#don't find my personal fucking email
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!!!
I came here to complain, got distracted, but now im back to complaining.
usually, I don't complain about things like this when it applies to me. I spread the word of other writers and reblog their posts because they're writers too, however, I usually just delete rude/weird asks and comments and also block the person because it isn't worth it to give that person attention.
BUT I HAVE MADE AN EXCEPTION
please for the love of god, DO NOT FIND MY PERSONAL EMAIL AND EMAIL ME COMPLAINING ABOUT THE LACK OF WRITING.
like yeah, I haven't been writing in a while. I am WELL AWARE OF THAT. IM THE ONE FUCKING WRITING.
also, there's a reason why Im not writing. im a STEM (neuroscience girlys rise up) student and I have a job and im involved in my community and im going through a budding romance. BUT EVEN IF NONE OF THAT WAS GOING ON, THAT'S NOT AN EXCUSE BECAUSE THAT'S MY PERSONAL EMAIL.
I am a person. I have a life outside of sitting in front of a computer and writing necrophilia and lesbian smut. PLEASE FUCKING REMEMBER THAT.
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HOW YOUR EMAIL FINDS ME
#literally. re: email from my ex this morning#every day it takes every ounce of mental and emotional strength i have to get my ass out of bed and face the day#today i begin packing to move the fuck out of here#everything fucking hurts and i hate this so much#i'm not feeling brave about any of this#one of the worst things about a breakup is that it damages you for any potential future relationships#in the sense that “how can i ever trust anyone with my heart and my love ever again?”#as if it's not bad enough losing someone you thought would be in your life forever#but the deeply cutting betrayal of finding out that this person you actually trusted with your literal life had led you on FOR YEARS#ESPECIALLY in the sense that this whole scenario is giving me intense flashbacks to the ending of another relationship#that broke me so bad it almost killed me#and it's easy for them to say “i hope you find someone who makes you happy” when they have someone new in their life#if i believed i had prospects for a new romantic relationship then it would be a little easier for me to collect myself & regroup & move on#but i don't think i have it in me to go thru any of this again#and that gives me even more layers of anger and rage and grief#as if it wasn't enough to betray me and break my fucking heart#but it broke me FOR ANY FUTURE LOVE AND HAPPINESS TOO#i know it's not productive for me to think that way#but right now i am fucking drowning in my fucking pain and fucking grief and fucking rage#i wanted stability and love and trust and someone to come home to every night and someone to come home to me every night#i just wanted to love and be loved#i wanted someone who i could call home#I JUST WANTED TO BE LOVED#rage#grief#trauma#edward teach#our flag means death#ofmd
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I think I might actually legitimately be at my limit. Like I think I've reached the end of my rope, actually
#liz's personal tag#it's really not that big a deal I think#it's just been tiny things all piling up#one after the fucking other#and i think i just made a goof at work because i can't find an email telling this lady that i'm attending her fair on wednesday#even though i have confirmations for the other three schools i'm going to#and outlook looooooooves to delete my fucking emails#so i'm hoping and praying that i did actually email to rsvp#or that she'll be willing to make an exception and let me come#i'm just so fucking tired of having to teach myself how to do shit at this job#because there's only so much the people around me know how to do or teach me#and my actual supervisor never sat me down and showed me how to do the things i needed to know how to do#so i'm constantly finding out that i don't know how to do stupidly simple things and then i look like a fucking moron#and i'm so tired of feeling stupid all the time and i just want to cry even though everyone knows it's not my fault#and fuck y'all i just feel so fucking stupid right now and i hate it and now i'm crying#anyway here's wonderwall
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worst part of picking up a new physical craft is not knowing what the FUCK the names are of some of the pieces and where u can get them
#there's this place that makes BEAUTIFUL chokers i find rly inspiring but like#i want BIG spikes. something past 40mm long. some things as wide or wider than 15mm.#and there's this SUPER common U shaped piece that I see everywhere but have no fucking clue what it's called#where do the crafty girlies b ordering their supplies from bc amazon isn't gonna cut it for what I'm looking for 😔#at least not the spikes >.> maybe the other piece if I can figure out whats it's called#anyways.. the site is run by one woman who handmakes everything and I sent her an email asking for her supplier lol#i made it clear it's just as a hobby and personal expression so i hope fr she doesn't think I'm trying to compete 😭#like listen.. i love everything i make so much even when i meant to sell them i just couldn't okay.. I could not part with anything#I'd make one off stuff for free for ppl i care about but I'm not about to open up a shop yfm. 😮💨 we'll see#i feel like with this kind of question ur either gonna be super supportive bc You Get It or ur gonna be rly suspicious and not help lol#to which.. i would even offer to buy the studs n the other thing off her but i don't wanna pay extra for it just bc someone is sussed out 😔#so mm.. ig I'd see what her offer is. but this is just me rambling internally and trying to cover my bases :^} i want the supplies sooo bad#u would think a diy site for leather would be easy(-ish?) to find but 😔
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Finally sent the email (only took me a month)
Emails really offer a snapshot of all that is wrong with modern life.
In history books I expect there to be a paragraph at the end of our chapter explaining 'why were they like that' and its just a little summary saying 'ok so they had these things called emails'
#to be clear i don't think it's emails themselves that fucked us#emails are not a bad idea! many things are made easier by the existence of emails#HOWEVER#while a harmless concept i think that emails were themselves very vulnerable to the rot that runs through our society#its about the constant advertising. its about having to wade through it to find what's important.#it's about my government communicating with me in the same place as someone trying to sell me a new hat & also the person trying to scam me#it's about how the hat man is only there to sell me hats because i welcomed him in for a 10% discount.#i sold 24/7 access to myself for a convenience! for nothing! and it seemed reasonable at the time. it will seem reasonable next time#where do i wade through bureaucracy more often than my inbox???#and then... its that emails are there all of the time. they didn't use to be. we made them so. they didn't have to be.#every day i walk about society with a pocket full of letters. their constant weight only serves to increase the time it takes you to reply?#with an email there is no urgency there is all the urgency#(we've all worked with someone who marks everything as urgent. no Andrew. this isn't urgent & you didnt need to send it to the whole team)#its about a workload which nobody will ever admit is unmanageable and yet which you are never supposed to see an end of#it's about the intimate distance. the personal remoteness of it all#it's about the world being filled with beauty but none of that reaching emails. emails serve to wash out the joy.#a good thing in an email is not as good as the same thing out of an email#nothing is real#the number of unread messages means nothing here. none of it means anything. it's all washed out
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the thousand injuries of this fucking job i had borne as best i could, but when it ventured upon insult, i STILL didn't quit bc i'm an idiot who hates job-hunting and now i'm just stuck here being annoyed by every little thing in this office
#i wish every single coworker a very shut up! i wish the accounting department a very pay your fucking freelancers correctly and on time#so i don't have to keep fielding their justifiably pissed calls and emails because i literally can't fix that!!#i wish the ceo a very get trapped in a “flyover state” such as the very one my branch is in to cure his terminal new yorker brain!#i wish the ny office a very get some work cell phones like normal people instead of having the fully insane setup we've had for 2 years!#i wish my coworkers who aren't doing legal stuff a very work from home! holy shit why do they have to be in the office!!!!#i wish myself a very find the energy to find a new fucking job and not just default to food-and-entertainment mode the second i get home!#i wish the government a very don't kick me off my parents' insurance in a few months!#[screams]#personal
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love that i have basically no system for what email i'll give out to people
#i have like 3 i actually use then a couple more that are more burners#but someone asks for my email?? which one they'll get depends on the fucking moon phase or smth apprently i do it so randomly#the first person to know all of my email address gets idk my hand in marriage#(that sounds like an invitation to hack me PLS DON'T)#cos that's mean + i'm painfully uninteresting you will find nothing
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#next week i'm finding out if i got the job i interviewed for and i am FREAKING THE FUCK OUT#like on the one hand I am hopeful cause i feel like the interview went well (even tho i had multiple panic attacks about it)#and according to my mom... the way the talked to me in person and on emails and stuff sounds like the do want me#and to be honest i really REALLY need the job#but also i don't really want to get my hopes up too much cause maybe i won't get it and i will feel really horrible about it... ://#but ALSO also... if i do get the job then a whole another level of panic attacks start because i have to actually WORK#and actually meet the other team members and you know do stuff that will continuously freak me out untill i get used to it#which is gonna be in a very long time#so no matter how next weeks goes I will have a panic attack and feel horrible so i'm not looking forward to it very much :P#if i get the job: panic and fear about the work but happiness about getting paid#if i don't get the job: panic and fear about not getting paid and also failing the whole thing#but happiness because i don't have to think about all this anymore#so you see my problem? no matter the situation my brain will punish me (:#i hate all this#angel talks#personal
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#delete later#please let this be the only email#please don't let anyone else find out about this#i think i would fucking die if anyone else here knows this crazy person is trying to destroy my life#i don't want any of my coworkers to know or anyone in the dean's office or even my roommates#please please please
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most embarrassed this morning. no talk me
#to be a millenial for a moment: adulting is hard 🫠🫠#but when you tap an email address and your phone decides to open gmail to an entirely different email address and you don't realise bc you-#are sick as hell this morning and send off the email to the wrong address nonetheless and find out half an hour later#that you sent the email to the wrong person#thats not entirely you at fault. in my humble opinion.#fuck man. what the hell
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*wakes up*
*grabs phone*
*email notification*
*new comment on SotRL*
*throws phone to the far side of adjacent couch*
*goes back to sleep*
#NOT TODAY THANK YOU#not ever. preferably#I was not emotionally prepared for this#look... I think I might be the direct opposite of literally every writer on the planet#because seeing that email made me feel sick to my stomach#this has singlehandedly sent my entire day off kilter#I'm supposed to go to my grandma's today but now all I want to do is rot in bed for the rest of the day#literally anyone else would have been happy to receive a several sentences long comment praising them#but my initial reactions were 'how the fuck did you find this?' 'why the fuck would you read it?' and 'I should've deleted when I wanted to'#I've heard countless stories about sudden comments received years after the last update kicking authors into continuing the story#usually in PSAs to always comment or whatever#but I just feel awful#not because I feel guilty over not finishing SotRL or anything like that#just.. because this is exactly the reason why I wanted to delete that fic#people reading anything I've written makes me want to die but SotRL especially#it's old. the writing is bad. there's a reason I call it my greatest failure#I don't want people to read it. that's why I wanted it gone#and the comment was so nice too. much more than just a call for an update#I hate that it caused this reaction in me because it's clear the person only had the best intentions in mind#but I can't control my emotions. far from the first time I wish that I could#someone put me in the guiness world record book as the first person to ever get genuinely upset over a nice comment#I laugh shit like this off as the mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever but in reality it's so much worse#if I didn't have anything to stop me my entire ao3 account would be gone. I hate the thought of people reading my work#just further proof that I'm not a writer. that I spent six years deluding myself into believing that I was#trying to shove square pieces into triangular holes like a dumb toddler#I should have quit before any of this happened. erased everything and forgotten about it like a bad dream#I should have never started writing in the first place#if I had the chance to go back in time and tell one thing to my 11 year old self it would be to not even think about writing#it has brought me nothing but pain and suffering and I really should have stayed away from it#too late now. I've been irreversibly ruined
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Why do I never trust myself. I've lived in this body for 27 years, I literally know when it's getting sick, but I was like nooo, it's just because I'm sleep deprived and on my period and autumn sometimes does weird things to my body. Stupid. Stuuuuuupid
#i'm sitting here right now in web dev class... well we're on a break atm actually#it makes no difference though because i'm comprehending absolutely nothing whatsoever#i keep having to turn my camera off because i don't want people to see me continuously coughing and blowing my nose#i feel so lousyyyyy how did this happen. it happened so fast. this morning i just had a scratchy sore throat#i sat down in a class In Which I Need To Have My Camera On and my nose was immediately like 'quick let's do an impression of niagara falls'#i'm not comprehending any part of class. i don't know if it's the lack of sleep or my sickness getting to me#but it honest to god feels like we're zooming. we JUST learned what a function is and my mans is like 'write one and invoke it'#i'm sorry WHAT. invoke the function? like summoning a demon??? sir.#and when i tell you i copied his code EXACTLY but my shit still wouldn't show up in the console log... i'm sick of this#it doesn't help that i have this absolutely hopeless crush on one of my classmates so i was desperately writing down everything i find#annoying about him to try to give myself the ick. i fear it's too late though. i mean if his weird squeaky voice and the fact that he's#balding hasn't put me off; i don't think his weird room will either#it's not even weird. it just is suspiciously clean and devoid of personality. and his bedframe is weird. anyway#(there's nothing wrong with balding it just super doesn't look good on him. plus i like a good head of hair. i like something to hang onto)#MOVING ON. i've just sent a message cancelling physio tomorrow because i can't go and infect this woman who is the only reason i'm mobile#i've NEVER texted her before though because i booked the first appointment online and the rest in person and i usually just. show up#this is gonna be the first appointment i've missed since we began in june. please clap#i just hope to fucking god i have the right number lmao like i got it from her email but. help#i think i'm liable for a 50% cancellation fee because it's less than 24 hours... fucking kill me now#i'm so mad at myself for not cancelling this morning. i KNEW i was sick i was just in denial#this is because i ate a piece of sausage roll that had been in my niece's weird little hand isn't it.#she's a toddler with permanent postnasal drip and i have a terrible immune system because i don't leave the house. such is life#look it was eat the roll or allow her to leave it on the ground in a really nice shop I WASN'T DOING THAT#personal
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hahahahahaha i am so screwed hahahahahahaha
#got an email today to send in our information for the big scholarship i got last year and guess who doesn't meet the GPA requirement!!!!!!!!#i litrally don't know what to do#i literally can't even text my friend who also got the scholarship because her grades and gpa are wonderful and mine are shit and it will#make me feel like the most stupid person in the world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway. i am going to email the lady tomorrow and be like 'hey heres the situation pls tell me if theres anything i can do'#because i was genuinely depending on this scholarship to help me pay rent and stuff but lol#im kinda hoping that they'll take pity on me since i'm retaking the class that i failed that plummeted my gpa and once i transfer the credit#it will boost my gpa and just be like 'yeah no worries we'll send the money once you meet the requirement'#that OR they'll be like 'due to ur special circumstances of being an orphan we are taking pity on you and will work with you'#OR EVEN 'yeah whatever we'll send the money this time but if it happens again you're getting it taken away'#i genuinelly don't know what i'll do if i get it taken away#like yeah i'll have my school paid for but literally only because i took out loans#not to mention that i will have to tell everyone that i lost the scholarship and even if i don't tell them they will find out because they#do a banquet every single year to celebrate new and past recievers and everyone will notice i am not there#and i will be the biggest failure in the entire world who couldn't even meet a very simple fucking gpa requirement!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway. forcing myself to not panic and feel despair yet#i am actually going to text one of my other friends who is not involved in this whatsoever and get her advice#its fine it will be fine it will all work out i am not going to lose the scholarship they literally told me even if my mom hadn't died my#senior year that they still would have given me the scholarship it is FINE i will be FINE#lacey talks
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medication titration is such a bonkers concept they're like here *throws prescription at your forehead* fuck around with your brain until something sticks, and so you basically have to treat yourself like a weird little science experiment for months
#i mean normally i find fucking around with my body highly amusing but right now it's just weird. last week i was depressed and then had a p#pseudo panic attack the next day and then i cleaned my entire room and now i'm just hanging out but i'm hungry. i'm so hungry. all the time#i just wanted to be able to send some emails?? okay that's an under-exaggeration but still#and then you go on reddit and everyone's like 'first day of medication and i've just seen god!!! my life is fixed!!!' which sure isn't the#whole picture but these people are like getting actual results meanwhile i just want to drink coffee so bad. coffee and alcohol are two pri#prime joys in my life (besides fanfiction) and you're not supposed to do either of those things. meanwhile it's hard to focus on the fanfic#with the whole dopamine situation so now i have NONE of the joys in my life#is it worth having a modicum of functionality as a human person if the joys in my life are gone ???? we just don't know#personal#adhd struggles#i think that's what i tagged this last time apparently if i stop cleaning i start hyperactive posting#this isn't going well for me what if i'm in a lecture then my brain just starts going ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh#you know?
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#i don't keep enough alcohol in the house#wait a second i just found some holy shit#i was about to follow that sentence with 'guell ill have to take an edible or two'#cuz ive had two glasses of wine but that is simply not enough. but that was all i could find#OR SO I THOUGHT#just found a bottle of some margarita shit#im probs still gonna takr an edible or two later#but until then. i have yummy alcohol#yeah i know dont mix alcohol with other yhings or whatever#tbh i dont give a shit#i put 1.5 years of work into something that means a lot to me#something that I THOUGHT meant a lot to othr people#ao i poured my fucking heart and soul and ONE AND A HALF YEARS into it#i transcribed shit. and do you know how difficult transcribing is? and sending emails and texts to relevant people#and figuring out the fucking TABLE OF CONTENTS on google docs#but all of the people i texted it to just peft me on read#one person i emailed it to thanked me and said he appreciated it#but let's be real for a second. there was only one person i truly wanted a reply from#and i knew in my heart that i definitely wouldnt get a reply#but god i just wanted her to text me. and say it was good. and say she wants to be friends again...#but that was the stupidest fucking thing i ever couldve hoped for#i broke our promise. i contacted her. and somehow i thought breaking that promise would win her over??#but i couldnt stop myself from hoping and now here i am. drinking 5.5% wine and 10% margarita mix because its all i have in the house#i dont want to think about it anymore#but i have my ringer on. in case anyone wants to email or text back#in case she wants to email or text back...#gonna go drink now
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click! 1 (e.w.)
SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes
two. three. four.
A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall
“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”
Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.
“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”
Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.
“I got that internship— “
All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.
“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.
Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”
Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.
“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”
“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “
“Maya.”
“Hm?”
“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.
You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.
People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.
Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.
It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…
“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”
Oh God. “What?”
She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “
The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.
“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”
Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.
“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”
“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”
“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”
When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.
DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.
DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.
DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.
It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.
DENY REQUEST.
…
DENY REQUEST.
…
DENY REQUEST.
You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.
Why are people… so odd?
The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!
Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!
All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.
Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.
They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.
You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.
ELLIE WILLIAMS.
Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.
temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.
… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.
At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.
She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.
But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.
You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.
“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”
Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.
Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”
A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.
“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”
She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”
You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “
“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”
“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”
Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”
“You’re so fucking extra— “
DING!
Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.
“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”
Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”
“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.
You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”
“The wettest. Go.”
You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.
You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.
“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.
“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.
Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”
“Alright.”
More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.
“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”
“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”
More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.
“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”
She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.
“What’d I say!”
“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Oh yeah what.”
“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”
A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.
Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.
Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.
… Cute.
You’re going to fail statistics over a random.
Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.
She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.
Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.
Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.
The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.
Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.
“Hey. Can we switch the time?”
“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.
She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”
You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”
Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”
“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”
A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”
She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.
“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”
Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.
“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”
Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.
“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”
The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.
“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.
“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”
“Sike.”
You scoff in disbelief, “What?”
“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “
You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”
“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “
Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”
Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”
“Right.”
“I do, what the he— “
“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”
“Hm?”
“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “
Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.
“Wait— “
“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”
Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.
Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.
Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.
When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.
You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.
At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.
“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”
Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”
“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.
She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”
Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”
“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”
“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”
She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”
“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.
“Damn… My fault.”
“I’m chilling. I just need head.”
“Go out! Find somebody!”
You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “
“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”
You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.
“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”
Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.
“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”
“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “
Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.
You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.
It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.
Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.
Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.
Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.
You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.
Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.
When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.
Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.
The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.
A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—
“I’m here,” She states plainly.
“… Why?” You croak.
Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.
“To move in.”
“… Why?”
Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.
Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?
“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”
“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “
“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”
Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”
She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?
Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.
“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”
Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”
Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.
…
What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...
For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.
tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane
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