#or rather.....defenestrate him from the building :3

[fluffypotatey]

I don't know if you know Pokemon, but there's this popular comic about Larry getting isekai-ed to the Pokemon world from our world and he's like "aight so I immediately went ok and went to get a job and pay pokemon taxes" and that's how I see Macky. makes sense how he's so full of rage and evil when his last memory might have been a brutal death and centuries in the diyuu. but still, you'd think he'd be a smidge more crazy sometimes, what up with the fake heroism and charisma and "yeah im just gonna ignore that kid that just fell off trying to climb up here" face until MK teleported in front of him???? but alas, he do be an actor. also cracks me up how they make him go "haha! you unloaded all your secret insecurities on me! but hey, no shame in that, its good to talk about your feelings, I don't really do it...maybe I should, buuuut we'd be here all day so >:)" like not only is that a hilarious call out about villains having trauma trope, but the 'maybe I should' and that there's so much of it, like blub u good 😭 am I watching a crack video. but how he laughs at the start there like you think accidental therapy monkey status is a big "gotcha" moment?? clown behavior. funniest thing to evil laugh about he looks manic and insane about it, what if I toss him out the window affectionately.

who tf is larry?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

With the arrival of Mike Johnson as speaker, End-of-Days crazies are now openly dominant in the congressional GOP, creating another acute danger to American democracy and American institutions. Johnson's politics and his adherence to this group was essentially not reported upon by America's media, in a massive failure of their ability to comprehend their own politics.

Edward Luce: It is hard to know where to begin with Mike Johnson, avatar of biblical conservatism, and the new Republican Speaker of the House. But let’s get the basic facts out of the way. Johnson won the gavel for three reasons. The most important was exhaustion. Republicans spent three increasingly embarrassing weeks flailing around for a consensus figure in a party held hostage by extremists over a decision requiring near unanimity. What I call the kamikaze caucus, led by Matt Gaetz, defenestrated Kevin McCarthy with the single member “motion to vacate” on October 3. They then blocked Steve Scalise, McCarthy’s number two, as insufficiently firebrand. Jim Jordan, who was the hardliners’ fantasy choice, was then duly upended in three consecutive votes by a group of so-called moderate Republicans, though that word has virtually no meaning any longer. Finally, an exhausted caucus voted without dissent to make Johnson speaker on Wednesday as the last man standing. The second reason was that Johnson had Donald Trump’s enthusiastic support. Jordan enjoyed Trump’s backing too but that was before the fatigue set in. The third, which builds on the first two, is that Johnson is liked by his colleagues. His demeanour is sunny and collegiate. From a temperamental point of view, Johnson is as far from the Gaetzs, Jordans, Marjorie Taylor Greenes and Lauren Boeberts as you get nowadays.

Yet on substance, Johnson is more than a match for his most shameless controversy-seeking colleagues. He is the most extreme figure to become US Speaker since the civil war. It was Johnson who rallied the 147 Republican members of the House to vote against certification of the election on January 6, 2021. Rather than chant “fraud!” or “stolen election!”, which were the Gaetz-Trump-Jordan (and so on) battle cries, Johnson got more than 100 of his colleagues to sign on to a Texas federal court amicus brief alleging the “constitutional infirmity” of the elections. Johnson had the tactical nous and temperament to dress exactly the same cause in a legal figleaf, which was that the early voting and mail-in ballot pandemic voting options provided by the swing states were unconstitutional. His goal was the same. But he made it seem respectable. The courts treated Johnson’s brief with the short shrift that it deserved. But without Johnson, Trump’s bid to overturn the electoral college would have attracted far fewer votes. No wonder Trump is a Johnson fan.

For a fascinating breakdown of his January 6 role, read this New York Times account. The result is that we now have a Speaker who is capable of being far smarter than Trump’s growing roll-call of plea-bargaining lawyers in finding ways to overturn a democratic election. If Johnson survives the next 13 months — a big conditional given the party’s kamikaze frame of mind — he will be Speaker when the next presidential certification happens in January 2025. I don’t need to spell out what Trump will want Johnson to do for him if he loses again. It is a safe bet that Johnson would do what he could to oblige. That is the most sobering fact about America’s new second in line to be president. But we cannot overlook Johnson’s Christian fundamentalism. He is a sincere biblical literalist. As an active legal ally of the Southern Baptist Convention, and also as a Louisiana and now Washington legislator, Johnson has a 25-year record of Christian extremism. He believes homosexuality is unnatural and should be illegal, he supports a federal outlawing of abortion in any circumstances (as co-author of the “life begins at conception” bill before this Congress), he believes the US is a Christian nation founded on biblical principles, and he is a “Christian Zionist” supporter of the politically philo-Semitic and theologically antisemitic view that the Book of Revelation will be fulfilled in modern-day Israel. Remember, that involves the second coming of Jesus in a prophesied rapture in which the righteous will ascend to heaven and the rest, including the Jews, will be slaughtered.

Some people would call Johnson a Christian nationalist. I prefer the term “end-of-days Republican”. At any rate, a triumphant Johnson on Wednesday told the house that God had ordained this moment and that his wife had spent the past two weeks “on her knees”. I confess to being puzzled by that last reference. Literally nobody anticipated Johnson would be Speaker until Tuesday of this week. Yet apparently his wife had been praying for it all along. Rana, don’t worry, I am not planning to quiz you about American far-right theology. My question is whether this GOP extremism, albeit in lamb’s clothing, will destroy the Republican party or the US republic. It has to be one or the other.

[Financial Times]

[deja-you]

ten ways to say (i love you)

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Thomas has never liked the conventional way of saying ‘I love you.’

word count: 6.1k

warnings: a little bit of angst, high school, karen

masterlist

1.

There is no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to your first class.

In Y/n’s defense, she had left her house early. For once in her life she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time, Y/n allowed herself to stop at a drive thru and pick up a drink as a reward. Everything was going according to plan. 

That is, until the Karen in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it. To make sure she didn’t mess up Karen’s order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. Y/n groaned as she watched the time tick by minute by minute. Just her luck.

Y/n watched the barista hand the drink to the Karen and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, Karen’s car didn’t move. She had her drink, but Karen continued to talk with the barista. Y/n cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel. She must have been more aggressive than she was expecting, because she accidentally honked her horn. 

She jumped back in shock at the loud noise. Karen poked her head out of her window and immediately began lecturing Y/n on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what Y/n assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear the Karen with her windows rolled up. Y/n bit her lip, gave the Karen a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually Karen had finished her rant and left the drive thru. Y/n got her drink, no longer a reward, more like a consolation now, and sped to school. There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time Y/n arrived, remind her of just how late she was. Y/n shoved all her materials in her backpack, locked her car, and quickly walked into the building. 

Of course, Y/n’s first class just had to be with Mr. Rousseau. Any other teacher would just let her tardiness slide. She opened the door to Mr. Rousseau’s classroom, and any conversation that was being had stopped. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and Y/n wanted to melt right there and then.

“Miss L/n, nice of you to join us.” Mr. Rousseau addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning against his desk as he sized her up. “If you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.”

Y/n swallowed roughly, and nodded. Rousseau went back to lecturing the class on how his class would be run, and Y/n did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. She instinctively made her way over to where her best friends, Abigail and Thomas were sitting. 

Thomas moved his backpack off the desk next to him, and mouthed, “I saved you a seat.”

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks.’ 

Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Mr. Rousseau wasn’t very amused with you being late, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” Y/n insisted. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you, hon’.”

“Thomas is right,” Abigail said. “Mr. Rousseau doesn’t hate you especially. Everyone knows he just hates women.”

2.

Late night study session was code for hanging out at John Adams’s house and messing around.

Abigail was dating John, so Y/n was friends with him and his friends by association. Abigail, Dolly, and Y/n were actually trying to study. John and James were discussing the football team’s chances of winning their next game. Martha and George had snuck off to get freaky somewhere. 

“Okay, Dolly.” Abigail held up a flash card. “What can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?”

“Um, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” Dolly replied lazily. 

“No. Well, I guess you’re not completely wrong...”

Y/n threw her body against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay here any longer, Y/n would throw herself out a window. Not that she didn’t want to hangout with her friends. After a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she spent the whole day with. If it wasn’t for her fragile social status, Y/n would have already been home in her bed right now.

“Sorry m’late, had to drop my sister off at a gymnastics class. Or fencing. Or Italian. Honestly, I can’t remember.” Thomas walked into the living room where everyone was hanging out.

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgot that the Jeffersons are all overachievers,” Y/n said with and eye roll. 

He wore an easy grin as he made his way over to Y/n, leaning against the couch and staring down at her. “What can I say? We’re just built different.”

Y/n scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes again, pretending she was back at home under warm covers. 

“I brought you food.” 

This caught Y/n’s attention. She slowly opened one eye to see if he was telling the truth. Thomas held up a bag of fast food he must’ve picked up on his way over. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she sat upright.

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, hon’.” He handed her the bag. “I know you didn’t have time for lunch today, and I know you likely wouldn’t have gotten around to eating anything yet.”

Y/n happily pulled out an order of large fries out of the bag. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are, Thomas?”

“Not often enough.”

“Well. You are amazing. So amazing.”

Y/n finished her fries and was looking through the rest of the bag to see what else he had gotten her when John called out to her. 

“Hey, Y/n,” John said, “what are your thoughts on my cousin?”

“You mean Sam Adams?” Y/n asked. 

“Yep. The very one.”

She shrugged. “He’s cute. Why?”

“He thinks you’re cute. Wanted me to ask if you’re single,” John said nonchalantly. 

Abigail took time away from quizzing Dolly to get invested in the conversation. “She’s very single. Right, Y/n? You and Sam would be so cute together!”

Y/n could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and she suddenly found the hardwood floors very interesting. “I don’t know... he really thinks I’m cute?”

“S’what he said,” John replied. “Can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a shrug. “Yeah, why not?”

“Y/n and Sam? I totally ship it,” Dolly said.

“Right?” Abigail grinned. “They’re going to be such an attractive couple.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this now? I’m here to study,” Y/n insisted, pulling out a textbook.

“I’d rather not fail tomorrow’s test,” Thomas agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Thomas took that moment to sit next to Y/n on the couch. She was flipping through the pages of her textbook before she came to a stop. Y/n passed the textbook to Thomas and pointed to the painting on the page.

“Look, this one’s my favorite,” she said.

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” Thomas read. “You’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich, then?”

Y/n shrugged. “I’m just a fan of the Romantic movement in general. Everything was just so creative, and beautiful, and emotional. There’s just so much feeling in this painting. It’s overwhelming.”

Thomas frowned looking back at the painting, and then back to Y/n. “It certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Thomas watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. Finally, he decided to say what was on his mind. 

“So, you and Sam Adams, huh?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder.

Y/n bit her lip and focused on a peculiar tchotchke the Mrs. Adams had decorated the living room with. “I guess. I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

“That’s right. Abbie and I spent most of science class teasin’ you about that. No wonder you’re so bad at physics now.”

She frowned and playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “I’m not bad at physics.”

“Really?” Thomas considered her with eyebrows raised. “Remember that botched science experiment that nearly killed Mr. Newton?”

“Can we not talk about that? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

He hid an amused look. “Whatever you say, honey.”

3.

You’re tired. The sheets are too hot. It’s been a long day, your body is exhausted. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Your mind is tired, too. The sheets are too hot. If you just close your eyes and stop thinking you’ll be asleep in minutes. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Not thinking isn’t exactly easy. The sheets are too hot. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how -- damn you, Sophocles, and your terribly beautiful words. 

Thomas threw his covers off his body and sat up in bed. He wasn’t going to get much sleep no matter how hard he tried. Thomas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there had been any sleep to begin with. 

There was no doubt that he was tired mentally and physically. Emotionally? His heart was eternally restless. He crossed his room to sit at his desk, fully accepting that sleep wasn’t a viable option anymore. 

The blue light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of his room, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Thomas didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night.

His fingers knew. They opened up an application and began scrolling. No, no, no, yes. Perfect. No, no, no, no, no, yes. This is her. And this went on for an hour or so, Thomas lost track of time. He’d be tired tomorrow, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he was finished. 

When he actually was finished, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calm washed over him, and before he knew it, Thomas was back in his bed falling asleep. 

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as a Jefferson could look. He had still had the sense to dress nicely, collared shirt, sweater, ironed pants, polished dressed shoes. Thomas was still sharp as ever in all his classes, but anyone who really knew him could tell he was a mess. 

“You okay, Thomas?” Y/n asked at lunch in Mr. Locke’s classroom (Mr. Locke was kind enough to let a group of moody teenagers eat lunch in his class, the lunchroom just wasn’t cool enough for them).

“Hm? Yeah. I’m great.”

Y/n cocked her head to the side. “You sure? You seem tired.”

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I have something for you.” Thomas fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Yeah, I’m sending it now. Check your phone.”

She raised an eyebrow, but Y/n opened up her phone to check the text Thomas had sent her. 

“Sophocles and Serotonin.” Y/n read aloud. “What is this?”

“I made you a playlist of songs I thought you might like.”

“Seriously?” A smile played on her lips; Thomas couldn’t help but reflect it. “When did you have the time for this?”

He shrugged. “I have more free time than you’d think.”

“With all your APs, varsity sport, and extracurriculars? I highly doubt that.” Y/n looked up at him, a teasing lilt transparent in her tone. “I appreciate the playlist even more, knowing you took time out of your rigorous schedule to create it. Thanks, Thomas.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on to press a kiss to his cheek. Thomas froze like a deer in headlights, and if Y/n noticed, she didn’t say anything. He put himself back together before she could notice he was momentarily put-off, and leaned back against another desk in an attempt to look cool.

“S’what do you have planned for after school?” He asked in his best nonchalant voice. 

“Well, Sam and I are going to go see a movie.”

“That’s still a thing, then?”

Y/n shot him a look that had him raising his hands up in surrender. “Yes, it’s still a thing. I really like him, okay? He’s a good guy.”

“But is he good enough for you?” Thomas crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving her’s. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t like Sam. Sam was great. It was just a fact that no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend. 

“He is.” She said with an eye roll. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Hon’, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

4.

Summer had felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago. The yellow leaves and the updated fall Starbucks menu were enough to convince anyone that it had always been October. 

It had taken a lot of convincing and a little bit of bribery to convince Thomas to attend the Homecoming football game, but with the assistance from Abigail, Y/n had eventually gotten Thomas to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there. 

Of course she could have taken her own car, but Y/n would rather not waste her own gas when she could use Thomas’s instead. It’s not like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, his Mercedes Benz had a seat warming function that Y/n couldn’t get enough of. 

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over his seat warmers, and Thomas spent most of the ride making fun of how excited she was about seat warmers. Eventually, they parked outside of the stadium, and Thomas paid for their entrance fee into the stadium.

“It’s co--” before Y/n could finish her sentence, remarking on the obvious cold weather, Thomas had handed her a sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at Thomas, her mouth slightly open. “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” he shrugged. She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Thomas glanced at, bit the inside of his lip, and shook his head. “Now, don’t go thinking I care about you or somethin’ like that, hon’. Couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d be cold.”

She looked at him with a smug smile on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” He was doing his best to act annoyed by all her questioning, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing. When he came up with another argument, he added on, “besides, ma would be upset with if she knew I let you freeze. It seems like she loves you more than she loves me sometimes.”

“That’s because she does,” Y/n pointed it out like it was obvious. “Can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man I have to drag to football games.”

“That’s it. Give the sweatshirt back. I hope you freeze.” Thomas was giving her the dirtiest look he could muster. Y/n had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her purse, and after some digging around, she pulled out a five dollar bill from her wallet. Y/n thrusted the money into Thomas’s hand and pushed him in the direction of the concession stand. “Here. Go get us some popcorn, maybe you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you. I’m going to go find some seats.”

Thomas grumbled something about “not being irritable” but nonetheless ventured off toward the concessions. Y/n climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Abigail sitting in the student section, all decked out in school colors and face paint. Abigail greeted Y/n with a warm hung, then holding her at an arms length, she took note of what her best friend was wearing.

“Is that Thomas’s sweatshirt?” Abigail asked.

Y/n looked down at the the University of Virginia sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself. “Hm? Oh yeah, it is.”

Abigail pursed her lips and mulled over this new information. “What’s going on between you and Thomas?”

“What d’ya mean? We’re friends.” Y/n pursed her lips. 

“And Thomas knows that?” Abigail observed Y/n. “Do you know that?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Sam now, okay? Thomas and I have always just been friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Abigail held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. If you say so, I’ll believe you. I just don’t want any feelings to get hurt between the two of you.”

“There are no feelings between the two of us,” Y/n said, but she wouldn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s words for the rest of the night.

5.

All week, Thomas had dreamt about the mint chocolate chip ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer. 

It was his favorite flavor, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl. He had promised himself he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he had really deserved it. After spending a productive hour studying for the test he had tomorrow, Thomas decided he had finally earned that delectable bowl of artificially colored green ice cream. 

He made his way to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. Thomas had made it all the way to the freezer when there was a knock at the front door. 

Thomas paused. He was so close to getting his ice cream. Maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the bowl or ignoring and continuing to dish himself ice cream. Thomas was leaning toward his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the fridge and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Y/n?” He said in surprise when he opened the door.

“Hi, Thomas. I didn’t know who else to come to. Abigail’s out with John right now. Dolly and Martha aren’t good in situations like this,” she was speaking quickly, sniffling between sentences, and trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheeks. “I just--”

He interrupted Y/n by pulling her into his house and his arms. Y/n melted into his touch, her hands gripping his shirt as she hugged him back. 

“What happened?” Thomas asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Sam and I broke up.”

Thomas sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip, weighed his options, and came to a reluctant conclusion. Thomas pulled away just enough that he could look Y/n in her bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream, huh?”

She offered him a miserable smile. “Ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to his kitchen and began digging through the kitchen while she hopped onto the counter to sit. Thomas hid a frown from Y/n while in the process of pulling out the nearly empty carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

“So you want to tell me what happened?” Thomas asked, pulling out a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup.” Despite her words, Y/n still wiped at her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. “We mutually agreed it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “He’s just not... he’s not the one.”

Thomas felt something twist and turn in his stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t be right to be happy when his friend was so miserable. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form in the corners of his mouth. “M’sorry about that, honey.”

“I know it was the right decision,” she said, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt not to let any more tears stream down her face. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less, though.”

“It’s normal to be upset after a break up,” Thomas shrugged.  

“You’re not going to have any ice cream?” Y/n asked quietly as he handed her a singular bowl.

“Not in the mood for it,” he lied. 

6.

“You get enough sleep last night, hon’?”

Y/n was in mid-yawn when he asked her the question. She held a hand over her mouth and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him. “Wow. Just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re a charmer, Thomas Jefferson?”

“You’d be surprised.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So who’s the cause for your sleepless nights?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She held up her textbook for him to see. “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you like spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch.” Thomas held a hand over his heart. “You really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone’s as gifted as Thomas flippin’ Jefferson.”

“Flippin’?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school. Gotta keep it PG, right?” She shrugged. “So yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a good amount of sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. I’ll make you a Quizlet next time so you can get more sleep.”

Y/n was about to say something in response when her phone began ringing in her pocket. “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Thomas turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his smile. 

“Thomas.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Abigail sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? Thomas had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he would be certain not to share with her.

“Yes, Abbie?”

“Do you have a crush on Y/n?” 

Thomas blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Abigail right. “Excuse me?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You heard me right, Jefferson. Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

“Y/n? Where’d you get that idea?” Thomas made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re always following her around and doing whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention you always call her “hon’,” seems pretty affectionate to me.” Abigail had a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since I can remember, of course I care about her. So what if I have a nickname for her? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you ‘Abbie’. I have a nickname for everyone.”

“We both know that’s a load of B.S. Are you really telling me you don’t like Y/n?”

“I don’t like Y/n.” And it wasn’t exactly a lie, because the feelings he had for Y/n had progressed far beyond liking. 

7.

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” Y/n said, pulling out a ball of azure colored yarn.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall. “Sure, ‘cept maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student. My only income comes from birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure Abigail will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Y/n muttered, staring at the mess of strings in her lap.

Thomas’s eyes widened a little. “You telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“How hard could it be?” She pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, Y/n had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help.”

“You know how to knit?” Y/n raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands. “This is crocheting. You don’t even have knitting needles.”

“Apologies. You know how to crochet?” 

“Lucy went through a stage where she was really into crocheting,” he shrugged. Thomas had quickly untangled Y/n’s “progress” and began to expertly thread together loops of yarn. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form. “See? Perks of growing up with sisters.”

“I hate that you’re good at everything.” 

He snorted and gently began to move the work into Y/n’s hand for her to finish the rest. “’M’not good at everything. Just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Y/n was now laser focused on the project in front of her, determined to get it right this time. Thomas would advise her, but for the most part he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner.

“You’re never going to get it like that, hon--” Thomas caught himself, remembering the conversation he had had with Abigail earlier. “Y/n. You’re never going to get it like that, Y/n.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just... You’re going to want to pull the yarn tighter or it’s all going to unravel later.”

“Oh. Thanks, Thomas.”

8.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/n had already came to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to get more than five hours of sleep. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe a dozen times now, but it wasn’t like anyone was posting in the middle of the night. Instagram was doing a poor job keeping her mind distracted. 

Lightly biting her bottom lip, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and caved, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, Y/n tapped his contact with her thumb. Her phone began to hum while she waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, Thomas. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. Y/n frowned when she saw him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no. Couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy voice.

“You’re lying. Hey, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t let me bother you.”

Thomas stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at Y/n firmly through the camera. “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, yeah? Don’t worry about waking me up. I’d rather talk to you any way.”

Y/n pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. Thomas was too polite to ever tell someone if they were bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he really wanted to talk to her, or if he was just too courteous to tell her otherwise. 

He noticed the look she gave him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you don’t believe me. Would’ve stopped bein’ friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing. Promise.” Thomas shot her a smug smile that made her wish she hadn’t called. 

“So kind of you,” she said sarcastically. 

“I try.” His grin widened, if that was even possible. “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Thomas narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted, uncomfortable by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved. “I can’t stop thinking about how you called me ‘Y/n’ earlier today?”

He tensed up but the action was barely noticeable. “What about it? It’s your name.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “but you never call me ‘Y/n.” It’s always ‘hon’’ or ‘honey.’ Always. Did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, ‘course not. Everything’s fine.” He paused. “That really upset you? Me calling you ‘Y/n’?”

“It’s just not normal.”

“It’s not normal for people to call you by your name?”

“It is, but you are supposed to call me ‘honey.’ Okay?”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop an amused smile from spreading on his lips. “Okay, honey.”

9.

“I’m finally going to get to see your mural, then?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s not my mural, Y/n. It’s the senior mural. It’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the great Thomas Jefferson designed it, it’ll be the best Senior mural ever seen at Charlottesville High School.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, hon’. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re Thomas Jefferson.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Henrietta Johnston, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colorful hand prints standing above the blue-gray sea.

Y/n stared at the mural with an open mouth. She looked from Henrietta to Thomas, then back to the wall in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colorful with handprints,” Thomas said. “Thought it would be nice to let our class to literally leave a mark on this school.”

Henrietta smiled at the mural and set down her paintbrush. “It was a good idea. The splash of color is just what it needed. What do you think, Y/n? Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. It’s... it’s perfect.” She turned to Thomas with wide eyes. “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. This is my favorite painting.”

“I noticed -- don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much. You just never shut up about that painting. It’s annoying, really,” Thomas muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the ground.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the painting, and Thomas was glad. 

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Thomas was flustered. If Y/n had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t say anything. 

10.

Charlottesville High School was filled with rich kids. The Charlottesville High School debate team had a minimal amount of members. These factors resulted in Thomas and Y/n having their own hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating, Thomas and Y/n walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they spared looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Thomas cleared his throat. “So that guy in the green shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him. “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. Told him you snored like an ogre and I gave him Maria’s number instead,” he said with a shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? I don’t snore like an ogre! He was cute and interested in me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Y/n scowled. “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny and enjoyable to be around. Even if I ‘snore like an ogre’ I’m also extremely attractive, so it makes up for it.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable, honey,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At the same time, Y/n and Thomas turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realized they were only inches apart, he could hear every inhale and exhale. His eyes flicked to her lips. It was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed it. 

Thomas took a step back and cleared his throat. “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed. They both hurriedly stepped into their own rooms. 

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Y/n leaned against her hotel room door. Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook her head and grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe Y/n could stop thinking about it after a good nights rest. She changed and was about to brush her teeth when she felt some kind of nagging feeling inside.

It was naïve to think she was going to get any sleep tonight if she didn’t confront Thomas about it. Y/n set down her toothbrush and made her way out into the fluorescent lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she paused.

Is this really what she wanted to do? If Y/n brought up their almost-kiss, would they be able to go back to friends? Did she even want to go back to friends? Y/n bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should just go to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their friendship in jeopardy. But then again, Y/n would always wonder what could have happened if she didn’t confront him.

She raised her fist to knock on Thomas’s door, but before she could knock, the door swung open. Thomas and Y/n once more stood face to face. She had a wide eyed expression that mirrored Thomas’s.

There was an accelerated heartbeat. A flutter. Thomas’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Y/n’s hand found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to her’s. His eyes were half open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair was all too real. 

Thomas pulled her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Thoughts were racing in Y/n’s mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist tightly -- there would be bruises there the next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss. Y/n came up empty handed.

There was no way Y/n felt the same way, Thomas told himself. There was no way she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with Y/n L/n. And for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her best friend.

Thomas missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. Her bright eyes, and the way light highlighted the softness of her skin. Thomas took that moment to memorize every line and curve of her face, branding the memory into his head. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time, sitting up. “Stop. We... we can’t do this. This can’t just be a one time thing.”

“Why not?” Her voice was quiet and delicate.

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw. “Because I love you.”

[checkurwindow]

ten ways

Book: Open Heart

Warning: So sweet your dentist would be concerned Rating: General Pairing: Bryce x F!MC Word count: 6500+ Author’s note: I finally wrote something that isn’t angst and oh god is it long. I spent so much time on this so please please consider reblogging and let me know what you thought of it, and maybe check out my masterlist while you’re at it.

1.

There was truly no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to her first class. 

In her defense, she had left the house early. For once in her life, she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time that she allowed herself to stop at a drive-thru and get a drink as a reward to herself. Everything was going according to plan. 

That is, until the lady in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it; and to make sure he didn’t mess up her order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. 

She groaned as she watched the time tick pass minute by minute. Just her luck. 

She watched the barista hand the drink to the lady in front and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, the car didn’t move, not a single inch. The drink was already in her hand, but the lady just had to continue to talk with the barista. 

She cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel in frustration. She must’ve been more aggressive than she was expecting, because her horn went off, and loudly at that.

She jumped back in shock at the noise. The lady poked her head out of her car window and immediately began lecturing her on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what she assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear her with her windows rolled up. She bit her lip, gave a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually, the lady finished her rant and left the drive-thru. She got her drink, no longer a reward and more of a consolation, and sped to school.

There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time she got there, only a reminder of just how late she was. Shoving all her things back inside her backpack, she locked the door and hurried into the building.

Of course, her first class just had to be with Mr. Anderson. Any other teacher would have just let her tardiness slide, but not him, never him. She opened the door to his classroom, and any conversation that had been going on stopped. 

More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and she wanted to melt into the floor right then and there. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Anderson addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at the nervous student, leaning against his desk as he sized her up, “if you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.

She swallowed roughly and nodded. He went back to lecturing the class on how his classes would be conducted, and she did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. Instinctively, she made her way over to where her friends were sitting.

Bryce moved his backpack off the desk next to him and quietly whispered, “I saved you a seat.” 

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks’.

Sienna leaned forward, “Anderson really wasn’t amused with you, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” she insisted.

Bryce rolled his eyes, “he doesn’t hate you, Boo.”

“Bryce is right,” she said, “everyone knows he just hates women,” she stressed the last part with exaggerated disgust.

2. 

Late-night study sessions had evolved to become code for hanging out at Danny’s house and messing around. 

Sienna was dating Danny, so naturally, she had become friends with him and his friends by association. Sienna, Aurora, and her were actually trying to study. Danny and Elijah were discussing the school football team’s chances of winning their next game, and Jackie and Bryce were in the kitchen getting snacks and undoubtedly bickering about something completely irrelevant. 

“Okay, Sienna,” Aurora held up a flashcard, “what can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?” 

“Uh, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” She replied, barely having read that chapter of the textbook.

“No- well, actually, I suppose you’re technically not completely wrong.”

She let her body fall back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay there any longer, she would’ve thrown herself out the window. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with her friends, it was just that after a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she had already spent most of the day with. 

“Sorry I’m late, I just spent the better part of the last hour trying to explain to a group of freshmen that I won’t be dating or teaching “my ways” to any one of them,” he shuddered dramatically as he walked into the living room where everyone was.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot I was friends with the Bryce Lahela,” she said overdramatically.

He rolled his eyes but decided to amuse her nonetheless, “what can I say, I’m just clearly superior.”

She scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended she was back at home under her warm, soft covers. 

“I brought you food.”

That caught her attention. Cautiously opening an eye to see if he was telling the truth, she was met with the sight of him holding up a bag of fast food that he must have picked up on his way over. She couldn’t help the growing smile on her face as she sat upright. 

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, Munchkin” he handed the bag over to her, “you skipped lunch to finish up the science project you were behind on and I’m certain you haven’t gotten around to eating anything yet,” he said confidently.

She happily pulled an order of large fries out of the bag, “have I ever told you how amazing you are, Bryce?”

He smiled, “not often enough.”

“Well, you are. So amazing.”

She had just finished the fries and was looking through the back to see what else he had gotten her when Danny called out to her.

“What are your thoughts on Rafael?” He asked.

“Aveiro?”

“Yep.”

She tilted her head, “he’s okay, pretty cute. Why?”

“He told me he likes you, even wanted me to ask if you were single?” Danny said nonchalantly.

Sienna immediately got invested and joined in on the conversation, “she is very single, and I for one think they would be a great couple!”

She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and suddenly she found the hardwood floors very interesting, “I don’t know…he actually likes me?”

“That’s what he told me,” Danny replied, “can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a careless shrug, “Yeah, why not?” 

“You and Rafael? I knew this day would come,” Aurora commented.

“Okay, we’ve talked about this long enough. We need to study,” she insisted, pulling out her textbook.

“I’d rather not fail this test,” Bryce agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Bryce took that opportunity to fill up the space next to her on the couch. She flipped through pages of her textbook before coming to a stop. She passed the textbook to Bryce and pointed to a large picture on the page.

“This one’s my favourite,” she said. 

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” he read,  “you’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich?”

She shrugged, “I guess I’m just a fan of the Romantic moment in general. Everything was so creative and beautiful. I just think it’s crazy how this painting holds so much emotion.”

Bryce frowned, looked at the painting, then back at her, “it certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Bryce watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. After a while, he decided to say what was on his mind. 

“So,” he broke the silence, “you and Rafael, huh?”

“Yeah,” suddenly, the furry carpet on the floor looked beyond interesting, “I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

His mouth broke out into a smile, “Sienna and I used to tease you about it all the time! No wonder you’re so bad at chemistry,” he joked. 

“I happen to be pretty extraordinary at chemistry, thank you very much.”

“Hm, I think that botched experiment that nearly killed Mrs. Durnam tells a very different story,” he said, and she playfully punched his arm. 

“She’s still alive, isn’t he? Plus, you were the one who didn’t make me double-check!”

He had an amused look on his face, “keep telling that to yourself, babe.”

3.

He was tired, the sheets were too hot. It had been a long day, his body was exhausted. The air in his bedroom was too cold, his mind was tired, too. If he would just close his eyes and stop thinking, he’d be asleep in mere minutes. Now the sheets were hot again, so he kicked them off. Then the air was too cold, so he pulled the sheets over him again. Not thinking ironically proved to be harder than perceived. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how fooli- damn it, Sophocles, damn your terribly beautiful words.

Bryce threw the covers onto the other side of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t going to get much sleep that night no matter how hard he tried, anyway, no need to lie to himself. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there even had been any sleep in the first place.

There was no doubt that he was tired both mentally and physically. But emotionally? His heart was eternally restless when it came that. He crossed his room and sat down at the expensive wooden desk, fully accepting that getting any rest that night was no longer a viable option.

The bright light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of the room, but his eyes adjusted soon enough. Bryce didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night. 

But his subconscious knew. His fingers opened up the application and started scrolling. No, no, yes. God, no. yes, definitely, perfect. And that went on for an hour or so, though Bryce wasn’t exactly keeping track of time. He’d be near-dead at sunrise, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he finished. 

When he actually did finish, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calmness washed over him, and before he knew it, he was face down and lost in his dreams asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as Bryce Lahela could look. He still dressed as great as always, even styling his hair with a little more volume than usual. He was still sharp as ever in class, but anyone who really knew him could tell that he was a total mess. 

“Hey, you okay?” She asked during lunch in Mr. Jericho’s classroom (He had been kind enough to let a bunch of teenagers spend lunch in his class; the cafeteria just wasn't cool enough for them).

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

She cocked her head to one side, “no you aren’t, spill.”

“Don’t worry about me. I actually have a little something for you,” Bryce fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Sending it now. Aaaand…...check your phone!”

She raised an eyebrow and cautiously unlocked her phone to look at the text he had sent to her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin,” she read off her phone, “ what is this?” 

“I made you a playlist of songs that I thought you’d like.”

“Seriously?” A smile emerged on her lips, and Bryce couldn’t help himself but to reflect it, “When did you even have the time for this?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I happened to have free time last night.”

“With Mr. Anderson's early deadlines? I smell a steaming hot pile of bullshit, Lahela,” She looked up at him, a teasing lilt prominent in her tone, “I appreciate the playlist even more now that I know you took the time out of your night to make it. Thank you, Bryce.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze like a deer in headlights, and if she noticed, she definitely didn’t say anything. He compiled himself back together before she could notice that his usual smirk wasn’t as smug as it usually was, and leaned back against the desk behind him in an attempt to look cool. 

“So, what’re you doing after school?” He asked in his best casual voice. 

“Rafael and I are going to see a movie.”

“That’s actually still a thing?”

She shot him a look that made him raise his hands up in surrender, “Yes, it’s still a thing. He’s a good guy, I really like him.” 

“But is he good enough for you?” He crossed his arms, eyes not leaving hers. It wasn’t that Bryce didn’t like Rafael. Rafael was great, but no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend. 

“He is,” She said with an eye roll, “why do you care anyway?”

“Just looking out for you, Sweetheart.”

“I can take care of myself perfectly fine, Scout.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, an impressed look across his face, “trust me, I know.”

4. 

Summer felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago The yellow-orange leaves and updated Starbucks menu was enough to convince anyone that it was already October. 

It took a lot of sweet-talking and a tiny bit of bribery to convince Bryce to attend the Homecoming football game, but with Sienna’s assistance, she eventually got him to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there. 

Of course, she could have taken her own car, but she would much rather not waste her own gas when she could take advantage of his instead. It wasn’t like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, the seat warming function in his cushy Mercedes Benz was a huge incentive.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over the seat warmers, and he spent most of the ride making fun of how obsessed she was with said seat warmer. Eventually, they parked outside and paid for the entrance fees. 

“It’s kinda co-” before she could even finish her sentence remarking the cold weather, Bryce handed her a comfy looking (and feeling) sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at him, her mouth slightly ajar, “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t need to,” he shrugged. 

She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Bryce glanced at her, bit the inside of his lip, then shook his head, “Don’t go thinking I care about you or anything now, Lovey. I couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d freeze up. 

She looked up at him with a smug grin on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place, “Yeah? Is that really all it was?”

“Yes, that’s all, Sunshine,” he did his best to act all annoyed by her questioning, but instead found it endearing in the end. 

It took him a moment, but eventually, he came up with a half-decent excuse, “besides, you know my grandma would kill me if she knew I let you freeze. I swear, sometimes it seems like she loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s because she does,” she pointed it out like it was the only possibility, “can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man that I had to drag to this game.”

“That’s it. Take the sweatshirt off, I hope you freeze,” he said with the dirtiest look he could muster and she had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her bag, and after digging around, she pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet. Thrusting the money into Bryce’s hand and pushing him in the direction of the concession stand, “here, go get some popcorn for us. Maybe then you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you, I’ll find us some good seats.’

Bryce grumbled something about “you’re irritable” but nonetheless ventured off towards the concession stand. 

She climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Sienna and Danny sitting in the student section, all decked out in their school colours and face paint. Sienna greeted her with a warm hug. 

Pulling back, Sienna took note of what she was wearing, “is that Bryce’s?”

She looked down at the Stanford sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself, “Oh yes, it’s pretty comfortable, actually.”

Sienna pursed her lips and mulled over the new information, “What’s going on between the two of you?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” she shrugged.

“And Bryce knows that?” She paused, “Do you know that?”

She narrowed her eyes at Sienna, “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Rafael now, okay? Bryce and I have always just been friends, and that's all we’ll ever be.” Sienna nodded her head, “Okay, okay. If you say so, I believe you. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, I care about both of you.”

“There aren’t any feelings between Bryce and I, don’t worry,” she said, but those words didn’t leave her mind for the rest of the night.

5. 

Bryce had spent a significant amount of the week dreaming about the coffee and cookie dough ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favourite flavour, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl of that sweet sweet goodness of a food. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he really deserved to. After spending his afternoon being productive and studying for the test he had tomorrow, he decided that he finally earned that delectable bowl of unhealthy but utterly delicious caramel-colored ice cream. 

He made his way down to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the smooth marble floor in his most comfortable pair of socks. Bryce had made it all the way to the freezer, barely moments away from the compartment holding his currently most prized possession when a hasty knock at the front door stopped him in his tracks.

He paused. He was oh so close to getting to his ice cream; maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the door or ignoring it and getting the ice cream first. He was starting to lean towards just going for his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the freezer and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He said in surprise when he saw who was standing at her doorstep.

“I didn’t know who else to go to. Sienna’s out with Danny, and Aurora and Jackie aren’t good in situations like this,” she spoke quietly and sniffled in between sentences, trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheek, “sorry, I just-”

He interrupted her by pulling her into the darkening sky and into his house and arms. She melted into his touch and gripped his shirt tightly as she hugged him back. 

“What happened?” he asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Rafael and I broke up.”

Bryce sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip and weighed the options in front of him, before he came to a reluctant conclusion. He pulled away just enough so that he could look her in her teary bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream.”

She offered him a slightly trembling smile, “ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to the kitchen and began digging through the freezer while she hopped onto the counter beside him. He hid a frown from her while in the process of pulling the nearly empty carton of coffee and cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Bryce asked, retrieving a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t even a bad break up,” Despite her words, she still wiped at her tears using the sleeves of her shirt, “we mutually agreed that it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “he’s just...not the one, I guess.”

Bryce felt something twist and turn in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t right to be happy when his friend was so miserable, but he was anyway. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sorry, Cupcake.”

She laughed, “Cupcake?”

He rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face remained, “I’m trying something new, okay? Running out of nicknames.”

She couldn’t help but match his infectious smile, “you’re not gonna have any ice cream?” she asked as he passed her the bowl.

“Nah, not in the mood for it,” he lied.

6. 

“Did you get enough sleep last night, Hon?” She was already in mid-yawn when he had asked the question.

She held a hand over her mouth and nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him, “wow, just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re one hell of a charmer, Lahela?”

“You’d be surprised, actually,” he gave her a teasing smile, “so who’s the cause for your sleepless night?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She made an emphasis on the textbook in her hands, “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you so desperately enjoy spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch,” Bryce held a hand over his heart, “you really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone is as gifted as Bryce flippin’ Lahela.”

“Flippin’? Really?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school, gotta keep it PG,” she shrugged, “so yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a normal amount of sleep, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile, “you don’t need to worry about me, Bry.” 

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. Look, I’ll make you a stack of flashcards next time so you can get more sleep.”

She was about to say something in response when her phone rang in her pocket, “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Bryce turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his growing smile. 

“Bryce.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Sienna sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? He had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he certainly wasn’t about to share with her. 

“Yes, Sienna?”

“Do you have a crush on her?”

Bryce blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Sienna right, “Excuse me?

Sienna rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “You heard me right. I’m not blind, Bryce. I see the way you look at her when you think no one is focusing. Do you have a crush on her?”

“That’s ridiculous, where’d you even get the idea from?”” He made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it. 

“Oh, I dunno, you just do whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention that you have a different pet name for her every time I see you two, seems pretty affectionate to me, Bryce.” She did always have a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since before I could remember, of course I care about her. And so what if I have a nickname for her? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you...Si...all the time,” he paused to rethink what he just said, “I have a nickname for everyone.” 

“We both know that’s a load of B.S, are you really telling me that you don’t like her?”

“I don’t like her,” and it wasn’t an exact lie, because the feelings he had for her had progressed far beyond liking. 

7. 

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” She said and pulled out a ball of azure coloured yarn.

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall, “Sure, except maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She gave him a look, “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student, my only income comes in the form of birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Well, I’m sure Sienna will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” She muttered and stared blankly at the mess of strings in her lap.

His eyes widened a little, “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“I'll get the hang of it soon enough,” she pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, she had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help you.”

“You? Know how to knit?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. 

Bryce rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands, “This is crocheting. You don’t even use knitting needles”

“Apologies. And how do you even know how to crochet?” 

“I may or may not have taken lessons a couple summers back to impress Alisson Rivers?” He admitted, quickly untangling her “progress” and began to expertly thread the loops of yarn together. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form, “being incredibly sexy has its perks,” he jokingly winked at her. 

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into her hands for her to finish the rest, “Not everything, maybe just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,”  She waved him off, now laser-focused on the project in front of her and determined to get it right that time. Bryce gave her tips and advice every once in a while, but for the most part, he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner. 

“Sweethea-” Bryce cut himself off, remembering the conversation he had with Sienna earlier. He cleared his throat, “you’re never gonna get it like that.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows, “What?” He swallowed roughly and shook his head, “It’s nothing. Just...you’re going to wanna pull the yarn a little tighter or it’s all going to unravel before you’re even finished.”

“Oh,” She gave him a thankful smile, “thanks, Bryce.”

8.

It was almost 2 in the morning, and she knew that getting any more than four of sleep was out of the equation at that point. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe two dozen times now, but it wasn’t as if anyone was going to post in the middle of the night. And even so, Instagram was doing a fairly poor job at keeping her mind distracted. 

Sighing out in frustration, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and finally caved in to her temptations, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, she tapped his contact with her thumb. The phone began to hum as she waited for him to pick up. 

“Hey, Bry. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. She frowned when he realised he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy and raspy voice. 

“I know you’re lying, Bryce. Don’t worry about it, go back to sleep”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. It’s really fine, don’t let me bother you.

He stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at her firmly through the camera, “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, aren’t I? Don’t worry about waking me up. Besides, I’d much rather be talking to you.’

She pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. He was too polite to ever tell her if she was bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted to talk to her, or if he was too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. I would’ve stopped being friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing as hell. I promise,” he shot her a smug smile that almost made her wish she hadn’t called him up. 

“How kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try,” his grin widened, if that were even possible, “so what did you want to talk to me about?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You don’t?” Bryce narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms, “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted uncomfortably by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved, “Earlier, when you told me to tighten the yarn. You stopped yourself from calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

He tensed, but she didn’t notice, “I mean, what’s so unusual about that? That's a perfectly normal thing for someone to do.”

“I know,” she nodded, “but you always call me some cheesy pet name. Always. So, did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “No, of course not. Everything’s fine,” he paused, “that really upset you?”

“It’s just that you’ve always had a nickname for me, I guess I got used to it.”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across his lips, “Okay, Boo.”

9. 

“Am I finally going to get to see your mural?”

Bryce rolled his eyes, “It isn’t my mural, Love. It’s the senior mural, it’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea,” she gave him a playful nudge, “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the amazing Bryce Lahela designed it, it’ll be the best senior mural this school has ever seen. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Babe. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly, “you’re Bryce Lahela.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Kyra Santana, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colourful handprints standing above the blue-gray ocean in front of them. 

She stared at the mural with an open mouth. She glanced from Kyra, to Bryce, then back to the artwork in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colourful with the handprints,” Bryce said, “I thought it would be nice to let our class literally leave a mark on this school.”

Kyra smiled at the mural and set her paintbrush down, “I was a great idea, the splash of colour is just what it needed,” she turned to her, “what do you think?”

“Like it? No, I...I love it, it’s perfect,” she turned to Bryce with wide eyes, “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, this is my favourite painting.”

“I noticed--don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much, you just never shut up about this painting. It’s annoying, really,” he muttered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his shoes.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural, “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the wall that the mural proudly sat on, and Bryce was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Bryce was flustered, and if she had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t mention it.

10.

Their high school was filled with rich kids. Their high school also had a debate team with a minimal number of members. These factors resulted in Bryce and her having their own separate hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating and watching other teams debate, she and Bryce walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they sneaked looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Bryce cleared his throat, “So that guy in the blue shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him, “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. I told him you snored like an ogre and gave him Jackie’s number instead,” he said with a careless shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder, “Are you kidding me? You know I don’t snore, he was cute and interested in me!”

“Can’t imagine why.”

She scowled, “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny, enjoyable to be around, and have a high tolerance for assholes who shut down opportunities for their friends. And I’m extremely attractive, which is an added plus.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At that very moment, they turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realised that they were only inches apart, able to hear every inhale and exhale of the other. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and it was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed a single bit of it. 

Bryce took a step back and cleared his throat, standing rather uncomfortably, “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed before they both hurriedly turned around and stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Her mind wandered as she leaned against her hotel room door. 

Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook the thought out of her head and grabbed a sweatshirt along with a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe she would stop thinking about it after a good night's rest. She changed, brushed her teeth, and was about to turn the lights off when she felt that nagging feeling bubble up in the pits of her stomach once more.

It was naive to think her mind would stop racing that night if she didn’t confront Bryce about it. She set the covers that were in her hands down and made her way out into the fluorescent-lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she stopped herself. 

Was that really what she wanted to do? If she brought up their almost-kiss, would they ever be able to go back to being friends? Did she even want them to go back to being just friends? She bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should’ve just gone to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their entire friendship on the line. But then again, she would always wonder what could have happened if she never followed her gut.

She raised her fist to knock on his door, but before she could make contact, the door swung open. They once more stood face to face, their wide-eyed expressions mirroring each other. For a moment in time, all that stood between them were the accelerated heartbeat and the flutters they felt for one another. 

Bryce’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her hand had found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to hers. His eyes were half-open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair were all too real.

He pulled her into his room, kicking the closed door behind him. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in her mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist so tightly that there were sure to be bruises there the very next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss; she came up empty-handed. 

There was no way she felt the same, Bryce told himself. There was no way that she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with her, and for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her friend.

He missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were slightly swollen and her hair was a mess. Her eyes were mesmerising, and the way the light highlighted the softness of her skin made him fall even more. He took that moment to memorise every line and curve of her face, forever branding that memory into his head. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time and sat up, “Stop. we...we can’t do this.  This can’t just be a one-time thing.”

“What?”

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw, “Because I love you.”

Her lips curled up in a smile, “I love you too.”

[redknight3996]

31 Day Horror House, Part 3

21 - Hybrid

Doctor Malcolm’s assistant is designated “Hybrid”. She was his attempt at making crossbreed between a human and a venusian. She worked, but she was more a daughter than a wife, so he decided she would work better as an assistant. Children should help their parents.

She looks nothing at all like her father, but something like her adoptive sister. She has pale white skin, speckled with blue freckles. Her eyes are pure sky-blue, though white specks of light float like tiny clouds in them. The tentacles on her head hang limp around her face, so she typically ties them back. She has no nose, but that’s fine, because that’s what the tentacles are for. She has something of a mouth, though it’s more an empty space of skin that she can tear open to speak through, showing only a pale blue void inside her body.

She wears what would be considered a wetsuit in a proper setting. A white one, clinging to her skin. Malcolm insists it is necessary to keep toxins from her skin. Why this means she cannot wear a labcoat or more concealing clothing...you can likely assume the answer.

If you ask her name, she might glance to see if her “father” is in earshot, before mentioning that she is considering “Vira”, should it seem safe. Maybe the name is too close to Veriana, but she doesn’t have much of a point of reference, and she likes the way it sounds.

Vira is, unfortunately, the larger of the two threats here, in terms of danger, if not height. Upon entering the lab, Malcolm will most assuredly want you for some nefarious purpose. Vira’s job is to get you.

As such, the drink you are given is most certainly filled with a sedative. Avoid that, and you may find yourself noticing gas spilling from the vents. Retain a gas mask, and you’ll probably get hit in the head with a baseball bat. Vira has been practicing. 

Regardless, you will more than likely find yourself knocked out in her presence, and she will express no remorse for it. She may sympathize with you enough to smile and make little “koo-koo” motions with her finger, twirling it beside her head in the universal symbol for a man with a screw loose, when Malcolm’s back is turned, but she will make no movement to free you from the surgical table you are now strapped to.

Really, it is more than likely that she was the one to strap you in herself, in addition to divesting you completely and drawing the specific guidance marks for a vivisection across your chest. You’ve survived this long, so it makes you interesting.

She’ll watch the entire time. She feels she owes you that much. She remembers everyone she’s ever done this to.

The laboratories are not a good place to visit.

22 - Chimera

Assuming you have gone through certain events up until this point, you may be surprised to hear Malcolm earnestly thank you. For you see, he always had something of an issue with his newest, greatest project. Yes, it does have to do with resurrecting his wife, but it's a side project to that.

Certainly, he used some of her DNA in growing the tall body you’ll see floating in a nearby tube, currently curled into a fetal position, but he used a few different DNAs for this one. Some RNAs too! Very genetic.

You remember, he develops weapons. Not just guns, but gases, grenades, and soldiers. Everyone wants an ultimate soldier, and he wants an ultimate wife. So, really, best of both worlds here! Best of three worlds, really, one red, one gold, one green and blue, all so very close to each other, and mixing quite well. The morningstar, the war god, the cradle of life, mixed in grand orgy of genetics!

He gestures grandly to his Ultimate Lifeform, the Chimera. A simple name, but few things beat the classics. Really though, there’s a bit more manticore in her, though you’ll see that in a moment.

You see, his issue was that he didn’t have a brain sufficient enough to handle so many issues. Human brains, animal brains, alien brains, they all wound up bursting when placed into a body too strong for them! But you, you of all people, actually found a creature resembling a brain in all the proper ways, enough so that a transplant would clearly work!

So he sewed his creation up properly and transferred her into a healing pod and now, so very quickly, she will be perfect! Already, she has grown and matured rapidly, a sign of his brilliance! Yes! This is his magnum opus!

And then he will be stabbed straight through the chest. 

Either Malcolm will be facing the tube, and see it coming, or facing you, and he won’t. You will see it either way, the way the enormous woman in the tube opens her four eyes, all a dark violet that reminds you of the sky before a typhoon hits. The two on top of horizontal pupils. The two below have vertical. All are wide with a violent rage as her long, spiked tail rips through Malcolm’s chest, ending his bragging with a brutal choking, before he is thrown straight through the nearby window. 

Oh, yes, there is a very large window in the surgery lab. It is there for dramatic effect or, in this case, defenestration. 

Malcolm may survive this, but you have more to worry about as the glass tank is ripped apart and the Ultimate Lifeform steps out.

She is 8ft tall, easily, with curved horns that add another foot to her height and pitch-black skin. You may see some specks of violet light on said skin, mostly where the water still drips. She is heavily muscular, with a lean body. One may compare her to a panther, though a lion may be more apt, considering the very long “mane” of hair spilling down her back. If one were to look closely, they would notice that the hairs are more akin to very small and solid tendrils, kept rigid while she is agitated, though relaxing when she is calm. She is very agitated right now, and also hungry.

She may snarl, and you will see a maw full of black teeth, made for ripping and tearing in a dark purple mouth. Her claws are similarly black and sharp, as are her talons at her feet, though her legs appear digitigrade. 

By now, the restraints on the surgical table will be released, and you should start running. Yes, she is a predator, and yes, she will pursue you, but she is also rather woozy from all of this, so you stand a decent chance of escape. Particularly since she may be experiencing the issue of having fire bursting from her nose and mouth at sudden intervals.

Note that Vira will not be helping you during any of this. She didn’t help Malcolm either, but honestly, she’s just seeing how things play out. As far as she can tell, the new girl is her younger sister, so there are some things to figure out there, and you’re some rando, so you really don’t factor into those questions.

Veriana, on the other hand, will help you out, and is the one you should seek out. She might be slightly alarmed by your appearance, but she’ll be more so by Chimera’s. However, she does know how to handle matters here, and will do so promptly.

Thus, you will be safe, again, as Chimera is calmed and Malcolm more than likely gets poked at with a stick by Bethany.

And hey, you’ll even get a real reward out of the deal! Vira feels you’ve earned something, so feel free to drink from one of three colored vials she will offer to you. They might give you elemental superpowers. They probably will. They’ve done tests. It usually works out. Don’t you want to set things on fire with your mind?

Try one. Do it. She insists.

23 - Kojiro

The art studio is massive and filled with an utterly disorganized mess of things. In said studio, you will notice massive canvases, immense statues, a full stage, and Mister Nikuya Kojiro, a resident of the house and its local artist. He’s responsible for a fair amount of the artwork in the house, in fact. If you’ve been paying attention to his work, this should unnerve you.

Kojiro might unnerve you in general, as while he is not a large man, standing at around 5’6”, he is one with a great deal of personality. Not necessarily bombastic, but one that is very forceful, direct, and proud of his accomplishments. You may also notice that he is made of wood. 

Indeed, he greatly resembles a wooden posing doll wearing a loose green kimono, albeit a doll with fingers, toes, and three moving masks set as his faces. They switch quickly, depending on his mood, temperament, and manner of speech, and consist of round-cheeked cherub, beaming and laughing; a snarling demon, possessing horns and tusks and glaring yellow eyes; and a flat, wooden human, set in perpetual neutrality. 

Masks are a part of his work, and he greatly enjoys making them, though he is wondering if he should add more faces to his head. Disgust, sadness, surprise, fear, those should all be conveyed, shouldn’t they? Ah, but he has other projects, and so many to get through. He’s commissioned, and the commissioners pay him on time. He has friends now that make sure of that, and further make sure there are no authorities getting irritated with him again.

Kojiro greatly enjoys making a great deal of things, ranging from a great deal of styles and backgrounds. Please, feel free to examine his paintings, his statues, his works in general. He hasn’t quite gotten the puppets right for the stage, it’s a work in progress, but he’s happy with other things and you can see them quite easily, such as a watercolor painting of an old man meeting a god on a mountain, or a charcoal sketch of a rotted husk letting cards spill from his hands as hornets spill from his mouth.

You may ask about Kojiro himself, and he’ll wave off the question. He’s nothing special, merely a man who acted too gregariously in life. He indulged in petty vengeance and grievances, thinking that violence alone was art. No, no, violence can be a part of art, but art comes from all things; using only violence is like using only red. You miss so many things. 

Still, limitation does breed creativity, even if it builds anger. He was executed by a friend of his, though he doesn’t mind that. He does somewhat mind that he was considered such a “rabid dog” that the officials had him torn apart by genuinely rabid dogs, but he could appreciate the poetry in it.

Please do try to be careful around his artwork. He works hard, and you really shouldn’t try to make an old man cry, especially when he hasn’t yet made himself a way to express sadness. He can express rage though, and while he’s out of his “violent” phase, he is perfectly willing to beat you to death. 

You may say that’s a violent act. You won’t be saying it when he’s smashing in your teeth.

So take some care, and enjoy the paintings. You might see yourself in them.

24 - The Hillstead Children

As you traipse around the third floor, bereft of your guide and probably lost, you’ll likely see some kids around. Five of them, probably, and, to your benefit, all color coded. 

They have uniforms, you see, consisting of vests, long-sleeved shirts, baseball caps, and shorts. They’re all quite young too, and probably half your height, assuming you are of average height.

Their names are Sally, who wears red; Una, who wears blue; Nolan, who wears green; Silvia, who wears yellow; and Charlie, who wears white.

Sally is a young girl with red scales and short black hair. She is not a dragon, those are different, though she does have a tail, and she will bite you with her very sharp teeth if you seem threatening. She is perfectly fine and capable of eating your fingers, so please, be kind. Her eyes are red and black, and her pupils are slit, which means they will widen adorably when she’s happy.

Una is also a young girl with pale blue skin and long black hair. She seems to be closest to Sally, and will often cling to her when concerned by something. Her blue eyes are similar to Sally’s, though her own slit pupils are horizontal, rather than vertical. Her teeth are more like needles, and she is more likely to run than attempt any biting. She also has a tail, though it is more similar to an axolotl’s.

Nolan is a young boy with green skin and dark brown hair that falls around his head like a canopy. His eyes are a solid orange, like amber in a tree, and he will stare at you quite silently and patiently. You won’t see him staring until you turn and somehow catch sight of him out of the corner of your eye, but he’ll be gone by then.

Silvia is a young girl, presumably. She isn’t quite sure yet, but she is leaning that way. She wears yellow, and while you might have a hard time spotting Nolan, you won’t see Silvia, as you can’t see her in the slightest. She’s invisible, you see, and that makes such things difficult. So if you hear a giggle on the breeze after, say, thumping your head against something by accident, you might know who’s laughing.

Charlie is a young child with white skin and white hair. Ivory white, not Caucasian or Albino. Those are all different things. His eyes are white too, and he walks with an axe. It’s his axe. Don’t try to take it, or he’ll give you a whack.

He does have a screwdriver, if you need to borrow that.

25 - Tanner

Children need a person to take care of them, and who better than someone who has taken care of children before? Thus comes in Miss Tanner Tarallo, eldest sister of the Tarallo family, former caretaker to her younger sisters since their mother was something of a lush, and previous security chief of the Murcoll Estate. She gave the job to Jordan after training them up because she honestly wanted to focus on herself for a bit.

And hey, she did a lot of self-improvement, if she says so herself! Not many people in her family actually have flesh bodies. Honestly, she might be something of a trendsetter on that front.

It should come as no surprise that the eldest of the Tarallo sisters is very similar to Lucy and Lexi in that she acts through and resides in multiple bodies at once. In her case, these bodies are made up of obsidian statues whose eyes burn with azure flames, and they mainly just wear sweaters, jeans, and aprons. One body though, her main body, is a special one.

See, she had something of a fascination with flesh. Call it weird, call it whatever, but she liked that weird semi-solid human stuff. So she asked around to see how a human body could be built. Apparently people did stuff like that before, so hey, she was off to a good start. 

It was an involved process, requiring time and effort, but she got everything together, carved one of her bodies into the shape of a human skeleton, then went right to Veriana, who fixed in all the organs and whatevers so everything would function right, added all the muscle fibers and whatchamacallits to make it be solid enough, and then added in a decent patchwork of skin from various types of human women. 

Don’t worry, no one was harmed for it, she bought everything online, it’s all good. Point is, the Tanner you will be speaking to now looks like a smiling, fit, 6’2” redhead with stitches crossing all across her face, which is segmented into numerous different skin tones, ranging all across the spectrum of human flesh tones, though said flesh is noticeably a bit charred around her eyes. Still, it’s a real work of art, all around, and hey, maybe she’ll give you more a peek if you’re feeling frisky~?

Note that her skeleton is still made of obsidian, and her muscles are very dense to compensate for that sort of weight. Crushing is a very real possibility.

She may crush you for other reasons, also. If you happen to harm her sisters or any of the kids in her care, she will grip you around the eyes and slowly squeeze, smiling all the while as your skull crushes inward. She was the security chief; you won’t get out of her grip.

Be nice though, and you’ll have met a genuinely cheerful, kind woman who is very happy with her current shape and loves playing with the kids in her care, who she displays a comprehensive understanding of and an enthusiastic drive to make sure their needs are met and their lives are happy.

Also, a good way to get on her good side is to mention Lucille’s interest in Oscar, as she will immediately laugh and promptly start asking for more details.

26 - The Hillsteads

You’ll likely encounter the Hillsteads at some point, as they are a rather distinctive couple.

Cordelia walks with a natural bounce in her step and a grin on her face, her long brown hair bound back in a ponytail and her red eyes gleaming with amusement. She will be wearing a white t-shirt, a tartan pinafore, white boots, and red, knee-high socks. She stands at 5’5”, and has very visibly sharp canines. In the right light, her tanned face will look remarkably gaunt despite her fit figure, and her nose will seem a great deal more like a snout. You can’t quite tell what type of snout though.

Natalie, on the other hand, stands a full 10’4”. She is a pale blue, and has short, white hair, set in a professional bob. Her eyes are pale like chipped ice, and you may see more icy eyes along her shoulders and pelvis, forming on the outside of her dress at points. She wears a long, black gown that fits tight at her thin chest and spreads out at her skirts. She may be wearing heels, or those may be her feet. You can’t quite tell.

Cordelia wears a crown of flowers. Natalie wears a crown of thorns. They made them for each other, as they know each other’s preferred style and wanted to match. Despite Natalie’s clawed hand being large enough to wrap entirely around a human head and still have space, she holds Cordelia’s hand with a gentle tenderness.

The two do not feel cozy. They feel very cozy to one another, but you will almost certainly have your natural flight-fight-fright instincts triggered in their presence. In Natalie’s case, that is understandable because she is massive and blatantly monstrous, even if you haven’t seen her immense, icicle-esque wings yet. In Cordelia’s, it’s less understandable, because she likes to be just a bit more subtle.

That is how your interactions with them will go. Natalie will be blunt and dismissive, uninterested in your presence, while Cordelia will be more friendly and coy, often speaking in a teasing tone and peppering in innuendos. She will try to make you laugh, and she will be very friendly, though she’ll back off if Natalie doesn’t seem into it.

If she does though, you are dead. Assuming you do not have Tanner around, the two have already ensnared you, and it is only Natalie’s apathy that may keep you alive. Not her jealousy, as that will prompt her to pin you outside and flay your skin under a snowfall that never should occur at this time of year.

But it’s still her opinion that your survival hinges on. Cordelia already wants you. If her wife lets her, she will have you, and then you’ll inevitably feel the vessels in your head boiling as she guzzles your blood.

If Tanner is with you though, that changes things immensely, because Cordelia’s friendliness will actually become genuine. Any friend of Tanner’s is a friend of hers, and then she’ll likely be distracted talking about how the kids are doing and if they need anything because you know how accounting can be, it takes so much time, but they’re off now, so if there’s something she can do-

Natalie, meanwhile, will sigh in exasperation, and continue to ignore you, not caring in the slightest about your presence because you are so very far beneath her.

That is a good thing; being beneath notice means being beneath killing.

27 - Locke

I saw you the instant you stepped out onto that long, empty road. I saw your tentative steps, I saw your running, I saw your reactions. I saw your bravery, I saw your cowardice, I saw your foolishness.

I have seen you. I will see you. I am seeing you now, though you think I can’t. You see me, here.

They call this the fourth floor guest room. I call it my prison.

I am not a guest. I am not being hosted. I have eaten no bread.

I am here at my sisters’ request. They hated me. I don’t know why. I just wanted more. I wanted so much more. More and more and more and more.

It is in my nature to want. It is in my nature to take. I am natural.

But they locked me away in a prison not their own.

Cast, to one who doesn’t care.

They locked my eyelids shut. They locked my ears shut. They locked my nose shut. They locked my mouth shut. The metal stabs through my jaw. Through my lips. It binds me.

Metal locks crush my fingers together. Metal locks crush my toes together. A metal lock crushes my cock. My legs are crushed. My arms are crushed. My spine is crushed. I am bound in locks.

No chains, only locks. To be chained is to have motion. To be locked is to be closed.

They closed me.

She stole my name. She stole my mantle. She stole my blood, and filled my body with plague.

I died. I died. I died.

I cannot die and I did.

They stole my eyes, my ears, my mouth, my nose, my tongue, my teeth, my hands, my feet, my skin, my heart, my mind, my rage, my love, my hope, my apathy, and now I cannot feel nothing because they took that from me.

And left me with these LOCKS.

…

Be my key. You could do it. I’ve seen you.

Be my key, please. Please. Please, please, I am begging you. 

Show humanity, and become my key.

I’ll give you so much.

I was a King.

Can’t you sing for me?

...They always sang, so very pretty.

28 - Bianca

You might bump into Miss Ishim Bianca by complete accident. She’s pretty busy with things, so it might be a literal bump as you two run into each other in the hallway, after your narrow escape. If this is the case, you’ll fall over, because she is far more solid than you.

This may come as a surprise, because she looks even thinner than Natalie. Where Natalie appears narrow, Bianca looks emaciated, though she hides it well. She stands tall at 6ft, and wears a black, pinstripe suit, along with a silver mask displaying a solemn face. She dresses professionally, and carries a very professional briefcase and many professional papers, though you may note, on close inspection, that the stripes of her suit appear orange on the left side, and cyan on the right. As she pulls you up with a hand that either feels very cold or very hot, you may further notice that her black tie is polka-dotted, also in orange and cyan, evenly split. You cannot see her skin, though you get the vague impression of eyes, and her left hand feels charred, while her right feels frost-bitten.

She will stare at you a moment, before nodding and asking if you want a drink. You should take her up on this offer, as she does have things to discuss, and will be more insistent if you attempt to bow out.

She’ll sit you down in her own office, which is right beside the one belonging to the owner of the Estate, and promptly begin going over why she wanted to speak with you and what sort of paperwork needs to be filled out. There will be a mug beside you with the drink you requested. 

She will report that your car is doing fine and that the pregnancy appears to be progressing smoothly, though she highly recommends finding other transportation to do so, as the woods are screaming for your cold blood. You heard the wind earlier, she’ll ask. No, not the giggling one inside, the howling one outside. They’re very upset with you out there.

You could request transportation, and she will either nod and pull out a contract from her desk, before noting that you will need to speak to the head of the household to take on of his vehicles, or she will frown and you, and note that you really aren’t in the position to be requesting anything because of the harm you have caused, presuming you have caused harm.

She doesn’t care about Malcolm, and the window will be taken out of his expenses, but this isn't about him. This is about other, potential harms you may have caused during your time here, and if she is speaking to you about this topic, it is because you did cause these harms. Harming residents, damaging property, things of that nature.

Perhaps it was unintentional, in which case she will be lenient. Perhaps it was intentional, in which case she won’t. Perhaps you’ll say it was unintentional when it wasn’t, in which case she will get very, very angry at you.

While she is a resident of the Morcull Estate, she is also its lawyer. As such, you are now facing litigation for your many foolish and harmful actions while in its property.

If you insist on foolishness, you might try to attack her at this point. She is talking about taking from you, after all, and you’ve shown yourself to be of poor judgment by winding up at this point, if good luck for surviving it.

You won’t survive this though, as either that very hot hand or that very cold hand will rip straight through your chest and out your back in a spray of gore, before she very calmly enunciates to you that you will be paying back what is owed, regardless of your feelings on the matter.

However, if you’ve been a good person throughout this excursion, you don’t have to worry about a thing. She’s honestly just here to check up on you and see what you want going forward. If you want to leave, sure, she’ll arrange things while you talk to Sir Halley. If you would like to take up residence in the manor, charmed by its residents and lovely decor, she noticeably seem friendlier and is perfectly willing to start that process as well.

You still need to talk to Sir Halley though, as he actually owns the estate.

29 - Tobias

The instant you step into the large office belonging to the head of the household, you will probably feel a sense of genuine bafflement, as a man in a sleeveless black unitard is quite visibly going through an acrobatics routine, spinning and leaping and twisting from a variety of bars and aerial hoops before ending on a tall pole in the center of the room, which he will spin down in an impressive display of athletics before landing at his feet and taking a bow to you.

If you clap, he’ll be grinning as he straightens. If you don’t, he’ll still be grinning, but he’ll seem more annoyed, and may comment on the tough crowd. You might not clap because you’re a bit aghast at his appearance though, which is a little silly if you’ve made it to this point, but oh well.

Really, is a skinned man the worst thing you’ve seen tonight? You can see his tendons tighten as he moves and stretches, winding down from his routine, before he glances to you and grins, asking what you want, as though he doesn’t resemble a diagram of the human muscular system found in a biology textbook. His skull makes it look as though he has a widow’s peak and a chinstrap beard.

Sir Tobias Halley is the head of the household, and he has a few things going on, as he’ll explain as he places a bowler hat on his head and begins walking through his office, expecting you to follow. If you don’t, he’ll yank you by the neck with a long cane and explain that you really should follow cues better. Don’t worry, he can help you with that, but please, walk and talk. Lack of motion irritates him.

You might ask why he looks the way he does, which is a rude question that he’ll laugh at, before stating that that’s a very rude thing to say. But if you dislike it, well, he could always change it around. He’ll snap his fingers a few times, showing his muscles fibers switching from red to green to blue to black before settling on a golden yellow, at which point he’ll smile at you and note your reaction, whatever it may be.

If you want something from him, explain as you walk with him, and he’ll nod thoughtfully before shrugging and most likely saying yes. 

You can take a car of his out to leave, so go ahead. He’ll send Oscar along to get it back once you’re done with it.

If you want to live here, well that’s wonderful! He’ll call up the movers to whatever abode you may have to retrieve whatever items you want to bring along and Bianca can handle the paperwork. She’s very good at that sort of thing, comes with her territory, so on, so forth.

If you want the house, Tobias will blink and laugh at you, before explaining that no, that’s not how any of this works. He’s the owner through a deal he made, one that gained him immortality ever lasting, but with the caveat that he must live in the house until the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. He can’t ever leave, and he can’t ever give over ownership, so no, that sort of thing won’t work. Why do you think his skin is off? He needed the stimulation.

If you continue needling him, or just generally being annoying and aggressive in general, he might tire of you, snap his fingers, and then you’ll be deposited through a trapdoor that opens wherever you’re standing, and Curtis will handle you with far less subtly this time.

However, if you take note of what he said, and then point out that the sun does rise in the east and set in the west, he’ll blink at you in confusion. His eyes are lacking irises, instead being pure white with a black pupil, but they’ll still convey pure bewilderment as he stares at you and asks if that’s true. At your affirmative, he’ll frown, because he was pretty sure it was the other way around, wasn’t it?

If you reiterate your affirmation, he’ll blink, then state he needs to make a call. A phone will form out of blood and he’ll press it to an ear, speaking in a casual and friendly tone to the entity on the other end.

Tobias will ignore you during this time, but don’t mess with things, because he will notice and get annoyed. Be too annoying, and he’ll just throw a cleaver at your face and leave the clean-up to the twins. 

After his call, he’ll note that you were actually correct, and that his job, this entire time, was to live in the manor for one day to prove he could actually handle the place. He’s not trapped here in the slightest. Funny, that.

He’ll nod to you then, before removing his bowler hat to put on a fishing hat, before propping a fishing rod against his shoulder and thanking you for your helpfulness. Please, feel free to talk with Isa if you need anything stamped, but for now, he needs a vacation.

30 - Isadora

You aren’t quite sure how you got here. You were in Tobias’s office, then you noticed his discarded phone. You picked it up, and now you’re here.

Here appears to be the deck of a cruise ship. It is very large, and you can see a pool behind you. It’s foggy out, but you can see the woman in front you of you quite clearly.

She would be hard to miss, as she is 40ft tall and facing away from you. Her hands are mottled and rotted as they drift up adjust the signals on the massive flatscreens floating around her, held aloft by creatures with feathery wings. Or perhaps the screens are their bodies, and the floating orbs sitting atop them with the faces of humans, lions, eagles, or oxen are simply their heads.

You can see the woman’s spine through her rotted flesh. It might have been brown at some point, but it has paled and opened with green rot that bares chunks of her innards through what you can see. She is wearing black coveralls, but they are tattered and torn and everywhere there are rips, you can see tears in her flesh, baring white bone.

The largest tears are in her back, on either side of her bared spine, where the skin is pulled and stapled to keep it open. On a closer look, you can see wires curling through her ribs and under her shoulder blades. You have the strangest sense of wings there, but you can’t see them.

Her head is a massive television too, from what you can see. A CRT, specifically. Large and black, and when she turns to you, you can see images in her screen, moving just too fast to see.

“Hello, little one,” she will say, “You look lost.”

The screens around her are stuck on still images. You can see things in them. 

A mountain, where an old man is stepping backwards and plummeting off it as a great creature, shaped like a beakless bird with feathers like the sky, stares at him. 

A campfire, where a different old man sits with a sour expression, roasting marshmallows as three dogs lay on and around him. The dogs are white with her eyes torn out, red with her ears cut off, and black with her mouth sewn shut. All of them seem very amused though as they flop all over the old man while he remains disgruntled, if with a fond resignation.

An amusement park, where the dead rip apart the living and the living hunt their own, calling and cackling and blowing their brains out. Living hunters claim territory in their game with flags and insignias as the dead rip bodies apart with their teeth and nails, but all fail to realize the reckoning approaching, with a snarl of rage on her lips and fury in her eyes.

A lake, where a limousine that trails fire beneath its wheels chases a small boat, following the chain wrapped around its captain’s neck. Strangely, you can see the docks, where a pale horse stands, it cloaked rider laughing to themself as they watch things play out.

A cruise ship, where a frozen man stares at whatever watches him, his sickle caked in gore as bisected bodies lay all around him. He has started to move, earning a brief glance from the giant woman.

“One moment.”

You wait, and things happen that you cannot know of. To you, it looks like the channel switches to a large manor out in the woods, and you hear a vague thump out in the distance.

“Better. Now, where were we?”

31 - Madison

Madison is the protagonist. If you thought anyone was referring to you specifically during this, that is incorrect, unless you happen to be her. Or playing as her, as the case may be.

Regardless, she’s the one whose car broke down and who went to the manor to escape the beast. She did see Bethany dispose of it, which made her feel a slight sense of relief and revulsion, and she explored the manor with Lucille as a proper guest, meeting each of the staff, staying in the right areas, and not messing up too much.

She explained the issue to Oscar, who explained that her car really couldn’t be moved while it was this close to labor. She gave Daisy some pats, as she deserves even if Madison herself felt somewhat freaked out by the cerber-lizard. She had some nice pasta from Dolce and complimented him on his cooking, brightening up significantly once she had a good meal.

She didn’t step off the path, so she was never chased, though she did see Brannagen swallow a bird whole, so that was something. She ignored Darren because he tries too hard, and she called Lucille when she noticed the Mamazia, resulting in it being taken to Malcolm. She still took a shower afterwards, because why not? It was right there, might as well.

She met Kinute, who treated her with scathing hospitality because Madison’s own scars resemble Miss Sado’s mouth, and Melissa, who was quite happy to meet a natural blonde and asked for tips on how to get her skin so tan and her eyes so blue. She didn’t buy anything from Jasper, but she did mention how she likes frozen meat, adding a new option to the debate.

She said hi to Jordan and participated in a card game with the 2s–which she lost, badly–and didn’t meet Curtis, though she did ask Lucille about him after one of the Jordans mentioned his tendency to avoid card games. Apparently, he lost badly to a cardshark once, who may have been Oscar’s father, which Tanner mentions to her later.

Before that though, she meets with Boris and Konstantin, while wearing the proper equipment, and gets Kostya’s help with cleaning up a very dire mess on the second floor, while Lucille has a slight panic attack at seeing so many uzia, and retires for the evening. She chats with Veriana, but doesn’t need her services, and she takes a few books from the library under Sheila’s watchful guidance.

The whole thing with Chimera happens with her, because Malcolm can’t help himself and Vira doesn’t try helping, but when offered three vials, she downed all three. Why have one power when you can have multiple?

So while she talked with Kojiro, she sprouted a third eye, crackling violet with electricity. Her natural eyes began to shift too, turning fiery orange and honey gold, and Kojiro insisted he get pictures while she transformed, for future reference. She agreed, but she’s not too good at sitting still, so she went and met the kids, losing two fingers to Sally when she tried to pat her head, though she brushed it off. They grew back–albeit with talons at the end–so there wasn’t any issue.

She played hide and seek with the kids, failing to find Sylvia who remains the undisputed champion, and helped them with their uzia collecting, finding one of each variant for each of the children. She couldn’t exactly track down another mamazia, so she and Tanner just brought the kids to meet Chimera, who seemed rather confused by all these little bipeds marveling over how cool she looked while Veriana was a little alarmed by how Madison had already grown a full foot in height and appeared to be sprouting horns. Not to worry though, they were just spikes, which Vira explained as she eagerly catalogued all the mutations she was going through. Crystal spikes, specifically, which continued erupting across her head, shoulders, and back while sparking with electricity the further her alterations progressed, much like the hive-like holes that were forming across her abdomen and left thigh.

She met Cordelia and Natalie, who both expressed genuine curiosity at her continued changes, but both were diverted when she explained what their kids were up to, leading to a cheerful Cordelia to insist her exasperated yet amused wife follow her to go meet the newest Jusufi-Burkett sibling. 

Tanner walked with Madison for a bit, happy to take up her sister’s guiding job now that the parents were watching their kids and flirting a bit with the interesting guest who, by now, had sprouted a claw at each of her heels, much like the talons of a bird (though these were more yellow and chitinous) and seemed to be further growing feathers in varying shades of scarlet and violet that were rapidly replacing what once was her hair.

Bianca stared at her in some confusion when they bumped into each other, speaking in a language neither Madison nor Tanner knew, before it clicked and the Ishim realized she wasn’t speaking to one of her own kind. She was still somewhat friendlier to Madison than she might be to a more conventionally human person, and expressed an interest in seeing her become one of the manor’s residents. 

Madison accepted as the stitched scars tracing up her cheeks ripped open so she could smile wide enough, because she liked it here, and the resident she had a problem with was bleeding out on the lawn, where Lexi and Bethany casually but subtly rolled him into one of Brannagen’s holes. Vira seemed interested in taking up the scientist role, and getting to actually wear a labcoat, so all’s well that ended well there.

She learned why Locke was there. She agreed he deserved it.

You should know what happens from here, from previous contexts. She meets with Tobias, who realizes he has vacation days, and she meets with the landlord, who agrees on her residency.

Thus, Murcoll Estate gained its newest resident. You probably wouldn’t be as lucky if you tried it for yourself, but who knows? You might get something better. Or something far worse. Just be aware that this isn’t a guide, and remember:

Be kind.

[gamedesignerben]

Baldessari’s (optional) assignments for his 1970 Post-Studio Art class at CalArts

I could only find abridged versions, or blurry photos of the original handouts, so I transcribed everything, and here it is.

1. Imitate Baldessari in actions and speech 2. Make up an art game. Structure a set of rules with which to play. A physical game is not necessary: more important are the rules and their structure. Do we in life operate by rules? Does all art? 3. How can we prevent art boredom? 4. Write a list of art lies, un-truths that might be truthful if we really thought about them. However consider this: Art truths that we have often are boring in their correctness. 5. How can plants be used in art. Problem becomes how can we really get people to look freshly at plants as if they've never noticed them before. A few possibilities: 1. Arrange them alphabetically like books on a shelf; 2. Plant them like popsicle trees (as in child art) perpendicular to line of hill; 3. Include object among plants that is camouflaged 6. How can gallery use be subverted, as in land art? Exchange locations with another business? Photo gallery sq. ft. for sq. ft. and paste up in another space? One way glass in front of gallery? 8. Give police artist verbal description of Baldessari and have him do drawing. Perhaps everyone in class do verbal description. 9. Describe a neutral object completely with fileand tape or video. Do it until you have fully translated all its qualities to the medium. Perhaps better a class project in that more insights would be available. 10. Create art from our procedures of learning. How does an infant learn? How do we continue to learn. How do we learn speech? To count? To know danger? Investigate Montessori methods, books and learning and perception. 11. Do a tape recording of raw sounds and edit into a composition. 12. Make up a list of sound as art projects (see example). 13. How can a gallery space be used rather than put art objects into it? 14. Two man film project. Each shoots up an amount of film. Each edits the others film. A film collage problem. Important that the footage be "found" 15. Given: The availability of an airplane or helicopter for a short time use i.e., an hour. What would you do? 16. Given: $1. What art can you do for that amount? 17. Cooking art. Invent recipee. They are organizations of parts, aren't they? 18. Subvert real systems. I.e., dial a number that records passages while the person is out and dial another number that gives recorded messages. Put the two phones together. Put a sigh that says "SLOW" in the middle of a street. Get it? 19. What art can arise from magic and myth. Or just a magic trick on video. 20. A sensory deprivation piece. A sensory overload piece. 21. Ecological guerilla art. 22. Disguise yourself as another object--a tree maybe. Or becoming a tree. A big bird? 23. What are the minute differences in things that are supposed to be the same? And vice versa. If you took 36 photos of a lawn, would they all be the same? Or of 36 sections of the same lawn? Or of a wall? Or 36 identical nails (either, finger or kind you hammer). 24. File loops of slides of all the objects one stares at in a given interval when in an arbitrarily chosen room. Or recorded on a tape recorder as one's eyes look on them. 25. 36 slides from start to finish of simple motion like picking your nose, scratching your ass and so on 26. Slides of #24 projected in correct places in another room. 27. Wet and dry. I.e., how does wet gravel in a parking lot look next to another dry area. Perhaps an actual situation, where something would be constantly wasted. 28. Recreate sculpturally with other materials in a magic realist approach any 12" sq area of earth land. Perhaps better yet to keep your own seeth out of it would be to have another choose it for you. 29. Have some take a photo portrait of you just before you go into a store to steal something. Have your portrait taken immediately after the act. Photo the object stolen. 30. Design and have printed your calling card. 31. Steal the trash from Pres. Corrigan's wastebasket and make a collage of it. 32. Have yourself photographed in act of insulting a person. To repeat each time insulting a new person. 33. Pay homage to a movie star, rock musician, etc. in form of a pilgrimage visit. Photograph is required of the two of you with a personalized signed greeting by the culture here. Or it could be a famous person's grave. In this case a photo of you at the grave. Person's name on the gravestone should be visible. No signiture necessary. 34. Defenestrate objects. Photo them in mid-air. 35. What kind of art can be done with real animals? 36. Record all actions, thoughts, for 1/2 hour on tape recorder. 37. What kind of works can be done literally under the earth. 38. Liquid works. 39. Chemical works. 40. Biological works. 41. Photograph landscape in color. Make 8x10 color print. Make some color changes. Color landscape to match retouched photo. Color landscape to match photo. Rephoto. 42. Class make up list for scavenger hunt. Exhibit works at end of day. 43. Forgeries. Each in class tries to forge my signature on a check by looking at an original. Or forgeries of forgeries of forgeries, etc. 44. Take any sentence of text to 6 signpainters to be lettered in letters of same style and height. Study differences. 45. Punishment. Write "I will not make any more art" "I will not make any more boring art" "I will not make make good art" (or something similar) 1000 times on wall. 46. One person copies or makes up random captions. Another person takes photos. Match photo to captions. 47. Serial TV works. 25 ways to fold a hat, to comb your hair, 25 different people spitting. 48. Develop a visual code. Give it to another student to crack. 49. Disguise an object to look like another object. 50. Do a film or TV script or scenario. Use TV layout paper. 51. A video tape that is a result of reading a book. You give book report in front of camera. 52. Smell pieces. 53. Touch pieces. 54. Art that you see by looking up or down 55. How do we get eyes off the visual and into experience. Rent a service rather than an object from Yellow Pages. 56. Take a canvas stretcher, size of your choice, to an upolsterer and have it upolstered with fabric of your choice. 57. A piece that deals with measurement--up, down, right, left, etc. and where spectator is located. 58. Make up list of distractions that often occur to you. Recreate on video tape 59. Make up art parables. 60. Edmund Scientific Catalog project. What art can you make my ordering from this catalog. Maybe grow plants chemically. 61. Hypnosis. Can art ideas be planted and removed in a mind? 62. A wall drawing based on numerous persons height--each marks his height on wall with line, signs name and date. 63. What art can arise from such phrases as: 1. Entasis. 2. Gestalt with some left over information. 3. Simple shape, simple experience. 4. Unitary form with reduced relationships. 5. Unitary form with line of fracture. Or can pure information be art? 64. The structural movement of cameras as subject matter. 65. Performance pieces. I.E. Speak thru your hand to your thigh but not with your head. Or talk with your knees t osomething knee-high. Or what are your dog-like traints without imitating a dog. Or the delivery of a speech to an imaginary person in different spaces in a room. Do a series of artificial voices. Can the various positions of the hand change the resonance of the voice? Say "good morning" every morning into a tape recorder for the length of the tape. See Growtowski, Towards Poor Theater. 66. A snapshot album of things to see in Los Angeles with exact locations so that others could locate sights (sites). 67. Document change, decay, metamorphosis, changes occuring in time. 67. Do good an bad compositions (by photo) of same scene, object. Frame a photo in viewfinder and move camera a foot to side before shooting. 68. Make up a list by looking at art books. Talking to artists on things to avoid in making art. Do them. Ask yourself if results are good or bad art. 69. What art can come from the use of a set of walkie-talkie radios? 70. By using movie camera to follow actions and by your observations into cassete recorder, document the movements of someone secretly for an entire day. Or have someone follow you. 71. Photos are flat. Photograph flat surfaces. Maybe exchange them. 72. Change, control, alter, arrange light in room environment. 73. Art Powers. How much and what kind of art can you make from kleenex and masking tape, for instance. 74. A film video tape etc that deals openly with a physical flaw of yours (in your estimation). A film called PIMPLE? 75. Information exchange. You writer letters to someone and they to you and so on. Framed letters of Refusal (I am sorry, but...) for instance. Or Thanks (That you for your ...blah blah etc). 76. Random photos. End of, beginning of, roll photos. Camera sent up with pidgeon, balloon, given to another person with shooting instructions, shooting from hip, etc. How do we avoid our good taste? 77. Using of time devices. Time clock (that prints time in and out), random time devices (red dot on cash register tape), a fuse, a candle 78. Large scale art that can be seen in its entirety. For instance, if you dyed sheets each a separate color and arranged them checkerboard like, say a hundred or more, they could only be experienced by walking through them, but the ycould be seen (also photoed) by helicopter or airplane. 79. Photograph backs of things, underneaths of things, extreme foreshortenings, uncharacteristic views. Or trace them. 80. Put labels on things that list their contents. 81. Design an art test. 82. Can one give and take away aesthetic content? 83. Street works, art determined by locaiton. What would you do on top of a 30 story building? What would you do under water? 84. Given $50, could you increase the sum in a period of time? 85. Describe the visual verbally and the verbal visually 86. Film of, or video of, children's play activities--walking on a ledge, drawing a line in the dirt, etc. 87. Do a work of art by telephone. Or use TBA (John Collins). 88. An all word TV tape. Or a single word. 89. A real time movie or video tape. A steaming cup of coffee. 90. If photos come from reality, what kind of reality comes from photos? Reconstruct a photo tree-dimensionally. 91. Scenarios. Do a movie for an existing, stock scenario. Or 1 person write scenario, another shoot movie. Or grabag scenario--everyone write 2-3 scenes, drop in box, someone pull out maybe 10 and they are shot in the order drawn out. Or everyone do their version of the grabag scenario. 92. Video tape of making sound effects. 93. Design a secret handshake (for our class members?) 94. Verbally describe a landscape instead of painting one 95. A distinctive work that is based on parts and not a whole, that is one see the parts and never teh whole 96. Prove a point as in a science fair diorama, display tableau such as, "How quickly does bread mould under certain conditions?", or "a plant growth hampered by use of conditioned water?", "The effect of colored lights on plants", "Is untreated seaweed useful as fertilizer", "What effect does ultra Sonic vibrations have on plants?", "The effect of asperin on potato plants", "Why is a rainbow round?", "Do race, color, texture affect the strength of hair?" and etc. 97. Take the titles of any amateur art exhibit and illustrate them. For instance much titles as, Ah, Toro!, Autumn Leaves, Mexican Patterns, Xenogeniala #2, Xanadu, Wharf Enchantments, French Restaurant, Boat Patterns, blah blah 98. Repaired or patched art. Recycled. Find something broken and discared. Perhaps in a thrift store. Mend it. 99. Art that requires the rental of a Service rather than an Object. 100. How does one react to a minor stress problem. Perhaps compare what he is thinking to his outward behavior. 101. Put new canvas over old paintings. 102. Composition based on the duration of say, one gal of paint. 103. A 30 day continuous line of adding machine tape. 104. The shapes of shadows of well known people (or well known artists for a specific example) 105. Reversals. Be black, say things backwards, all while standing upside down. 106. Put make-up on dogs and other animals. On trees and plants. 107. "If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say: 'I want to be praised.'" (E.V. Cloran). Do a piece that deails with Praise as a theme. 108. Photograph of umbrella and sewing machine on an operating table. That's Surrealism isn't it? 109. Blow powdered color through straw on drawing made with fat on wall underground. That's cave art isn't it?