#earache my eye

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

Cheech & Chong - Up In Smoke - Last Song

[ericpvk]

[are-we-really-doing-this]

I OWN SHOPPING CENTERS AND PARKING LOTS AND…STOCKS AND ALL THAT SHIT!

I OWN YOU, HA!

[rastronomicals]

2:09 PM EST December 13, 2023:

Cheech & Chong - "Earache My Eye" From the album Wedding Album (1974)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

[jurassic-cunt]

the real reason jfj left brazil

[semiotomatics]

researching the anatomy of the lower back/pelvis/legs/feet to try to figure out what the FUCK is causing my sciatica bc dear GOD am i in agony rn

[fhear]

Cheech & Chong - Earache My Eye

[nu-metal-confessions]

i wanna eat a disgustingly unhealthy dinner with Munky, chain smoke weed with him, and have disoriented gassy stoned sex with him. gassy Munky is so fucking cute and i can imagine he'd be so chill when he's high so a gassy high Munky seems like the perfect Munky for me. Munky my beloved <3

.

[itwasmagic]

sinus infection absolutely kicking my ass on this day

[the-midnight-blooms]

ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

pairing: CEO!park seonghwa x scientistwife!reader

AU: modern au

word count: 6.3k

masterlist

In the midst of a fragile soul dwindling under the aches of animosity, the married couple laid in bed with their backs facing each other. The husband, Park Seonghwa, an esteemed CEO of a pharmaceutical company ‘Park Pharmaceuticals.’ had the front board of the book lodged into the silk casing of his pillow with his other hand steadying it so he could still, quite painfully, scan his eyes over the text. Agitated, he got up with a grunt before sitting up to finish the chapter of his book. With his scientists publishing reports on the latest medicine they were developing, he immediately rushed back to his university textbooks to affirm he was still equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand the science. Meanwhile, Mrs Park- a research scientist at Park Pharmaceuticals' rival company, ‘Kim Pharma.’ was battling against her insomnia despite motherhood knocking her straight off her feet. Their daughter, Park Dami, was fast asleep in the room next door to Seonghwa’s study cuddling the little Toothless toy he had gifted her when she was still a cherub. It had seemed that Mrs Park was prone to falling asleep at the most odd times of day, whether it be during dinner or cleaning the home.

Perhaps it was the heartache she was suffering from. The love that she had held for her husband was a permanent fixture, a vow that she had promised not to break, and one she had not and never would for as long as she lived. However, the increasingly distant behaviour from her husband in light of his burgeoning role as CEO had her heart yearning for him. Being a mother was difficult and of course, so was Seonghwa’s job. Yet, he also had duties as husband and a father, which he seemed eager to abandon altogether.

“Why can’t you try to understand how difficult it is for me to do all of this? So much pressure at work, then I come to you going on about some stupid dinner with your parents!” He shouted, she flinched at the dissonance of his noxious tone reverberating off the walls of the small study- biting down at her lip.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Sorry, my arse. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fucking nagging in my ear all the time, would you?” He barked, as she sped out of the room. It had been three weeks since she had, politely and quietly, asked her husband if he was free to attend her mother’s dinner party. He refused, erratically, and despite having apologised with saccharine kisses and diligent promises, he didn’t turn up to dinner in the end.

“Oh he’s busy Mum. He’s seeing to some of the lab work, you know how stressful it was for me.” Her father complained light-heartedly, raising how unfair it was of him to neglect his family.

“Do you want to me have a chat with him? I can give him a good word.” Hastily, she steered her father away from that direction. The last thing she needed was Seonghwa to turn around and blame her for the earache her father would give.

With a relentless sigh, she sat up reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. His eyes flickered at her movements, lips moving up and down to form the shape of the words as he silently committed them to memory, forming judicious links between the knowledge and application.

“Seonghwa.” She called out for him, he hummed in return, barely reeling his eyes off the page. Please look at me. “I was thinking about going back to work again. I contacted my manager about restarting and at the moment I would only need to go in for about two days or so.” Shutting his book close, he finally met her stare, deep in contemplative thought.

“Do you think you can work and take care of Dami at the same time?” He questioned. She had thought about this several times before she dialled in her manager’s number. As much as she had inherited her father's kind-hearted nature, stunning beauty, and soft-spoken voice in the end it was the passivity she had drawn from her mother naturally rendering herself subservient to prioritise ones needs over her own. Essentially, if she had told Dami to keep her lips on a tight seal and remain of the sofa the whole day: she would.

“I’m sure I can as long as she's in sight. She'll be in nursery from September, so I'll be able to start work.” He fell a little quiet, turning to drop his book onto the night stand.

“Ok, if that’s what you want. If you need me to come home earlier, I mean I can’t at the moment, but in a few weeks time if you need me to-then I will.” Nodding, she sent him a grateful smile before sliding back under the covers to turn her night light off.

Her heels clicked, exasperatedly, on the porcelain white floor dashing straight through the double doors; her heart pounded furiously against her chest, a violent ache gnawing at her arteries. With her body almost barging into a number of figures, her anxious apologies echoed into the swamped corridors, in which her colleagues shook their tired heads in annoyance. Finally, reaching the top floor she scuttled out of the elevator catching the eyes of Mrs Lee.

"Lab coat, darling, lab coat." Squealing, she unbuttoned the off-white coat, scowling at the permanent pen marks and splashes of iodine before handing it to Mr Kim's assistant. Mrs Lee, threw the coat onto her seat, gesticulating for the young scientist to follow her. After a short knock, the heavy glass door was pushed open; several pairs of eyes darting their way.

"Ah, Miss Cheong! How nice of you to join us!" Hongjoong exclaimed, a teasing glint in his eyes that wanted to make her wipe the smirk of his lips.

"My apologies, Mr Kim, we ran into a problem down at the lab." She explained, a blush forging on her cheeks as a grave set of eyes burned into her skin.

"No worries. This is Miss Cheong, she will be our project lead on the next Kim-Park program." The Kim-Park program was founded by Kim Hongjoong of Kim Pharma and Park Seonghwa of Park Pharmaceuticals. With both companies leading the pharmaceutical industry, both founders decided in order to produce a greater economic boom, and serve an excellent supply chain of mandatory medicine; both of their greatest minds could work together to create poignant breakthroughs in the scientific sector. After all, the two companies had the countries top scientists working for them but together they could very well improve the nature of modern medicine. Hence, today both CEO’s came together for a kick off meeting establishing the blueprint for their next, biggest projects.

"'No worries?'" A derisive voice arose from across the room, where she snapped her head to find a man with wide eyes and thin-rimmed square glasses that sat at the bridge of his long nose, staring back at her. His long, slicked back hair that fell past his ears as he, mockingly, cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I didn't know Kim Pharma tolerated tardiness, Mr Kim." Returning his stare back to Hongjoong, he raised an eyebrow anticipating his answer.

“What was the problem down at the lab?”

“House fire." She retorted, "And I had to assign interns some lab work. Kim Pharma doesn't tolerate tardiness Mr Park but your project manager doesn't seem to be here? We'd have valued him being present at the kick off meeting." His face heated red in embarrassment as he gritted his teeth.

Park Seonghwa was insufferable.

The worst thing about him wasn't even that he was pedantic and scrutinised her work with a keen eye, or that his sharp attention-to-detail left her wanting to force him to chug a beaker of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was that under his strictly co-ordinated demeanour, he was a beautiful man blessed with an angel's aura. It was that he was tall and that his voice could hypnotise her; send her lunging over a precipice into the expanse of uncharted oceans. At times his allure had her wanting to excuse her pathetic hatred. They bickered at every meeting, every email was sent with 'Regards' rather than 'Kind Regards'. It wasn't long before the bickering had transgressed to shouting in the boardroom as he began to question her teachings, snickering at every intellectual point she made as if she had not graduated from university with the same degree as himself.

"You forgot to add that cisplatin is a cis isomer." He stated, as she sat across from her in his office. This time, she didn't bother to retain herself from rolling her eyes. "A problem, Miss Cheong?"

"Who's reading this report, Mr Park? A high school student or the manufacturer? Any man with common sense and college level chemistry knows that cisplatin is a cis isomer. Do you want me to also write down that it has a square planar shape with a bond angle of 90 degrees?" She snapped, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted look. He smirked taking off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the hem of his blazer sleeve. Dear god. Sedate me.

"No, but you do need to explain how cisplatin works in detail. It only works as cis isomer, not trans. You didn't specify that."

"You're incredibly pedantic." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his perfectly defined nose, the smirk remained fixed on his lips. "I'm not surprised people are handing in resignations, at your company, every week."

"They can leave if they wish, lazy people don't contribute to Park Pharmaceuticals' success." Oh and he was cocky too. As well as being a pretty face full of wits, Park Seonghwa was also wrought with egotism that made her want to wrangle his gorgeous, slender neck. "Have you ever considered joining our company?" A snicker escaped from her lips which eventually transcended into a laughter that wholly baffled him.

"I'm afraid I'd be a part of that sorry statist-,"

"I'm sorry for being an arsehole, Miss Cheong. Can I make it up to you?" And when she questioned him how he would make it up to her, he proposed the idea of a date. All he wanted was her, regardless of her much she was everything he was not. “Go on a date with me, please.” He blurted, with her feet rooted to the ground and lips falling into a thin line his heart palpitated within his chest. He sought the way her hair fell over her shoulders in light waves having ripped it from its knot after she walked out of the lab. Her pink lips were practically begging to be touched by his, he wanted to soothe the symphony of weary sighs that dispersed from her, and the headache that wracked her brain from his abstruse behaviour. Above all, he was falling in love with Miss Cheong because he despised her in such a paradoxical way. He hated the way she was smarter than him and beautiful in the way that she must have been carved from the clouds of heaven.

It often made her giggle at Hongjoong's astonishment when she handed him the wedding invitation. His excitement when he ripped open the seal to read Seonghwa's name as the groom, dropped the smile from his face as he looked at his college friend.

"You're marrying the enemy?" She shook her head at him, almost scolding him for deeming Seonghwa the 'enemy'. "This isn't what I meant when I said 'Fuck Park Seonghwa." Lobbing the pillow at his head, he dramatically sunk into his sofa as their childlike laughter eructed into the blithe atmosphere.

It had felt like a distant dream now, to be loved and adored in the ways that he once did. To be held as if every touch was their last, to be kissed as if their lips would never meet again and they were lovers in the midst of an age-old war that would tear their nimble hearts apart. To have her husband again and not a dispassionate demon who tore past the gates of hell and inflict all the condemned’s curses on her.

Giving you my all, giving you my everything. Laying my life down at your feet, stripping myself of my own honour just to feel something by you. A glance, a breath, a sigh. You tell me to leave- I don’t mean anything to you anymore.

"Hwa, you could have at least told me you weren't going to go in the first place. Then I wouldn't have gone to the company party." Sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the jumper over his torso, pulling his trapped hair out from the neck hole. He bit his tongue as his wife rebuked him for his absence, once again. "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be the only one sat without her husband there?"

"I told you I was going to run late."

"You were four hours late, and you're a half an hour drive to the office! Why didn't you say no, in the first place?" Tearing the earring out from her lobe, she sunk into the chair trying her hardest to not slip into tears; the sympathetic stares of hundreds etched into her memory. How stupid did she look for being dressed so ostentatiously, when the real jewel was not even in her possession? The clatter of pearls emptied into the drawers, hands buried into palm of her hands closing her eyes to relive the myriad of dejection. They never said marriage was this painful. Hard, yes. But not painful. "Hwa, do you love me?" She inquired, turning around in her seat.

"What?"

"It's as simple as you think. Do. You. Love. Me?" Her voice wavered as she asked him, the distant stare in his eyes revealed answers to the questions that she did not want answered.

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. Or given you a beautiful daughter. I miss one, silly, company event and you start throwing a tantrum.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve completely abandoned me!” Her shout restituted off the thin light blue walls, jumping from her seat at his petty arguments. “You are such a terrible husband and you make me feel trapped in this marriage!”

“And you fucking suffocate me! You suffocate me!” He roared across the room, his strident tone penetrating through her, grazing down the surface of her heart. Rupturing the weak seams that held it together. Stumbling backwards, her palms gripped onto the mahogany table; shaking, biting down her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. "The only time I felt like I could ever breathe, in this marriage, was when I was not with you. When I was at work, or with the others, or just anywhere else. But never with you." Dipping her head, away from him, she shut her eyes as tight as she could.

"Please stop." she whispered, a plead so quiet it almost went unspoken. Yet Seonghwa heard it anyway because no matter how angry he was, their souls were still intertwined. Their hearts beat as one, they were uniform, one whole being. Slowly, he treaded towards her, mimicking the dip of head.

"Why? Can't you take the truth?" he mocked. Full tears pooled in her eyes, her chest burning from holding in her breath. "I should divorce you." He proclaimed, without a stutter. That was enough to break her. An obnoxious wail infiltrated into the void of the room. Was that what he wanted? To provoke some sort of emotion from her to satisfy his ego? He scoffed, before darting from the room-slamming the door shut behind him. Wrought with tears she trudged to her bed, slipping under the covers; sobbing herself unconscious.

"Mummm. Ammiii. Ammaaa." A small voice whispered, the softness soothing the persisting ache in her chest. Holding back the smile ready to break through, she fixed her eyes shut waiting to see what her daughter would do next.

"Dami, let your mother sleep. Come on." The urge to smile had dropped instantaneously, the familiar sense of forlorn gushing into her again; his sweet, addictive voice puncturing holes into her heart.

"I'm hungry." She could hear the pout on her daughter's lips. Huffing, she groaned loudly snapping at her daughters attention, who jumped up and down in excitement of her mother awaking. Reaching out for her child, she picked her up settling her down on her laps. "Mama, I'm hungry." She squeaked.

"Have you washed up yet?" She shook her head. "Ok, let me go to the bathroom first. Then I'll help you."

"I'll help her wash up." Seonghwa offered. Refusing to look at him, she simply gave him a curt nod, the sight of his face wanting to make her erupt into a fit of sobs.

"I promise I'll never make you cry." He had promised, before their marriage. They sat under the stars, the cool wind brushing at their cheeks. Astronomy books sat scattered around her as she attempted to map out constellations in the beaming night.

"And if you do?" She challenged, playfully smirking. With a cute frown he gave her a nudge.

"I promise I won't but in the 0.00001 percent chance that I do, then you should leave me. You’re worth more than the moon to me, and to hurt you is the deadliest sin I can commit." He immediately leaned forward to swoop her into a deep kiss- both of them smiling as they did. The memory of his now-broken promise brought tears to her eyes again. Tightly pressing her palm to her mouth, to hold back her cries, she sucked in yet another breath. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Gripping onto the bathroom sink until her knuckles bled white, her knees hit the floor. Nicking the handle of the tap- tears freely flowed down her cheeks as the water rushed through the basin at rapid speed. I want my baby back.

Feeling the heavy burden of a collapsing marriage, her shoulders sunk as she chopped at the onions, preparing their dinner. Dami sat on the stool by the kitchen island, with her mini crayons scribbling over the pictures in the colouring book.

“Mama, why did Appa sleep in my room yesterday?” Scraping the onions into the pan, she grabbed the wooden spoon to stir it.

“He was missing his little princess. He wasn’t causing you trouble, was he?” She teased, sending her a forced smile. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay happy. To smile was to pain her cheeks, they felt more contented relaxed than to uplift and radiate an aura of joy that didn’t seem to exist within her anymore.

“He’s so big, I fell off bed.” She snorted, laughing at her child’s proclamation. It was not long before a thought occurred to her that whenever they slept in the same bed- it was always her that took up the most room-rather than him. A fond memory occurred to her, specifically a night where her body was plastered to his.

“Ah, jagi, can you move a little? I’m up against the window?” Her body shuffled slightly to the left, giving him room to breathe a little bit more. “Thank god.” He huffed out a sigh of relief, her lips fell into a pout- as she rolled further away from him towards the edge of the bed. If space was what he wanted, then she was going to give it to him. Seonghwa’s arm outstretched for her, the cold air battering his skin was no comfort, he wanted her again. A tantalising laugher infiltrated the air, he shuffled closer to her pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Never mind I need my cuddly bunny.” He sang, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time he had held her so close to himself. If anything, he needed the space now and rested just less than a metre apart from her each night.

“It was nice! Appa is a teddy bear.”

“Am I, my princess?” Turning away from the doorway, she opened the cupboard to reach for the spices, shielding her melancholic face away from him. The sweet dissonance of giggling entered her ears, if he had no love to spare for her at least he had enough to spare for his daughter. “Ahem, I’m going on a business dinner tonight.”

“Ok.” Seonghwa watched her, resting his hand on the top of his daughter’s head who went straight back to colouring in the flowers in her book-switching to a pink crayon at that. “What time will you be home?” He shrugged, then quickly noticed that with her back to him she wouldn’t see.

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up.” How could he say that knowing that there wasn’t a night in their marriage where she didn’t sit patiently on the sofa, waiting for him to come back home. Even on the days where he warned her he’d be back a lot later than usual. Regardless, she’d stay plastered to the sofa switching from the tv, to her phone, to a random book-eyes continuously flickering to clock- skipping to the kitchen to shove snacks into her mouth, as she’d never eat without him.

The urge to erupt into a fit of sobs inclined, chewing on her lip violently provided her with enough solace to finish making dinner, feed her daughter and put her to bed. Then at last, when she closed the curtains to her bedroom, a hushed cry escaped her; spending the rest of her night as she did prior, wailing and wailing until fatigue had lulled her weary heart to sleep. The creak of the door went unnoticed to her, Seonghwa crept in; her sleeping figure rested in the bed, the comforter dragged over her head. He sighed, contemplating whether to slip beside her or retreat back to Dami’s room for the night.

This sequence continued for the next few weeks, every night she would cry herself to sleep and Seonghwa would sleep in Dami’s bed. It wasn’t even their room at this point, it was hers with Seonghwa’s things in it-just like her flat pre-marriage. Her room with Seonghwa’s books, few pieces of clothes and odd bits of trinkets. One morning she woke up to find a stack of papers on her nightstand. Fear coursed through her blood, were these the divorce papers that he had suggested to her? Rifling through the papers, her heart soothed as soon as she realised they were just Dami’s crayon drawings. Stick figures of Appa, Amma, and little Dami in the middle. Drawings of flowers, then one just of Amma and Appa, a big heart between them. If only that were true. If only his heart still beat for her the same way hers beat for him.

She heard his voice trail out of the study, as she almost raised her hands to knock and summon him downstairs for lunch. The rapid muttering halted her movements, instead she tentatively pressed her ears against the door to assess the situation.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon…She’s pissing me off right now. I’m trying to get the papers set at the moment…I don’t know about a few more weeks?” Slapping her hand to her mouth, she squeezed her lips shut to prevent any pained sounds from releasing. Honey? There was another woman? And the papers? Was he really, truly, trying to divorce her? Rushing to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut, flipping the tap back open to relive the same endless cycle.

“I’m going on a work trip to Japan, for a week. We have an important business meeting. I might need you take care of Dami by yourself.” His head snapped from up Dami’s unfinished Lego project. She’d fallen asleep when playing, so her father took it upon herself to finish building the set.

“You should have asked me beforehand. You can’t just accept to go offshore, and then give me a week’s notice.” He scolded, playing with the pink block between his fingers.

“I only got told today. I tried to call you whilst I was still in office, but I couldn’t get through to you.” Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head in disappointment. It appeared that Mrs Park was also refraining important matters from her husband; making decisions of her own that they promised they’d always make together. An uncomfortable silence remained suspended in the tense air, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she awaited for him to say something else. Even if it was to belittle her, she urged to hear the sound of his voice.

“If you cared enough about me, you’d know I’m busy too.” Chewing down on her lip, she held back a painful sigh. There it is. “We’ll be with my parents for a week while you’re gone. When’s your flight?”

“Sunday night.” Nodding, he scooped up the remaining pieces on the floor pouring them back into the packet before getting up himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

The work trip to Japan was just as tranquil as she anticipated, the host company was as hospitable as they could be. The days were cut short, the air silent subsiding one into deep thought, even if they denied themselves the pleasures of having to think. With her knees tucked up to her chest, she stared out onto the vast market of skyscrapers, the teeming arena beneath contributing the noises that fell deaf at her ears. She needed to leave the home, its confining airs strangling the lumen of her windpipe. She didn't exactly know what to do now that it was confirmed: Seonghwa did not love her. The declaration was enough to send her into delirium, enough to have her jolting up at night; drowning in cold sweats, preaching his name like a mantra. The flight home did not come soon enough, she boarded the plane with such eagerness and drenched even further in pain when she was assigned the seat next to her colleague and her husband.

Nervously, she dialled in his number once more hurriedly, tapping her feet against the cobbled footpath; her free hand latched onto the sweaty handle of the suitcase. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Being met by the voicemail service was disheartening, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew harsh against her skin sending a ripple of goosebumps over her.

"Mrs Park, is your taxi late?" Whipping her head around to find her colleague, she shook her head in dismay. "Do you need a lift? We don't live too far from each other."

Pushing through the large wooden gates of his childhood home, she adjusted the straps of her back pack lifting her head to find the blaring of orange lights through the slits between the window blinds. A small bustle of activity could be heard from the other end, tentatively, her fingers rose to provoke the silver door knocker.

"I'll get the door!" His voice floated through the surface, reaching out to caress the aches on her skin bruised wholly by him. As soon as their eyes met across the doorway, the smile was wiped clean from his lips. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it had completely slipped my mind-,”

“You don’t forget things, Hwa. The truth is: it didn’t slip from your mind, you just didn’t care.” You haven’t cared about me for a very long time. You haven’t loved me in a long time. I am no longer your wife but just Dami’s mother, to you. Though some sort of vile emotion named fear had prevented her from saying those words, becoming lodged at the crux of her throat, floating on the tip of her tongue.

The worst thing was, he didn’t say anything. He was silent, unwilling to reckon against her and fight for their marriage again. When did he become so passive? Up until now, when was there a day in their relationship when he didn’t fight to keep her at his side? Trudging into the household, the warmth lacerated her skin, taking off her shoes as the pattering of small feet came her way. A small body engulfed her larger frame, the delightful giggles of her daughter infiltrated her ears as her mother finally came home to her.

"We ate sooo much food. We had tteokbokki, dakgalbi, ramen. Halmeoni tried to make me eat yaksik but it was nasty." Letting out a tired moan she fell onto the floorboard, Dami crawling on top of her, as her mother-in-law stuffed her with enough food to last her a century.

"Ugh, Dami. Please get off Amma, my tummy is going to explode."

"Halmeoni! Amma ate too much!"

"Your Amma didn't eat enough!" Eomeonim shouted back from the kitchen. Seonghwa ambled into the room settling a cup of green tea in front of her, whilst simultaneously lifting Dami from her stomach. There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them as their daughter, oblivious to the obvious tension between her parents, entertained them nevertheless by dancing around the room and singing. He left the room in between to see to his mother in the kitchen. Feeling terrible for leaving her to tend to the mound of dishes, she carried behind walking straight into the enemy's territory.

“Are you stupid, boy? How could you even suggest a divorce?” She hissed. “It was only yesterday when you came running to me, with your eyes so full of love. Where is that love now?”

“People change.” He deadpanned, hot tears fulfilled her eyes, blurring her vision as she rushed back to the front room.

“We’re going, now!” She ordered, a pout on her daughter’s face grazed the surface of her heart. She couldn’t stand here, and hear her husband declare that he didn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t watch the love of her life slip from the tips of her fingers, whilst she sunk beneath the earth under her feet. She grabbed his car keys, from his jacket. “We’re going home, eomeonim. I need to go into the office, tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking care of Dami.” Kissing the top of her mother’s head, she slipped on her shoes before carrying Dami out of the home. Seonghwa followed hot on her heels.

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“Home, Hwa.” The lock clicked out of the place, she jerked open the car door to fasten her daughter into the seat ignoring her cries and pleads to stay at her grandmother’s. “Dami! Quiet!” She roared, the same way Seonghwa would shout at her for nights on end for doing nothing other than being his wife.

“Stop acting like a child and come back inside right now!” He commanded.

“I won’t, Hwa. Because the next time I go back in and let myself be hurt by you, I’ll have no one to blame but me.” He fell quiet, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I am the still the girl who would wait nights for her husband to come home to her. But you are no longer the boy that would walk straight into her arms.” Choking on her sobs, she jerked open the car door to slip inside, her daughter calling out for her father. After all, they were the same woman. Both so utterly in love with the same man that could not love them both in the ways one could dream of being in love. For being in love with him was asking for annihilation, his devotion unreachable like the stars studded in the midnight sky. Was he not made from the stars? An angel borne from light, whose banner was a celestial plane that would diminish the human essence in a heartbeat? Steering the car out of his driveway, Seonghwa stood plastered to the floor a single tear dropping from his eye as he felt his soul meander away from him.

That night, when they reached home, Dami was tight in her arms after having cried the whole journey home from missing her father. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered her and she reluctantly slept in her mother’s arms. She was so sure now that her daughter thought she was the villain for ripping her away from her father. Nuzzling her small face deeper into her mother’s neck, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she called out for her father.

There was no need to frantically run to the post box every time a letter slipped through, meeting the ground with a loud thud. Though, she did it anyway, with little Dami scuttling behind her as if she was expecting a letter herself though deep down Mrs Park knew that she wanted her Appa to come home. It had been a month having not heard back from him. No messages or calls. After work, she ventured over to his office only to be turned away by his assistant; catching a quick glance at his shadow through his window.

“I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?” She uttered through gritted teeth, though the woman in front merely nodded, disinterestedly. “When is Mr Park next available?” The jarring clatter against the keyboard gnawed at her ear drums, annoyance fulfilling her.

Fuck this. Rushing to the handle of his door, she keeled it open storming inside-the loud slam of the door jumping him up from where he sat in his seat. The assistant rushed behind, squawking about how she had to leave.

“Cilla, it’s ok. Go do your job.” He ordered, softly with his eyes fixated on his wife. She didn’t expect him to look this way, the clean, composed Seonghwa now with tousled hair and small dark circles under his eyes. Eyes bloodshot red as if he had been crying for weeks on end, exhaustion piling in them. His sunken face as if he had not eaten for weeks-Seonghwa, not eating? The same man who used to kiss her hands and go for seconds, claiming there must have been some magic in them for she made such delicious food?

“Dami is getting upset. She misses her Dad. The least you could is come home and see her, so she doesn’t think that her father abandoned her too.”

“I’ve been busy-,”

“You’ll always be busy, Hw-Seonghwa. But not busy enough that you can’t spare an hour or two to see your daughter.” She spat, storming straight out of his office, sending the assistant a dirty look on her way to the elevator.

“Appa!” Dami’s animated tone weighed down her father’s heart, his arms wide open as she jumped into them. Fixing her spot by the kitchen doorway she watched as her husband played with her daughter. After a few hours, when they had put Dami to sleep, they sat with each other in the front room Seonghwa pulling out an envelope from his work satchel.

“The-uh- papers. Divorce papers.” A pang struck through her, hands shaking as she reached out for them.

“As her mother, I’ll have custody over her. You should be allowed to see her every week, so maybe the weekend?” Her voice quivered, slightly as she opened up the seal of the envelope, its woody scent wafting up her nose. With little energy, to pull out the form- she settled it onto the coffee table. “We’ll move to my mother’s house…” She trailed off biting down on her lip as Seonghwa closed his eyes shut.

“That’s fine. You can just post it to the lawyer. I’d like to see Dami at my office next week, could you do that?” Nodding diligently, she owed him that much. He’d be counting down the days soon until he’d rarely see his daughter. How would they tell her Amma and Appa weren’t as happy as they were in the drawings?

Her eyes scoured over the woman sat in front of him, as she opened the door to his office. God, she was beautiful with her long, black, silky hair, siren eyes, her chic office look. Everything she was not, though she had managed to pick herself up and put a lot more effort than she usually did with her fitted suit, hair tied back into a sleek bun-held up by the closest pen she could find on her dressing table since her silver claw clip was nowhere in sight. Was she the woman he was going to leave her for? She couldn’t even blame him at this point, why keep something expired when you could throw it away and have something new? Gripping onto the straps of her handbag, she slowly let go of her daughter’s hand who ran to her father’s side.

“Gaeun, this is my wife Mrs Park.” Timidly, she shook her hand. Gaeun saw Mrs Park as an intimidating woman, with her silent face as she ambled into the room with her daughter, her neat hair, pointed heels and tailored skirt that accentuated her curves. She matched Mr Park’s daunting presence perfectly, and of course her intelligence was known to all as well as her insistence to remain at his rivals’ company. “Dear, this is Gaeun- she’s one of the project leads on the next Kim-Park collaboration.”

“I see.” Her head picked up, giving both parties a short nod before leaving the office. She reckoned there was enough to time to make it to her own company and break down in the toilets before beginning the work day.

The rain thundered down from the sky on a solemn afternoon, the clatter of dishes being returned to the cupboards entailing the home; followed the thundering knock at the door. Peeking into the peep hole, the swung the door open, she pulled her husband in immediately rushing around him as he jerked off his shoes.

“Into the shower now.” Without hesitation, he grabbed his clothes from her bedroom before soundlessly making his way into the shower. She only assumed he had come to their home for the signed papers, it had been a while since he’d given them to her; though all she could think about was the way her pen could not even touch the sheet. The door to the study creaked open, as she bit her lip with the unsigned line glaring back at her.

“I haven’t- I haven’t signed the paper, yet.” His breath hitched in his throat, inching closer and closer to her. With the tickle in her throat pervasive, the pen neared the line her heart shattering with every second that her hands rebuked the damned sheet in front. How did she even do her signature?

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with me. I’m sorry that you married me. I’m sorry that I’m not enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the perfect wife for you.” She blurted, the pen falling from her fingers onto the table. He called out her name, drawing forward arms outstretched to encircle her into him. To hold her as tight and as true as she deserved. To fulfil her of kisses that he had deprived her of, to ease her of her pain. Though she stopped him in his tracks, with a palm to censor his movements. “No, Hwa. I haven’t been enough for you for a very long time. I must have done something wrong for you to hurt me like this. I must have done something much worse than what you’ve done to me. I just wished you spoke to me than gave me this stupid sheet and trying to end us in a single heartbeat.” An agonising wail left her lips, as she dropped to the floor tucking up her knees to her chest. Her lungs burned, desperate for air running her fingers through her hair as she slowly breathed out to ease the throbbing sensation loitering at her temples. He sunk to the floor with her, engulfing her frame within his. His jumper so soft, drenched in the scent that she adored. The same scent that he wore when they first met. Her bottom lip quivered again.

“You did nothing, it was all me. I forgot who I was, I forgot it was you who gave me life.” Her tears stained his shirt, he held her closer to his body. “I came to here to change your mind. I didn’t want you to sign those papers. I was so scared you had.” Their bodies rocked back and forth as the painful sound of her sobbing gradually declined.

“I couldn’t do it.” She whispered, her throat sore from this prolonging nightmare. Kissing away her tears, his fingers gently tilted up her head so he could bore his eyes in her beautiful ones. “I just need to know if there’s another woman. If there is, and you love her the same way you loved me, you can have her.”

“There was never another woman. It was always you I swear.” He pledged, as his own tears rushed down his face tickling his jawline before pattering carefully on his sweater. “I was just a poor excuse of a man, a poor excuse of a husband. I admit that I felt like you’d never leave me, but when I realised you really could it hurt me so much.” Drawing lines over his sweatshirt she listened to the sweet sound of his voice whisper into her ears.

“I’ll be a better man. I’ll work on me, and you can just keep on being a great wife and mother.” Their lips met in a frenzy of emotions, their palpitating hearts enamouring their befallen entities as passionate kisses filled the wounds that penetrated through them. His hands snaked around her waist, as hers ran through his long hair emitting a husky groan out of him. “Do you think Dami would like a sibling?” He joked, before being met by whack to the back of his head, they deepened the kiss before she happily rested her head against his chest.

“Maybe, but not now. Right now, you need to come home to us.”

“It’s just you and me now. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby.”

•••

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

cheong meaning 'quiet' 'eomeonim' means mother-in-law (husband's side) 'halmeoni' means grandma

A/N: i'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i'm going on some meds soon and i have no idea how shit i'm gonna feel while on them. wanted to update in case i have no energy to release something else for a while😖 Hope you guys liked this one! ✨✨

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[holdmytesseract]

A cute little drabble request for baby fever in the future or for the sleepover: Y/N, Ella, and 2 year old Narfi all get sick with the flu and loki has to take care of all of them, Y/N being the sickest, feels like she is dying and Loki comforts her. Just a little cute one.

Caring Husband and Father

Warnings: sickness a.k.a the flu, fluff

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for this request, friend. This drabble turned out to be so soft and sweet! 🥹

"Dada," Narfi sobbed on Loki's arm; head lolling from side to side against his father's chest. "I know, little prince, I know..." The god whispered and pressed his lips against the top of his son's curly haired head; trying to reassure him. In vain. Narfi kept on whining and sobbing.

"Are your earaches worse, huh?" The little boy just snivelled and rubbed his snotty nose against Loki's t-shirt. He sighed, "Thought so." and shifted the two-year-old on his arm, so that he could check on his temperature. "But I think your fever sunk a bit. That's good."

Narfi had caught a nasty flu. Well, only because Ella had caught it. He got it from his big sister and well, you... You caught it as well. Everybody was knocked out by it. Except Loki. Perhaps it was his godly biology, which prevented him from getting sick easily. A thing which you were glad about, because he could look after you and the kids. A task he submitted himself to happily.

The god walked with the toddler still on his arm into the kitchen, in order to give him some meds against the flu itself and especially earaches. The boy swallowed bravely the disgustingly tasting medicine. "There you go," Loki pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You are so brave, sweet boy." Narfi sobbed once more and cuddled back against his dad's chest; little arms looping around his neck.

"Come on, little prince, time for a nap." He carried Narfi into the living room and laid down with him on the sofa; knowing that his son was way too clingy and wouldn't let go of him now.

Loki's seidr helped Narfi's earaches at least a little bit and so he slept in on top of Loki; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. It was absolutely cosy and Narfi's weight upon his upper body so comfortable, it almost lulled the raven haired god to sleep as well. He was about to doze off, when a quiet voice brought him back down to earth.

"B-Babe?"

At the sound of your voice, Loki's eyes immediately flew open; head turning to face the door. His heart broke then and there, as he saw you standing there, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. You were utterly pale and had deep rings underneath your eyes. He could see how weak you were and how bad you felt. The flu had really taken its toll on you...

Loki stood up instantly, but carefully - not to wake the toddler sleeping on his chest, "I'm here, darling." and stepped over to you. "Do you need anything, my love? Can I help you?" You coughed, which caused your whole body to shake; eyes glassy. "I-I dunno, I just... I feel like shit." Then your gaze fell on your son. "H-How's my baby doing?"

Loki pressed a kiss against your forehead; the warmth against his lips radiating from your skin concerned him. "He's doing okay; only slept in about ten minutes ago." You felt how your husband wrapped a strong arm gently around your waist. "Come, darling." You didn't argue, of course, and let Loki guide you back to the bedroom.

He helped you lay down. "Stay here. I'll be right with you. I'm just going to put Narfi down and look after our princess." You nodded and curled yourself up into a ball. Loki let his eyes roam your weak and fragile body with worry on his face, before he left the bedroom again.

Carefully, the god put Narfi down; laying him inside his baby cot and making sure he was warm enough. Of course, he took the baby monitor with him, then went to check on Ella. He hadn't heard a word from her in a few hours. It didn't concern the god much, since she's been sleeping a lot in the past days; letting her body work to get the flu out of its system.

Slowly, he opened the door to her room and peeked inside. He was right. His daughter was fast asleep; curled up underneath her blanket. Soft snores left her lips, due to her stuffy nose. On tiptoes, he walked over and placed a hand on her forehead. Ella's fever was gone. Loki smiled softly. At least someone of his family was getting better.

The raven haired god leaned down and kissed her forehead as well; tucking the girl back in properly and left the room again.

Before he returned to you, he made you another cup of camomile tea and took some of your meds with him.

He found you just like he left you... Curled up on the bed. "Darling..." He stepped over and sat down on the edge of the bed. You turned to him. "I made you some tea and brought you medicine. It's time for you to take them," Loki spoke in a quiet voice; handing you the meds and the bottle of water, standing on your nightstand.

Again, you nodded and took the medicine; along of a small sip of hot tea. Loki helped you to get comfortable then; fluffing your pillow and making sure that you were comfortable. "Is that to your liking, my love? Are you comfortable?" "Y-Yes, thank you." Your husband gave you a soft smile. "Anything else you need?" Your soft, glassy Y/E/C met his. "You... Just you... Please..." You reached for his hand; his warm palm engulfing yours.

Another soft smile grazed his lips and he dipped his head to press a kiss against the skin of your hand, before he let go of you again and quickly rounded the bed to join you. Loki cuddled up against you; curled his body against yours. "Is that okay, darling?" "Mhh..." You hummed; "Perfect." closing your eyes. "Thank you for taking care of us." Loki kissed your neck. "Of course, my love. Always."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @multifandom-worlds @herdetectivetheorist @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @cakesandtom @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @lulubelle814

[drmaddict]

Mask

Summary: (Y/n) shows Ghost a different kind of mask.

Wordcount: 1.252

The myth, the phantom, the death with the mask, Ghost flinched.

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes.

Simon continued to stare blankly at her.

(Y/n) stared back.

Simon made circular motions in front of his face with his index finger and looked at his girlfriend questioningly.

"A sheet mask.", she explained and closed her eyes. "My skin is always dry in winter, so I do it more often."

Simon continued to look at his girlfriend. He had only recently started spending the night at her place more often. As a result, they had become more familiar with each other's daily rituals.

(Y/n) knew that he got up at 4 a.m. every day. (Y/n) had immediately given him a wrist alarm clock that vibrated to wake him up, so she wouldn't be constantly woken up in 'the middle of the night' just because he wanted to exercise.

By now, Simon was familiar with her evening beauty routine, as well as the weekly, extensive 'reset', as she called it. Bath, face mask, peeling, hair removal, eyelash lift (something that frankly terrified him), henna make-up, eyebrows-something.

He couldn't see through it, but it seemed to do her good.

Still, this image was new.

"Tell your eyebrows to relax.", she murmured.

Simon forced his face to relax. "Sorry.", he grumbled.

"It's okay." She relaxed and leaned her head back against the back of the sofa. "My face is just too small for these things. But it's so nice and cool on the skin." A grin steels itself on her lips. "I'm sure they'd fit you better."

Simon just grumbled dismissively as a ring went off from (Y/n)s phone. She jumped up and headed for the bathroom. His unmasked girlfriend came back and grinned mischievously at him.

"What?", he asked immediately, alarmed.

She pulled a small packet out from behind her back and held it under his nose.

"No.", Simon clarified and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

She pouted. "Oh, come on. It's really nice and good for your skin."

Simon raised an eyebrow. He pointed to his face. "Good for the skin? You can see the cheshire smile, can't you? Or the scar that nearly cost me my eye? The burn-"

"Simon-" she interrupted him. "I mean that..." She took a deep breath. "You think I haven't noticed that you have scarring pain and always get earaches when the weather changes, or that your eyes hurt when it storms?" She looked at the little blue packet. "Something like that helps to provide relief.", she pouted.

Simon sighed. He had hoped she wouldn't notice. "All right."

He sat down forcefully on the sofa and crossed his arms.

(Y/n) looked at him before she carefully grabbed his hand and pulled it.

"To the bathroom.", was all she said.

"What for?"

"I have to prepare the face first.", she shrugged.

Simon looked at her. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

(Y/n) shook her head in amusement, but pulled him behind her.

No sooner had Simon been placed on the toilet seat than she reached for a tube in her arsenal.

She squeezed a white, creamy substance onto her fingers and looked at him, beaming. "Can I?", she asked.

Simon nodded. She dabbed his face with a wet towel and then began to spread the stuff over his face. Her hands massaged in circles over his skin.

"What's that?", he asked.

"Cleansing milk.", she said simply.

"You know soap works too."

"Men." she just mumbled. "Wash up." she delegated.

Simon leaned over the sink and rinsed the stuff off.

He was immediately pushed back onto the seat and dabbed with a towel.

He was still processing the feeling on his skin, when (Y/n) reached for another bottle and dabbed the contents onto a cotton pad.

She ran it over his forehead, his cheeks and his chin. She was particularly careful with his larger scars. Simon looked at her concentrated face. Warmth fluttered around his heart.

She threw the small piece of cotton into the garbage can next to the sink.

Simon noticed that his skin wasn't as tight as usual. He usually just took a bar of soap and washed himself with it.

(Y/n) finally tore open the blue packaging and pulled out a slippery-looking white something.

"That looks weird", he said.

(Y/n) just grumbled in agreement. "Put your head back a little.", she said, gently placing her hands on his jaw and pushing his head into the desired position.

Simon waited patiently. She carefully placed the face-shaped thing first on his forehead, then his nose and then positioned the cut-outs so that they matched his facial features.

"Yes, your face is better suited to the standard size.", she sighed as she adjusted the piece here and there.

Simon let his eyes fall shut as she started to scratch his scalp.

"And?" she asked softly, sitting down on his lap for comfort.

He hummed with pleasure. "Refreshing.", was all he said.

She laughed and pulled her hands back towards her, but Simon immediately pulled them back to his head.

He kept his eyes closed the whole time, enjoying (Y/n's) caring hands.

Only when her phone beeped again and she slowly pulled the mask off his face, did he let his eyes flutter open again.

Her fingers began to massage in the excess fluid.

He let his arms move around her hips and pulled her against his chest.

She grinned at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Satisfied?", he asked.

She nodded, beaming, and stroked his short hair again.

He pressed a kiss to her nose and buried his freshly groomed face in her neck.

"What are you doing?"

Simon put the pink tube back in its place in a flash. "Nothing."

(Y/n) looked at him with amusement. Simon looked back, caught off guard.

She reached into the small cupboard under the sink and pulled out two headbands. She put one on and pressed the other, still wrapped, into Simon's hand. "Move over.", she said, nudging him lightly with her hip.

Simon put the band to one side and held out his hand as (Y/n) squeezed a small amount of the cleansing cream onto her fingertips. She also put a small amount on his hand, put the tube down and started to clean her face. Simon did the same in silence.

They each went about their own business.

"You do know, that we will be doing this always together when you're here from now on, don't you?"

"I had suspected."

(Y/n) grinned and put on under-eye pads. She also held a pair out to Simon.

He looked at the two gel pads extensively, before pressing them to his face, as (Y/n) had done.

"I still have a lot to show you my friend.", she grinned.

Simon looked at her. Without make-up, wearing only one of his shirts, she stood there and had never been so beautiful as with those green things under her eyes.

He smiled gently at her. "I'm a fast learner."

She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I noticed.", she smiled and pushed the slipped pad back into place.

"You and Johnny would get along well.", he muttered. "His ratio of hair care products to actual careable hair is irrational."

(Y/n) shook her head with a laugh and scratched the back of his neck. "I'd rather spoil you."

He rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

[luveline]

hi could i request tasm!peter x autistic!reader? or x miguel, i just got excited when i saw you write for autistic readers i’ve never had that

thank u for ur request!! gentle disclaimer that im not autistic so my frame of ref is based on people i know or what ive read about, please forgive me in case of any inauthenticities <3

Miguel doesn't have much in the way of personal effects, but he has a small glass sphere that rests near one of his monitors in the lab. He occasionally uses it as a paperweight, the milky way inside sparkling in the downtime lighting. 

You're moving it aside to grab up some of his paperwork —to help, he assumes, because you love feeling helpful— when you lose your grip and drop it. It hits the workbench with a sound that makes you cringe, rolling along the bench and over the edge. 

It hits the floor, splintering into a hundred different pieces with an earache-prompting crash. 

Your hands instantly fly to your ears. You take a step back and narrowly avoid splitting open the sole of your shoes on a big chunk of glass.

Miguel's relieved when you don't hurt yourself. Your hands stay cemented to your ears, eyes scrunched closed and shoulders tight, waiting for another sound. He brushes a piece of glass aside and approaches you slowly. 

"You're alright," he says, his fingertips splaying over your elbow. 

You lean forward.

"It's fine. There won't be another loud noise." 

You shake your head side to side but don't speak. Miguel reads it as a correction of his assumption. While he imagines another loud sound would be less than ideal for you, it's not the full reason you've covered your ears. 

Miguel doesn't know what to do, so he guesses. He hooks the leg of a nearby chair with his ankle and yanks it forward to sit you down. That doesn't help (it may even have made things worse). He crouches in front of you.

"What do you need, cariño?" He enthuses his tone with as much softness as it will hold. These days, that isn't a lot, but it's enough for you to peel apart your eyelashes. "Tienes que decirme, ay? You have to tell me." 

"I don't know," you say. 

"Better or worse if I'm touching you?" 

You swallow around nothing. Slowly, you drop your hands to your collar, clenching and unclenching your fists. "It's okay. Sorry, it's not bad." Your hands flop to your lap. "Ah, I smashed your ball. I'm so sorry, I'll get you a new one, I promise." 

"Don't worry about it." 

"But you like it?" you say unsurely.

"I'm a little more worried about you." 

"Why?" You clench your fists again. "Miguel, I know I reacted badly, but I still broke your stuff, you can be mad with me." 

"You didn't react badly," he says. Different than some, sure. He isn't bothered by your response unless you're bothered. He certainly isn't angry about the paperweight.

"You aren't mad?" you ask softly. 

"If I got mad at you for being a dummy I'd be mad all the time." 

"You are mad all the time." 

"Watch it."

Despite what you've said, the loud noise has you unsettled. Your hands continue to clench and unclench, the skin of your knuckles thinning, shaking just a little. Miguel touches your shoulder briefly as he stands, leaving you by the workbench to search the cast iron table that houses the saw. He pulls the drawer forward quietly and grabs the thing he'd been looking for —a pair of noise dampening ear muffs. 

"Would these help?" he asks, offering them to you.

You shake your head even as you take them. "I already heard it, it won't just go away–"

"It doesn't need to go away that fast. Take your time. We'll just sit here." 

You stretch the ear muffs but don't put them on. "I'm really sorry." 

"Don't be stupid," he says. "It's just glass. I can get a new one for five dollars at the pawn shop." 

"You don't look like someone who shops at a pawn shop." 

Miguel takes the ear muffs from you and places them gently over your ears. They don't smother every sound; he's sure you can still hear him as he says, "That's dumb." 

"You're bullying me." 

He puts a finger over his lips. "Quiet." 

You close your eyes, wrap your arms around your waist, and settle down. Your thumbs rub frantically at your elbows for a few minutes until they slow, and your quirked brows relax into a line. You don't rush yourself into feeling better. Miguel wouldn't have it any other way. 

When you're back to a baseline, you rub your face bashfully and point your shoe at the glass covered floor, ear muffs around your neck. "You didn't want to clean it up?" you ask. 

Miguel pretends his attention can't be torn from the blueprints in front of him. He hadn't wanted to make any more noise for you. 

"What, you get to smash it but not clean it?" he asks. He laughs at his own joke. "I have a robot for that." 

You mumble something scornful under your breath and lean over him to grab the paperwork you'd originally intended to complete before your disaster. "Summon the robot. I'll put the defenders back on." 

"You sure?" 

You smile at him gently. "Positive." 

[libraford]

I don't mean to keep talking about work shit but I'm back in that place where I like what I do and want to continue to do it, but there are parts of it that are starting to wear on me personally.

Work bitching under the cut.

We have a whole new crew this season except for me. And my boss is getting more stressed out because of her bosses, which means that when the new crew has questions it falls to me. Which is fine- the person who trained me was real knowledgeable and I'm decent at coming up with solutions to problems on my own.

The new people think I'm 'very chill.' But the truth is that most of the problems they're fussing over are things that I've encountered before and I know how to solve them or who to call if I can't. Sometimes my solutions aren't perfect and the overhead bosses notice that we had to rig something.

My immediate boss wants perfection. I told her that I can't promise that. She still thinks that I can do that, but I've never been a perfectionist. She will show you every hair out of place, every wrinkle in every collar, every misplaced crop.

Well?

Our subjects are children and children are imperfect. I didn't wash my hair for a year in fifth grade because I had constant earaches and didn't want to get my head wet. Sometimes kids are just funny looking- they make weird faces when you tell them to smile, they bug their eyes out, they don't sit still. Like I'm sorry, parents, that your kid doesn't sit with perfectly placed hands and a natural smile- but that's your goofy kid. Love and cherish their goofy years.

With most kids, I have a few tricks for getting them to fix their shirts and hair, get into the correct pose, and somewhat approaching a natural picture smile. But when you're doing 60 subjects a minute, some of them are not going to be perfect.

Yesterday I had a student who was special needs, did not like to be touched, and had specific wants for her photo. Her mother died last month and she wanted a photo of her holding the locket with her picture in it. Its the cutest photo ever.

They'll see that I went off-book. They'll see that her skirt isn't perfectly pleated. They'll see that she has some stray hairs.

I made an accommodation for this child. I accepted that we weren't going to get it perfect, but we were going to get a photo that her grandparents were going to cherish forever. Its truly an adorable photo. If I waited for perfect, I wasn't gonna get it.

Another kid was having a bad day. She was crying. I had to take her picture while she was crying, which is insult to injury for a kid who is having an internal crisis. We weren't going to get perfect.

I instruct the special needs teachers to send their kids to me because I'm very patient and I know some tricks and I know my equipment and I know how to make some adjustments to make it easier that some of my new photographers might not. I may not get perfect. I hope for happy, I hope for 'looking at the camera.' Its a win if I get both.

When I'm doing yearbook candids, I do fast and good. I have a system that allows me to take a rather high volume of decent photos that I know will look good in a yearbook without interrupting a class to get them. You literally can't get perfect here except on accident. They're kids in their natural environment.

When I'm doing sports candids I aim for volume. I know where to stand to get the best shots. If I take enough pictures, occasionally I get a really good one. But I don't look for perfect. I can't be like 'hey basketball dude, could you twist your hips a little bit to get that flattering curve of your spine?' Not happening.

I learned to work fast because I am being asked to do multiple things within a short time frame, so I learned how to process tasks in an efficient way: learning the typical building layout to minimize my workload and prepare for certain hiccups that happen often.

I mention them to the new people. I tell them that I am good and fast because I have done these things for three years and I am familiar with thinking on my feet. Often, I have to get things done quickly so that I can go help the new photographers who are struggling. If they prefer to go slow and focus on details first, that's fine. I will focus on volume and speed, I will pick up the slack while they are still learning.

I am told that I am going too fast. I need to slow down, focus on details, get things right instead of get them done.

But which would you prefer? That your kid was just a little messy for their photo or that I didn't take their photo at all because we ran out of time? Last season, one of our photographers had an emergency and I had to photograph nearly 800 students by myself.

The boss was shocked that they were good. Glad to hear we were expecting garbage.

Yesterday, while at a job, the boss was there to help one of the new photographers with one of the more complicated tasks. The new photographer felt that she was being pressed to go faster than her standards would allow. I told her afterwards that speed comes with time, there are some things you can't account for, and it wasn't necessary to push her that hard.

Our other new photographer is a 'perfectionist' and she takes so very much time getting every hair and every position and every expression, but she struggles to put up her equipment every time and if there's a problem she shuts down and can't think of a solution.

I have to be able to set up quickly so that I can make sure she has an extra hand to help her with issues. I have to photograph quickly to make sure that if she needs help I'm available.

And her photos are not really that much better. I'm often coaching her on cropping, on posture.

Slow does not equate perfection. Every person I've met that calls themselves a perfectionist is a perfectionist until it comes to the actual job.

She wants me to do class groups. Every time she trains me on class groups, there is some reason that I have to hop onto a solo unit. The first time it was because one of our photographers, another perfectionist, was taking too long and it created a bottleneck. Last time, it was because our other photographer went into labor and the remaining photographer was slower than hell.

So I'm learning that my speed and ease is an asset in these situations, but in situations where speed is not an asset then I should slow down- which experience tells me that if you slow down you're not guaranteed to do better.

Earlier in the week, I was showing one of the new girls how to do a dance backdrop setup. I had her look over my shoulder while I did the white balance and then exposure. I had shown her how to do it on a previous day and this was just reinforcement. Its also something that we do literally on every job, just in a different context- she should understand the concept and I gave her the option to raise any questions.

The boss told me that if I'm training someone how to do something I should show them how to do it, then mess up the settings on purpose for them, and then have them fix it. We were running behind schedule and I had actually been on schedule to leave like two hours prior but chose to stay so that we could work on this project together. I was not intending on training anyone.

She asks me why I don't want to become a trainer.

Its not usually like this. Usually, I can coast a little. But I'm filling the shoes of a couple people that had to sit this season out and now she's busting my chops to be perfect when 'perfect' was never my goal.

I dunno.

Its exhausting.

[rastronomicals]

9:14 PM EST November 15, 2023:

Cheech & Chong - "Earache My Eye" From the album Wedding Album (1974)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

[xe-n4]

misconstrued events

feat. sae note: enjoy ig contains: fluff total: 1185

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” you asked with a playful smile, twirling your pencil between your fingers as you leaned over the cafe table. 

Sae flicked your forehead in response, causing you to fall back into your seat cradling the spot you had just been hit. “Done what?”

You smirked, “Kissed me.”

“That’s cocky.” He said without looking up from his homework. “Who says you're my type?”

His words hurt, but it wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it. You knew he wasn’t interested in you. “You wound me, whatever shall I do?” you joked, pretending it didn’t cut through your heart.

“Quit whining about it so I can get my work done.”

After a long sigh, you turned your attention to the paper in front of you. The thought of even reading the first question brought great sadness to your heart, you needed something fun to do. You looked at Sae again, he was laser-focused on his work. Why did he have to be so boring?

“Sae?” you said in a singsong voice. “Would you still love me if—”

“—you were a worm?” he interrupted. “Very bold of you to assume I love you now. Do your work”. He pointed at your book with his pencil, a stern look on his face.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re going to fail the next test and then call me at 2 in the morning, crying about it.” He put his pen down at this point, staring you dead in the eye. His stern gaze shot all the butterflies that swarmed your stomach, causing you to shift uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected him to express his frustrations in such a blunt manner. “I’m trying to save myself an earache.”

Sae was expecting another witty comment that would piss him off, but you just nodded and picked up a pen for the first time since you arrived. It stirred something within him, and he didn’t like it.

The rest of the study session went relatively smoothly, Sae got his work done and even got a start on some topics you hadn’t been through yet. You, on the other hand, barely grasped what the hell gas exchange was (school wasn’t your strong suit). But it still bothered him that you weren’t saying much, even as he was walking you home.

“Maybe we should stop for boba?” Sae asked, remembering the comment you made early about the boba store that opened near your house.

“No thanks.” Your tone of voice was bland, it lost all its flavour and expressiveness that you were known for. Why?

Sae couldn’t figure it out, racking his brain for answers on the unusually quiet walk through the park to your place. It unsettled him, to say the least. You’ve always had a playful relationship so he couldn’t understand what was wrong with what he said.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” He grabbed your arm and pulled you to face him. Sae looked into your eyes, pleading for an answer to right his wrongs.

“I have nothing to say.”

“That’s not true, you always have something to say, you always have something to annoy me with—”

“Stop it!” You jerked your hand away from him, embarrassed. That was all he thought of you, ‘annoying’, the thought chipped away at your heart. “I’m not annoying, okay?”

Sae responded with a hesitant and wide-eyed ‘okay’, your outburst caught him off-guard. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It doesn’t matter, you still said it,” you replied with a bitterness that rolled off you in waves.

He gestured for you to sit down on a bench and he sat beside you. The sound of children’s playful screams filled the thick silence between the two of you. Sae didn’t know how to deal with it, he’s never argued with you before (if you can even this an argument).

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long stretch of silence. “I didn’t mean it that way, I just wanted you to say something. It scares me when you're not yourself.”

With that, some of your bitterness dissipated, and that was why you hated having feelings for him. No matter how much he pisses you off, he always finds a way to make it better, to soothe the hurt he didn’t even know he caused.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

As Sae leaned closer to you, he brought a hand under your chin to make you face him. Your breath hitched when you realised what he was doing. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and this simple action revived the butterflies in your stomach.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and you said yes. When Sae’s lips pressed against yours, you noted that they were soft, softer than you expected them to be and that he was being gentle with you. His hand moved from your chin to hold the side of your face as he deepened the kiss that was initially uncoordinated as if neither of you had ever danced to this rhythm before. However, you became accustomed to the fumbles and missteps, it wasn’t perfect but it felt right.

You were the first to pull away and you came to regret it after you opened your eyes to see Sae still reeling from that experience.

“That was one hell of an apology,” you joked, trying to fill the quiet with anything other than itself.

Sae had completely ignored what you said and cleared his throat and sat up like he was about to give a speech. “You believe honesty’s the best policy, right?”

“I mean, usually, yeah.”

“Then,” he took a deep breath. “I like you. A lot.” Sae turned to you, trying to peer into your eyes for an answer.

“Oh,” you said letting out a breathless laugh. “I like you too.”

You saw through your peripheral Sae’s hand inching closer to your own as if he was scared you’d still reject him after your confession. Eventually, you locked your fingers together between the two of you. 

“Can we talk about earlier?” He asked when he finally managed to get his heart to stop racing.

You took a deep breath and ran through the events of today in your mind. “The things you said hurt me Sae. It doesn’t feel great when the person you like says you’re annoying over and over again.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he began with a nervousness unnatural to his character. “I was trying to…um, I was trying—God this is embarrassing.”

His fidgeting amused you as watched him try to get his words out in a semi-coherent sentence. Until it clicked and your eyes widened.

“Wait! Were you trying to flirt?” You tried to hold in your laughter but failed miserably. “Oh, my God!”

Sae turned to you, unimpressed and thoroughly embarrassed. “Could you stop? It’s not that funny,” he mumbled. You ignored his complaints and he pinched your side to get you to stop.

“I’m taking back the kiss, you can go back to being mad at me,” he said standing up before walking off in the direction you came.

“Wait no!”

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