All my children have whiskers and tails and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your mother shoves a glass baking pan of sweet potato casserole, topped with a layer of gluey burned marshmallows, towards you. “Eat!” she commands.

You warily spoon yourself some, grimacing; you’re more or less constantly nauseous. Then you stare down at the heap of lumpy orange root vegetables that—to you, at least—contains a choking quantity of cinnamon. The sweet potato casserole stares menacingly back. John leans over and scoops himself a bite off your plate.

“Mmmmm!” he exclaims, to your mother’s delight. Then, more quietly to you: “Not to worry. I’ll help.”

“Everything is delicious, as always,” Brian tells your parents, ever well-mannered. “It’s always such a delight when work brings us to Boston. This was so kind of you!”

Your mom and dad wanted to treat Queen to the band’s first-ever American Thanksgiving dinner, even if actual Thanksgiving was still two weeks away; the table features a monstrous turkey with brown crispy skin, stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, green beans almondine, ham, Atlantic salmon, buttered rolls, pumpkin pie, and of course the loathsome sweet potato casserole. You endeavor to taste at least one bite of everything, sipping sparkling apple cider cautiously, biting back waves of nausea that surface at random like breaching whales. The tablecloth is speckled with autumn leaves and inappropriately jolly cartoon turkeys. Your parents are glowing, proud, thrilled...although they’re visibly channeling effort into not being offended by the fact that Brian won’t try the turkey.

“It’s our pleasure, of course,” your father deflects as he puffs on a cigar. He’s mixed a drink for all of the non-pregnant attendees: Apple Cranberry Moscow Mules for everyone except John, who requested his usual Manhattan. “And you’ve timed it perfectly. There’s no better time to be in New England than the fall.”

“Oh, the foliage is just stunning, and the skies are so clear, you can see all the constellations!” Brian cranes his neck and points out the dining room window. “Look, there’s the winged horse Pegasus, and Cassiopeia, and Perseus...”

“The scenery is gorgeous! Creatively rousing!” Roger agrees.

“Oh, planning a Boston-inspired sequel, are we?” John quips. “I’m In Love With My Lobster Boat?”

“I’m In Love With My Revolutionary War Memorabilia?” Freddie suggests.

“Get a grip on my extremely unreliable and difficult to load musket...” John sings.

Freddie points his fork at him and grins. “Yours wouldn’t be so difficult, Deaky dear.”

“How long did those old muskets take to load?” Bri asks.

“About two minutes,” your father pipes cheerfully.

Freddie snorts. “Sounds about right.”

John bears the laughter with a good-natured, smug sort of smirk. I’m not bothered because I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, that look says. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He winks back.

Roger groans as he stretches his hands up towards the ceiling. “Am I really expected to play after all this?! Jesus christ. I’ve gained a stone in the past hour. Alright, one more slice of pie, then we have to get going...”

Queen has reserved your parents front-row seats at the show, as well as a limo to shuttle them there and back. While your mother fusses over whether you’ve eaten enough and what appropriate rock concert attire is—“leather and feather boas and riding crops, darling” Freddie informs her—your father circles the table snapping photographs, first with your Canon and then with his own Polaroid. You and Roger pose together, lean into each other, plant giggling kisses on each other’s cheeks. And you marvel at how a photo is a snapshot, a split second, nothing less and nothing more; that it’s instantly and mechanically captured, impersonal even, cheap to print and easy to burn. As your mother begins gathering up plates and glasses, you stand to help her.

“No no no,” Roger says, wiping the crumbs from his chin with an orange napkin. “Not allowed, Boston babe. Sit down, I’ll do it, I’ll help clean up.”

“I want to,” you insist. “I feel better when I’m moving around.” Less likely to vomit into anyone’s sweet potato casserole.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” You smile down at him fleetingly, ruffle his short bleached hair, then disappear into the kitchen.

Your mother is scrubbing plates in the bubble-filled sink, her hands turning pink under the hot water, humming Rhiannon in a bright merry voice. She’s wearing a sparkling crimson dress that reminds you of blood. Your stomach lists like a sailboat.

“I’ll wash if you want to dry,” you offer.

“I raised such a kind girl. My beautiful daughter, a future mama. Mrs. Roger Meddows Taylor.” She twirls a lock of your hair affectionately, then steps aside so you can reach into the sink. “That John Deacon is a bit strange, isn’t he?”

You resist the reflex to bristle, to snap at her; it’s not her intention to be cruel. It never is. “No, not really. He’s wonderful, he’s a genius. He’s my best friend, actually.”

“Oh alright, dear. I’m sure he’s lovely enough. He’s just so terribly quiet. He fades away next to the others. And certainly next to Roger.” She sighs, infatuated, dazzled.

You hear Roger’s voice echo in your skull: Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.

Maybe he was right about that.

You’re trying to be happy, really you are; you’re trying to fall in love with this future Roger has planned for you. But you can’t shake the gnawing sensation that—somewhere along the way—your life stopped being written by you. You’re anxious all the time; you bite your lips until they bleed and wring your ringless hands and rarely sleep. You feel restless and ineffectual and nervy, like there’s some inescapable horror crouched behind every door you open, every page you turn. You feel the opposite of free.

Your mother notes casually, drying a china plate patterned with pink roses and edged with gold: “It must get difficult sometimes, having to share him with the world.”

You gaze into the nest of pearlescent bubbles that pop around your wrists like interrupted dreams, like broken promises. “You have no idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 21st, 1977, and you’re twelve weeks pregnant.

Blood trickles down your palm, the underside of your wrist, your velveteen-soft forearm. You hold the wad of gauze against the Scottish roadie’s pouring nose. What’s this one’s name? Nick? Nate? Niall? You’ve lost track. Whoever he is, he sustained an accidental elbow to the face as the crew was unloading the band’s luggage from the tour bus and is now slumped on the marble floor of the New Orleans Ritz-Carlton, splattered with drops of blood like the freckles sprayed across his pale cheeks. Giant red bows and Christmas trees trimmed with twinkling white lights rim the lobby.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” You lift the gauze away; the bleeding has slowed considerably. You gingerly probe the bridge of his nose as the roadie moans in pain.

“You trying to kill me, lady?” he jests.

You wrap an ice pack in fresh gauze and press it against his swollen face. “It’s not broken. Keep the ice on it, apply pressure, come get me if the bleeding doesn’t stop in ten minutes. Okay? You might have black eyes but you’re gonna be fine. You’ll look extra badass for the babes at the club.”

“Okay.” The roadie smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Florence Nightingale.”

You smirk up at Roger. “Did you have to teach them that?”

“You’ve cultivated quite the reputation, love.” He grins, takes a drag off his cigarette, glances around the lobby through his opaque prescription sunglasses. And you’re struck by how pertinent he looks here, in grand rooms with chandeliers and towering ceilings, in famed cities littered across the globe. He belongs in the spotlight. He belongs to the world. He doesn’t belong to just me, and he never will.

You reach for your duffel bag, but Roger yanks it away and slings it over his own shoulder.

“Will you please stop trying to lift heavy things?!” he pleads.

“I’m pregnant, I don’t have brittle bone disease.”

“Brittle bone disease!” Freddie cries, horrified. “Is that an actual ailment?!”

John snickers. “Yes, and it’s sexually transmitted, so watch where you stick your bone.”

“Oh, ha ha ha, you are hilarious!” Freddie says, rolling his large dark eyes. “Worry about your own performance, Mr. Misfire. Bri, you’ll join us for a drink tonight, won’t you?”

“Well...” Brian hesitates, and you suspect you know why. He’s been looking forward to this stop for months, Queen’s last in the States during the News Of The World tour; after two days in New Orleans the band will fly back to London, spend the holidays there, resume the tour with shows throughout Europe beginning in April. In just a few rotations of the Earth, Brian will be back at home with Chrissie and the twins. But tonight he has plans to see the girl he calls Peaches.

“You undependable poodle,” Freddie scolds. Then, saccharinely, batting his eyelashes: “But you’ll surely come along, won’t you Nurse Nightingale?”

“Fred...I hate to disappoint, but...”

“This is unacceptable!” he exclaims. “I am distraught! Not even an orgy with spicy Cajun men will lift my spirits!”

“I doubt that,” you reply, smiling. “I’m exhausted, Freddie. This making a kid business isn’t easy.”

“Oh, but you’re not too exhausted to cart around luggage like a fucking alpaca!” Roger massages your shoulders, enfolds the slight bump of your belly with his hands, lands a series of featherlight kisses down your neck. He’s still clean, he’s still effervescent, he’s continuously devoted in a way that is unusual for him, tender and sensitive, simultaneously ecstatic for the future and nostalgic for the past. “Want me to stay?”

“For fuck’s sake!” Freddie laments.

“That’s alright. John said I can help him wrap Christmas presents for Veronica and the kids. I’m learning how to be all maternal and domestic, isn’t that exciting?”

“I’d say you’re fairly effortlessly maternal,” Roger says, rather proudly. “Want me to bring you back anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll send a roadie for chili cheese fries or something.”

“You can send them for lobster and filet mignon. Whatever you want.” He reaches into the pocket of his fitted black jeans and pulls out a small ring box.

“Roger...?”

He opens it, grinning, and taps an antique gold ring with a ruby stone into his calloused palm. “I found this at a shop in Miami. You remember the first time we were ever there? March of 1975. Hotel room with a view that looked out onto the beach, taking photos on the balcony with the ocean crashing behind you, feeding the seagulls chips until the bitches started attacking us.”

“I never forget.” And that’s true; there have been times you wish you could, but you don’t.

Roger takes your left hand and slips the ring onto your wedding finger. Then he lifts your knuckles to his lips, bites them gently, leaves faint burning indents in the flesh.

“I love it,” you breathe, turning your hand back and forth, watching the lights from the Christmas trees glimmer off the ruby. It feels real in a way that sharing a future with Roger hasn’t for a long time.

“Now don’t get all emotional over it. It doesn’t mean anything, you know.” Roger winks and lands a parting kiss on your forehead. Then he passes your duffel bag to a roadie, who vanishes with it into an elevator. “Deaks, you’ll take care of my girl?”

“I always do,” John replies.

“Have fun,” you tell Roger, beaming up at him. “But not too much fun.” This could work. This could really work.

Freddie crosses himself like one of Veronica’s Catholic great aunts. “Depravity? Us? Never in a million years, darling.” Then he hooks an arm around Roger and leads him towards the glass hotel doors. They’re engulfed by a crowd of Queen’s roadies, laughing and shoving each other playfully: Ratty Hince, Paul Prenter, Chris Taylor (dubbed Crystal by the band), Brian Spencer, John Harris, others whose names you haven’t committed to memory yet.

“You ready, Emily Post?” John asks, heading towards the nearest elevator, and you follow him.

In his hotel room is a messy stack of gifts accumulated over the past month and a half from tour stops all over the United States: tiny model Liberty Bells from Philadelphia, Yankees baseball caps from New York City, a slot machine that spits out gumballs from Las Vegas, red socks embroidered with the logo of—what else?—the Boston Red Sox, NASA astronaut action figures from Houston, teddy bears wearing Cubs t-shirts from Chicago, plushies from the Miami aquarium: a hammerhead shark for Laszlo, a dolphin for Anna, and an octopus for the newest Deacon due in mid-February. You and John sit on the floor together in a flurry of tubes of Christmas-themed wrapping paper, stick-on bows, name labels, greeting cards, and pens. John flips through the tv channels until he finds It’s A Wonderful Life. You send a roadie to get dinner from a New Orleans-based fast food chain called Popeyes, and you take leisurely breaks between gift wrapping to chomp on crispy chicken wings and biscuits and mini apple pies and to guzzle down towering cups of Southern-style sweet tea.

“Octopuses are gender-neutral, right?” John asks, floundering as he tries to wrap all eight tentacles individually.

“Totally.” You’ve been brainstorming how best to package the slot machine for fifteen minutes. You take another contemplative bite of a flaky biscuit. “These kids are gonna be super confused when it comes time to pick a favorite team for the World Series.”

“Well obviously they’ll have to be Boston fans or I’ll disown them.”

You sigh contently. “This is just too adorable. I want to wake up early on Christmas morning and open presents with some hyperactive children. Please adopt me into your family.”

“Done. You’re in.”

You laugh. “I don’t think Slavic Jesus thinks highly of polygamy.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who said anything about a second wife? You can be the live-in nanny but also the filthy secret mistress. Take it or leave it. Final offer.”

“Alright, Mr. Misfire. But you’ll have to fuck me for at least slightly longer than two minutes.”

Oh god, I should not have said that.

John stares at you. You stare back. And something flies between you, something like a pop of static electricity or a firing neuron, something hot and lightning-quick. There’s blood flushing his cheeks, but it’s not quite embarrassment; you know because the same heat is swirling in yours.

Stop, you order yourself.

But it’s too late, now you’re thinking about it, what it would be like: what he would feel like, taste like. Not like wildfire, reckless and consuming, disaster nipping at its heels. Something different, something constant and dependable and soulful, something that feels like home anywhere in the world.

It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about me. You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about me.

John grabs a sheet of crinkling wrapping paper patterned with chortling Santa Claus faces and drags it over his lap to conceal the sizable bulge growing there in his white pants. You pretend—unconvincingly, you’re sure—not to notice.

Finally, he chuckles uneasily. “However you want it.”

“I’m so sorry. That was wildly inappropriate. I’m hormonal and stupid.”

“I kind of like you hormonal and stupid.”

“Well don’t get used to it, this is a temporary condition.”

“You really can come over,” John says. “On Christmas morning. You and Roger can come over if you want to. The kids love you both. And honestly neither of them are old enough to remember this year anyway, so no pressure if you fuck up Christmas by being accidentally slutty or whatever.”

The smile ripples through the muscles of your face, uncoiling all the tension there. He really does make everything better. “Okay. But you have to promise to behave too.”

He shrugs coyly, lights a cigarette, watches you as he exhales smoke. “You’ve always said I have game.”

There are voices out in the hallway, uproarious laughter, the pounding of irregular footsteps, thumps against the walls. You can hear Freddie giggling: “Rog, darling, come on, get it together...!”

John furrows his brow at you. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that look. What John means is: Is he okay?

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you reply. He’s been fine all tour.

And then, more desperately: He HAS to be fine. Not just for me anymore.

“Rog?!” Freddie shrieks, and now the voices are louder, more numerous. There’s one massive thud. Someone screams for help.

You and John scramble to your feet. You snatch your kit off the dresser and bolt out into the hallway. Roger is sprawled on the floor in the center of a reeling crowd, unconscious, gasping for air, his skin a starved bluish. Freddie and Crystal are hovering over him, shouting and horrified.

“Oh my god,” John says.

“Call an ambulance,” you tell him, and John sprints back into his hotel room.

You shove Freddie and Crystal aside and kneel beside Roger, jostle him awake, pry open his eyes and shine your flashlight into them. His pupils are pinpricks. His breathing is shallow and uneven. You close your fingers around his right wrist; his skin is drenched with sweat. Roger’s pulse is erratic, fading.

“Roger, can you hear me?”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs. Then he blacks out again.

“What did he take?” you pitch at Freddie.

Freddie and Crystal exchange a glance, hesitating.

“If you don’t tell me what it was he’s going to die, what did he take?!”

“He wasn’t in the same room as us,” Freddie says, his voice quaking. “We don’t know—”

“So you left him alone,” you seethe. “Of course you fucking did.”

Roger’s hand shoots up and seizes your shirt, twisting the fabric in his gnarled fingers. “Speedball,” he rasps. His vivid blue eyes—like bruises, like veins, like cold rain—are huge and bloodshot and frantic. He’s begging for his life. He’s begging you to save him. “The guy said it was a speedball.”

You know exactly what a speedball is; it’s your job to know things like that, to know all the chemical combinations that errant rock stars love destroying themselves with. “A speedball has heroin in it, Roger!”

“I can’t breathe,” he sighs dispassionately, as if it doesn’t bother him at all. His eyes are glassy now, unseeing.

“Don’t you fucking die on me!” You rake through your kit for the vial of Naloxone that you thought you’d never need. That’s not for bands like Queen, you remember thinking when the record company insisted you carry it. That’s for people like The Rolling Stones or Black Sabbath or maybe even Fleetwood Mac on a bad day, but not Queen. Not my boys. Not my Roger.

Oh, but has he ever really been mine?

You pull a syringe out of your kit, throw off the cap, and hold the vial of Naloxone upside down. You stab the needle through the rubber stopper and measure out 1cc—an entire syringe’s worth—of the drug that can reverse opioid overdoes. CAN, not will. It doesn’t always work.

Freddie is sobbing as Crystal drapes an arm over his shoulder and turns him away. So they don’t have to watch. So they don’t have to see him die.

You don’t have the luxury of not watching.

John is back. “What can I do?” he asks.

“Shake him. Keep him awake. Hit him if you have to.”

John kneels, cups Roger’s face in his hands, smacks his cheek each time Roger begins to nod off. Roger gazes up at him numbly, breathing in haphazard wheezes. “Stay with me, Rog. That’s it. Stay with me, you’re gonna be fine...”

You pinch a tiny roll of fat in Roger’s upper arm and jab the needle in. You push down the plunger and 1cc of Naloxone vanishes from the syringe barrel as it surges into Roger’s disordered bloodstream. You toss the syringe away and rub his arm as crimson blood beads from the injection wound.

“Come on, Roger,” you beg him. “Come on, Roger, please...”

You fill another syringe and inject it an inch below the first puncture mark. Roger’s eyes—those eyes that you’ve been trying to claw your way out of since you first saw them across a hospital room in the June of 1974—flutter closed. His sweated rib cage stills.

“Roger?!” John roars, shaking him. “Roger, Rog, wake up!”

“Roger!” you scream.

He sucks down a sudden breath—deep, clear, life-giving—and his intense blue eyes fly open.

“Oh thank god!” you cry, clutching your chest. “John, help me, help me get him up...”

Together with Fred and Crystal you drag Roger to his feet, force him to walk, parade him up and down the hallway until the paramedics arrive and ferry him away—still dazed and ghastly pale, still grasping for you and muttering things you don’t understand—and then your adrenaline rush evaporates and you crumble to the floor, one shaking hand covering your face, the other on the small swell of your belly.

I’m so sorry, little guy, little lady. You deserve better than us.

“I have to go after him,” you tell John when he reaches for you, trying to lift you off the floor. “I have to make sure he’s okay, the Naloxone, it could wear off before the heroin does, and it...it...it can stop an opioid overdose but speedballs have coke in them too and he could still have effects from that...”

“Okay, no problem, we can go, come on, we’ll get a cab and we’ll be right behind them.”

And you remember what Roger once told you as the planet rolled into 1975, under streetlights casting islands of luminance in an ocean of cold darkness: But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?

But Roger was wrong.

My life does feel like a cage. It feels exactly like a cage.

You sputter weakly: “He’s not, he isn’t, he can’t...”

“What?” John presses. “Slow down. Breathe. Tell me.”

“He’s never going to change, John,” you whisper. The weight of the ruby ring is heavy on your trembling left hand. “He’s never going to change.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 15th, 1978, and you’re nineteen weeks pregnant.

The kitchen phone rings, and you answer. The date for your twenty-week ultrasound is circled on the calendar in red ink. “Hello?”

“Do you need to get out of the house?” John asks. “Because I really need to get out of the house.”

You do, incidentally. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and Roger did everything right: a bouquet of pink roses and carnations waiting on the kitchen table when you woke up, a new Ferrari parked in the driveway, a candlelit dinner at Mon Plaisir. It was a little too right, actually, like Roger was trying to coax you into serenity, like he was proving how illogical it would be to consider ever being unhappy with him, like he was making up for something; and that’s how things feel a lot of the time, now that you think of it. Roger is fine, mostly. He’s home, usually. He’s clean until he isn’t, and then afterwards he’s so dazzlingly radiant and kind that you can’t stand the thought of not being there to help if he needs you, can’t remember your frustration or your anger half as much as your fear of losing him. And it’s incredible how good you’ve gotten at pushing the memory of that News Of The World headline out of your mind, like it was something from a soap opera or a cheap romance novel, like it was just a slice of scandalous fiction that happened to somebody else. That’s the way the body works too, isn’t it? Wounds close over, livers regenerate, old cells slough away and reveal fresh tissue beneath with no recollection of the pain that comes tangled up with all the other eventualities of existence. Times like Valentine’s Day are a revival, a resurrection: brand new cells, a healed fracture, a shot of Naloxone to restore the blood to equilibrium. But today is not Valentine’s Day, and Roger isn’t home. You aren’t entirely sure where he is, and you don’t know if you’d want to be. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up. I can show you my wicked new ride.”

“I’m intrigued. You’ll have to let me drive it one day.”

“What, directly into a cop car?”

“You’re awful and I hate you,” John says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “See you at 8? There’s a new disco in Soho I’m dying to check out.”

“Sure thing, I just have to make myself glamorous first. It’s quite a process now that I have all the elegance and svelteness of a large marine mammal. But I’ll rise to the occasion. I’ll be the most attractive whale you’ve ever seen.”

He chuckles. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

You roll up to John’s Putney house in your maroon Ferrari, the convertible top down despite the biting cold, a bomber jacket—just a tad too tight to zip up over your bump—concealing your short black dress. Pregnancy has finally started to look good on you, aforementioned marine-mammal-ness notwithstanding: your hair is thick and gleaming, your skin clear, your face fuller and emitting a mysterious, ethereal sort of glow. You check your hair and makeup in the rear view mirror as John jogs out of his front door. He stops dead in the driveway.

“Wow.”

You pat the passenger’s seat. “Hop in, felon.”

“He bought you a freaking Ferrari?!”

“Am I not worth it?” you joke, flipping your hair.

John slides into the car. “How do I become married to Roger Taylor? Tell me your secrets.”

“Well, to receive a Ferrari, you’ll probably have to get pregnant with his firstborn child too.”

“Ahhh. A minor obstacle.”

You laugh as you spin out of the driveway and cruise towards downtown London. Then you peer over at John, really taking him in, reading him like heart rates or units of measurement inked to the barrel of a syringe. His elbow is propped up on the window sill, his chin nestled in the heel of his hand, his blue-grey eyes unfocused as they gaze out into the night sky and streetlights that flicker by like the episodic flashes of a firefly. “Are you okay, John?” you ask seriously.

“Yeah,” he replies, a prospect that seems implausible.

“I’m glad you called.” You both know what that means: Roger isn’t home, I don’t know where he is, I don’t know when he’s coming back or what condition he’ll be in when he does.

John smirks wryly. “You have a shit husband. I am a shit husband. We should stick together, people like you and me.”

The disco is a small place called Lo Asilo with neon blue lights rimming the entrance way like vines laced through a trellis. John orders a Manhattan for himself, goes back and forth with the bartender for a while about the virgin drink options, ends up passing you a non-alcoholic raspberry mojito.

“I love it,” you pronounce after a tentative sip. This kid loves fruit. And sugar. And you feel a abrupt groundswell of affection for that sometimes inconvenient, frequently anxiety-inducing little person who temporarily shares your blood and bones: who they are, who they one day will be. These moments are coming more and more often, as your future solidifies in some ways and becomes more imprecise in others.

“You’re almost halfway done,” John says, pointing at your belly like he can read your mind.

You sigh. “Do we have to talk about me?”

“We definitely can’t talk about me.” He studies you for a moment, makes mental notes like someone browsing through archaeological artifacts in a museum. Then he realizes: “You don’t want to have to stay home.”

You nod, downing your sort-of-mojito. No offense, kid, but I could really use some mind-numbing inebriation right now.

“Because you don’t trust him...?”

“It’s not quite that,” you reply. “I can’t stand the thought of not being there if something happened to him. If something happened to any of you. If I wasn’t there to at least try to help and someone ended up...you know...” Goddammit, I’m so much more sensitive these days. You force it out. “If someone ended up dying, I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”

“No one’s going to die, love,” he says gently.

“People die all the time. Especially rock stars. Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Murcia, McIntosh, Bolin. I could go on. There will be more names a year from now. Maybe some we recognize.”

“What do you want me to do? You want me to haul him off to rehab? You want me to handcuff him to his hotel bed every night we’re on tour? I’ll do it if you think that would help. I’ll do whatever you want. Obviously I don’t want to lose him either. But I’ve never known Roger to be someone you could force into anything.”

“No, he’s definitely not,” you agree softly, in surrender.

The opening notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Go Your Own Way rumble from the stereo. John knocks back the end of his Manhattan and sets the glass on the bar.

“Alright, congratulations, you get your wish.” He grins, holding out his hand. “We don’t have to talk about you anymore.”

“I’m warning you, I am zero percent graceful in my current state.”

“I’ll manage somehow.”

“Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?”

John leads, pushing through the crowd to a spot near the center of the kaleidoscopic dance floor. Then he knots his fingers through yours, sways with the music, dances comically sluggishly as you struggle to keep up, twirls you randomly until you’re giggling against him, blushing and not thinking about Roger or the tour or your impending career change at all; and you suspect John isn’t thinking about Veronica either. You belt out the lyrics at the top of your lungs, flouncing around like an extremely ungainly Stevie Nicks, and after a moment John joins you, pumping his fist in the air:

“You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day...”

And it feels good. It feels more than good. It feels almost like being free.

Lindsay Buckingham’s guitar solo splits through the fog-filled room, and your smile begins to fade, recedes like the frothing ocean waves at low tide. And you think, more clearly and more inauspiciously than you ever have in your life: Something’s wrong.

The body knows when it nears catastrophe. There’s a primal dread that sparks up in the blood and nerves and endocrine system, seeps from your pores like smoke, cloaks you in that bleak, biological premonition. Dogs can smell it, can be trained to alert people before that nascent calamity manifests into a cardiac arrest or diabetic coma or asthma attack or stroke; and humans can feel it when that inevitable devastation creeps close enough, when it sharpens its fangs and scrapes them down the jugular. You’ve never truly been able to understand that before. But you recognize it now.

There’s cold sweat springing up on your skin like goosebumps. There’s a stormy rush of blood pounding in your ears. You can’t remember the name of the club, the city, the type of car Roger bought you for Valentine’s Day, the stone gleaming in your ring. The air that you wrench into your lungs is thin and fleeting, without the relief of oxygen. There’s an indescribably heavy iron twist of fear buried in your guts.

John freezes in the middle of the dance floor. “What?” he asks, alarmed.

There’s pain; sudden, sharp, low. Your eyes follow it. There’s blood snaking down your bare thighs. There’s indigo darkness crumbling around the edges of your vision as you sink to the floor. Your knees bruise against cold tile.

Someone is screaming for help; you aren’t sure who. But you reach for them, because they sound so irrevocably strong, because they sound like home. Your fingertips collide with John’s leather jacket.

“Make it stop,” you choke out through bared teeth, as claws of glass and barbed wire tear at where your future once lived. The agony is unnatural, razored, almost surgical.

“I can’t. Here, we’re gonna get you help, hold on, hold on to me—”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you sob into John’s neck. His skin is stubbled and dusted with nicotine and flare-hot. He’s trying to drag you to your feet, shouting over his shoulder for someone to call an ambulance. “I don’t want this anymore, I don’t want any of it. I don’t want to see the world. I want to go home.”

“Don’t say that, everything’s going to be okay, they’re coming, listen to me, listen to me, I’m going to get you help—”

“It’s too late,” you whisper. And every light in the world blinks out.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 16th, 1978, and you’re not pregnant at all.

You’re a registered nurse, and so you understand perfectly the terms that the doctors use when they explain to you why it happened, after they do the ultrasound to make sure the miscarriage was complete; when they tell you why it was doomed from the start. Stage 4 endometriosis. Placental abruption. Difficult to conceive, nearly impossible to carry to term. An open and shut case. That’s the genetic lottery, and some people roll straight sevens, blood-red sevens rimmed with fool’s gold.

What you have a harder time understanding is how this could have happened to you. How is it possible to have all of that organic poison building inside of you, all that latent ruin, and yet not know it? To have never had any symptoms besides slightly-more-annoying-than-average periods? To have a nursery set up in one of the five extraneous bedrooms—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper, to be exact—with a crib your child will never use, never peer out of with their tiny fists curled around the wooden bars, never cry out to you in the middle of the night from? To have a list of names scribbled on a notepad stuck to the refrigerator—Roger favors deeply Anglophile possibilities like Arthur and Jasper and Alice, while you tend towards names with a Southern European flair like Aurelia, Callista, Felix, Augustus, although you both quite like the idea of incorporating some variation of John—that you suddenly have no use for? To have to inform your husband, your parents, your friends that there is no baby, that there most likely never will be, and that it’s entirely your fault: So terribly sorry, due to a genetic glitch my womb is rendered inhospitable, we’ll have to leave that ultimate trophy of womanhood off the shelf indefinitely I’m afraid.

You’re in and out through the night. The dreams are murky and fragmented and ominous, jolting you awake four times an hour. John never leaves, except to periodically phone the Surrey house from the nurse’s station. And there’s pain now, of course, even through the haze of the morphine drip—your uterus cramping down to collapse the void, your head splitting from the shock and hormonal bedlam—but it’s almost like that pain belongs to someone else, someone you might have heard of but don’t know especially well. The pain doesn’t surprise you. What surprises you is the totality of the darkness that rolls over you like a quilt, like a second skin.

Shouldn’t I feel at least some infinitesimal amount of relief, of liberation? Shouldn’t I feel free?

“I don’t feel free,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and very quiet.

“What?” John leans into you, takes your hand in his, lays his palm on your forehead and smooths back your hair. Harsh morning sunlight streams in through the window. “What did you say?”

“I don’t feel free at all. I just feel empty.”

His greyish eyes are slick and anguished. “I am so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice breaking.

You whisper: “He’s never going to be able to love me now.”

“Shhhhh, don’t,” John pleads. “He’s always loved you. As much as he can, and in the way that he can.”

“You’ve been here all night.”

“Of course.” And he hasn’t managed to tell Roger. Which means Roger hasn’t come home yet.

You shake your head groggily. “No, you have your own family. You have to go home.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he says tersely.

“John, you have to go home. You have to call at least. Veronica could have gone into labor or something.”

“No, seriously, it’s fine, she pops out one a year no problem. I’m staying.”

A scalding tear slinks down your cheek. “You’re lucky to have her.”

“They must have you on a lot of drugs.”

You laugh, then begin to cry.

“Hey, don’t do that, please don’t do that, shhhh...”

John climbs into the hospital bed and you fold into him, burrow into his warmth that smells like cigarettes and dusky cologne and Manhattans, sob against his chest as he locks his arms around you and pulls you in until there’s no space, no air, no line between you at all.

“You have to be okay,” he murmurs, his lips to your forehead. “I need you to be okay for me. Because when I was messed up I didn’t get better for me, I didn’t do it for me, I got better for you. So now you need to get better too, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, not meaning it at all.

And he makes you promise again and again until you drift back to sleep with his steady heartbeat drumming against your palm, just loud enough to keep the dreams away.

~~~~~~~~~~

John finally reaches Roger at 9:47 a.m. Roger arrives at the hospital twenty minutes later, his hair a chaotic tangle, his eyes shielded by prescription sunglasses, still wearing the sapphire blue suit he left the house in the night before, his tie undone and several buttons missing from his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Roger begins. “I was at this party and met some guys who wanted to collaborate on my solo album, and it turned into a whole...oh, fuck, it doesn’t matter. Is she—?”

John grabs him, pushes him against the hallway wall, yanks off Roger’s sunglasses and pries open his eyes. Roger flinches, but doesn’t struggle.

“What—?”

“I’m making sure you’re not high.” John observes normal pupils and shoves Roger away, disgusted. “Get in there. She needs you.”

“You’ve done a lot for us,” Roger says.

“It’s mutual.”

“Thank you.” There are tears in Roger’s crystalline blue eyes. “Thank you so much, John.”

John nods towards the hospital room. “Just go.”

She wakes up when she hears the door open, and she knows it’s Roger instantly. Of course she does. Everyone knows the way a room changes when Roger walks into it, the way he lights up people and places like wildfire, the way he gets humans addicted to his innate magnetism the same way some are hooked on coke or alcohol or heroin. John isn’t that kind of man, and he knows it. He will never be that kind of man.

“I’m so sorry,” she tells Roger.

Roger shakes his head, cradling her face in his hands. “Baby, I’m not mad. I don’t blame you. I’m not mad at you.”

John watches as she explains everything, as Roger embraces her, as he says all the right things, all those beautiful and hopeful and effortlessly spellbinding things, as she begins—slowly, yes, but unmistakably—to light up again like rising sunlight glinting off quicksilver waves.

And only then does John leave.

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lunavadash-creates · 3 years

Note

Have I ever told you that you are the sweetest cupcake ever?❤️ It’s impossible to not smile at your posts! I sincerely thank you for all your sympathy towards me! My heart just melts! It’s so rare to find such a pure and kind soul like you. Please, don’t change. Ever.

You made me worried a bit with your last paragraph - maybe I am oversensitive, but I am really worried. It breaks my heart honestly, I feel like you belittle yourself. Babe, you are wonderful! I am not saying this just for you to feel better, but because you REALLY are. Think for a moment about things you’ve already achieved! Darling, you graduated! It’s really something. It is even more something when you study two different majors at the same time and study in language school at weekends. It’s real hardcore! I am proud of you. SO FREAKING MUCH! You did so well and you did so much! Please, be aware of it. You are incredibly talented and creative. YOU are hard working, not me. And you know what? Please, have a proper rest. Don’t overwork yourself anymore. You have to have some space just for you. You have to rest and regain your balance. Don’t think about writing as your duty. I know you feel responsible for all requests you have. But they really won’t run away or disappear. They all will be waiting to be written when you rest. Don’t pressure yourself, I beg you. You know I love your writing. We all here love it. But we love you even more. Taking a break it’s not bad. It’s necessary. When you rest you will be able to concentrate, you will have a fresh mind and new ideas. Just remember that you are a priority.

Speaking of your visit to Prague. OMG, THIS ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK!! I envy you soooooo much! I wish I could see it by myself someday! Thank you so much for the photo! And geez, you are the very first person admitting that museums are wonderful! No one amongst my friends likes them and it hurts so much, because I couldn’t go to the Uffizi museum and Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. I would love to go to any museum with you then! Museum of sex toys sounds really interesting, mostly because it’s not about modern toys. Like, I would never thought that people could have such rich sex life! I heard that in Amsterdam and Paris there are similar museums. But! I bet you would love icelandic museum of punk. Ohh, I am pretty sure you would enjoy it! It’s really small, because well..Its former public toilet. Buuuut, if you like non-obvious museums this is definitely for you. Whale museum was also pretty good. Or I enjoyed it just because I love whales. I was also in a museum of teddy bears in Seoul and it was the cutest museum I have ever been in! Tell me more about that vegan restaurant! What good did you eat? I am not vege myself, but I avoid eating meat on a daily basis so it’s easy to make me excited with such things!

I am not sure if I am better. I mean, I changed my mind about being able to sleep all day. I am not able to sleep at all at the moment. I am tired and my eyelids are so heavy, but sleep never comes. I guess insomnia hits again, it's a never-ending circle. But I am concerned about your leg! I guess you had spoken with doctor since you got xray and usg. Did they say anything? Any ideas of what it could possibly be? It has to be something serious if you have problems with walking! How did you manage to go sightseeing in Prague? Babe, please, take care of yourself! And what does “health problem AGAIN” mean?! Have you had such a problem before?? It scares me like.. we just started adulthood? My friend sneezed and it made him lay in bed for 6 days not being able to move. Literally.

Yeah, I was in South Korea, but please, do not perceive me as your role model. Gods, it would be a terrible decision, really. But, I would love to share some stories with you if you want! I know it's a popular destination these days because of kpop. I used to listen to it, but I think a few years ago kpop was better? More interesting? Now I’m more into khh, but I think I can’t say that I’m into it anymore.

Talking about music! I discovered two new songs and I bet you know them already, but for me it was huge woah woah woah! First of it - Sabaton. Thay covered Metallica’s For Whom The Bell Tolls and they did it so good! Secondly - The Heart Asks Pleasure First. They basically made their own song based on one of my favourite piano songs. Oh my.. it’s sooo good!

And still talking about music! I just wanted to say that I also love our Wombo edits! That one with Ezio singing Stressed out was perfect! Mr Auditore looked very believably singing it. I liked the one with Edward and Haytham. I don’t know the song but it had such a christmas vibe! It made me think of Edward and Shay singing Last Christmas or some other shitty Christmas song together. Why them? No idea. I love Altair, but your latest headcanons could make me love them even more.

And! I just wanted to tell you that you inspired me to take japanese lessons on Duolingo. I am aware that such app won’t help me with learning such a language, but at least I can tell you that katakana sucks. Gods, I hate it so much. Hiragana is so pleasurable to learn. And I know katakana is visually similar, but it is a no no from me. I have learnt some basic kanji signs. And I just admire you so much more.

I hope you will have wonderful and peaceful week, Babe! Once again, please take care of yourself. Remember to have proper rest, sleep at least 8 hours and drink water! I hope your leg will be better soon!

🔪

Hey Knifey! I finally have the right mind set to respond to this ask!

So first of all thank you. You always make me blush with your kind words and I have no idea how to react! I want to squeaze you in a hug and give you all the sweets in the world!

As for the rest. You see i have always worked to hard on studying, so hard it actually burned out everything inside so now all i want to do i nothing! But i cant, i really want to go back to spending my free time in more creative way!

Omg Knifey! Finally i met a museum lover! And gods i want to visit them all! And you know? That Icelandinc museum sounds like such a goal, i want to go there 🥺 and Seoul museum of teddy bears?! I want to go there!

Honestly I love all museums and generally history. I enjoy visiting ruins of castles and villages, going to museums of everything! Art, machines, objects! There are always so many things and so many different ways to find the inspiration! And I always take so many photos for 'future references'. Some time ago i was in a gardens which showed different time of gardens of the world and there was this amazing exhibition of demons from Slavic mithology. That was so awesome! As well as Japanese garden!

In began restaurant i have this fried soy bites in some sweet-spicy sauce. So tasty! Im trying to recreate this recipe but so far its 1:0 for the soy :/

As for my leg. Its swollen AF bht i just... Put on my shoe and pretended it didnt exist. I can walk in good shoes but still im worried. As for that little again... I generally have some weird health issues. I had 5 surgeries for different stuff (spine, tumor, nose) so like... Generally i am healthy... Or at least i was until thst damned foot decided to show off. Its been 4 weeks and im still looking for a solution, running different tests and all. Hopefully they will figure out whag is going on.

Yes TELL ME ALL THE STORIES ABOUT KOREA.! I love stories, tell me everything!

Tbh i never listen ed to k-pop. I guess its just nkt my type of music but I enjoy some Japanese and Chinese songs (one i like is Arrogant by Xiao Zhang). I know songs you sent me and gods they are amazing! I love sabaton, rock/metal im general but I listen to all kind of music. Like Italian soundtrack from Winx, music from burlesque, Dragonforce, shanties. If there are k-pop songs you like you can always send then to me! Ill gladly listen to them all!

Im glad you like those wombos i guess i should make more! 😂😂

And gods. Katakana. 4 years of learning Japanese and I still need katakana board to remember those signs! And tbh i feel like Japanese duolingo has some mistakes ;/ but for Japanese i used lingodeer app and it was nice!

Knifey Im very sorry you have troubles sleeping. Is there something you can do to make it easier for you? Maybe you can take some melatonin pills? Maybe you are stressed? Can you maybe contact doctor, maybe they can help? I dont want anything bad to happen to you! Please take care of yourself? Pretty please?

Love you so much Knifey, you are such a sunshine and I just want you to be happy and healthy!

#Ask #Knifey #knifey my beloved

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ramdomddadds · 6 years

Text

Dream daddy ask: dino-nerd dadsona

He was a nerd wasn’t he?

So, um... holly motherfucking cow, I just remembered how much I love acurate, updated dinosaur stuff, and how it could fit the dream daddy fandom?

so, yeah.

I know I’m such a nerd and I’m so late to the fandom but I had fun writing this and here it is

-ROBERT

He notices how fast you get to withling, and how you always make some animal.

He also notices how interested you are in anything supernatural, But always fiting the science factor in there. Like how it could be that jakelopes exist, and they could crosbreed with hares but not bunnyes becouse they are too diferent or how the yeti could be a distant relative of the orangutan...

Or how you are pasionated about movie making too, but prefer realistic stuff, but he says nothing, because he likes silence.

Then, one day, he comes over for movie and pizza, and he finds it: notebooks.

Notebooks all over the house.

There are three different notebooks on the stack of the tea table. One, opened, on the big table at the dinner room. Another one somewere on the kitchen, and many, intersected with books, on the shelves across the house.

With the excuse that it was open and in the same room, he takes the one in the big table, and flips over it.

Its filled with drawings, sketches, notes and doodles of people, planst and animals.

There’s him, and betsy, so thats… there. Theres a lot of Amanda… and many, many animals.

It calls his atention that many of the drawings fit conversations they had.

MC hadn’t hear speak of the dover ghost before he met Robert, but here they were: pages and pages of sketches and different designs of how the dover ghost may look like.

Some of them were more animal-like, others where very human, and other were made of shadow, the mark of the pencil, smugled with the author’s fingers to make it look like smoke. A chill climbed up Robert’s spine when he came across a particular drawing that did look just the way he remembered it, dragging something behind.

There were steps behind him.

“…Robert?”

Ups. MC was back in the room, and he had his nose deep within the sketchbook. Robert concentrated in another drawing, one that was very common, and odd.

Robert lifted his gaze.

“…dinosausr, with feathers?”

“Oh fuck, Robert! Uh…”

Robert held his gaze, smirking

“Yes. Yes, ok? Dinosaurs with feathers. I can explain it”

Robert closed the notebook, but held it as he crosed his legs, leaning in the table

“Im listening”

And he kept listening as MC went on and on, telling him how come dinosaurs actually had feathers, and the remains of them that could still be found in birds, and so many little fascinating facts, with such passion, similar to when Robert himself told intrinsek made up stories.

He smiled. This could be so much fun

-DAMIEN

He was delighted, with MC’s appreciation of his abode. He even said he felt sorry for the dead butterflyes, but still appreciated the beauty of his colection, and the work that went into it.

As soon as they were sitting at the couch, he had asked for the skulls placed across the room.

They walked over to them and talked about fosils. MC tried to guess the species and origin of the bones, and if he did not get the exact thing, he could deduce a lot from looking at them.He took a bit longer to mention the feathers issue. It was nice to have interests in common with Damien and he didn’t want to ruin it with the stupid argument of the feathers.

Of course the day came. They went to the movies, and Damien turned out to be very scared! MC held his hand and rambled on and on of how unrealistic they were, and why some choices were made, and later on the conversation developed into a very popular, clasic movie:

Jurassic park.

“Most raptor species were smaller but there was one or two species the size of the ones in the movie, in wich they were inspired… but they had feathers, all of them, including the T-rex”

“Wait, what?”

“Ups. Uh… see…”

And it was down hill from there.

-CRAIG

When MC got to the BQ and saw Craig waving from across the yard, he recogniced an SOS call. His buddy needed him.

“Dude, I have no idea what is going on”

MC listened quietly for a moment and then leaned onto Craig and wispered to him

“Moustachasaurus is asking a simple question. Rastasaurodon misinterprets it and makes stuff way more complicated thatn it is. Both monsters engage in an eternal loop of bloodshed, a battle of giants. Is the dress blue or yellow? Are best cats or dogs? Pineapple or pineappleless?”

Craig gigles and covers his mouth, wile looking at the two men arguing in front of him.

Hugo tells Mat why he thinks you can not compare two pictures from different moments in history, but when Mat repeats the question, down they go again.

“Moustachasaurus displays his extense knolege of taking pics throu the ages and Rastasaurodon tries to scape, but Moustachasaurus attacks from behind and they engage in tragic battle again. It must be mating season or something”

Craig breaks into laughter, distracting the two men with glasses, and pretends he was having an innocent conversation with MC

“Do you remember how into dinosaurs we were?”

Oh no

He’s got a funny, smug look. Its a trap! ABORT! ABORT!

“eh… were?”

“Bro”

“Broooo what do you think the tyranosaurus rex did with those tiny arms?”

“Don’t do it bro. I found out. You won’t like it”

“I need to know bro”

“noo”

“Tell me, MC Tell me…”

Craig held him by the shirt and roughly wispered in his ear

“What were those tiny claws for?”

“Mhhh huu aaaah FEATHERS”

Craig stepped back, shock written all over his face

“Bro… not you too”

“Im sorry Craig. It is true”

“No… its impossible. It can not be!”

“The t-rex had feathers. He probabbly had fluffy and colofull arms for display, when fighting for terrytory… and mating”

“Nooooo!”

“I would never lie to you, bro. It is true”

“…the velociraptor too?”

“…specially the velociraptor”

-JOSEPH

MC tried not to talk about it in front of Joseph. He just didn’t know how he would take it, being religious and all. Until…

Joseph has a yatch. OMG. He has a yacht.

Before they got off the shore, MC was already creeping him out.

“I just love the sea. It holds so many misteries… do you have interest in all of the marine life? Why would you own a boat if not?”

“hehe, I just enjoy the fantasy of sailing aways into the sunset… just the sea and I”

“But its not just the sea and you. There’s the giant squid. You knew that? its real. They are out there”

“Shh, don’t be afraid. I will protect you”

“No, Im not afraid, Im fascinated! There’s so much we don’t know about the sea, I mean, it is the origin of all life…!”

And then, an akward silence

…he was nervous, ok?

“uh… I mean, after God put it there, of course”

“…right”

“…sorry. There’s not a door we can close and open again this time”

Joseph laughts, maybe to make it a bit less akward

“Actually, speaking of marine life, we may see whales”

“Whales!”

“And dolphins”

“Oh my god, really? Do you see them ofthen?”

“Yeah. You are interested on them? you know they can be cruel right? They drown theyr babys for fun…”

“Oh no, they don’t. Dolphins are some of the most inteligent and social creatures out there. If they ever do that is as a punishent to a misbehabing child, or to teach them to survive when they have trouble. Of course they can go mad or try murder too but it is…”

Joseph was staring at him in disbelief

“…rare. …uh. …yeah”

“Wow”

“hmh. Did you know dinosaurs had feathers? Why do you think they died?”

“…what?”

-MAT

Mat is such a dork. And he babbles. Its adorable! I guess I feel less self-concious near someone who’s also self-concious.

…ok.

He starts talking about music. I don’t know much about music, but it is nice and sweet and Mat knows lots of stuff and it brings memories from a while back, so it is easy to listen and just roll with it.

Speaking of wich.

Retro music reminds me of retro stuff.

And that reminds me of Dinosaurs, and how awful and fake they looked back then.

“What you talking about, man, dinosaurs are cool. …I think”

“Yeah, but, compare the ones in black and white movies with Jurassic park”

“Oh, yeah. Thats the stuff”

“Ok, now let me tell you: jurassic park is now outdated too. Dinosaurs did not look like that”

“what!?”

Mat lays down and listens in awe to me babling abut the found proof that dinosaurs had feathers, and not only that, but also also spikes and colorfull crests and shiny scales, and the misterious noises they may had made. Even the spinoaurus from the third movie, turns out it didn’t walk on two feet. I start realising Im babling a bit too much, but he just looks at me with his sweet, big brown eyes and smiles

“maaaan. I feel so old”

“well, look at the bright side. Not as old as those fossiles”

-HUGO

Going to the acuarium with Hugo was an exciting adventure. And I got to awe a bunch of kids with my extense trivia about penguins, while he got some kid out of the penguin enclosure. How did she get in there? oh well.

Trivia nights were also fun. Hugo and I make a good team and there’s lots of cheese!

It was the dawn of a new era. It really started the time the quizz master got some wrestling trivia wrong, and Hugo went head over hills for it.

I went for all the natural history and nature ones.

Thats what I told him when he showed he his colection.

“Don’t be ashamed of this, man. Remember how I get when Master quizz talks about dinosaurs?”

“Oh. …OH. Oh, boy”

“Oh yeah. I too, have a dark seecret”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. …but, what could it be? You are just very educated about nature. It is interesting, many people enjoy the nature channel”

I was giving him a mischevous look

“It goes deeper than that”

Hugo looks at me in the eyes and then carasses his chin before daring to ask

“…how deep is that?”

I walk closer to him, wrestling belt over my shoulder

“Remember you asked”

He doesn’t moves, but gulps when I wisper on his ear

“Dinosaurs had feathers”

“… what?”

“And shiny scales, and colorfull crests, and they made all shorts of music”

“Whait, what, for real?”

“And not all of them went extinct. Not only crocodiles and turtles survived. It has been proved: the birds that we have today descend from dinosaurs like raptors and relatives of the t-rex. Thats why they call it the extintion of the non-aviar dinosaurs now”

“…for real? I… didn’t know that”

“and there was a period, the triasic, when nature was on drugs, and it produced all kinds of crazy stuff!!”

“Say waaaat?” Said his kid, Ernest, standing in the door. How much did he listen?

-BRIAN

“oh, is that a dinosaur book?” said MC, and Amanda turned in horror.

“Oh no”

“yes, it is” Said Daisy, with a wide smile “I wish we were studing theese in class, but they don’t talk much about fosiles, just rocks…”

Brian laughted proudly. “Daisy is not happy with all they teach in class. She is always looking for books with extra stuff…”

Only then he noticed Amanda frantically denying with her head, and making ‘cut it’ gestures. He then looked back at MC. It was too late.

He was sitting next to Daisy, pointing at pictures in the dinosaur book.

“Ok, you know this one?”

“Yeah, that’s a brachiosaurus”

“The long-neck one” added Brian “That one’s easy”

“yeah, but it did not look like that. Book is a bit outdated. New data travels faster online. See, look at the skull. Now, where are the holes of the nose?”

Daisy thoug for a moment.

“… they are… above its eyes? On the top of the forehead?”

“Exactly. Now, don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Having such a wide, weird nose, and a big mouth way apart? Something’s missing”

“Yeah…?”

“Ok, now look at the skull of an elephant”

MC took out his phone and showed her pictures

“… it doesn’t have a nose! And the cavities are huge and… oh my god!”

“Exactly. The trumpet is big and important, but it has no bones. If someone found the fosil of an elephant, but never saw one, they would draw him without a trumpet”

“Like it happened to the brachiosaurus. It had a trumpet! Dad!”

Brian nearly flinched. He was barely catching up

“The brachiosaurus had a trumpet, dad! Can you believe it?”

Brian looked at Amanda. She was scrolling throu her phone like nothing was going on.

“actually, not necesary a trumpet, see…”

Daisy turned her attention fully back to MC

“They are both big hervibores, but the brachiosaurus had a very long neck. It didn’t need a long trumpet. …kind of like a giraff. Have you seen what they do?”

Daisy denied. MC was already playing a video of a giraff using its lips, and loong, sticky toung to catch things and eat them.

“it probably didn’t have a trumpet. Nor a long tounge, but there was definetly something important on its nose, wich it probably used for eating and for singing, kinda like cows do, and maybe it was colorful, or diferent between males and females…”

“wooow! It is a big feature, why they don’t use it in movies?”

“see, it is kind of risky, to design such an extrange animal, so they play it easy and just cover the skull with skin. And that’s not all”

“there is more!?”

“this animals had spikes all over their tails, wich have been found incrusted in the skull of predators like the T-rex”

“Wooah!”

“Don’t feel left out” Amanda said to Brian, seeing that the poor guy needed some company “he can’t help it, loves the stuff. Just make sure you can handle it before letting him anywere near the museum”

“uh… ok”

“And whatever you do, never ask about dinosaurs with feathers” she wispered this “You will never hear the end of it”

#dream Daddy #DDADDS #ask #dinosaurs #nerd #dinosaurs had feathers #dinosaur facts #nerd dadsona

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lifeofamastersstudent · 4 years

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Reflection | Workshop 2

4th June 2020 | online workshop | 6 people - Group discussion

Part 1 : Word Based

Activity 1 : State one quality about ourselves

Some of the words I got where - Patient , joyful, calm & patient, indecisive

Activity 2 : Pick ONE word out of FIVE

Player 1

1. umbrella - protected and safe 2. Water - calm and composed. I’m okay to go with the flow most times 3. can opener - I picked can opener because I can find solutions.

Player 2

1.Music box - because I’m entertaining 2. Rainbow - it brightens the sky on a rainy day and I’m feeling hopeful right now 3. Door - feels like it allows people to come in. I am welcoming.

Player 3

1.Ball - because I do things around sports and in a way, the ball can go in any direction. 2. Sand - it can take whatever shape you put it into 3. Stairway - I think theres no final point in my life. I think theres always something work in progress.

Player 4

1.Tree bark - because I’m grounded 2. Waterfall - I relate to waterfall because I’m very emotional. 3. Cloud - I am very moody - somedays grey and somedays white and my name itself means cloud

Player 5

1. 2. Pillow - soft and cuddly. And in general its the best thing ever. I am the best shit ever. 3. ocean - I found ocean appropriate. Its very vast and its very deep and its also pretty dark. And its something I can relate my imagination to. And you know how some people are really scared of exploring the depths of the ocean. And its also a lot of pressure to take.

Player 6

1.Rock - hard exterior 2. Waves - calm, it can be soothing sea and it can be a tsunami. extremes. 3. Shadow - its dark as I am in a lot of things that I think of. I can match peoples energy - I can imitate them.

Activity 3 : You get ONE word, find a connection

Slightly more challenging because you get one word and you must find a way to associate with it

Player 1

Boat - The way I could relate to the word I got is - well a boat can sail. I think if you know how to do it properly then you can withstand harsher waters. If you are comfortable and then you can handle it. If Im prepared about a situation if its tricky or difficult, I can handle it a lot better.

Player 2

Thorn - I can be hurtful. I can get angry. I can also protect the flower.

Player 3

Sharpener - I dont like to see anything negative in a person or even me. In my relationships, there are lots of things which are very different about them - id say for them. Some id change for me and some for them. I’m always looking to sharpen my skills and change relationships for the better

Player 4

Chair - my word was chair. I associate with it because I give people comfort so if someone comes to me, I do provide comfort. But it also stands on four feet. So I feel like my support system keeps me stable and that intern helps me to provide comfort to people.

Player 5

Night - I feel like on one side, experiencing a really pretty night. I fee like I can empathise with people and provide comfort and on the other hand the night can also get terrors. The dark fucked up thoughts and depression that comes with it. A flip side thing.

Player 6

Rain - it can be harsh and moody in a way. But also calming when you’re inside the house so it can have two different sides of a coin.

Activity 4 : Draw metaphors for yourself

At this point player 5 said how it was easier to draw the metaphor and it was a bit challenging to sit and word the drawing correctly.

Player 1 - “ill never have enough of my blue crayon”

It means if there something or a person that gives me comfort, I wouldn’t lose that person and try really hard to keep them in my life. A thing or a hobby. Ill do everything I can make sure to have it in my life

“happy as a pig” trying to be positive and be happy with whatever situation. theres no point in being unhappy with given situations.

Player 2- an open door with rainbow - an open door to happiness

Player 3 - I took my words sharpener and sand “harder, better, sharper, stronger” I’ve also drawn a sand watch. It takes the form of anything. I feel like theres always something missing, something is constantly happening.

Player 4 - so I made clouds because I’m really moody. And I drew the few people who always deal with my moods.

Player 5 - drew an ocean - part of the ocean is beautiful and the bottom has dark elements ( a treasure chest, a piranha, a whale, a dead person. Also drew a book - but then once you know me I go on non stop. And the whisk is because I create. Its one of my tools and my little universe. And the rings remind me of the planetary movement.

Maybe I can ask Player 5 to elaborate the new components she added and if there was any symbolic value to any of them.

Player 6 - I mixed all elements. I drew a shadow version of the drawing. One where I create my own problems and then me trying to protect others from theirs. I just put a rock in there just because and I added a storm. Its a duality.

At this point I also shared a few of my own - Tea pot , Music box , Egg

I noticed during this activity that some people used words and images . So their words complimented their drawings.

A challenge I faced during these workshops is how sometimes people brought in borrowed meanings into their objects. Like if an object reminded them of something someone said or did and it has some impact on them. Then they added that meaning into their story. Weaving it.

This exercise didn’t necessarily add more value. Most people seemed to repeat their metaphors - only in some more detail.

My follow up question to the players would be - did this exercise help build up and clean out the metaphors - make them more clear or was it just a repetition of expression - giving your thought a visual form?

Part 2 : Theme Based

Activity 1: State one quality for a tree

I asked people to give one quality to a tree. I now see that people applied some of these qualities when they were later asked to find similarities with the tree.

Activity 2 : If you were a tree, what would you look like

When I asked people to draw a tree that represents them - some people went into creating a version that would be ideal but which may not necessarily fit where they are in life - there was also imagination that came into play.

Player 5 focused on her tree being able to give to the animal community

Player 2 drew a tree that he found inspiring

Player 1 emphasised how important it was to be stable and strong

I think people focused on the “if you were” a lot more than if you were a tree, then what kind.

Activity 3: if this group of people are a single tree, what part would you be?

Player 1 said she would be the branch, she feels like she can support people but not as much as the bark would.

Player 2 I would be the leaves because they are visually pleasing, they are calming and they are just hanging there. Taking in the sunlight

Player 3 I think I’m really like the roots , ike it absorbs the water, the foundation for the tree. The stronger and better the roots the better the tree grows

Player 5 for me id be the little hole in the bark because I fee like the older I grow the more I need this sense of home and feeling of belonging somewhere. Having a little shell to call my own.

Player 4 I think id be the fruit because I think I’m sweet.

Player 6 I picked a single leaf - I see us all as a group and all of us as single leaves. In a broader sense, a part of a whole - nothing standing out, nothing standing out but it makes a part of a group.

Activity 4 : Pick a tree you most associate with. At this point I showed images of different trees.

Player 1 picked a autumn tree because of the warmth

Player 2 went on the visually appealing one

Player 4 picked the one with fruits - because it looks similar to my tree that I drew

Player 6 picked two. First one because it was similar to the ideas and the drawing I drew.

Player 5 picked the one with fruits. Giving and inviting. The tree with green mush - a safe environment with other trees.

Interestingly, player 5 was able to build onto the image of the tree and imagine what surrounds it.

Player 3 picked the fruit one and the one above the autumn tree. Nishant says he has a lot to give - it doesn’t come right away, it takes a while. And in the other image - the surrounding of the tree impacted the tree. Seems adventurous - on a hill.

Activity 5 : Make metaphorical portraits ( with new or old metaphors + physical attributes, if you like)

People did have fun making their metaphorical portraits but I think its because this group is very creative and involved in creativity hence they were more patient.

(Some of the portraits can be found on the blog)

Overall Feedback

Player 3 says, “ my eyes gravitated for things I was already thinking of” when it came to picking a tree.

Player 5 said she already had an idea for the tree and then I had to pick and choose.

Player 5 said that when I gave her a word, she was able to talk about it and visualise. But when I gave an image, she had to compromise and make it fit.

Player 3 said that some of the things people tend to draw are very specific to how we’ve been taught to draw them - like trees. For someone who isn’t much into arts. They might choose to draw a simplified tree that they are trained to draw.

Player 2 felt like although the activities were fun and the session was engaging. He didn’t really get a metaphor out of it at the end of the day

Player 6 suggested to - Give people one word and see how all people interpret it.

Player 3 suggested that I test concepts

Player 4 said that we are designers. We can think of things to associate with. Its harder for people who aren’t designers.

I got suggestions to test this with an older audience and younger audience

Player 3 said that people who are much older face different types of challenges and face mid life crises. Their responses could be irrational or bizarre. From a younger crowd, I did expect a lot of creativity but with an older audience that would change things.

Player 4 said that she didn’t realise that a certain object could encompass the things I felt. I knew the overlying feelings but I didn’t visually associated it with anything.

Overall Reflections

At times there was a focus on what I want to be as opposed to what I am

Drawing the tree impacted picture selection.

The creative background of this group may have impacted the workshop

The outcome may not have been entirely clear even with the creative bits

People found it engaging and fun.

People love to hear other peoples perspective on things

Providing visuals can be very limiting when you start with people trying to give a glimpse of their imagination.

The age might affect the creative output. And if the people are conditioned to think in a creative way.

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houseofkooks · 7 years

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WINGS IN NEWARK <3

OK SO TODAY WAS THE BTS CONCERT YES TODAY WAS D DAY THIS WAS IT THIS WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY FUCKIGN LIFE AND OMG OMOGMOGMOMG I HAVE SO MANY FUKING FEELS RIGHT NOW I MUST WRITE OK SO

first of all the pre-concert period was a shitshow ok bt SO WORTH IT FASTFORWARD OK SO

ok when we first sat down it was just like so overwhelming and beautiful to see so many people who love bts sitting together in the same space

spring day mv was playing and everyone was singing along and it was so beautiful

and then the intro started to play and it was just the boys and honestly i don’t really remember what it’s about now i just know i teared up rly bad because i was sosososoososso EMO. like thankful i think? to be able to stand there and to be able to actually see the boys up close

lke i was just so overwhelmed fjljalgkjLKJDFKA and then they came out like they actually appeared behind the screen and then omg all hell broke loose like ya girl and everyone else did not understand the meaning of chill and self control ok. NOT TODAY was first and it was so fucking lit and my first impression was that omg. THEY WERE! CLOSE!!!!!!!

SO CLOSE I COULD SEE JUNGKOOK’S THIGH MUSCLES AND I WAS LIKE OMGOGOGOGOGMOG like i felt bad for always keepign my eyes of jungkook but i just can’t NOT. pretty sure i screamed JUNGKOOOOK JUNGKOOKIEEEEEE like 5293509159 times today

but then it’s good because they also did solo songs that allowed me to really appreciate each member!!!!!!!

begin was first and lemme tell u ya girl almost lost it like legit screamed my fucking throat out “JUNGKOOK!!!!!! JUNGKOOOOOOOK MY BABYYYYY MY BAAAAABY” and he’s just so good like he was SOOO GOOD like his dancing was amazing and likeit started with him spinning on the circle and im so glad i got to watch it live because you could really feel the emotion in his voice like this song is emotional and about how he loves his hyungs so much but in the fancams, you could really just see how good the dancing is. BUT LIVE!!!!! HE IS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL SINGER I LOVE HIM SO MUCH and he did the dance so well and he’s just so perfect and beautiful and wonderful in every way

lie was next and omgOMGOMGO ok jimin killed it like he really really did. like it was just so amazing the dancing the singing. lik the dance is just good already but it was so good with the whole stage and the whole choreo and also THE BLINDFOLD!!!!!!! HE PUT ON THE BLINDFOLD like thats jst such good art directing? choreo? idk it’s just like IMPACT ok it was so great

i dont rly remember who’s next

i think they did group songs and then it was yoongi’s?

the yoongi solo was soo. EMOTIONAL. I SWEAR OMG I LOVE THE ORCHESTRA AND THE FACT THAT HE WAS SITTING IN FRONT OF A PIANO SINGING HIS LOVE FOR PIANO AND MUSIC AND THE WHOLE PERFORMANCE. FDJSAKGJ;LAKJGLKAJ ; like honestly it’s oen of my favorite songs from the album because it’s so well written and he does it sosososososo well like the emotion is so palpable and raw even in the track, especially the last verse. so it was so good to just hear it live and it was just that much more stunning and impactful and just SUCH AN EXPERIENCE. i love the song so much

ok and then namjoon was next and his intro really fucked me up because it took me a lil bit to realize but it’s their “road” song with the heya heya and it’s mixed with whalien 52 for a little bit and idk why but it made me so emo. like the road song is about their hard journey and how they’ll work their hardest to try to reach the end of the road and i lovelovelove how namjoon used that in his intro because i think it’s so beautiful and sobering to know that the song means a lot to him? because thinking about it, he probably was under so much pressure not only for his own success but also for his teammates and it must’ve been hard on him as a young boy who’s really just been the “smart guy” who decided to follow his dream but then ended up having to be responsible for a whole group of boys who are like family to him, and their collective success. and i love that he included whalien 52 because he wrote it and it’s still to this date one of my favorite songs because it’s so cute but sad and real at the same time, which is kinda like namjoon’s embodiment? the song fits him so well like it’s just how he’s like the lonely whale that people don’t seem to understand because he’s on his own wavelength. i’ve always felt this vibe that ofc bangtan are all close but namjoon’s thoughts are so deep and abstract and mature sometimes that the rest of the boys don’t relate very well? like lol especially the maknae line BUT OK ANYWAY I DIGRESS. i really appreciated namjoon’s song because it was like a nice chill break which is what it was like in the album too. BUT MY FAVE PART OFC IS WHEN AT THE END HE KEEPS REPEATING “I WISH I COULD LOVE MYSELF” AND EVERYONE REPEATED TO HIM, “WE LOVE YOU” omg i’m getting emo just typign this out i really really wanna see how he reacted when he first heard it. omg ok anyway the end IT WS GREAT

taetae was next and omg his high notes were literally like wowowowowowoww like wow i’m so proud of him but TBH i couldn’t really hear bc the screams were unreal during his high notes BUT STILL HIS STAGE PRESENCE WAS GR8 and like idk it was just so good and he was so passionate and im so proud of him for all those high notes and also CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW. CUTE. HE IS. LIKE HE’S LITERALLY SOSOSOSOSOS HANDSOME LIKE HE’S SO BEAUTIFUL. ALSO HE KEPT COMING OVER TO OUR SIDE AND SMILING AT US AND I’M NOT SURE WHETHER HE SAW US BUT IT ALMOST LOOKED LIKE WE MADE EYE CONTACT?!?!?!?!?! IDK?!?!?!?!?! BUT OK ANYWAY IT WAS GR8 HE WAS SO GREAT

OMG im falling asleep ok i’ll quickly write the rest

BUT OMG OK HOBI’S WAS SO GOOD. LITERALLY. MAMA WAS EASILY THE BEST PERFORMANCE OUT OF ALL THE SOLOS AND I’M NOT EVEN A HOBI STAN LIKE OMG?!?!?!!! it was just so energetic and upbeat and exciting at first but then there’s all these pictures of hobi from when he was little and they were the cuuuutest. but also!! then there’s this part where he pauses everything and it’s just him sing-rapping and it was just so EMOTIONAL AND TUGGED AT MY HEARTSTRINGS AND JUST SO POWERFUL AND MEANINGFUL like you could really tell he was singing with his whole heart for his mom and it was just the best THE BEST LEMME TELL U ok moving on im fallin asleep

JIN yes ok it was just good bc his song is good and i don’t really remember but i made sure to scream loud yes good ok moving on WAI TIT’S SO SHORT UGHHGHGHGH ok anyway not the point

THE POINT IS!!!!!!!!!

namjoon is the best i love him so much like during the ment he was talking aobut the rainbow army and then he said that he thinks music transcends anything like language and race and he said “i don’t care if you’re red or blue or orange (referring to the balloon colors” and i thought that was so clever because it was like a metaphor for real life races and i think it’s so fitting given the current political climate in the us and i’m so proud of him for bringing this up!!!!!! also the part where everyone sang together and they all thanked us and i was just like TTTTTTTTT bc I REALLY WANT TO THANK THEM because namjoon was like, as long as we love each other, you’ll never walk alone and YOU KNOW WHAT. IT’S TRUE. IT’S SOSOSOSOSO TRUE. at one of the concert i just looked at them and got emo because no matter what happens in life next, no matter how sad or angry or frustrated or disappointed or tired i get, they’ll always be there to cheer me up. i’m so happy that i foudn them and that i love them so much because it’s so nice to have them with me :) they always make me laugh and i respect them so much. what i confirmed today is that they really are so sososos hardworking and sososos talented and definitely deserving of all the love they receive. i’m so proud of where they are now. I REALLY AM. during 2,3 there was a video of just their growth from the beginning and it made me SO EMO OK. like i haven’t been a fan since the beginning and i wish i have but the fact that they made it from being a literal NUGU to being so so big that they filled up prudential center. they’re SO GOOD LIVE. aside from talent, they’ve also improved so much and that just shows how hard they work. i’m so appreciative of their hard work and the fact that they were able to make it this big because of their hardwork and talent. they really are an amazing group of individuals!!!!!! like such a wonderful group of boys that are incredibly talented but also have such big kind hearts and are so funny and entertaining but also relatable and down to earth and friendly and inspirational. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH FJDKLAJG;KJ!!!!!!!! so yes the whole time i was just marveling at the fact that they’re thanking us when I WANT TO THANK THEM SO MUCH. i know it sounds stupid but they really do encourage me and make life better for me fjsklajg I LOVE THEM.

ok quick ranking after the show

1. jungkook bc how can i ever leave him i am already committed for life like i wanted him to f me in the closet after the concert ok. like i just love him so much there’s no contest

2. namjoon still because he’s literally PERFECT so talented so deep so beautiful so smart so inspirational like he’d be the perfect boyfriend to talk to my worries with and he’s also really cute and funny and dorky and he just makes me laugh MY BABS

2.5. NOW --> hoseok HIS STAGE PRESENCE IS LITERALY NO. JOKE. he was sososos good during boy meets evil also and like he just COMMANDS THE STAGE and he enjoys it so much and i love him he’s so happy and so easily excitable and also such a sweetheart like there are videos of him picking up pokemon plushies on the stage and then he also noticed jre and pointed at him like he’s SO DOWN TO EARTH AND FRIENDLY AND RELATABLE AND JUST SUCH A CUTIE i luv him

3. FOR NOW --> JIMIN wow wat a surprise but he’s LITERALLY SO CUTE LIKE OK HE LITERALLY WALKED IN FRNT OF US?!??!! LIKE HE WAS SO CLOSE I COULD ALMOST TOUCH HIM!?!? AND HE WAS JUST SO CUTE!!! LIKE SO. CUTE. i’ve been reading posts about how he looks scary and intimidating like cold city man in “real life” BUT HE’S SO CUTE. HE’S SO CUDDLY AND SMILEY AND JUST SO CUTE LIKE HE RADIATES SOFTNESS nd he was so close to us and he waved at us and he’s so nice i luv him also ALSO his dancing is seriously so good like every time someone’s dance move catches my eye i’m like ooh who’s that and it would turn out to be jimin LIKE WOW FDJALKGJ; he really is so good at dancing

3.2. FOR NOW --> TAETAE!!!!!! HE’S SO CUTE HE’S SO CUTE HE LOOKED OVER TO US SO MANY TIMES TODAY AND HE’S JUST LITERAL FANSERVICE KING LIKE I DON’T REALLY WATCH HIS FANCAMS BUT HE’S LITERALLY always ALWAYS interacting with the audience and he’s so cute and he keeps winking or giving out hearts or just watching the audience and it’s just soft and nice and beautiful and it makes me feel important and loved and i love LOVE KTH HE’S SUCH A SOFT SMOL BALL like i love how he really does make an effort to make the fans feel loved and important <3 3 <3

4. yoongi!!!!!!!! yoongi is always good his performance is always ON FIYAHHHHHHH but i didn’t really get the chance to watch him closely LOLOL but i love him as always

5. mama jin my dearest oppa he’s so cute and has the cutest personality and is so funny so he really shines through in vlive or bombs or whatever and i always love him always but i think he gets shadowed over during concerts :(( bc he doesn’t have a lotta parts? and he doesn’t really have like the best stage presence (lolol i find it kinda funny that he frowns so much when he sings fjdkfljalkjg) BUT I REALLY DO LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM A LOT FJDKLAJ;GLK I LOVE ALL OF THEM

conclusion: i love bangtan so much i love every single one of them i am so thankful they are in my life and i can’t wait to continue stanning them forever because WE NEVER WALK ALONE and i can’t wait to see grow bigger and better so i can keep attending more and more concerts fjdksajglk I LOVE BTS BANGTAN SONYEONDAN I LOVE! KIM NAMJOON! KIM SEOKJIN! MIN YOONGI! JUNG HOSEOK! PARK JIMIN! KIM TAEHYUNG! JEON JUNGKOOK! BTS!!!!!!!!!!!!

#seriously i love them so much i LOVE THEM #today was the best #it's so surreal #i don't even want to remember that the concert's over :((#but it's ok #they're still the best like i seriously don't think i'll even have withdrawals #because they always keep us updated :)#<3 they're seriously the best #i LOVE THEM #word vom

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oddlymysteriousphoenix · 7 years

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#74 (#2) 1:59pm July 14

-October 22 2:56pm Eh, today had been a bit better compared to other days. I realize I’ve been lazy and haven’t been writing much on here. I will promise for now on, it has been pretty rough since last Friday since my sadness hit on of it’s lowest points again. Blegh, this year I’ve lost more than what I’ve gained so far. I don’t plan to live long if the trend continues for the rest of this year and the next. I miss all my close Xbox friends, it’s my fault I’m currently avoiding them. I think they’re happier without me and their happiness is all I care about (for the most part). On the bright side, I’ve managed to get some inspiration to continue my skills on guitar, drawing and ‘’singing’’ (I can’t sing). The motivation came from a reference from an old movie which ‘’predicted’’ October 21 2015. (Back to the Future 2, 1985) The actor who played the crazy scientist recorded a video containing these words: ‘’Great Scott! If my calculations are correct, it is now precisely October 21, 2015. The future has finally arrived. Yes, it is different than we all thought. But don’t worry. It just means your future hasn’t been written yet. No one has. Your future is whatever you make it so make it a good one.’’ His last words probably hit me more than others since I love ‘’Back to the Future’’. It’s one of my favorite movies. I recently watched ‘’Bridge of Spies’’ this past weekend. I thought it was a great movie, especially for not making the Russians the ultimate bad people during the Cold War. (Movie set during the height of it). Asides from movies, I’ve managed to gear from my gf’s voice after weeks of not hearing it. It stuck me to my heart to hear how depressed she was. Thought the call cut out, I was able to treasure the bitter sweet voice I was able to hear. Like always, she’s my everything. I just hope she can beat her illness… -3:31pm -October 27 7:32pm Today’s the day of my 33rd monthly anniversary with my gf! Plus, today is when Halo 5 is finally out after all these years. I might get it tonight or tomorrow I cant wait to play it. Aside from that I’ve been having a rough week. Ive gotten so much of tests and homework, I’m pretty sure I’m off to a bad start. My depression loves to get the best of me. Sometimes I think my life is useless and Ill never be good enough. Suicidal thoughts? Yes, plenty of them as each minute fades to the past. I’m still waiting if life really does get better, things have been pretty flat with some downs. I still feel numb from the constant bombings of my thoughts. I’m still unhappy with my life, not even improving in my hobbies. I play guitar like a child, I sing like a whale and my drawings would be great to be used as toilet paper on how crappy it is. Ugh, at least all of my friends are doing well. Sosa (basically only school friend) has been doing great since he’s been hanging out with this one girl. She sounds pretty friendly from what I’ve heard of her from him. I’m just concerned things might go wrong between them, resulting them to not to speak to each other (Im sure they wouldn’t have sex, she’s a lesbian, at least for now). I hope the best for him. He’s a great guy for certain. I don’t know how my other friends are doing, I haven’t talked to them due to my ‘’exodus’’. I hope they’re all okay. Lastly, but for best, I THINK my doing fine. Depressed, still? Yeah. Busy? Yeah. Do I still love her? Always and eternity. Happy 33rd anniversary, my love. My everything… 8:00pm P.S. = Te amo

- November 4 7:12pm Well, this week has been alright. Anyway! I got Halo 5 and beat the campaign on the same day. My opinion for the story: It was alright, I mean, some parts were just great, yet I think the story could’ve been so much better. Cortana… Ugh, I’m speechless, I can’t believe what happened to her. She didn’t seem right when she first appeared. She changed. It pains me to know after what Master Chief tried to do to get Cortana back, he couldn’t. Cortana went off her own path on what she thought was right. Master Chief asks ‘’Where’s Cortana?’’ Spartan Locke replies ‘’She’s gone. He stares at Locke with his broken visor. Then, Cortana causes havoc. More scenes passes by, then the credits. The music plays on only to leaves us guessing what’ll happen soon. (Break) -11:16pm. Well, I forgot to continue, woops. Ill write more soon. I have a lot in mind at the moment. - November 11 6:20pm

Ah, this day had been lonesome. Monday and Tuesday has been alright. Yet, Tuesday after school I realized something. I’m worth nothing. Ugh, I’m basically depressed. On Xbox, Stori has been distant. It’s like she doesn’t like my presence anymore. She’s been hanging out with ‘’Skitz’’ and ‘’G’’ (both Xbox names just shortened) so much. I don’t understand why. I understand G is online all the time and so is Stori, but I guess G has convinced Stori to get away from me. G and I haven’t talked in weeks., he’s a horrible person. If only Stori would notice, it bothers me greatly. I know G wants me dead, he told Seeker and Stori that I should commit suicide. Ugh, he disgusts me. I don’t plan to talk to him, but Ill do it if it prevents me from losing Stori. As of now, my best friends are Seeker, Dj, and Sosa, the school friend. Skitz and G can just be gone, they’re rotten apples to me. Useless and unwanted, I despise them immensely. It’s blatant that G hates me, you can feel the vibe of it. Well, sorta, I’m just exaggerating here. My gf says just to give it time. Which I will, since I can’t be against what makes my friend happy. I just miss Stori and Dj and Seeker being around. Nowadays, it’s just me all alone. Sosa is suicidal, but ‘’his’’ girl should help out a lot. Even though she’s a lesbian, things can change. As for my Erin (GF), she’s doing just fine. I still think she’s fine without me. I still love her. All the time she. She’s my universe. Yeah, she’s happy with me, but I feel I’m not good enough. I never have felt it, I’m nothing. Hell, I haven’t done anything that adds worth to me. Everyone else is just better than me no matter how little they try. I’m invisible, I’m no one and nobody. Suicide has been constant in my mind, but I live for others. Ill keep living until (Break, mom’s here, 7:01pm) 10:43pm They’re all gone from my life and gone from their thoughts. As for now, they’re here and I should enjoy their presence while I can. They’re family. MY family, the one I always wanted… 10:46Pm P.S. I had no school today.

-November 13 6:43pm

Each day of each hour has its sweets and sours. Days and nights where they feel the same. Today is bittersweet. I’ve managed to speak to my Love on Skype. She’s perfect as always, I love her greatly. She’s still largely insecure about our love. She feels like one day Ill send her a breakup text, which will never occur no matter what situation. I love her. Before that, she was talking about her being pregnant with triplets, in her dream. Saying how it went and how our family was there, both friend and biological. She spoiled me with kisses as we chatted, she’s just perfection. I could never ask for more, only for us to be together soon. T took some screenshots to store the memories for the near future. Yet, as of now, I’m lonely. Erin is off doing something and I’m alone on Xbox as well. A couple of minutes ago I’ve been noticed that France is under terrorist attacks. It’s so interesting to know how everything can change so easily in just one hour. I’m afraid what will happen afterwards especially the refugees. I know most Europeans will be swayed towards anti-Islam thinking gen realizing the enemy and hurting the innocent. I’ve observed many tragedies, I hope this doesn’t lead them to chaos. If it does, time will tell. The choices of the people will determine the future of a country. As for now, I guess I’ll have another lonesome Friday. As my friends have fun, as my love carries on, I’ll be here. Hoping for the best in each of us. 7:05pm

-November 17 10:52pm

Ah, Im here doing homework Ill probably sleep at 12. Quick review of this week from last Friday/ Terrorist attack on France, soon later saw ‘’Forrest Gump’’ for the first time. I loved it. Saturday, I managed to get close to Stori on Xbox. It was just her, Seeker and me. She told me how G was still angry at me from a long ago event. She’s been trying to think otherwise. Plus, she reminded me on how Im still important to her. Oh, before that Seeker and Stori got into a small brawl over her different laughter which he wasn’t used to. Though it kinda killed the party mood, it soon recovered. I just feel bad for Seeker since I’m the only one that knows him seriously. As he said, being a jokester causes people not to take him seriously. He’s a great gut, I just wish he was valued more by people. We all stayed up to around 4 A.M. . It was great, also my GF called on Skype to 3:11-3:13 to 3:14-28 Am. She mumbled mostly through all. Sunday was all work. This week has been okay besides having a lot of work to do. My Gf and I talked again which made me very happy. She’s perfect. Well, I need to focus on my work now. I’m so sleepy… 11:10pm

-November 24 12:55am

Ah, what a pleasant week it has been Friday. Guitar playing, gaming on Xbox One, talking to my Perfect Love and best friends, as well as drawing. I, for once, feel like I’m making progress in my life. Maybe Ill start writing a song since my mom has been awfully occupied with babysitting. Yet, it leaves the place to me. I don’t mean that as a selfish way, more in a way to be able to express what I love to do. As of now, I’m listening to ‘’FoxBoro HotTubs’’ which is basically ‘’Green Day’’ under another name. As nerdy and childish it sounds, I hope to be as great as them or even more. I love their songs as most would already know. I most certainly would cherish in being in a band and becoming a songwriter along with a couple of hobbies on the side. Even though I contain no pride or self esteem, it’s still something I want to go for. If I’m not able to reach that dream, then I’m not sure what’ll become of my. I’m sure I’ll be married to the girl who I love now, Erin. Skyping her for an hour was fantastic, 11:32pm-12:33pm. She makes me feel complete and I fly with joy knowing she’s beside me at all times. She’s perfection. Aside from that, I’ll update my family. Stori has being doing great compared to her bad things. One of her best friends has come over to visit her for the week. As from latest knowledge, they went to a birthday party. Bubba has been doing just fine, nothing negative that I’ve seen. He’s still trying to get his Canadian girl named Cristina, she’s sweet and happy usually. I wish him luck, even after about one or two years chasing after her. I introduced her to Bubba way back on Xbox, first met her sister then Cristina on GTA V on the Xbox 360. Anyway, Sosa has been doing well, I think. I texted him a bit today, still with his ‘’French’’ girl. Rose is okay, I sadly haven’t talked to her much. I plan to talk to her more, I don’t want to lose her. She means too much to me, she’s part of the family. I’m doing a drawing for her to cheer her up. She’s okay, but not well. I want her to know that I’m still beside her in her hardships. We’ll that’s about it. I’m off to play some Halo 5 or Black Ops 3. I desire for days like this are soon to arrive. 1:45Am

-3:26pm

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