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Peter Tork - Blog Posts
Davy: Let me make myself clear, I don’t like you.
Peter: Okay, then get off my lap.
Davy: …No.
The Monkees drinking boba tea
Micky: barely any tea, just basically a cup of pearls. He giggles nearly every time he takes a drink
Davy: orders a simple brown sugar and vanilla milk tea and rests the straw against his lips as he talks with his sunglasses pushed up on his head, looking for all the world like a pin up.
Peter: mixing all the flavors together “I’m going to make a rainbow!” Shakes it up. “Oh well now it’s just brown :(.”
Mike: takes one sip. “That’s disgusting.” Pours the rest in Micky’s overflowing cup.
tw: meantions of alcohol and addiction
Mike used to drink. It was a problem. It was a habit he picked up from his dad that got worse after moving to California. before he met the guys, he was on his own, struggling and homeless. He didn’t drink constantly, rather when things were going bad, he’d stay out until the bar closed.
After the Monkees all moved in together, he tried to hide it, but they caught on pretty quick. Davy had sat him down and said that this was something he didn’t have to (and shouldn’t) face alone. They helped get into a support group and found that it was easier to substitute the alcohol for something else whenever Mike wanted it. Coke-a-Cola seemed to do the trick. That’s how the Monkees came to having Coke in the house at all times. Some weeks they would sacrifice groceries to buy it because Mike being healthy was the most important thing to them.
Now they are all sworn off of alcohol. None of them drink. Sometimes Mike feels like falling into old habits, especially after a harrowing adventure, but he looks around at the guys to remind himself he’s not in that place anymore, he is okay and doesn’t need the old habits, he has new ones. Then he’ll sit down and noodle on the guitar or play around with the boys. He knows they all have each other’s backs.
Jork Sick Fic!
[alt-text image description: a boy with mid length hair lays on a couch sleeping. He is dressed in day clothes and had his arms wrapped around himself. He used his jacket as a pillow.] Davy struggled to wake up, his body was cold and achy like garbage that had been frozen then left to thaw on the kitchen counter. His head pounded and throbbed. Micky had left the curtains open and sunlight assaulted Davy’s eyes. In his head he cried and shunned about being awake, but he threw his legs over the side of his bed and looked around an empty room. It must have been late if Micky was already up.
Feeling woozy, he stumbled down the stairs, chills breaking over his skin like waves. He clung onto the railing as the tight spiral of the stairs made him feel sick as he descended.
Micky and Mike were leaning against the counter with mugs of coffee, Mike leaning the small of his back against it with his hands curling over the edge, Micky propping his hip against it as he watched Mike wraptly as they chatted. Peter sat at the piano, plinking around on the keys and humming to himself.
Maybe Davy would feel better if he got something to eat. Leaning around Mike, he put the kettle on then crouched to retrieve the cereal. His whole body ached and protested. Davy rested his forehead against the cabinet door for a moment, forgetting what he’d opened the cabinet for.
“Alright there, Dave?” Micky asked, tucking his chin to his chest as he looked at his smaller friend.
“M’fine.” Davy snatched the cereal and stood, rolling his neck and shoulders. “Just a little under the weather.”
Mike put the back of his fingers (usually warm, but cold now) to Davy’s check. “You’re awfully pink and warm. Maybe you should go back to bed.” His signature concerned frown hung over his deep eyes. He watched Davy closely as he sipped his coffee.
“Thanks, Mum.” Davy said sarcastically. He poured a small bowl of cereal and opened the fridge to get the milk. They were out, so he turned back to his breakfast, picking a couple flakes up with his fingers and popping them in his mouth. He crossed the too bright room to the piano, placing his bowl on the top as he faced Peter.
Peter sat rocking, his shoulders hunched around his ears as he played and hummed, working out some time or another. Davy reached out and tapped his head to get him to look up. When Peter did, Davy put a spoonful of corn flakes in his mouth. As he put the spoon in, Peter was already changing the melody, playing “When I’m 64” by the Beatles. He laughed around his mouthful and sang “Will you still need me? Will you still feed me? When I’m 64?”
Davy couldn’t help but chuckle too. He ruffled Peter’s lovely hair and collapsed backward on the couch feeling like he wanted to peel his skin of. Could he not get warm? He wrapped a blanket around himself. Around this time the kettle whistled. He saw Micky moving to prepare his tea and spring up to make it himself. It was no offense to the others, but they couldn’t make a good cup of tea to save their lives. Davy seriously hoped that that would never have to come up in their crazy lives.
Davy retrieved the earl grey from the nearly bare cabinet overhead. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to reach Peter’s herbal, but couldn’t reach. He hated when the others put stuff on the top shelf.
Micky reached up and got the box of tea down. “Need a hand there, shorty?” His face contorted in pain as Davy kicked him in the shin. “Ooh ow.” He hopped around on one foot, clutching his assaulted shin.
As he prepared his tea, Davy felt Peter stroke his hair as he slipped in beside him to prepare his own cup. They stood quietly preparing their tea. Davy juggled the sugar and the blanket around his shoulders. A wave of chills hit him even as he could see his arms flushed with fever. He closed his eyes against the bright room. He could hear Peter moving beside him, picking up the mugs and nudging him.
“Come on, David.” He butted tue top of Davy’s head with his chin like a cat before crossing to the sofa.
Davy trailed behind Peter, not realizing he was shivering. When he sat, Peter pulled his into his side saying something about always wanting a cuddle when he wasn’t feeling well. Micky murmured something to Mike, mentioning Davy’s name, his whispy voice carrying but too quite to be understood fully.
Davy wasn’t sure how long he’d laid on the couch wishing he could fall asleep. Eventually Peter got up and Davy swallowed the space where he had been, smooshing his face into the cushions. The others must have gone outside because the pad was mercifully quiet. He drifted off.
Davy woke the work was dark all except a light on in the kitchen. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes. At his feet he saw Peter, asleep on his arms at the foot of the couch where he was propped resting his head and arms on the cushion as he sat on the floor, face turned towards Davy.
Smiling, Davy gently slid off of the couch, careful not to disturb Peter, and padded into the kitchen. Mike was there, brewing his first cup of coffee. The clock read 5:30 am. Davy rubbed his eyes again and gave a sleepy nod to Mike.
“He been there all night?” Davy asked, nodding toward Peter. His voice was soft a croaky from sleep.
“Yup. Trying to look after you.” Mike nodded then fixed Davy with a serious look. “You be careful with Pete.” There was a low level of warning in his voice. Mike knew how much Peter cared for Davy, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to happen to make him unhappy. Mike was fiercely protective of Peter. He was tired of watching the world hurt him.
Davy nodded. “I will be.” He said softly, not looking away from the sleeping boy. His shoulders slumped as he looked, he trembled slightly. How could Peter be so gentle? Why would he even look twice at Davy? Davy didn’t know, but was grateful to have such a friend. Well, friend didn’t feel like the right word. Davy didn’t know quite what they were, but he didn’t much care, he was just glad to have Peter for as long as he was allowed. Davy crosse back to the couch kneeling by Peter. He ran a hand through his hair and down his h Sh eek. “Peter, wake up. Time to go to bed.”
“David?” Peter’s voice was cracked and tired.
“Yeah, Pete. I’m okay now. Time for you to go to bed.” Davy smiled softly at Peter in the dark and put an arm around him, leading him upstairs. Though his head still swam and throbbed, he smile as he tucked Peter into bed. “Good night, Sweet Pete.”
Peter hefted a sleepy sight and closed his eyes, rubbing the fabric of Davy’s shirt between his fingers before his arm fell limp to the bed.
Shaking his head, Davy crawled to his own bed, still shivering a little, but allowing himself to watch Peter as his chest rose and fell. Davy counted the breaths until he fell asleep.
monkee doodles and unfinished stuff that's been rotting in my drafts for months enjoy!!
Happy monkee monday to all who celebrate
Happy monkee monday!! Here's a redraw of one of my favourite photos of them
HELP
Peter serving during a costume shoot for Head
Lol!!!
average the monkees episode:
mike: guys we need to save the day from this bad guys!
davy: I've just met a girl and I'm sure she's the love of my life!
micky and peter's subplot:
I'm the same height as Davy and I'm able to look at him in the eye without trouble😈
Enjoy the video
The height difference is soooo cute🥹I need a drink..
🎶🚗 all aboard the Monkee Mobile! 🙈
Peter Tork and I.J. Jefferson during the filming of Head, February 1968.
In London in January 1968, Peter was interviewed by the British press, and had this to say “about The Monkees as a group”:
“I wouldn’t like to say whether we as a group could outlive the TV series. I can’t visualize myself as anything but a Monkee right now. Micky is a very good friend of mine and Davy and I share a very deep bond of understanding. We probably understand each other more than anyone understands us. And Mike is the complete opposite to me except that we share the same religious beliefs — something I find very difficult to understand.” - Disc & Music Echo, January 13, 1968
* * * Peter Tork: “We did decide to do a movie, and we wanted to do a movie that was not a — not another episode. I’d seen, you know, movies made from TV series, and all they did was just expand the episode. And we said, ‘Well, let’s not do that.’ So we didn’t. Ah, and the movie died. (laughs)” Q: “You know, it was a good movie.” PT: “I thought so, yeah.” Q: “It does well in rentals.” PT: “Yeah.” Q1: “People go to rent it. Why did nobody go to see it in ‘69?” PT: “It was so terribly promoted. It was promoted as a hippie, head movie to the teeny-boppers and as a teeny-bopper to the heads, and so nobody got it. It was just, it was all badly marketed. And I, I think the producers were upset with us personally because we were beginning to act like… (chuckles) you know, there’s always this problem when your children start acting like, like they… they, you know, know who they are, it’s always conflict with your, with the adults. And they actually had, the producers actually didn’t like us growing up, I think. I mean, they were conflicted, they had their Geppetto complex.” - GOLD 104.5, 1999
* * *
As for the scene pictured here:
“All four of us jump off a bridge. There’s a long sequence of us falling into the water. We hit the water and get carried away by mermaids, and this thing called ‘The Porpoise Song’ comes on. After a while it suddenly seems like we have been looking through a fish tank, and on the other side is this very, very pretty woman who kisses each one of us. When the woman kisses Mike, he whispers to her, ‘How about you and me ditching these guys and going out together?’ She looks at him and says, ‘Are you kidding?’ and walks off.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)
My emotional support old man from real life
Happy Lost Sock Memorial Day! Poor Peter has to wear two different socks again. He’s darling!
Hello monkeenation , figured tumblr needed more Monkee text posts n memes n stuff so uh here you go, all made by me
Okai Mikenesmithkisser36 out
