yeah, but i don't want them to hate me

By now, Gwen was thoroughly freaked out. When she did manage to get some sleep there was nothing but nightmares about drowning, and then she'd spent way too much time in the bathroom this morning coughing up wet hair. Considering she'd once been mummified, she was trying to keep things in perspective but right at this moment she was thinking this was the grossest thing she'd ever been through. Top three, definitely.

Still feeling a little shaky, she was headed back to her room. Not that she'd checked her email to know class was canceled today, but she had every single intention to ditch.

So the black walls had been a mistake. It was dark and depressing and Gwen didn't want to get a bunch of black lights and feel like she was living in a rave. That meant that after class she went and got some more paint, a more muted gray that she could dress up however she wanted, and started painting the walls again.

The next lesson she was learning was that when covering up black paint, you were gonna need primer. She only found that out when she googled it to find out why it wasn't working, and then there'd been another trip to the store and waiting for the paint she'd already used to dry before starting over with the primer and ugh. She wanted to get this done before Parents Weekend but right now it felt like she'd finish right around a quarter after never.

Anyone who didn't want to be dragged into helping should probably avoid this hall. So should anyone who didn't mind her begging to let her sleep in their room tonight because of paint fumes.

[Open, why not!]

Gwen had had a great time at the party- which was still really weird to her because these people were freakishly unterrible so far and did they know teenagers are horrible by defintion?- but when she got back to her room she sank right into a mood. She'd like to think she was handling the strange and messed-up stuff here pretty well, but she was getting the impression that she was going to see way worse than she had this weekend. She was going to have to worry about invasions and gremlins and the possibility of trading in her parts or thinking she was someone else, and this particular former dead girl didn't even want to touch everything involved with the evil murder carnival. It'd been an okay couple weeks, but now she was getting nervous and freaked out.

So she went back to her room, and had a little cry. She didn't even know about what, exactly, it was just a thing that needed to happen. Maybe it was being worried about what else might happen, maybe it was dealing with Fandom's shitty sense of humor already, maybe she was just scared that if she told Aunt May what this place was really like she'd want to take Gwen away and then she'd be a burden all over again as they figured out what to do with her.

When she calmed down, she picked up her phone and stared at it for a while. If Aunt May could handle what Peter dealt with all the time, Gwen dealing with the occasional problem in Fandom couldn't be too terrible. Besides, when Gwen either called or texted every day, if something was up, she wasn't going to be able to keep lying about it forever. So she dialed the number.

"Hey, it's me again. Sorry it's late, but do you have a minute to talk?"

[Had to do it eventually. Establishy.]