#but i am pissed off at my flatmates like?????

[touchlikethesun]

bloody parisiens i can't fucking believe it i left a full pack of cigs in the kitchen by mistake last night. i just remembered and was gonna go have a smoke. they left me one. one single cig. didn't even bloody ask. this is why everyone hates you.

[ophelias-last-flower]

.

[toastsnaffler]

opening my drafts to see the vent post i made earlier but saved bc I had more to say but had to go do smth else and umm. probably for thr best I didn't post in the end but also I stand by that I was right to be pissed off🧍‍♂️everyone shut up

[mortalspork]

Need to rant about a flatmate. Will do it in the tags.

[lcandothisallday]

hey guys. coming on quickly to rant and let my frustrations out because i genuinely don’t know who to talk to rn but you can ofc ignore lol.

but yeah. my roommates are pissing me tf off😭 usually im fine with one of them but lately they both have been so unnecessarily rude. their responses whenever i talk to them are so dismissive and just blatantly rude. and it’s like im not like that AT ALL with them and it’s starting to really take a toll on my mental health i swear. the one that was rude to me before (iykyk) ive just started ignoring because after that one instance ive just been weary but the other one is starting to get like too comfortable with me yk and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable because she’s just fucking rude😭 they’re both so pretentious too and i ALWAYS make the effort to active listen to what they’re saying to me but they NEVER and I swear to you im not exaggerating when I say they never reciprocate.

for example, this one time i saw a fine ass photo of harry styles and i got all excited and the kpop obsessed roommate was like “oh is that jack?” cos she knows I like him and I JOKINGLY said “nah it’s harry. if it was jack I would’ve have mentioned it to you,” because she just never listens whenever I wanna tell her anything about him and she got SO OFFENDED and started trash talking me to our other flatmate being like “see what she just did there? She never tells me anything about Jack because she thinks I don’t care” and she made me out to be some villain for not including her the same way she includes me into kpop and BELIEVE ME ITS AGAINST MY FUCKING WILL AND SHE KNOWS I DONT LIKE KPOP LIKE THAT BUT SHE FORCES ME TO WATCH THEIR SHIT and yet I engage because im a polite person and because she made me feel so shit because of that, when the snl promo came out, i was like super excited and wanted to show someone so i showed her and this girl a) wasn’t paying attention at all and b) barely said or commented anything about it. not that I care about them liking jack the way I do but it’s like after what she said, i made the effort to actually include her in my interest because she seemed upset at me never telling her but the time i do, it’s like she didn’t validate my excitement yk? idk.

but yeah I hate it because it’s such a fucking double standard and I put in so much effort to NOT seem like a bitch with others and they don’t ever do the same with me. And I’m just tried of them. and with their rudeness in their reply, i can’t even say shit back because I know they’re gonna talk shit or be even more rude and one thing about me is that I’m a sensitive pussy😭

thanks for listening to me rant if you’ve read this far. and im sorry for being inactive and the rare occasion that I am, I’m spending my time ranting rather than writing for y’all😔 but I genuinely love you guys and I wish everyday that it was you guys that were my irl friends because I know we’d get along so well😩 thanks again🫶🏼

[shinycollarboneapologist]

okay let's be boring and go with ace as a name bc that's my nickname irl bc I'm a massive gilmore girls fan (team logan btw iykyk)!!

I really want to attempt writing fics but I'm wayyyy to nervous! I was okay at English in school and I always send obnoxiously long asks into blogs on here with my ideas based on their fics (sorry fellow tumblr.com authors you all get forced to see my writing) but I have nightmares of writing and putting it on here only to be bullied off the platform ahahahahah

jealous of the sun bathing in England rn its been pissing it down raining all dayyyyy, we only get like 1 week of sun a year and the rest of the time its very stereotypically rainy !! my day was shit but always better after taking to you bff!

also please excuse my excessive use of exclamation marks idk why but to me a full stop feels mean and I also use ellipsis way too much but I, like you, am the drama so I love to build unnecessary tension...

I've actually always wanted jury duty but I've never been called for it, I know it's meant to be so boring but I want to live my jury duty delusion of being a hot juror! a torrid jury love affair? hello I'd read that fic

spring break always sounded so fun to me as a sad English child!! we just call it Easter holidays and be boring and religious but when I hear spring break I imagine drunk people on a beach in florida yk?

my current obsessions for blogs are;

-lottiecrabie (pfms has me in a chokehold)

-toomuchracket (living in the flatmate! matty delusion rn)

-byyourside28 (loving the soft sound series as a person obsessed with getting tattoos)

-justlikemebutsixfootthree (literally all their smut is god tier)

-bookishstrawberry (fluffy and gizmo series has my heart)

-imightgetbetter (the whole love it if we made it series has me wanting children but only fictional ones with matty... the delusion creation is STRONG)

and OF COURSE the no 1 blog on tumblr is the beautiful, amazing and unmatched... shinycollorboneapologist

omg yes to only letting matty into our cottage to sing, we will bring him out tea and cigarettes but otherwise no rats allowed sorry ratthew!! taylor however gets the master suite with a 4 poster bed and unlimited pampering!! same with Ross, George and Adam bc only ratty needs humbling (I really do love you tho Matthew give me one chance I'll be your controversially young gf)

ily bff!!!

-ace (my new name rip illicit affairs anon you will be missed)

ps. apologies for the ridiculously long ask I literally am so obnoxious

..... i love gilmore girls. lets chat abt that.

okay that is very ... warranted. i also was super nervous and tbh ... style was probably never going to be posted but i was a bit inebriated after my birthday and just posted it without looking back. look at us now!!! so for that, i say you should 110% just take the leap. i will be your #1 fan actually.

i will send the sunshine and good vibes your way. i usually like the rain a lot, but i can imagine it gets a bit tiring if its like that all year long. im glad you had a good day!!!!

i love your use of exclamation points okay. there i said it. it just makes everything you say feel so excited and happy and i love it. the ellipses ...... love that for us. ofc you are the drama, you're the main character hello.

that is how i want my spring break to be, but alas i am working and writing my silly little stories for tumblr.com. SGLJFDLG easter holiday just sounds so cute though?

okay can we talk about pfms.... because that. that fic is my hyper fixation atm. like i just … it’s everything to me.

also all of those blogs i follow and love more than life itself. most of them axtually inspired me to write myself which is like 🫂 i use all of them as my silly little delusional daydreams (esp toomuchrackets flatmate!matty, the things i would do for that man and justlikemebutsixfootthree’s recent smut… jeez)

please you are too kind. idk abt no 1 blog BUT… i’ll take it okay.

maybe some cheese too, since he is a rat. taylor gets the master suite with us, we’ll bake her little cookies and biscuits and give her the best pampering treatment of her life. (also pls let’s not conjure matty to my blog … that would be so embarrassing to me i think i would keel over and die) (i also will fight u for the spot of matty’s controversially young gf)

ilysm and i hope u have a great day

[disdancetune]

I guess it would help to change my core expectations

On the other hand

Sometimes when I thought myself safe "ugly" stuff happened

Like with the stalker

I had said I was gay and I'd thought he knew I would not ever wanna get close to him

For lack of attraction and especially because he smells disgusting (bit it turned out he didn't know that)

But I said to myself, why make him feel bad about what he looked like, I could have a conversation with him every now and then

And apparently nobody has ever given that to him and NOW the thing is

I think.... I'm not the only one guilty of internalized lookism

I think it was because he thought I was so pretty and because I was nice assumed I must be into him and he was entitled to more of the good feeling nobody has ever given him

So even people who are not in line with conventional beauty (and, sadly, hygiene) standards might be super lookist

(I mean, heteropatriarchy is intrinsically lookist)

So I don't know, I guess it was also me feeling pity for him - but not per se for his looks, but for the victim attitude emanating from him

He just seemed so lonely

But yeah, I guess I thought he'd know I'd never be interested in him in any other way

And I know this is what many people think

But it's also pretty arrogant because there is this assumption that I myself also had that I was too good for the guy (well if you view it in isolation, at least, because there were many elements that should have prevented him from thinking I was into him)

And also exempting the hygiene here, because he is educated, has money and could do better, as in, this is action based mostly,

Bitt yeah, I don't know

I keep holding on to this pain of feeling ugly all the while knowing that once my attention is elsewhere, I feel more connected

It's as though certain beauty standards aren't actually privileges but more like the bane of my existence

And maybe privileges are because they are linked so much to anxiety surrounding the loss of it

I don't know what would happen if I let go of this self concept and setting myself apart from others through arrogance

I mean it's saved me a lot, too

It's not like it's activated all the time but once I notice someone wants to get close to me, I reduce them to their worse looks

On the other hand, this isn't entirely wrong either, because I do that especially in cases in which I notice that someone likes me for what I look like, wants what they see in me to rub off on them

And I notice this keenly and feel objectified and then I'll just think something like

What does this person want from me?

And then I can, or think I can, handle the situation

I use it especially with men, too

This strategy

Especially also with men who think they are oh so handsome

Sometimes I won't react and that makes them wanna put me down,

But I often only think of men as less than apes, as like Einzeller, and then I won't react emotionally at all, and that pisses them off so much

Because these men have never been rejected their whole lives

And I bathe in this glorious pain

Because secretly sometimes inside of me wants to kill and mutilate men

Wants them to suffer eternally

So whenever they show weakness, this is what I do --

Except I don't always do it,

Only when I'm stressed out and the schema is activated

For example since the new flatmate has moved in, but even before that--

Anyway, sometimes, not often

But, yeah, sometimes I am so at peace with myself

I don't grind my teeth

I don't have back pain

I have a smile on my face

Profound sleep

And then I don't mind anyone

I just want my peace, wanna get on with my tasks and all,

I'm not, as it were, dominated by revenge fantasies.

And yeah

I feel like this thing in my mouth reclusters everything around this lookist nexus and the revenge one

I'm really overwhelmed because there's no good solution

[intolerancecare]

Ugly

What would you feel when sometimes you like yourself on photos then you'll look the ugliest on the next. That effing short stout arms like that of a baby or a monkey. Worse: a patient on steroid. Why am I on entertainment field only? I look like the adopted daughters of those local superstars. Short with stout arms. If that is me ever since it's fine but when you see people change and so are you who would not complain? They terminate ugly people. You see, if not the face then I would ask if they are better than me when it comes to performance because I was singled out? Names bigger than me because that is just that effing Cherry! Should I pose a body too, facebook? I can't afford to be pretty if they just want me to buy effing branded clothes. I will look like that effing Arjun.

Who else, those stout egyptians? Most of them are like arjun. Longer basic ed? I am so fed up with that hush hush that Mina the trainer is the best among MS users at KZ. I did the first ROTA around April or may before the park opened. When Mark ask Catherine and Antonio, Faysal asked me too but Mr. Alwawa didn't like so he just kept the copy but they used it when the parked opened. He told me how he wants it to look like. I did the whole template. He told me the format. I did the initial planning. I copied the agreed schedule of my two flatmates, for their stall in Harvey Nichols. They were the only staff in that stall. I did it for a 50+ staff. Sir Jayson echoed the sched 2 years after we've executed the ROTA. He had never done that to his department. The stencil? I did in the basement too. For the Valentine Activity when Maritza wanted to give away chocolates, I suggested we use the DHL script. I also made the paper bag.

I was asked to face a panel for promotion. A position spoon fed to Cherry and Arjun. To an effing secretarial course graduate and Toy store salesman.

OK mina?! You just inserted a table in WORD. I am Ricky and Patrex. Marie asked me where I am good at I said I am good with WORD and Powerpoint. Explored. Excel not so because ROTA is just tables. Conditionals? Easy, copy paste. Excel proficiency requires formula. I am not like Jenny's Jayson who uses autocad even though he is not an engineer. I've studied it. When the need arises, I can use it. I am now making formulas ok?! I don't owe it to Mina.

This rejected? Face. Body. Clothes. That's what they want. So I am effing pissed off with the change of appearance. I am not kidding. This happens. You know like that senator here in the Philippines.

[c03xistentw01]

I wish you had kept those glasses on today.

I dont know how tf I'm supposed to get over the fact that I know the color of your eyes now. It was kind of hazel but then kind of red brownish in the center and more greenish in the surroundings.

di nuovo ecco mi making you the solution

forcing myself to make you the solution

sometimes even making myself your solution!!!!

why can't we just accepts us the way we are

why would we even seek a solution

a solution for solving which problem

why would i even see a problem in you at all

i though I'd like you, where does the problem stem from

i read this part of a book saying that when we like people

that happens cuz we see in them the same needs we see in ourselves

or maybe the same unsatisfied needs

idk how it works but I have apparently, subconsciously seen these unsatisfied needs

but what is it? is it the need to be loved so bad in a way that brings you satisfaction?

and if that's the case, why am i so certain that i can give you that

maybe because i want it so much....

~

I remember when you had first started working in the lib, everyday my day was lowkey ruined cuz every morning I got this "here she comes again" vibe from you, some kind of despise that I couldn't tell where it might come from. It got me so upset i even talked to my flatmate about it told him there is this guy at the lib i think he hates me he literally pisses me off everytime i see his face and him being all like dude just confront him and say it and me being all like yea imma do it tomorrow and well i never did.

i'm glad i didn't. that sure would have been nasty.

maybe cuz i noticed the "unsatisfied needs". like out of the blue. i woke up one morning and decided to take off the sunglasses off my third eye or sth.

today i dont know why but the fact that i could not help but to allow myself to be nervous about the shit i was so deep in, i could not help but to lowkey see you drifting away as more of my demons and anxiety you were being exposed to second by second. I had become quite hyper-ac once again and i was not fully aware of it at the time but i could feel something was off. Maybe i was trying to align you and my image of you, subconsciously and that's why i saw you drifting away from me. Like you were interacting with me but you had nothing else to say. nothing. not even sympathy.

(the way i said "perfect" after hearing that everything will get erased after you shut down the machine, felt more like "ah thanks god my porn history will get wiped clean I'll be a saint again". But in fact i was being sarcastic it was so funny).

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 Euphoria 1/10 (Greentia) - Juno

Summary: Singing hopeful Veronica Green meets her idol, the retired pop sensation Tia Kofi at a Eurovision party; and her throwaway remark about entering Eurovision 2023 starts her on a journey into what she hopes will be music superstardom. But like her agent Divina says, it’s all about the friends you make along the way.

A/N: this has already gone onto my AO3 page but posting here too! This is a pop star au with Eurovision featured so there will be lots of people from different franchises, but the main ship is this one. Big thanks to everyone who has let me annoy them about this fic, and there is more content on my blog!!

Veronica pouted at her rain-soaked reflection in her pocket mirror, then looked back up at the sign outside the studio that definitely still said PRIVATE PARTY ESC2022: Invite Only. With a deep breath, she straightened her back, forced her best Ginger Spice smile onto her face, and approached the bouncer, flashing her invite and having the rope unhooked for her.

God. Am I officially a celebrity now?

She looked at the flight of stairs up to the first floor of this very exclusive-looking hotel, voices and laughter drifting down it towards her. Nerves started to snake up her spine and branch into her ribcage and she took another deep, calming breath.

I’m already knackered, and it’s only ten in the evening.

If Divina had never sent that text that night, maybe Veronica would never have even contemplated a private Eurovision party. She had been perfectly happy with her prior Eurovision arrangement of sitting in her flat with Joe, along with several bags of Doritos and party rings and whatever strange-coloured cocktails Joe would be mixing on the kitchen workbench. 

But her work phone had gone off with the notification just as she was falling asleep earlier that week. Her flatmate Joe always advised her to keep her work phone out the way, hidden in a drawer or something, so she wouldn’t look at work emails while in bed, and she swore to him that she wasn’t reading them. But her curiosity won as usual and she’d read the message over and over, a sense of trepidation building up in her, like a can of Coke that had been shaken up. 

Divina @ 23.04: I’ve got you into the most exclusive Eurovision party in London, the one at the studio where they announce the points total. It’s this Saturday. It starts at 7.30 but don’t get there before 8.30, and the word is that it’s fancy dress.

After she’d read it for the fortieth time, she had decided she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, and instead spent the next six hours thinking about who she could dress as until her alarm went off and she had had to get ready for her job.

Her actual job. Not, she’d thought with a sigh, her singing.

But maybe her agent messaging her at almost midnight on a Tuesday night was a blessing in disguise, her first step up the ladder to superstardom

Which was why Veronica was heading up the stairs to this party, dressed as Ginger Spice. She’d spent an hour teasing her hair until she’d simply pissed it off and had slithered herself a Union Jack dress she’d found at a joke shop earlier that day. The brand new white platform trainers were cutting into her toes and the rain had been threatening her hair before she’d even made it here. She’d aimed to get there at nine, but by the time she’d sprinted back home after she’d forgotten her phone, missed the Tube, and lost her way, there was no chance of her getting here before ten.

By the time she’d made it up the steps and into the party, she knew this was a mistake.

Her smile slowly faded from her face as she scanned the room, a huge ballroom tinkling with faint light jazz and crammed with people holding drinks and standing in their small groups. Sure, there were one or two people in fancy dress, but most of the people there were more formal, crowded together, paying almost no attention to anything but their own conversations. Heads turned when she entered, scanning her briefly before turning back to their groups.

And when she squeezed past them towards the bar, derisive whispers drilled into her ears from all sides like needles, heat growing up her cheeks.

“Nice costume, the nineties are so in right now -“

“Straight from Smiffy’s, I ask you -“

“Who takes that shit seriously, for God’s sake -”

Veronica downed her first drink to numb her skin. The second started to taste better the longer she held it. A little more relaxed, she leaned her back against the bar, looking around the room. Eurovision was on the huge screen at one end of the bar, although she’d arrived so late that she’d missed all the acts and it was the interval; but staring into the crowd, she noticed something.

No one is actually watching. No one is even talking about Eurovision. No one cares. They’re just here to … mingle? I guess?

Trying to make it onto the scene since her move to London was annoying, so many secret rules that popped up with every party, every event, every tabloid encounter that she’d had. In Veronica’s head, it should be easy - make music, go to events about music, meet people passionate about what had brought her here. Instead, most of the time Divina was sending her to various events to mingle. As far as Veronica could see, mingling consisted of accepting champagne and turning down coke and standing with very grand people discussing other people’s private lives.

Honestly, it was exhausting. 

Veronica liked mingling, when it was with Joe and could technically still be described as fan behaviour, as gossip. But here, in her professional environment, she wanted to work. She wanted to sing and dance and display her talents, but to do that, she apparently needed connections, connections that she didn’t really have yet.

She didn’t recognise anyone in the room, and no one was looking as if they wanted to bring her into their own little groups. So she downed the second drink and ordered a third, taking it to the balcony outside. 

The view was incredible from up here. It had been a balmy day for May but the night was cool and clear, even though the lights of the city obscured any thought of stars apart from the odd freckle here and there. Veronica leaned on her elbow, chin in her hand, staring into the distance at the blocks and skyscrapers she could see.

She wondered what Joe was doing, back in their little flat. 

He was probably drunk by now, he’d invited Anubis from his D&D group around for Eurovision and they’d have brought snacks and probably plenty of opinions on the contestants -

“Oh my god -“ she heard the voice before she looked, a crash as the person behind her stumbled against the door; the prop slipped away and the door slammed shut.

Veronica froze.

It’s Tia Kofi.

Everyone knew them. They were here? At this party? 

They were getting back to their feet with a groan, brushed themself off with their free hand, glancing up; but as soon as they saw Veronica, their mouth dropped open in an oh.

“Hey! Amazing! I thought I was the only Spice Girl here!”

Veronica took Tia in, still brushing dust from the leopard-print jumpsuit, their tight curls, platform boots like her own trainers. When they made their way over to her, towering over her, she couldn’t take her eyes off them. 

It’s Tia Kofi. It’s them. They’re the one giving the scores for tonight -

“God, it’s cold.” Tia wrapped their arms around themself with a shudder. “I am so, so, so glad I’m not the only one who read the small print on the invite. It said fancy dress didn’t it? Why is no one making an effort?” They gave an exaggerated eye roll, leaning on the balcony. “At least we look stunning. Right?”

“We do,” Veronica nodded, her voice not rising far above a whisper, but Tia barrelled on.

“I think we’re the only ones. God, why does no one want to have fun and dress up tonight? It’s Eurovision! It’s meant to be fun! I love Eurovision, it’s like the queer FA Cup final, so I don’t get why we don’t celebrate it better than this! It’s like no one’s into it here, you know?”

Tia’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb had lit up over their head. “Hey, do you have any other party invites we can crash? Somewhere more fun than this? I don’t have to be back until they start up the -“

“Tia?” Someone was calling them from the inside, propping the door open. “You need to get ready for the scoring.”

“Already?” Tia huffed, slumping forwards. “Alright, I’m coming, two secs.”

They lifted their head back up from their forearms, propping their chin on both hands. “I wish someone was interested in it. Like me. And you!” They grinned at her. “Sorry, I don’t want to be rude but I didn’t get your name -“

“Veronica Green. Hi.” The words stuttered from her mouth, and she stiffly held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

They paused, before their smile widened suddenly. “Oh, yeah, you did that song! The viral hit! Oh my god, I loved that song! You have to come on my radio show, babes, it’s an early one but -“

“Tia!” The same person at the door shouted to them. “You’re live with Graham Norton in two minutes!”

“I’m right there!” Tia shouted, then leaned nearer to her. “Who’s your agent, who’s your label?”

“Oh - Meridian Records, and it’s Divina -“

“Oh - okay, I know them.” They nodded solemnly, although with how hazy their eyes were, Veronica wondered if they’d forget by morning. “Got it. Fab. Let me put in some -“

“You’re live on the beeb in one minute, Tia, come on -“

Tia turned with a start, then back to Veronica, then huffed. “Coming!”

They swayed their way through the chairs on the balcony bar, getting back to the door and vanishing inside, leaving Veronica laughing slightly bitterly at the railing.

If they remember a single word of this conversation, I’ll apply for Eurovision next year.

She followed them inside, wondering if this was the start of mingling with them, thinking with their height and their costume she’d be able to see them straight away, but they had vanished into thin air; so she waved her way through the crowd towards the screen that only she and maybe three other people were watching.

The voices behind her were getting louder, more a cacophony than anything discernible, but she focused on the screen, and her mouth went dry when Tia came on, clasping their hands in front of them and trying not to swerve in their position, while they spoke both English and French and even tried some Italian for the host nation.

Veronica didn’t stay much longer at the party after that. The rest of the people there were still avoiding her like a bad smell, and she decided to make it an early night. Finishing the last dregs of her drink, she left, making her way back to the tube. 

So much for mingling.

She’d just never be good at it, she decided. But, she could have been the best singer, the best dancer in the room, and if she had no contacts there would be no audience for her, just a stage to an echo chamber. She walked the short distance from the station back to her flat, imagining singing to an empty room, wondering if she’d ever be able to at least convingly make her way around a party, faking it until she made it -

Her phone said otherwise.

Divina @00.10: Nice work tonight Ronnie, I had a message from Tia Kofi through the label. They want to book you onto BBC Radio One’s Kofi Morning, one morning next week. I’ve suggested Thursday, so take that day out if you can. Good job xx

She frowned, reading it again, wondering if she’d had more to drink than she’d first realised and it was making her hallucinate. But no, it was still there, in blue and white, even after she’d rubbed her eyes and put her glasses on and removed her makeup and unteased her hair.

Tia actually remembered? They messaged the label?

Veronica collapsed into her bed, the alcohol still warming her limbs. Her eyes were half closed as she typed her response, at the time a totally serious one.

Veronica @00.19: If it goes ok i want to apply for eurovision next year xx

——

Still, Veronica still didn’t think it was real even when she was making her way to the BBC studios that Thursday morning. Even when she was signing in, taking the lanyard she was presented with, and making her way to the waiting room outside the Radio One studio; even running the pads of her fingers up and down the scratchy fabric of the chair under her; she still thought she was about to wake up in her own bed, the alarm going off, to get ready for her day job. 

BBC Radio One’s Kofi Mornings were listened to up and down the country, Veronica reminded herself. This wasn’t just Radio Rochdale anymore. This was nationwide. It wasn’t just TikTok, not just her viral fame, but real, as real as the notebook she was idly tapping with her fingers, jotted with notes, held there in case she suddenly forgot her entire life story.

She was beckoned in just before nine, just before the hourly news, when the radio was playing freely and no one was speaking.

Inside the radio studio was a half-circle desk, upon which sat a huge computer to one side, covered with buttons and controls propping up three screens. One of them had music and one had technical information, but the other was blank. The other side of the half-circle had just a mic on a stand, and three desk chairs next to it. 

And there was Tia, sat behind the computer, face in a concentrated frown, tongue worrying their top lip.

It was the same Tia Kofi she’d listened to on the radio since she’d arrived in London, the same Tia Kofi she’d remembered to take off her lock screen before she got here, but … but it wasn’t that same person, as well. She was so used to seeing Tia in those sparkly blue and green jumpsuits from their band days, and the summer dresses and sequins from their official tour photos on their socials. But here? Veronica took in their willowy limbs curled under them on the chair, wide brown eyes with only a quick flick of mascara, black corkscrew curls to their shoulders. The shorts and converse and loose shirt with the French slogan gave Veronica the impression that Tia was merely filling in on the show, and ready to drive to the beach once they’d done the slot.

They looked fresh and new and clean and sparkling with life.

It took a split second for Veronica to regain composure at being faced with someone she’d only dreamt of meeting since they’d gone on X Factor more than ten years ago, and force her face into a smile, even though her feet were stubbornly fused to the spot.

Tia still ignored her for a minute, their face distant with concentration, flicking the buttons and dials, playing a couple of adverts, then glancing up at the clock with seconds to go before nine, and letting the news channel fade in.

Once they were done Tia looked up, gave Veronica a polite smile.

“You’re Veronica Green?”

Veronica cleared her throat. “Yeah. That’s me. At least, it was last time I checked.”

Her hollow laugh wasn’t echoed by them.

“I thought you’d be …” Tia paused, licked their top lip.

Veronica sat patiently, holding their eyes.

But they shook their head. “Never mind.”

The news faded, and Tia leaned towards the microphone. When they spoke, their voice had taken on the familiar chirpy tone that she heard every day at her desk.

“It’s a great morning here in London, welcome to your Kofi Morning here on BBC Radio One, with me, Tia Kofi, and we’ve got the tunes to get you caffeinated -“

Veronica knew Tia’s spiel, the speech they gave every morning. In her day job the radio was on first thing in the office. She’d had to take a half day’s leave this morning to come on here, but part of her wished she could see her manager’s face once he realised that no, she hadn’t been making it up; she really was going on a radio show for her music.

Tia pressed the dials and pulled the little controls on the computer automatically, while talking into their mic, until their voice mingled into the music. When they’d added the second song to the queue after this one, they sat back against the chair with a small sigh, picking up their own mug and shutting their eyes with satisfaction as they put it to their lips.

“Not a morning person either?” 

Veronica felt almost embarrassed to have said anything, but Tia opened their eyes, gave her a wry smile.

“Was it that easy to tell?” 

“Only a bit.” Veronica matched their sarcasm with a smirk of her own.

But as Tia’s smile widened, their gaze averted, Veronica gave herself a mental slap on the face.

That is tv’s Tia Kofi, Veronica Green. The darling of the music scene. You don’t know them that well to be making daft jokes like that. 

“I mean, you - you always sound so cheerful in the mornings when I listen to your show.”

Tia pushed their hair back with an ironic smile. “Thanks, it’s due to a careful blend of coffee and anxiety.“ 

Even their voice is different now, Veronica thought to herself. The chipper tones on the radio, the sing-song effect to emphasise the bright mood, was now deadpan; their smile ironic and their words lined with sarcasm. Not unhappy, still cheery, just … different. 

They raised their mug as if to cheers her, but Veronica motioned to it with wide eyes and a bubbling of nerves that pushed words onto her tongue before she could stop them.

“Hey, I have that mug too!”

“Wait, really?” Tia’s genuine surprise made them frown, turning their own mug round. “You have a mug that’s covered in Shakespeare insults?”

“Yeah - it’s my fave - hang on -” Veronica dug into her bag and pulled her phone out, showing Tia the picture she’d taken of her mug and sent to her friend only a week ago. 

Tia looked at it, and then up at Veronica. Their face had changed in that moment, the mask of blasé irony replaced by mischief, a small smile playing on their lips as they tipped their head to one side.

“You have a picture of your favourite mug on your phone?”

Veronica gazed down at them, her body going cold in horror while her face steadily grew hot.

This is all going so wrong.

She was meant to be here for an interview, making a good impression on the country in promotion of her upcoming single, and meeting a person she’d admired since she’d seen them on the audition tapes for X Factor before they’d even been made into the band with the other three -

“Why d'you have a picture of your favourite mug on your phone? Just in case you want to show people?" 

Tia’s voice interrupted the steady stream of static in her head, a lilt of humour in the words - are they taking the piss or are they actually laughing? - but the only thought of a response in her head was too embarrassing, completely not something Veronica should say out loud, definitely not anything that would make this scene any better -

"Well. It’s a mugshot, isn’t it?”

Great. Nice one. Very smooth. As the words slipped through the filter between her mind and mouth, Veronica’s face was so warm someone could have fried an egg on it, and she giggled weakly at her own joke, hoping the ground would open up and swallow her sooner rather than later -

Tia spluttered, and then began to laugh, freely and loudly at her remark, slapping the desk in front of them and then clapping a hand over their mouth at the noise. 

“Thanks, Ronnie. I needed a laugh this morning.”

What tension had been settling around them like drizzle instantly lifted, and Veronica echoed their smile with one of her own.

The song faded, and Tia put on their radio show voice again, this time with their Kofi Morning Fun Fact, while Veronica looked around the room.

All the walls were covered with pictures in frames, of various musical artists, some of which Tia had quoted in several interviews as being inspired by from childhood and beyond. David Bowie, Spice Girls, Aretha Franklin, Amy Winehouse. Tia’s picture wasn’t there, but Veronica thought they wouldn’t look out of place now. 

On the desk was Tia’s computer equipment, their fingers dancing along the buttons with practised expertise - they’d been entertaining the nation on their Kofi Morning show for the last four years, after all - along with lots of tiny personal items that Veronica was intrigued by. A rubix cube on a keyring, a very well-loved copy of The Hobbit, three orange dice with six, twelve, and twenty faces, a desk calendar with a different Spanish word every day (today’s word was martillo, which apparently meant hammer).

But it was the framed pictures she liked the most. Veronica gazed at Tia in frames with their arms around people who were presumably family, looking so relaxed and serene, not like the pictures they always put in their insta feed with the poses and the hands on hips and the -

“… Veronica Green, who sings the song which is at number one this week.” Her name in Tia’s voice brought her back into the room with a shiver. “Veronica, welcome!”

“Hi, nice to be here!” Veronica said with a laugh. Tia’s expression turned to shock and then to amusement, as they waved their hand to indicate for her to move in towards the microphone.

“Hi, hello,” Veronica tried again, this time deafening herself with the shriek of tuning.

“Some technical issues in the studio today folks,” Tia announced into their own mic, “while we’re fixing that, we’ll play you this week’s highest chart entry!”

They flicked the switch for the next song and then turned to Veronica, their face creasing to keep from laughing.

“I take it this is your first show? Never mind, we all do this our first times - let me give you a crash course in not fucking up on the radio!”

They flashed her two thumbs up, and she mirrored them, realising that shit, they said fuck. Since when does Tia Kofi know how to swear?

But while the song played, Tia gently took her through where exactly to put her mouth to speak into it for maximum effect, tips to try to keep her hands still if she got nervous, and a quick signal she could give them if she started losing track or freezing up.

“We’re back on the airwaves, tech is sorted - thanks to the technical folks here, snaps for them -” Tia paused to play the snapping fingers effect, “and welcome to the studio Veronica!”

“Hi,” and this time, she was calm, twisting her fingers on the desk before realising and moving them under to rub the sides of her knees instead. “It’s great to be here.”

“It’s great to have you, thank you for coming on!” Tia was beaming at her, and for a second or two, Veronica found herself believing their words. “How was your journey here?”

“Well,” Veronica frowned, “I don’t live in Rochdale any more so it only took me ten minutes on the tube -”

Tia interrupted her stream of words with a hearty laugh before she could go any further. “Stunning. Amazing. Veronica, I have to say that you’ve been all over the place for the last couple of months, I’ve been asked to play your song at least once a day for the last three weeks by someone on twitter, and I think, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thinkthis is one of your first interviews, is that right?”

Veronica nodded. 

Tia raised their eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah - yes, this is my first ever radio interview in London! You get me first, Tia!”

“Oh, stop it,” they gave a dismissive wave, “flattery gets you everywhere with me, hun. So tell us all about the woman behind the song. Who is Veronica Green when she’s not belting out Good Days and doing that viral dance?”

“Oh.” Veronica rubbed her hands up and down her knees. “Well, I’m - I’m from Lancashire originally … living in London now … with my friend Joe who’s the pianist for me … uhm. I’m a Taurus?”

“A Taurus, Veronica is out here trying to get a date I think.” Tia gave her a wink, turning her insides to fireflies. “Gorgeous. Now it’s summer here, have you got lots of things lined up while it’s warm outside?”

“Oh, uhm. Well,” Veronica screwed her eyes shut because yes, yes you do you have lots of things, but the wink Tia had given her was replaying over and over in her mind and words weren’t making it to her tongue. “I - I have a few things on, yes.” She moved her hand, wiggling her fingers under the desk in the signal Tia had given her. 

Tia abruptly turned back to the mic. “That’s amazing, Veronica, I’m sure you’re gonna have a great summer. Well, we’re gonna play Veronica’s single Good Days for you now, still at number one folks, and in the meantime Veronica is gonna teach me her dance. No seriously hun, how do you do that thing with your hands? Actually, show me later.”

They flicked the switch, and the opening bars of her own song sounded. Veronica put her face in her shaking hands.

“No, don’t do that -”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled, and she screwed her eyes closed again, her face growing warm.

She heard a rumble as the chair opposite moved nearer to her, and soft fingertips hooked at her wrists. 

She let Tia slowly prize her hands away from her face, meeting a surprisingly soft gaze. 

“Hey,” they murmured, “you want to know what happened my first time on the radio?”

They spoke so kindly and earnestly that she couldn’t help but nod. 

“Okay, so - and don’t laugh - it was my very first show. I was really excited to get the job. But I’d never done radio before, and the first time I came in here it was … what, just after Christmas last year?”

“You’ve only been here a year?”

“I know, feels like longer.” They inclined their head with a small laugh. “So I was on the radio. First show. I was trying to learn all the dials and things. I kept hitting the wrong one when I wanted to speak though. My friend Lawrence - Lawrence Chaney - they were listening in, they said later that they could definitely hear me saying something a bit … questionable. About Jess Glynne.”

Veronica slapped her hand to her mouth, and Tia rolled their eyes.

“I said don’t laugh, Vee.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing, I was just … I had an itch.”

Tia chuckled, averting their gaze downwards for a moment and then back up. “Worse was that I was just getting over a cough that I got over the Christmas hols. And then I missed the button the next time, and I had to actually play a Jess Glynne song but all that anyone heard was apparently me coughing along to the end of it over her singing.”

“I’m -“ but Veronica couldn’t help herself, wheezing with laughter, and thankfully Tia shut their eyes and chuckled along. 

“Okay. Fine. I guess it is a little funny. Anyway, she’s still got me blocked.”

“She hasn’t!” Veronica’s eyes widened, and Tia for their part, pulled their own phone from the pocket of their shorts and unlocked it. They showed Veronica their instagram feed, and then put in her name.

“See? Blocked. Oh, and I’m banned from playing her music on my show according to her agent. If I play it, she will apparently ‘have me’.” Tia put a finger under their eye and pouted their lips. “Devvo-ed.”

Veronica screwed her eyes up to try to stop herself laughing. “Alright, I s’pose it could have been worse. But … but people who’ve been tuning in right now -“

"Look,” Tia rubbed the back of her hand, “everyone’s still waking up in the morning. It’s only nine am. And trust me, the ones that are awake, have been absolutely losing their minds about you coming in on my show.”

Veronica let Tia move her hands away to her lap, a little bubble of hope rising in her chest. “You - really?”

“Yeah! Look, you should see my twitter feed.” Tia clicked onto the computer screen and pulled up twitter, showing Veronica the tweet they had sent yesterday with her tagged in it, that she was coming on the show.

Veronica’s jaw dropped at the replies.

@joeblack69: can’t wait to hear veronica tomorrow on the show ….. she’s fit af

@its_just_may: Veronica Green is amazing love your show!!!

@goffikendall:if veronica goes on i will love u and listen to ur show the rest of this year tia i stg

And loads more. Tia showed Veronica glimpses of people she’d never known, leaving supportive messages and replies, and the bubble of air in her chest soared.

“See? People are gonna love it. And they won’t mind that it’s been a bit of a technical mess. You’re only human. Actually,” Tia continued, looking back up at her, “when’s your new single due out?”

Veronica swallowed. “I’ll need to check with Divina. I think it’s mid-June.”

Tia nodded. “Okay. Well, we’ll wrap up for now. It’s been thirty minutes anyway, which I think was how long you were meant to be here for.”

“Oh, okay.” Veronica sighed, slumping down in the chair. “That wasn’t very much, was that alright?”

“Of course! Trust me, my listeners love a surprise.” Tia gave her a wink, as the song started to fade out.

Even after all this time, even after hearing her song so many times on the radio and Apple Music and Spotify, Veronica always winced. Still can’t believe I actually sound like that.

And hearing the clips of the show online was no better. Veronica listened to the radio show again on catch up on the tube on her way home from work, and she screwed her face up at the sound of herself, until she changed the podcast to her music again and tried to forget about it.

“I think you always sound glorious, and I thought you sounded marvellous this morning.“ Joe on the other hand, was far less derogatory than whoever the critic was that resided in Veronica’s head. When she got back to their flat that evening, he had it on loud while he was cooking, frying something in the pan. 

But Veronica sighed, joining him at the chopping board and picking up a knife and a bell pepper. "I still don’t believe you.”

Joe shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll wear you down eventually." 

She chuckled in spite of herself. "I just don’t think I really did myself justice. I blew my chance to let people get to know me.”

“I … wouldn’t say that,” Joe mused, “just think of it as a trial run. People are still going to want to know you. Look at twitter.“

This time, Veronica snorted with laughter. "Yeah, thanks for helping me out there. I’m ‘fit af’, am I?”

Joe grinned. “As if you needed reminding. And anyway. Didn’t you see the response Tia put on your tweet from earlier?”

Frowning, Veronica dumped the pepper into the pan and then went to get her phone from her bag. Opening up her twitter, she scrolled down her notifications.

@callmeronnie_x: So good to be on #KofiMorning today with icon @teaorcoffee such a lovely host!!

It had garnered more likes and retweets than most of her posts this year. But one reply made her jaw drop.

@teaorcoffee: @callmeronnie_x So good to have you on, will have you back any time!

Her heart skipped two or three beats.

A little flash of bravery shot through her veins like a bolt of lightning, and she tapped away at the screen with a reply.

@callmeronnie_x: @teaorcoffee if you’ve got a slot on June 16th my new single is coming out x

Joe’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline when he saw it later on, when they had both eaten and he was checking his phone. Veronica didn’t even need to know that was what he was looking at, his wry chuckle and shifting on the sofa into a ball.

“Rodney. You cheeky cow.”

Veronica just grinned wolfishly at him. “Takes one to know one, eh?”

“And it’s worked, have a look!”

But she hadn’t noticed. He held his phone to her, and her heart sped up when she read the reply.

@teaorcoffee: @callmeronnie_x how about June 15th, and you can tell us all about it, check your dms x

Pride Challenge Points: 1366

[godesssiri]

Rant time

I have 2 jobs and one of them is in a call center. The nature of the job is that you are not going to be able to help everyone, either because they are crying for the moon and you have no power to give them what they want - no one does - or because in order to help them you need them to do some of the work themselves and they don't want to do the work, they want you to waive a magic wand and fix things for them. Sometimes when you get someone like this they will threaten to kill themselves. 99% of the time they don't mean it, they're pissed off and trying to get a rise out of you. I've done this job (part time) for 19 years and today I had only me second ever caller where I was sure that if I let them off the phone they were actually going to go kill themselves.

This woman pissed me off.

I have very little sympathy for her. Yes I believed that she was capable of hurting herself but she was also pissed off and trying to get a rise out of me. I stayed on the phone with her for 32 minutes trying to reason with her and trying to get information out of her to get her location so I could send someone around to do a welfare check. I pleaded with her to call her doctor or her counselor and she stonewalled me the whole time and blamed her problems on everyone but herself. I got basically her whole life story and I'm sorry but if you are having the same problems now as you were having 30 years ago then you are the problem. She had so many people currently in her life who's job it was to help her, it sounds like she has been in situations for the last 3 decades where there were that same range of professionals around her and she has had every opportunity to take the help, to work on her mental health, to get herself out of the endless merry-go-round of crap she has been stuck in. But she doesn't want to do anything for herself, she wants other people to fix her life for her and when her life remains crap then it's their fault no hers. She had her kids taken off her 30 years ago and 'the police still won't let her see them', lady if the police won't let you see your adult children it's because your adult children have taken out a restraining order against you - that is the ONLY way the police COULD stop you from seeing them. I don't think she really has the guts to kill herself, the reason I stayed on the call with her so long was because she had threatened to make the government kill her and I was pretty sure she was going to go into her closest government office and attack a security guard to provoke them so I was trying to find out where that would be so the police could call them and they could be prepared. If she was in the US she would be someone who would commit suicide by cop, she want's someone else to do everything for her including taking her life. Looking further into her file after the call this was not her first time calling us and threatening suicide. And when my manager got off the phone with the police he told me she was known to them. I guess she just likes traumatizing random people who are just trying to do their job.

I have decided I am going to forget about her and focus on the first suicide caller I ever had because I KNOW I helped that guy. He didn't want me to fix his life, when I told him the situation he was in (which was totally fixable) he just said in a quiet defeated little voice that he didn't want to be here anymore. I stayed on the phone with him while my manager called the police, I got his address, I talked to him about small nice things and stuff that helped me when I'd been in his shoes, eventually I got him to walk out of the bedroom he'd locked himself in and go out to his flatmate and give her the phone. I explained to her that he was suicidal and should not be left alone and the police welfare check were on their way, they would be able to contact mental health services and get him help, she should call his family (whom he had a good relationship with). When I got off that phone call I was confident he was no longer in immediate danger and that his friends and family would now be aware of how bad it was and that he needed help. The fact that he listened to me and went to his flatmate told me he was capable of accepting help. That guy I felt hope for.

[kidkintsugi]

i never knew it would get to this point, but:

a LOT of people have taken a liking to me to the point that im considered popular and i despise it.

tw very brief mention of sh towards the end

i try my hardest to be kind even when faced with rude or careless people. this makes me a gigantic people pleaser, also meaning that i attract a lot of people that either try to leech off of me or people that are just plain weird!! im a bit weird myself but theres always bigger fish and BROTHER im barely a guppy in this metaphor.

but these new people are good people (aside from my flatmate im still pissed. fuck him). i want to be good to them in return because i cant remember a time i have ever been treated this nicely.

this comes at a price. i am a very private person and i enjoy and value my spare time ALONE. some people are aching to be in the position im in but to me its painful.

i want to spend time with you but ive ran out of energy. i would never tell you off though because i know that youre feeling lonely and i dont want you to dwell on your feelings all alone. i want to be there for you but im so, so exhausted.

i want to help you with this assignment because you asked so nicely, but keep in mind that i will completely lose focus of my own tasks and end up as a burnt out pos by the end of the deadline because of it. theres also 5 other people asking for my help.

yes, you may do all of the art related parts of our project. i wanted to do some art stuff as well, but the guy that wanted to program for us has been calling in sick and well, somebody has to do it and if you dont want to then i might as well get busy huh! its an opportunity to learn i should be happy about it!

yes i can bring you food. you also called in sick and i care about you. i know how hard it is for you to ask for help, but you did so well asking me and so i will bring you some food from the store. i might have sacrificed my entire break and didnt get any food for myself because i was in a rush, but im glad to see you happy.

yes i will continue to spend time with you even though your constant romantic advances and hints scare me shitless. i value as a friend and pointing out your flirting will either get me ridiculed or destroy the wonderful friendship we have. please just stop touching me (not like i would ever have the balls to say that)

how could i ever say no to you when i love you so so much.

my skin tingles with the urge to inj/re myself. its like electricity below my skin and theres no other way for me to do it than to scratch bite and cvt like a rabid animal.

i stopped tracking the time i was clean; i will probably never be. its not worth trying anymore.

i just wanna sleep bro. why wont you hate me like the others did. please dont expect so much im practically useless.

i hope this all ends soon.

[tteokdoroki]

i’m having angry and violent impulses tonight

[depoteka]

it's nearly summer, time to listen to bruce springsteen's entire discography from start to finish again

[fingertipsmp3]

It’s not even noon and today is already bad

[isbergillustration]

This is a Ghost Story: Part III

I wake up, shaking, terrified. The exact details of the nightmare fade rapidly, but the feelings stay. My skin is clammy and sweaty, my hands shaking, and I yelp loudly when I look up to see the dark shape silhouetted against the window. It is tall and humanoid, with glowing eyes, like the way headlights reflect off of animals’ eyes in the dark. I blink, and it’s gone. Then, because my life is a horror movie now, feel the blankets bunching further down the bed, the mattress shifting. The movements grow closer, and I am frozen in fear, unable to move even to try to get away, but then- then the movement stops. And I feel a weight on my shoulder, and though I expect it to feel like a claw grasping me, it isn’t. A weight and size like a hand, rubbing down my back, in soft and soothing motions. Oh.

“Hey,” I say, and I can hear how terrified I sound.

“It’s nice to, uh, to see you. Feel you. And uh. Thanks.”

It takes me a while to calm down. Obviously. And to be honest, the presence of the ghost doesn’t help, but I appreciate the gesture, so I don’t comment. The idea that the ghost can actually physically touch me is… it’s deeply unsettling. Because then, what else can the ghost do to me, should I piss them off sufficiently? They haven’t done anything other than express frustration with their situation, which is fair. Being stuck in this flat for all eternity doesn’t seem ideal. They haven’t done anything to threaten me since I started talking to them. They haven’t, really, given me any reason to be afraid. But then, that’s never stopped me before.

-

“Will you tell me your name?”

No

“Okay. Fair. Can you tell me when you died?”

T-h-i-r-t-y-o-n-e-y-e-a-r-s-a-g-o

“Oh, wow, that’s before I was born. What happened?”

F-i-r-e.

“Oh. Like the old building. I’m sorry. Do you have- I know it’s been a while, but is there anyone you would like me to… I guess to contact? To tell any last words to?”

There is a long pause, long enough that I almost think they have left. Then they move the planchette to no. Oh. That’s- that’s sad, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry.”

I wait as long as I think polite.

“Can you… uh. How far can you go? I’m sorry, I’m just curious. About, uh, ghost limits, I guess. Are you just haunting my place, or the building in general?”

N-o-t-f-a-r

T-h-i-s-f-l-o-o-r

“Aww, bummer. I was hoping you could tell me what the howling coming from the basement is.”

W-e-r-e-w-o-l-f

“Oh. They come up here?”

H-o-w-l-i-n-g-o-n-l-y-h-a-p-p-e-n-s-d-u-r-i-n-g-f-u-l-l-m-o-o-n

“Ah. Yeah, I hadn’t kept track. That makes sense, though. Have there been any werewolf related deaths in the building, do you know?”

No

“That’s good. I’ll make sure to be on watch during the next one.”

I lean back on my old sofa, whose cover is scratched up by some past renter’s cat, or possibly the ghost on a particularly bad day. Speaking off.

“I know you don’t want to tell me your name, but it would be pretty easy for me to find out. Can’t have been that many fires in this building thirty one years ago. Would it be safe to assume you do not want me to try to find out?

Yes d-o-n-t

“Fair enough. I promise. I’m Morgan, by the way. Which, which I guess you know from hearing me answer the phone. Is there anything you want me to call you? Ghost? Flatmate?”

The planchette moves to Boo which is an addition to the spirit board I’ve made in black marker. Ghost it is, I guess. After this, the ghost seems to run out of energy, or interest in the conversation. This seems to be about the cut off point, time-wise, every time. A few minutes. But I did get almost a full sentence today, so that’s pretty cool.

After double checking both a calendar and the night sky to make sure today is not a full moon, I head down to the basement storage units. It’s an even split between the singular largeish flat down here, and space for the storage units belonging to each flat. It’s damp down here, and smells unpleasant, and the lights flicker. They don’t eventually go out, they just perpetually flicker, as if that is their intended purpose. But then, this is a haunted building, so maybe some other dead soul is lurking down here, fucking with the wiring.

Here, behind the wire door and the fifth padlock I’ve had to buy, despite no one ever actually stealing anything, is where my art supplies live. It’s hard, when you work, to have the time and enthusiasm to get out canvas and paints. I keep and use a sketchbook, but anything bigger? Haven’t touched it since graduation years ago. Something about having to work a low wage job anyway just really takes the wind out of your, uh, poorly stretched canvases. I bring up a few of the really big ones, a few with the hint of sketches, but most of them untouched. Some paints and the better brushes, too.

“Hey,” I tell Ghost, “I know you enjoy doing finger painting with blood on the walls, but it’s really hard to clean, and I can’t really afford to lose my deposit, and also, to be honest, it smells kind of bad. So. I brought you some canvases and brushes and stuff. So maybe you can use these instead of the walls?”

The singular open window rattles in a deliberate way in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I tell them, and lay out some newspaper, and set the canvases up along the wall on top, ready for spectral arts and crafts.

The next morning, I wake up to a new painting. It is, judging by the smell and colour and crustiness, still blood. And judging by the brushstrokes, still finger painted. But it is on the canvas, and that’s definitely a step up. It is a figure, who looks a bit like me, staring wide eyed at the viewer, and a towering dark and nebulous shape behind me, clawed hands on my shoulder, pale eyes looking at the viewer. Huh. It’s pretty good. Expressionistic, certainly. Unnerving? Absolutely. But I think it’s a nice selfie of the two of us, rather than a threat. At least, given circumstances, that is what I am going to choose to believe.

“That’s very cool!” I tell them, “please feel free to experiment with the actual paint, too. I don’t know where you are getting the blood from, and I am starting to worry!”