#but then it'd be like the pot calling the kettle black

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part six.

-

Genesis enters Sephiroth's room like he owns the place, which is probably a good thing, because the man the room actually belongs to has no idea what's even in there.

As it turns out, not much.

It's not small, exactly, for a single room apartment with a kitchenette and a bathroom it's actually really spacious! It even has two nice big windows! But it's… spartan. There's a bed, a desk, and the tiniest of kitchen tables. The only thing that could maybe, imaginatively, be called decoration is the stand on which sits Sephiroth's ridiculously long sword. And… that's it.

"Ah, home sweet home," Genesis says, shaking his head and tutting at him. "You, my friend, are in desperate need of colour in your life."

Well - he doesn't disagree! Everything in the room is drab gunmetal grey, mass-produced and sad. Even the curtainless windows just look depressing. And the Feng Shui of the place is awful. Sephiroth's bed is near the door, and you need to go around it to the bathroom, and his desk is facing the corner! The flow of energy is all over the place!

And okay, maybe Feng Shui isn't a thing here - but still! There should be some plants, at least! Some artwork maybe! A carpet or two? The bed doesn't even have a duvet! And there's more than enough room for a couch here, maybe even two. Doesn't Sephiroth ever have people over?

Looking at Genesis, rummaging through the cupboards and making faces at the lack of actual cups there… probably not. Because it seriously looks like Sephiroth had precisely one of everything. One tea mug, one glass, one plate, one bowl and one of each utensils. And no pots and pans. Microwave and electric kettle, and that's it.

If it turns out that Sephiroth only just has instant noodles in his cupboard…

Genesis compromises by using the mug and the water glass to make tea, and the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak winces at the brusque thoughtless scalding of the poor tea in its teabags.

"Don't make faces at me - you're the one who doesn't have cups," Genesis says with a sniff and carries the cups to the kitchen table. It's round, metallic, and the chairs look utterly uncomfortable. "Come on, tell me everything. Unburden your tale of woe."

Currently his biggest woe is the veritable black hole of Feng Shui that's Sephiroth's room and he'd like nothing more than to rearrange everything. Right after raiding the wardrobe to see if the man owns a single functional shirt.

Giving Genesis' turtleneck a bitter glance, he goes to sit down. Genesis is cursed with the Final Fantasy Buckles too, but he's got a shirt. Life is utterly unfair.

"Well?" Genesis asks, pushing the tea glass over the metal table. It rattles. "What happened at the lab?"

Making a face, he takes the glass. The tea smells strongly of this will taste awful. "I already told you. Three times the maximum dose."

"So you don't remember?" Genesis asks, perceptively.

Well, obviously not. Sephiroth died, and by the time he appeared, his body was already patched up. It's really very similar to how he landed in Shen Qingqiu. Mako injection instead of Qi deviation, but from what he remembers of FFVII… isn't Mako also energy? Life blood of the planet, condensed. Which was being injected into people.

He… really needs to figure out what that means in the framework of cultivation. If anything, It might be applicable - energy is energy. Or it might be just magic.

"The winds of fate have blown a mighty storm your way, then," Genesis says, taking a sip of tea. He doesn't look like he likes it.

Giving the man a slight shake of Sephiroth's head, he hums. "I feel fine," he says, feeling like a broken record. It'd really be better if the man just left, so that he could sort himself out. And then the room. And then the wardrobe. And then investigate if the laptop would be just as disappointing as the phone has been. "I just need… a break. To recover." Hint, hint!

Genesis stares at him blankly and puts the mug down with a sharp noise. "Well, now I know it's a disaster! Sephiroth himself, asking for a break? Stop the presses, the narrative has gone completely off the rails!"

Leaning back a little, he covers his frustration by taking a drink of Sephiroth's tea and then covering his cough in a displeased hum. Ugh, it's just as bad as he thought it would be. "I can't take a break?" he asks resentfully.

"No, no, of course no one says you can't! Except maybe professor Hojo, but we shall ignore him for the time being," Genesis says quickly and leans forward. "But, Sephiroth, when have you ever taken a break?"

… Depressing! Why is the scary epic Big Bad so depressing?! That's not how it should be! Isn't he supposed to be off-the-rails, scenery-chewing, scene-stealing thing of badassery? One of the most iconic villains of video game history?! With the bombastic theme and the crazy eyes?! Hello?! Why is he so sad?!

Genesis watches him for a moment and then leans forward. "Give me your PHS."

"What?"

"Your PHS," Genesis says impatiently, making a gimme gesture at Sephiroth's pocket. "Give it to me."

".... Why?" he asks suspiciously, putting a protective hand over it. It's where Sephiroth's phone is.

"So that I can send Lazard your appeal for time off! Goddess knows you won't do it yourself - the moment I turn my back you'll probably be heading off to a training mission or something," Genesis says pointedly. "So give."

But… it's his phone now…

"I'll leave you to mope in peace if you do," Genesis bargains, rolling his eyes. "You'll have all the time in the world to lick your wounds and figure out how to cover it up so that no one will be the wiser, I promise. Once I get you some actual time off."

Genesis was - would be - the main villain in Crisis Core. Can he trust the man with Sephiroth's phone? The man looks keen and sincere, but he also looks like he's up to something. And also onto him, which is not great!

Ah, he's really messing this up, without a System to scream at him about what's OOC and what isn't, huh.

Genesis wiggles his fingers, insistent.

… Some time to himself would be great, though. And free time would mean that he wouldn't have to deal with missions just yet. That… could only be good. Maybe there's some honour between villains? It was a big theme in Crisis Core, honour.

"Don't do anything weird with it," he says finally and hands Sephiroth's flip phone over. 

"Would I do such a thing?" Genesis asks, huffing in offence and snatches the phone right up. He doesn't even wait for a reply, already typing away quickly and with gleeful flourish.

Giving the man a suspicious look over his glass of horrible tea, the transmigrator can only hope he wouldn't regret this.

The message Genesis sends to the Director of SOLDIER is decently professional, if a bit presumptuous. It goes along the lines of, "On account of my recent incident in the Shinra Medical, I will be taking some time off for personal reasons," and it's barely even a request, more a demand. But it gets Sephiroth the time off he needs, and promptly, at that - whole three days of it, too! It's most appreciated.

The mailing lists Genesis joins, however, aren't.

-

SY at S: damn bitch, you live like this?

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

This is like.... The peak of the toxic zutara everyone talks about like it's too cliche to be real.

• Username : oedipus kataang

• a ZK complaining about kataang having rape fics like- need i say more?

• Saying shippers only care about her if she births aang's babies

Like nichya, this was literally handcrafted for you to roast lmao.

Okay, SO MUCH incorrect stuff.

For starters, not only is Kataang not a mom/son ship, Katara doesn't see herself as his mother, and he doesn't think of her as his mom (and no, him acknowledging she has motherly traits/is the "mom friend" is not the same as thinking of her as a genuine parental figure in his life) so it makes no sense to pretend there's an Oedipus Complex going on.

That claim also ignores that the Oedipus Complex isn't just about excessive attachment (not necessarely attraction) towards the mom, but also a TON of rage towards the father, which leads to, worsens or causes them to compete for the mom. Aang's father figure is Gyatso, who never met Katara and would NEVER make her a "co-parent" since the main thing we're told about him is that he thinks kids should be allowed to act like kids.

(Sidenote: Poor Oedipus, man. He fled his home to AVOID killing his dad and marrying his mom - that he didn't know had adopted him. And in doing that set the prophecy in motion because HE DIDN'T KNOW the guy he killed was his dad and the woman he fell for was his mom. Oedipus did not have an Oedipus Complex so it's a REALLY stupid name and that legit angers my autistic brain to insane degrees).

For the "Kataang has rape fics" COME ON, Zutara only exists because of non-con smut, and two of the most popular tropes in Zutara fics are Katara being forced into an arragend marriage with Zuko so the Fire Nation has claim to the Southern Water Tribe or flat out being his slave. This isn't even just the pot calling the kettle black, this the pot calling a fluffy white cloud black.

(Sidenote 2: those tropes are fine by the way, as long as the writer isn't under the delusion that it'd be okay in real life, or has the balls to criticize other people for also being kinky)

And again, THE IRONY of zutarians insisting Kataang fans only care about her giving Aang airbender babies, when Zutarians are infamous for disregarding EVERYTHING about Katara's character that doesn't connect to Zuko (see them trying to make bloodbending her whole personality just because she used in the Southern Raiders, trying to claim her feeling empathy for that Fire Nation village means she wants to LIVE in the Fire Nation, refusing to accept she doesn't want to be queen especially not of the nation that destroyed hers, etc).

Also I NEVER saw a Kataang fan hate on Katara for rejecting Aang. I'm not saying it never happened (god knows this fandom has all kinds of hateful people in it) but to pretend it's some wide-spread problem is ridiculous and dishonest.

[legacyshenanigans]

Marvolo confusing Rowan with odd little sayings like 'how long is a piece of string' and 'where does a circle begin' 💜🤣

🤣🤣🤣

Rowan: How long ya reckon it'll be before ya done?

Marvolo: Well, how long is a piece of string, Rowan.

Rowan: What string?

Marvolo: (?)

Rowan: Where?

Marvolo: Huh?

Rowan: Where's this string? I'll tell ya how long it is if ya show me?

Marvolo: Its a saying, Rowan..

Rowan: Sayin' what?

Marvolo: *sigh*

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Rowan: He said you're a fuckin c*nt..

Marvolo: HA! The pot calling the kettle black.

Rowan: Why? What pot? What kettle?

Marvolo: No, it's a-

Rowan: What if the kettle ain't black?

Marvolo: Rowan it's a-

Rowan: What if the kettle was red or somethin?

Marvolo: Rowan, listen, its a-

Rowan: Why we talkin bout pots and kettles anyway? The fuck has that got to do with anythin?

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Rowan: Wanna come to the pub with me after work?

Marvolo: Does a bear shit in the woods?

Rowan: Weird change of subject, but I mean, depends where it is I guess..Bear could be in a town somewhere, so it'd shit in the town. Bear might be in a field, so it'd shit in the field. Bear might be in a-

Marvolo: Rowan, stop talking.

Rowan: You asked me a question!

Marvolo: *sigh*

~

[quietlyblooms]

PLOTS PLEASE 😎

plots please | @wintryrevaerie

since we've written a bit in chiyo's vampire verse, i'd really love to write the time directly before that -- veronika hearing from either naoki or chiyo herself that something's happened, that chiyo died but was brought back as something unnatural. i'm curious how she handles that information bc it's kind of a lot to have thrown at you, and i know chiyo would have argued with her to stay away. clearly veronika doesn't listen :' ) but i love pain and turmoil so <3

and the fun thing with that verse is that it does open doors with characters on my multi, like cyrillo and kaiya. chiyo often stays with them during that transitional period since they're friends and vampires themselves; veronika might meet them while checking on chiyo, perhaps! since veronika is in a position of power, cyrillo and kaiya are the types to know valuable people and information that might be helpful to her. just a thought!

i also want to explore veronika's fear surrounding loss -- as much as i was yelling, i loved seeing her deny chiyo's reassurance. chiyo has her own issues with abandonment, yet she's never actually lost someone in a permanent sense. i'd love to maybe see the two of them get into a bit of a heated discussion bc one or the other keeps pushing away whenever they get close, and oh!! isn't that the pot calling the kettle black!! i just think it'd be neat and a chance for some character development hehe

[mokonahapuuuuuu]

So like mom had these tapes that were about math, science, etc.

Each one they said the videos weren't replacement for learning or school. You have to go to class.

It's the same with religion and thinking it's okay to be lonely with her.

It just doesn't pan out like that.

Can't get through to her in anyway.

She always says I'm off in her own world, but it'd basically pot calling kettle black.

[esoterium]

@prettybrawler || pre-established connections list || accepting!

🍿 - your muse's door was the first one mine saw. my muse is injured. will your muse help a stranger? ( wanda )

wanda's been calling the quaint small town of grafton, vermont home for only a few short months. coming upon it out of wanting to disappear from everyone who might come looking for her and allowing herself to think it was possible, she fell in love with how out of time it felt. how detached from the rest of the world you could feel without any powerlines dangling over your head. traffic plugging the roads. thousands of people flooding every corner. gazes trailing after you on the sidewalk. expectations breathing down your neck. so? she stayed. thinking it'd be only for a little while. and the little while hasn't worn off yet.

there hasn't been many knocks on her door. a few welcoming her to the town. some visitors from the market who noted the newcomer and wanted to introduce themselves. a pastor who thought he'd invite her to church on sunday. the markings of a small town lifestyle that people needed to sate their curiosities as much as they needed to satisfy their want to be friendly and welcoming. she's been here long enough that they let her be now. on her long driveway that sits back off the road. it's easy to forget she's there.

which is why when she found him propped up against her door hurt? a slow churning in her stomach grew into a damn near cold-blooded panic. her initial thought was that someone put him there. that someone found her and was waiting for her to take a bait that they knew she would. because she wouldn't brush off some hurt and bleeding person who needed help just because she wanted to be left alone. it was with a clenched jaw but wide, surveying eyes she took him in. cautious calculation but trembling from worry hands that tended his wounds and made sure they were cleaned. the deepest were tethered together by means she only contributes to them being 'not as deep as she thought'. no magic involved. no not at all.

that was two days now. she's made sure he's gotten rest. made sure that he ate whenever he needed. always tending to those wounds with cleaning solutions and medicine given to her from the small town doctor and pharmacy. and, maybe, they worked a little too good. or maybe the doc knew what the hell he was doing after decades of practice. doesn't matter. she's never once questioned what brought him to her door. not until today. when the morning cracked through the window in rays that split apart through white, sheer curtains.

wanda was sitting at her kitchen table. black painted nails tapping against the ceramic mug filled with freshly brewed tea when caed appeared. green eyes lift and meet his. a smile greets him. just like an empty mug does between a filled coffee pot and a kettle of hot water.

"now that you had a few days. can i ask you something... if you don't mind? what happened to you? before you came to my door?"

[marshmallowprotection]

howdy bestie!! Just wondering how RFA + Minor Trio would respond to you staying up at ungodly hours? (say 4 am... 5 am?) I just thought it'd be interesting since the game wrecked what was left of my sleeping schedule. Thank you! I hope you have a pleasant day

Yoosung would tell you to go to bed. Like, he knows that he’s awake playing his games sometimes but you clearly need to get some rest at night. He likes being able to talk to you at night but he’d prefer that you were functioning a lot belter than he is. 

Jaehee would tell you to go to bed. Granted, she knows that she’s not getting too much sleep herself with her work most of the time, but he wants to make sure that you’re getting the right amount of sleep. You need to be able to be in top shape!

Zen would tell you to go to bed. He’s going to bed at the same time for the most part except for when he gets in late from work. He would want you to have your best sleep cycle for your health. Your health and comfort is the most important thing to him.

Jumin would ESPECIALLY tell you to go to bed. He’s got plenty of books on the matter that he would enjoy giving to you to make sure that you know that you’ve got a lot of reasons to rest at night. If you’re struggling, he’s more than happy to give you the resources. 

Seven would tell you to go to bed. That’s the pot calling the kettle black to be honest with you, but he wants you to get some rest. He would be the first to lay back in bed with you until you get some rest. He will babysit you the entire time if he has to.

V would tell you to go to bed. Surely, he’s gentle in the way that he tells you because he wants you to take care of yourself in the meantime. He’s bad about neglecting that himself, so if you need to lay down, he’d be happy to go with you if he can. 

GE Saeran would tell you to go to bed. He’s learning how to take the luxury of rest underneath his hands and run with it, so if you need rest, he’s already on the way to lay down and he’s pulling you with him. A nap doesn’t hurt anything and being close to you is nice.

Vanderwood would tell you to go to bed. Listen, they’ve had this song and dance a hundred times before with that brat, and they’re not going to stop that because it’s you and you’re pouting. You will be dragged back into bed and you will be sleeping because they’re not moving until you do.

[pawsitivevibe]

This is the pot calling the kettle black considering THIS is a sideblog, but ... I get so confused when dogblrs are sideblogs and their mains are the ones commenting/liking/etc lol. WHOMST ARE YOU?!? I remember some but not everyone!

Anyway .... Feel free to reblog/reply with your main & dogblr URLs if you want Dogblr peeps. I bet it'd be good for other people too haha.

Oh and I'm @rainright following/replying to y'all

[wellhellsbelles]

would you like to ever do a riarkle enemies to lovers fic? because i've seen only like 2 enemies to lovers riarkle fics and i think it'd be really cool to see them in a different dynamic

oh WOULD I 

yes i would and i loved every minute of writing this. it’s based VERY LOOSELY on my experience as a hostess in the popular chain italian restaurant we all know and love

anyway, enjoy!!

ao3 link or read below

//

Riley doesn’t intend on making any enemies when she starts working at the restaurant.

 It just sort of . . . happens.

She’d like to think she has the supposed “Big Five” personality traits on lockdown—she’s a very agreeable person, incredibly open with others, positively extroverted, astute in conscientiousness, and her neuroticism . . .

Well, she could maybe stand to work on it a bit, but can she be calm? Absolutely.

There’s just something about Farkle Minkus that makes her want to drive a spork into her leg, though.

It’s a weird sort of dichotomy they form together, despite not being too different from one another. They hold the same sort of power in the restaurant—she’s a host, he’s a busser, and they both get paid minimum wage. While she guides the guests around the restaurant, he cleans up tables and spills, and there should be no reason for the animosity that they harbor for another.

If you ask Riley, she’d chalk it up to her first busy night at the restaurant. The night had bogged her down as she ran around the restaurant, seating guests and refilling anything they needed if she happened to be passing by them. At one point, she’d been asked to help bus tables—something she knew she’d be awful at—and he’d strolled up to her while she was trying to pick up plates, taking them from her grasp forcefully.

“Look, if you’re going to help, then actually do something useful. You’re moving about as slow as a turtle and it’s infuriating,” he had grumbled to her. “Why don’t you go be a good host and greet people with a fake smile and annoying personality?”

Yeah, that’d cinch the nail in the coffin for anyone, she assumes.

How dare he say she had an annoying personality! She was a freakin’ charm to have around, and most of the people working at the restaurant already got along with her. Why was it so hard for him to accept that fact?

Riley didn’t wish to dwell on it, so she didn’t. But she did make enemies with Farkle that night, point blank.

 //

 “Hey Minkus, mind bussing those tables I asked you to bus twenty minutes ago?” Riley calls into the headset. She’d been fed up with another busy night, and Farkle’s attitude was not cutting it for her. She nearly startled when he rounded the corner, though, his permanent look of disdain greeting her.

“You know, bussers don’t just clean tables. In fact, they actually have to listen when managers ask them to do other tasks around the restaurant,” he says, adjusting the sleeves of his black button-up that he had pushed up his forearms.

“And you know I need tables, yeah? We’re on a wait,” Riley argues back. He gives her one last glare before disappearing back into the dining rooms, and Riley hears someone whistle behind her back.

“You know you egg him on just as much as he does you, right?” Maya, one of the servers who’s quickly become her best friend at the restaurant, tells her, leaning against the host stand. Riley shakes her head.

“Not true. He started it, anyway!”

“And you can’t let bygones be bygones?”

“Why on earth should I do that?” Riley asks, incredulous. Maya shrugs.

“I dunno. Besides the fact that the two of you have undeniable chemistry? Or similar personalities? Or the same friend groups around here?”

“What do you mean ‘undeniable chemistry’? We hate each other!” Riley exclaims.

“We often harbor love under the guise of hatred,” Maya states, earning her a disgusted expression from Riley.

“Don’t you have tables to serve?”

“After your boyfriend cleans them up, yeah.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!!” Riley shouts after her friend as she leaves, the sound of chuckling fading off around the corner.

 //

 “So Zay calls out and you’re the only person who can fill his role as a host tonight?” Riley asks Farkle, exasperated. It’s a little strange to see him sans apron, standing at the host stand like he’s the same level as her.

He’s not.

“Imagine, being ungrateful that someone was able to pick up his shift so you wouldn’t be on your own. Are you always this disagreeable in the morning or is that just how you are normally?” he counters.

Riley moves to continue their argument, but guests wander up to the host stand, so she drops it for the sake of doing the job she’s being paid for. She insists on seating them in the system and then guiding them to their table, sure that Farkle will mess it up somehow. When she returns, he’s got a smug grin on his face that causes her blood to boil.

“What’s the face for?” she prods.

“Well, if I didn’t have one it’d be quite disturbing, frankly,” he snarks back. Riley would throw things at him, if she didn’t have to keep her cool for the sake of the job.

“What’s the face for?” she tries again, this time more forcefully.

“I like that you won’t let me do anything. I could make your job ten times easier by seating tables for you, but you insist on taking care of everything. Are you really that stubborn?”

“Kettle meet pot,” she huffs, turning away from him with arms crossed and nose stuck high in the air. He simply laughs and the two of them return to silence soon after, refusing to engage any further in conversation for the rest of their shifts.

 //

 The restaurant holds a potluck for Thanksgiving two days before the actual holiday. It’s a tradition set by the general manager that a lot of people enjoy engaging in, and after further convincing from Maya, Riley decides to attend. Besides, Lucas is going to be there, and she may have the smallest, tiniest of crushes on him.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

Riley does prepare a dish at the behest of Maya (Maya could probably goad her into anything at this point, really). She wants to do macaroni and cheese, but when she hears that Darby is going to she attempts to figure something else out, but Maya reassures her.

“Darby makes it from the box,” she explains, “And it’s always the worst. I love her, but she finds a way to ruin even the simplest of foods.”

“So it’s really okay if I make macaroni and cheese? My grandma really does have an awesome recipe for it . . .”

“Riley,” Maya says, stern, “I think I speak for everyone when I say please, for the love of god make that mac. We need quality mac this year for once.”

She doesn’t work that day, so Maya tells her she’ll pick her up right before the potluck. Riley sleeps in and then spends the rest of her hours preparing the macaroni and cheese fresh, spending a little bit of the extra time for showering, dressing, and maybe putting on a little bit of makeup.

Riley pulls the dish out of the oven with a minute to spare, grabbing a box to hold it in so it doesn’t burn her and the rest of her things, heading out the door when she receives a message from Maya telling her that she’s waiting outside. She pulls together all her things and makes a mad dash for the door, joining her friend inside the car so that they can drive off to their workplace.

Riley has to admit she’s a bit nervous—she’s been working there only a couple of months, and while she does get along with everyone, she knows she’s still new, still not quite a perfect fit in this little carefully constructed family. She hopes that this will aid to ease her anxiety and make her feel a little more solidified in their group and that she’ll just have a good time in general. This job . . . she’s grown to care for it, more than she’d care to admit.

They pull up outside the restaurant and Riley jumps out once they’ve parked, grabbing her macaroni and cheese and tailing behind Maya once she’s retrieved her own dessert from the back seat of the car. The doors click as they lock and the two of them walk inside, Maya with confidence and Riley a tad skittish behind her. They greet the two hosts manning the front, having to miss out on the celebration for a moment, and then head towards the back dining room where their party is taking place.

“Maya! Riley! Glad you two could join us,” their general manager Jon greets them. “You two can go ahead and set your food down at the tables over there and we’ll get ready to eat in a few minutes.”

They nod and do as they’re told, Riley splitting off from Maya to set her food on the table closest to her while Maya sets her dish down on the dessert table. She waits to take cue from Maya, embarrassed to be tailing her like a dog, but shakes the feeling as Maya takes a seat at one of the booths. Riley joins her, realizing one moment too late that Maya’s chatting up Farkle Minkus of all people.

“You bring anything for us, Minkus?” Maya asks, engaging him in conversation. Farkle snorts.

“God no. The last thing we need is me exploding a kitchen from my poor cooking skills. There’s a reason I’m a busser and not on the line.”

“Don’t you have a cook or something rich people can afford who can do things for you?” Maya snarks.

“Would you laugh if I say yes?” Farkle sighs, earning him a cackle from Maya.

Riley tries to restrain her curiosity, but it’s already been piqued—if Farkle is rich, then why is he working as a busser at a chain restaurant?

Whatever. Riley doesn’t care.

She spends the rest of Maya and Farkle’s conversation on the outside listening in, not really wanting to participate in conversation with Farkle because he’s, well, Farkle. Maya seems to respect her feelings, not pestering her to join, and for that Riley is thankful. She just waits in her seat patiently, ready for the eating portion of their get-together to start. Unfortunately, she has to wait another fifteen minutes for that, but half-way through she gets distracted because of Lucas’ appearance, trying her best to work up the courage to talk to him. He’s still in his work uniform—black button-up and black work pants, the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm—and it shouldn’t work for him but it does.

Right as she finally rises from her seat, deciding that she will talk to him, their general manager announces that it’s time for them to eat. He pulls them all into a quick little prayer before allowing people to start grabbing food, and by then Lucas is caught up in his own conversation with the people he’s friends with at work. Riley sighs, giving up as she joins Maya and Farkle at the buffet line their manager put together. She piles the food on her plate and then sits back down at their little booth, uncharacteristically quiet as Maya and Farkle sit back down.

“Okay, I swear to you that Yogi’s changed the recipe for this green bean casserole. It actually tastes good this year,” Maya says.

“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t do mushrooms,” Farkle tells her, wrinkling his nose at it.

“Do you not like mushrooms either, Riley?” Maya asks her, finally inviting her in to start talking. Riley shakes her head.

“No, I just don’t really like green bean casserole.”

“Holy shit,” Farkle interjects through a mouthful of food, “Darby’s really stepped it up with the macaroni and cheese. This stuff tastes like heaven.”

Riley stops, her mouth dropping open in surprise at his words. Maya’s mouth turns upwards into a brilliant, shit-eating grin that Riley just wants to wipe off her face but knows she can’t. It’s too late; the damage is done.

“That’s because Darby didn’t make it,” Maya tells him, the excitement unrestrained in her voice, “Riley did.”

Farkle registers her words, his chewing slowing down as realization dawns on his face. She half-expects him to spit it out, to retract his statement or do something else drastic, but he doesn’t. He swallows the mouthful of macaroni and cheese, sets his fork down, and meeting Riley’s gaze says, “This is really, really fantastic macaroni and cheese, Riley. Some of the best I’ve ever had. Good job.”

Riley will admit, she didn’t think Farkle would be the one to extend the olive branch between the two of them, but he does it all the same. She recognizes that her response to him will make or break the situation, but she’s not one to drop a compliment, especially one that has her blushing furiously. She can’t control it, not really, and she definitely can’t control the bashful smile that graces her face, so what the hell.

“Thanks, Farkle. I’m glad you enjoy it,” she tells him sincerely, her words startling him, too. But then he beams a grin back and Riley knows she can no longer be mad at him, not after that.

 Damnit.

 //

Friendship with Farkle after Thanksgiving is practically flawless. Riley doesn’t want to tell Maya she’s right because Maya will hold it over her for the rest of forever, but Riley and Farkle really do have a lot in common. He makes it easy to be his friend, so much so that she forgets she was ever mad at him and that she didn’t like him at all. They spend a good portion of their day complaining about someone or something from work and when they aren’t talking about that, they’re talking about outer space or their favorite tv shows or just anything.

It’s kind of ridiculous, but then again, Riley absolutely loves it. It makes working at least ten times easier now that they get along, but if anyone notices it, they don’t mention it aloud. The restaurant moves on with its day as if nothing has changed, but Riley is privy to the shift.

Regardless, their friendship is still brand new, still hanging on by a tumultuous thread. It’s something Riley can’t quite define, but it feels like the foundations are still shaky, like there’s something else that rests in the air between them when their conversations reach a lull during a slow day.

Maya voices her opinion on the subject after Riley mentions it while they’re getting ready for a costume party Sarah’s holding (“Halloween in December,” Sarah tells Riley, “It’s kinda my thing.”) Maya’s finished putting on her sexy ringmaster costume and has moved onto applying her makeup while Riley tries to wrangle and curl her hair into submission.

“It’s because you like him,” Maya tells her, working on her winged eyeliner with Bobby Fisher-like intensity.

“What? No I don’t,” Riley insists. “Farkle and I just became friends.”

“And this is supposed to deter my opinion on that? I already told you before that you had undeniable chemistry. But now you two actually get along, so now you can’t hide it.”

Riley has half a mind to make Maya mess up her eyeliner, but she’s not cruel. She’ll just remain disgruntled about the matter for the rest of the night.

Maya helps Riley with the rest of her angel costume after her hair is curled completely, and once they’ve pulled Riley’s wings on, they grab their things and leave Maya’s house. Maya drives them to the party and when they pull up, Riley has to admit that while she knew a lot of people were going to attend the party, she didn’t know this many people would be here. Cars line the empty space around Sarah’s place and partygoers are already hanging out on the lawn, enjoying themselves as the music blasts from inside the house.

Riley feels a nervous energy course within her as they walk up the sidewalk to the house. She’s excited for the party, she really is, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t anxious about it, too. All of that washes away the moment she and Maya step inside, their friends greeting them happily and complimenting their costumes.

“Oh my god, you guys finally made it!” Zay exclaims, a wide grin on his face. “Those costumes are dope as hell!”

“Thanks, of course they are,” Maya says, winking at him slyly. “But what are you supposed to be?”

Zay flashes his teeth, revealing a set of pointed fangs on the top and bottom.

“Teen Wolf!”

“That is both lame and fantastic,” Maya laughs, then turns to search the room. “Farkle here yet?”

“Yeah, last I saw he was playing beer pong with Lucas and couple of others. Why don’t you two get some drinks and then we’ll head that way,” he suggests. Maya nods and they follow him to what Riley supposes is the kitchen. He mixes them up a couple of drinks and hands them off to them, chuckling when Riley sniffs hers and scrunches her nose in disgust.

“Jeez, how much alcohol did you put in this, Zay?” she asks.

“Enough. Now drink up and let’s go, Matthews!”

She sighs and gives in, stealing a sip as they make their way to where Farkle and Lucas are. She almost gags at the pungent liquor smell again but drinks it anyway. It’s a good thing, too, because when they find the supposed beer pong tournament, it’s not Lucas who has her heart racing.

“Maya,” Farkle greets her when he spots her, but when his gaze lands on Riley, he practically beams. “Riley! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Words seem to fail Riley right now. She’s not sure why she’s feeling so off but seeing Farkle dressed as gladiator has sent her off-kilter. He looks so damn good in his costume and she starts debating whether or not she should abandon the drink Zay gave her altogether if it’s making her act like this.

“Hey, Farkle, good to see you, too,” she finally manages awkwardly, huffing in embarrassment before backing her drink like there’s no tomorrow. So much for abandoning it.

“Whoa,” Maya gasps, rushing over to Riley’s side, “What are you doing?! I thought you told me earlier you were going to take it easy.”

“I lied. Wanna make me another drink? I’m gonna need it,” she insists, ushering Maya back to the kitchen. As soon as they’ve made it, Maya shakes Riley off of her, glaring at her.

“What the hell was that about?!” she yells. Riley opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it again as she goes through the five stages of grief in her mind. After a moment of silence and Maya waving her hand sporadically in Riley’s face to bring her back to earth, she says,

“I couldn’t be there anymore. I need more alcohol if I’m going to get through this night.”

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this? You were fine until we—” Maya pauses, then realization dawns on her face, “Oh!”

“Maya—”

“Holy shit, you don’t wanna go back there because you think Farkle looks hot in his costume. This is hilarious.”

“No it’s not! I don’t have feelings for him, I just think he looks . . . really good,” Riley tries, but Maya’s already grinning like an idiot.

“Now we have to get back there. I’m going to try so hard to set the two of you up it’s not even funny.”

“I don’t need your help! I don’t wanna be set up!” Riley exclaims, but it’s too late. Her decision has been made.

“I’ll make you a drink and then I’m gonna get you alone with Farkle. It’s gonna be fantastic.”

Riley groans, knowing she’s fighting a losing battle.

She does loosen up a bit after she’s finished off the second drink, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna give into her friend’s plan.

And Maya does follow up on her promise despite Riley’s every effort to make it hard for them to be alone—after many failed attempts, she forces them in a spin the bottle circle. Riley only agrees to it because she’s borderline drunk and doesn’t care about a quick kiss with anyone, but when she finds out that whoever the bottle lands on is sent to the closet for seven minutes in heaven, she tries to run.

But it’s too late.

Maya’s spinning skills are off the charts, the bottle ends landing between Riley and Farkle. Everyone whoops and hollers at them except for Riley and Farkle themselves, but they still go follow the rules begrudgingly, allowing themselves to be shoved into a closet for everyone else’s entertainment.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Maya’s muffled yell erupts from beyond the closed door. Riley sighs.

“You know we don’t have to do anything in here, right?” Farkle tells her. “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Really?” Riley asks, spinning to turn and look at him, but that ends up being a mistake. She’d misjudged just how small the closet was, and she ends up pressed against him, his arms gripping her biceps when she stumbles a bit from the alcohol.

Whatever words Farkle wanted to say have since died on his lips, if his comically large eyes were anything to go by. Riley knows she’s gone though when she finds herself lost in the stormy gray irises of his, her brain actually entertaining the thought of kissing him.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I did, right? her brain asks her.

Right, her heart agrees.

Testing a theory, Riley’s hands rise to rest gently against Farkle’s cheeks. His breath stutters as soon as her fingers grace his skin, and she knows there’s no going back when she glances at his mouth before leaning in.

This is such a bad idea, she tells herself, But I don’t think I care enough to stop it.

Right when mouth is only centimeters away from Farkle’s, close enough that she can feel his breath ghosting her lips, the closet door swings open. Farkle and Riley jump apart, and whatever spell befell her has washed away, leaving confusion in its wake.

“Alright you two, get out so the rest of us can have some fun!” someone shouts. Riley nods and ditches Farkle, grabbing Maya by the arm and tugging her outside urgently.

“What the hell, Riley?” Maya grumbles as soon as they stop in what Riley deems is a quiet area.

“I think I have a crush on Farkle. I have a crush on Farkle, don’t I?” Riley asks.

“No shit,” Maya says, rolling her eyes, “You kind of made that abundantly clear tonight. But after all that hard work I went through you didn’t even follow through!”

“How can you tell?” Riley frowns.

“Because your lipstick is still perfectly fine, red as can be. If you kissed him, it’d be smudged and all over his mouth. Plus, I don’t really think Farkle would’ve survived it. I think he’d probably need to sit down for the next century in order to process it all.”

“You’re the worst,” Riley whines. Maya pats her shoulders sympathetically.

“I know, Sunshine. I know.”

 //

 Riley’s never been one to know how to act around crushes, but her crush on Farkle has rendered her absolutely neurotic. She still talks to him, of course, but she has a harder time starting conversations. What would he even want to talk about? Does he even want to talk with her?

It’s Riley’s favorite pastime, going into the land of overthinking. She excels at it a little too well.

After two weeks of utter turmoil and downright awkward interactions with Farkle, she thinks that maybe she’s just eternally hopeless. Whatever she might feel for Farkle doesn’t matter, because she can’t even figure out how to just be around him. She may as well just quit while she’s ahead and just give up on the hopes of ever being near him again.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get that option.

Her manager suggests one morning that Farkle help her unload the boxes of wine they just got in, and when Farkle asks if she wants help, she says yes. Normally, she’s used to unloading it all on her own, but the thought of spending quality time with him is just too tempting to pass up and her brain is just dumb dumb dumb.

The restaurant is quiet as they unload each case of wine, save for the never-ending music selection on repeat with eight versions of the same five songs. But it’s nice, sharing a moment with him where they don’t have to talk about anything, just stock wine in the coolers.

Nice, of course, up until their fingers brush up against one another’s, sending electricity coursing straight through Riley’s system. She wonders if he feels it, too, but she doesn’t have to worry any longer when his gaze finally meets hers, the shock apparent on his face. They endure a long moment of silence until Riley can bear it no more, the words falling out of her mouth unbidden.

“Farkle, I really really like you. As in like like you,” Riley blurts.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes before pulling her in for a kiss.

It shouldn’t be great kiss, by all means—they’re both kneeling behind the host stand, the cooler doors open and bottles of wine still waiting to be stocked while a jazzy version of Wonderwall plays in the background. But that doesn’t matter to Riley; she’s with Farkle and they’re kissing and she never wants this moment to end.

It does, though.

“Ahem,” a voice clears their throat, causing Riley and Farkle to split. She has an oh shit moment when she thinks it might be their manager who’s caught them kissing while on the clock, but then it’s even worse when Riley realizes who it is.

“Oh. Hey, Maya,” Farkle greets her sheepishly, earning him a cackle from Maya.

“This is fantastic! I love being right!” she shouts.

Riley buries her head in Farkle’s shoulder in embarrassment, but she smiles secretly—

She loves that Maya was right, too.

[iffyswriting]

Neighbors (Jay Park)

Paring: Jay Park x Black!OC

Genre: Smut, just straight up smut.

Summary: There are ways to compromise with an annoying neighbor.

Word Count: 2064

Note: This is my first imagine on this account, yay!

Waking up out of her sleep, there were loud bumps on the other side of Tiana's wall. Groggily, rubbing the sleep that creased her eyes her initial confusion soon turned into anger when the noise continued, the banging hurting her ears.

She threw her head back onto her pillow, pushing the sides to her ears hoping they would drown it out but to no use. Tiana got out of bed grumbling with irritation as she slid her feet into her slippers, throwing her loose silk robe over her body.

With her hand in a tight fist, she knocked on the door of the offender. Tapping her feet annoyance as the minutes passed, finally the door opened and an attractive man covered in sweat and tattoos, leaned against the frame, his boxers clearly looking hastily thrown on as they hung from his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

"Can I help you?" He licked his plump lips as he spoke and Tiana tried her hardest not to eye his body. She had come there for business and she would state her problem with enough dignity to not let her eyes wander.

"You can actually. You realize it's 2:00 at night and some of us have fucking work in the morning. It'd be appreciated if you could keep it down." Tiana barked heading straight for the point, her arms crossed over her perky bosom.

"I can try and do that but I won't make any promises," Jay responded shrugging his shoulders in such a nonchalant way Tiana was tempted to punch him. She didn't dare look him in his eyes and since she couldn't look upward her only option was the opposite direction, which resulted in her seeing some very interesting developments. "Hey uh, I know I'm cute or whatever but don't think you should keep up eye contact when you're having a conversation with someone?" His tone was teasing and smug, Tiana's fists clenching as the words rolled off his tongue.

"Yeah, well I'll try not to let the landlord know about you being so inconsiderate. Fucking prick." Tiana spoke her ears beginning to burn. Didn't she just say she wouldn't let her eyes wander? She never ever could keep her word. Finishing her piece, she flipped him off and slammed her door behind her fuming slightly.

Things didn't get much better between the neighbors. Jay persisted in the constant noise making and Tia made it known that she wasn't here for it, often slamming her fist on his door or catching him in the morning to work to personally curse him out. Her threats to tell the landlord seemed empty and she would never ever admit that sometimes she wished she was in his bed causing all the noise. Every once and a while Jay would chill out, trying to show he wanted to make amends with Tiana but the girl flipped his endeavors right back in his face constantly reminding him of before.

The two communicated with petty insults and minor arguing, other tenants calling them the married couple who lived in separate rooms. They'd both scoff at the nickname, stating that "I couldn't be with someone so whorish." "I couldn't be with someone so stuck-up." More arguments would come from their mean words and the arguments would constantly be thick with tension. 

"Aw, do you miss me so much you have to follow me everywhere? I'm flattered but I'd prefer if I could get just a little breathing room to wash my clothes." Jay spoke strolling into the laundry room, where Tiana happened to be.

"You actually do your own laundry? At least you aren't an incompetent asshole." Tiana offered him a fake smile, unamusing to Jay.

"I do more than just my laundry." He spoke with a wink.

"I'm sorry, but if you're insinuating what  I think you are, I'm not interested in a guy who's constantly literally and figuratively drowning his sorrows in pussy," Tiana confessed with a sarcastically sweet shrug taking satisfaction in the twisted up face, Jay made. 

"Ohhh that's clever, you got any more insults other then me being a slut?" His stupid smirk never left his face, it's presence agitating even more.

"I mean." Tiana sounded out, slowly seeing that she had to get to his level of comprehension.

"Tia-” He started off, Tiana raising one of her hands to automatically cut him off.

"Don't call me Tia." Tiana responded with an irritated scoff, stuffing her clothes into the washing machine.

"Like I said, Tia-" He repeated once more, Tiana slamming down the top of the washing machine as she whipped towards Jay with an agitated glare.

“All of this disrespect you keep throwing my way, I don’t take lightly so you need to find some fucking chill.”

“You can talk to me in any way you want and treat me like shit but you can’t take it back?”

“I’ve only given you the energy you’ve given me, stop acting surprised.”

“Your hypocrisy is barking in volumes!" Jay answered with a humorless laugh, putting his basket on the floor.

“Hypocrisy!? I feel like the pot is calling the kettle black right now." Tia argued in return her back facing Jay as she turned the button to warm on the washing machine. 

"So you know what you’re doing is wrong but you keep doing it?" Jay asked stepping closer to her making Tia lean against the machine for support.

"Huh?" Tia choked out.

"Don't fucking huh me. I'm sick of your mouth, I try and bring the noise down be cordial but you stay on my fucking neck, continuing to be fucking rude. What do you want me to fuck you or something?" His rant ended and Tiana's mouth had drawn closed into a line unable to answer his claims. 

That dangerous smirk replaced the frown on his face, his eyes becoming hooded with lust as he looked down at her, boring into her dark brown eyes. Gulping Tiana, pulled up her t-shirt using it as a makeshift fan, reveling in how hot everything was beginning to feel all of a sudden, how claustrophobic she felt. 

 Inching towards the woman with a new objective in mind Jay tilted her head upward in a swift motion, Tiana taking the hint, immediately smashing her lips into his her hands twisting themselves in the confines of his white tank top.

As things began to escalate, the tension growing in the room, Jay roughly pushed Tiana into the cool metal making her gently gasp into his mouth. Her free hand, that wasn't resting on the back of his neck, slithered down to his jeans rubbing the fabric teasingly. His fingers pressed hard on her hips, easily plopping her on top of the washing machine

"Is this going to make you lose that fucking attitude?" He grunted, snatching at her black leggings tugging them down roughly. With ease, he picked her up and plopped her on top of the tool, his fingers would only brush the front of her panties, going no further than a boundary he set.

"Let's see how well you impress me. Then I’ll think about it." Feeling bold- Tiana, caressed the bulge in his shorts, looking him straight into his eyes. His fingers hooked onto her panties, slipping them off with ease.

Every time he teasingly touched her throbbing clit, her body would shiver and she would attempt to buck back into him hoping a finger or some sort would slip in her efforts futile as she was left provoked with no relief in the end. 

“If you’re just going to tease me I might as well get the fu-” She was interrupted from finishing as two thick fingers plunged deep inside of her. She mugged at him and his amused smirk, her frown opening into a large moan as he twisted the fingers inside of her, finger fucking her fast. Before she came, Tiana pulled his fingers out of her, they were dripping with her essence.

“You forget whose pace we’re going at.” She stated simply out of breath, the rush of euphoria on the tip of her tongue. 

Tia smacked his hand away from finishing, unbuttoning his pants. She slithered her hand inside of his boxers, rubbing at his erection. Her thumb swiped over his pink tip, his shallow breath pleasing her.

She brought her hand up and down at a rapid unforgiving pace, jacking him off with a devious look. Dribblets of his cum flew onto her hand, his groans trailing into her ear.

They collectively moaned together as he slipped in, Tiana wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck to actively bring him in closer. She caught his lips, immediately slipping her tongue in as he moved forward.

His thrusts were filled with passion as all the pent-up frustration he had for the girl was taken out on her pussy. Jay fucked her roughly, slamming her against the washing machine with force. 

“If we’re going to fuck on a washing machine, let’s make it fun.” The first wash cycle was turned on as the machine began to vibrate, causing jolts to flow through both of them

He flipped her body over pressing her into the washing machine as they began to fuck Doggystyle, unknowingly denting in the machinery. 

 Tiana’s chest heaved up and down as she met him each time he pounded into her, throwing her ass back. He stopped for a moment letting his entire length sit inside of her before sliding out and ramming back into her rocking her forward.

"Oh fuckkkk-" Tiana moaned out, crossing her ankles together as her thighs slapped into the cold metal, Jay's relentless strokes digging her out in the most pleasurable way. Tiana rested her head on the top of washing-machine trying to muffle the whimpers that echoed from her mouth. Jay's hand wrapped around her throat pulling her backward so the whimper she released could be heard clearly.

"No, I want to hear from you. This is loud enough right?" He growled into her ear slamming into her with such precision, Tia's soul was close to escaping her body. He kissed the side of her face, a groan seeping out of him as his dick twitched inside her walls.

“Oh Daddy, I’m about to cum!” She whimpered, her walls clenching and releasing around him as the pressure in her stomach built up, the neverending pleasure overwhelming.

Tiana tried to move away from Jay as her orgasm soared through her body but he pulled her back, she tightened her walls milking him well. Tiana purred as she came, the sweat that had formed on her brow slipping towards her breast.

His strokes became increasingly sloppy, as Tia helped him meet his own end grinding slower on his dick, popping her butt as she maneuvered, Jay let out a throaty moan. 

Tiana slipped off of him getting straight on her knees. She held his manhood in her hand, jerking it a bit as his cum splattered across her face, staining the top of her sports bra. She gave a devilishly satisfied smile, his nut dripping down her lip, as she stuck out her tongue to give it a taste.

“You owe me some washing powder.” She said jokingly, licking her lips of his kids.

After what happened in the laundry room, things changed. Noise no longer came from Jay's room anymore and with no reason to keep fussing nor a reason to talk to him, Tiana could only look from afar too afraid to speak.

"We ever gonna talk about- what we did?" Jay finally asked, breaking the game of avoiding they had been playing. 

“Is there anything really to talk about?” Tiana replied, unable to look at him in the eye. He took her hand into his own, shrugging his shoulders as he began to speak.

“I just thought we could-”                                                                                                                                                                                                                             “Hi, Mrs. Garrison!" Tiana spoke to their elderly neighbor, interrupting Jay from finishing. She wasn't sure where he was going with his words, and fear etched into her heart, nervous about what he would say.

"Hello, baby!" The sweet woman responded before turning towards Tiana."I just wanted to mention that you shouldn't use the washing machine for a while. Someone dented the damn thing in and it's been working funny ever since. I'm guessing it was that delinquent Rodney who did it but Jermaine's cheap-ass ain't gonna find the culprit."

“Is that so?” Tiana glanced at Jay, who had a soft blush on his cheeks. Looking at each other knowingly, they snickered quietly to themselves an inside joke being born.

[just----living]

I'm gonna be painting a series before I go to college with all the paintings based on sayings, like "pot calling the kettle black". Think I could get away with doing it with dif. materials (pastel, watercolor, acrylic paint), or do you think it'd be more cohesive if it was just one material type?

I feel like using different medias is better because it shows your ability as an artist that you can use multiple rather than just one. It will also showcase your skill a lot better and portray who you are as an artist.