#doorpersons

[theshadowrealmitself]

Also sad I haven’t seen any fics of the doorperson out of the apartment and doppelgängers seeing them

[lancelotism]

tragically I got to watch my rope instructor play last weekend and it is slowly ruining my life

[lazi4ss]

That's Not My Milkman

masterlist

Warning: slight gore but not that detailed, doppleganger Francis

Gender neutral reader

(NOT MY ART, I FORGOT WHOS TIKTOK THIS IS FROM BUT CREDITS TO YOU!)

"So... Is everything in check?"

A tired voice mumbled out as your eyes trailed up from the ID and entry request in your hands to the source of the sound. Tired hazel eyes stared back at you as Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt bad, here you were double and triple-checking everything while the exhausted and probably underpaid milkman was there standing and waiting to be let in. But it's for everyone's safety so don't feel too bad. You gave a small smile as you handed back his paperworks. Everything seems to check out and you were going to let him in but... what's that on his uniform sleeve?

You squinted your eyes as you scanned the cuff of his right sleeve. His gaze travelled to where you were looking and with a shrug of his shoulders he lifted his hand to give you a clear view. And it is in fact blood, and by the looks of it, quite fresh too. How come you didn't notice it before?

You raised an eyebrow, one hand slowly inching closer to the danger button as you tried to be subtle and casual about it. Because what the heck? He was confident enough to show you something so suspicious without batting an eye.

"Sooo... Uhm. Anything you want to share?"

You casually asked, yet nervousness was laced in your tone. He sighed, keeping his composed and nonchalant act as put his hand down, burying it in his pocket as he dragged his free hand on his face. If he's a doppelganger then he's really going the extra mile to act or seem believable.

"Mmm. I know you're on edge."

He mumbled, gaze traveling from your hand that was ready to press the danger button to your face. Staring a little too long as he examined your features. You got a very pretty face yet it was filled with mistrust. Shame. Catching himself, he quietly scoffed under his breath. Good job Francis, already had the doorperson suspicious of you.

"But this is not what it looks like. I injured my hand earlier with a broken glass, blood must've gotten on my uniform accidentally."

He finished, not breaking the staring contest you two have started. You don't quite seem to believe that story, but it was plausible. There was a tense silence for a while before you broke it.

"Show me your wound."

You requested and again, another tense silence. He didn't look like he was going to comply. Just you and him staring down at each other. No one backing down and tearing their eyes away.

"... Fuck."

He quietly hissed and that was enough confirmation for you. You pressed the button immediately, grabbing the phone as you dialed the D.D.D. A familiar voice on the other end confirms and tells you that agents are on their way.

You sighed in relief, although that didn't last long as you heard banging on the glass pane separating you and the doppelganger. Thank God those were strong enough to withhold the assaults. You should've been shaking in your seat right now, and you were albeit not so intense, but it was the first time you came across the quiet and aloof milkman's doppel.

Hell, it was the first time you even saw Francis up front, not just out of the picture in the folder provided for your job. Out of curiosity, you raised the metal shutters to take a peek at it. And what greeted you was a snarling, red-eyed Francis. His features twisted in rage as he banged on the glass repeatedly.

"Let me in, Y/n!"

He growled, to which you shut the metal blinds again on his face in response as you heard the agents barge in. You thought it would be like last time, after a while they would let you know that the cleanup was successful and that they would be on their way back. Easy peasy, right? Oh how wrong you were. Turns out, this one was putting up quite a fight.

You could hear shouting, a lot of screaming, and the sound of something sharp slashing at flesh. Wet sounds of people gurgling in what you presumed to be their own blood... That was disturbing. You were almost too scared to pull up the shutters to see what was going on. But suddenly the noises stopped. Did they catch him? Was it finally over?

With shaking hands, you pressed the danger button off. The blinds slowly ascended and holy shit, the sight was like something out of a nightmare. It was straight up a blood bath. The agents' bodies were piled on the right side. Some missing their heads, missing their upper or lower half, and others' stomachs were ripped out and just generally shredded and torn. But that wasn't what you saw first.

It was Francis, or well, his doppelganger, with blood splattered on his clothes and a little getting on his cheek. His forearm was resting on the glass as he leaned. His mouth opened and formed a smirk as he panted, breathing heavily while glaring at you. His left hand fiddled with the blood-drenched tie on his neck.

If he wasn't a murderous doppelganger, you would've swooned. But alas, you can't have nice things in life. You blinked at him before pressing the button again,

"Wait- damn it!"

He called out but the windows were closed off again as you dialed the number quickly. Yet again, the same old thing was said, another batch of agents were dispatched. You waited, fidgeting in your seat as you heard him call out to you.

"Come on... I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to frighten you. Can you open the door?"

He tried to coax you with that voice... That smooth and deep voice that sounded so tired, on the verge of begging you... Wait what-

You shook your head, patting your cheeks lightly because what the hell was that? Such intrusive thoughts are not welcome while your life's in danger!

More screaming and shouting was heard as the agents arrived and you could tell they were much more prepared than the last batch. Gunshots can be heard but another animalistic growl pulled you out of your thoughts. Everything went silent again. You stay rooted on your spot as the only thing that can be heard in the air is your quivering gasps and heavy breathing on the other side of the glass panel.

Is he still there? You thought as you turned off the danger button again. More bodies were piled up on the left corner and surprise surprise, he was still alive, albeit in a rougher shape than previously. He wasn't wearing his milkman hat anymore, letting his brown messy hair show. His uniform was missing three buttons at the top, slightly showing his chest, bowtie was nowhere to be found.

He was still drenched in blood but what stunned you was what he was doing. His form raised and dropped as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, tired hazel eyes staring back at you as his eyebrows scrunched up. His hands pressed together in a pleading manner. Is he actually begging?

"Y/n, let me in... Please?"

[gatheringbones]

[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[soft-doorwoman]

Hi! It's so nice to meet another doorman! I guard Sunshine Terrace, the uh. The one down the street!

- The dOOrman

(@gmanwhore <- jus so I can find it)

"I'm delighted to meet you! I love making friends, specially if they're a doorperson just like me,I hope you feel welcome here!"

She smiles, offering to shake your hand

[fromkenari]

some sentences sunday

I didn't get to write today like I wanted to, so here's a bit of what I wrote yesterday for the "Josh and Buck Go to a Gay Bar" one-shot fic.

"ID, darling, or no entry," a voice said, and Buck couldn't immediately place the gender of the owner of the fingernail prodding him. He stared for a second too long as he processed what was happening and then looked to Josh, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Yeah, sorry," Buck flustered with an apologetic smile as he dug out his wallet and handed over his driver's license. The person carding him looked between him and the driver's license before chuckling. "1991? I don't believe it. Tell me, when is your birthday, Evan?" Buck flustered impossibly more as his eyes widened. "Oh, uh--" He briefly looked at Josh again before returning to the doorperson. "J-June twenty-seventh," he stammered. "Are you sure?" Buck's brow rose, and he nodded. "Yes, June 27th, 1991," he confirmed before he told himself to breathe. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm not…" he trailed off, nervous and realizing he was saying too much. "You're not what, dear?" The tone was more serious now. "I'm not used to being carded. Not recently, anyway," Buck replied with a smile and another nervous look at Josh, who was watching the exchange with a grin. The doorperson laughed before handing back his driver's license. "You haven't been to many fun bars recently, Evan. Honestly, I pegged you more as a Virgo than a Cancer." "So, I can go inside, right?" Buck tried, still nervous, as he put away his ID. "Of course, you can. I'm just flirting with you because I'm bored."

tagging people who might be interested: @holidayslinger @louisferrignojr

(this moment is inspired by all the people who used to fuck with me when carding me, so I had to stay, and they could flirt with me while my tipsy oblivious ass just got incredibly anxious and my friends would get a kick out of it because nearly every time it happened I blanked on when my birthday was)

[fizzypopsoda-comics]

I've been wanting to share this for a while now, but after playing That's Not My Neighbor, I've decided to create my Sona, Angel, in the TNMN Art Style!

Angel would share an apartment with Margarette Bubbles, since she seems like the most welcoming neighbor to have a roommate with, and she'd appreciate him using her sewed clothing as reference to draw in his sketchbook. As a Cartoonist, Angel would also get along well with Arnold Schmicht, and would sometimes collaborate in drawing cartoons to go along with Arnold's writing in his novels.

Whenever Angel comes back from work and is questioned about his facial hair being gone, he'll apologize for the inconvenience and say that he went out and had his face shaved, in which he'd then insist for the doorperson to call his roommate, Margarette, to confirm that's telling the truth about his appearance.

Just something I thought I'd make for fun to show how much I enjoy this game, hope you like it! ^^

As a Bonus, here are some Possible Doppelgangers Below:

No Glasses/Red-handed:

Happy Smile/Attitude/Red-handed:

Headless:

Toon Man:

With Beard:

(TW: Blood) Stitched Nose:

[moonamite]

The world of “That’s not my Neighbor” is so interesting and I hope we see more world building later on.

But it’s so funny to imagine the small things. Like, what if you get a haircut? What if you wear different clothes? What if you have allergies? Or if you get a scar or a bruise?

Like, what if Francis smiled one day and the doorperson had him killed for it.

[askfrancie]

does francis know sign language? i think it would be interesting if one of the neighbours was Deaf or mute and then a doppelgänger came in and was just like talking lol the doorperson on duty would immediately be like “hey now wait a minute”

anyway i think francis would probably be a super good friend to the nonverbal neighbour he just seems like a sweet guy :0) maybe if he didn’t know sign before he would make an effort to learn for them

((it’s me i’m the nonverbal neighbour))

I feel like for a lot of his life in recent years he’d been too busy to even think of picking up any new language, but after learning of the new neighbor moving in, I feel like he’d want to make an effort to communicate with them in a way that wasn’t just lip reading what he was saying, especially since he tends to mumble a bit, which would make it difficult to tell what he’s saying sometimes I imagine.

I imagine he’d pick up a book or two on learning sign language since he’d barely known even a few finger signs, he’d want to make it easier for their neighbor, along with the many other uses for the language, but mostly, first and foremost, for their neighbor.

I feel like he’d try to take as much of his free time as he could to learn and practice (he’d get excited to show their neighbor what they’ve learned, but yodu never guess considering his expression stays mostly the same a lot of the time.)

I feel like there’d be a few times where he’d accidentally fall asleep on his couch while reading it, or there’d be times where he’s trying to squeeze in any reading he can throughout his day. Like while he’s (attempting) cooking for himself or getting ready.

But I do think that he’d do his absolute best to build communication with them. Even if it might take awhile to learn a decent amount with how busy he can be

[shia176]

At my university when you go to PE, you give the doorperson your student card and in exchange you get a locker key - and today, they just looked at me and gave me a key to the girls' room's lockers 🥹

[navxry]

DIVERGENT AU : DELIVERY FOR: MS. KIRARA

-> Being the newest doorman, Kirara has a lot to keep track of, but she was still new to the job. Though, that seem to change when they found a new... 'Friend' in these trying times. (That's Not My Neighbor AU) (RULER OF LOVE TAGLIST: @xianyoon ; send an ask to be tagged) [ content warning/s: this fic contains character death and scoptophobia. If you are uncomfortable with these warnings, you are free to click away and find something else to read. Your mental health matters. ] [ <- divergent au | main page | divergent au -> ]

If you had told Kirara that she would be working as a doorman when the world has been overrun with doppleganger in the past... She would most definitely call bullshit.

Though, in a world that is overrun with them and the following eldritch abominations, she can't exactly be picky. And especially when the past job she had with delivering things went horribly with the dopplegangers running rampant.

So here she was, on her first day of the job, and she was done listening to the voice mail left behind by the D.D.D. on how to deal with them. She's not good when it comes to death and bloodshed in general, so she was sure that the job would keep her from seeing any.

And, well, she was proven wrong. So, very wrong.

Seeing each neighbor and doppleganger that came her way, the girl realized why no one bothered to take the job. It was almost a wonder with how she seem to be dealing with each turn, trying to keep herself safe as they tried to convince her of various things.

Some came with imperfect disguises and falsities, while others came in prepared with horrid tempers to boot. However confident she may be in her work, she couldn't lie and say that seeing them get 'cleaned' by the personnel... Is scary.

It reminded her of how bad it would be if she screwed up. And by Gods, she's scared of that outcome.

After having the recent doppleganger swept by the personnel, Kirara sighed and rubbed her temples. She could already hear the door from outside turn and rise, and the sound of heels clicking echoed.

When she looked back up, the doorperson blinked, seemingly caught by surprise at the disheveled appearance of what seem to be a delivery girl that entered. Messy hair tied back, tired yellow eyes that spoke of drama she could only fathom, and their appearance seem more like they were dealing with a heavy workload.

"Mm..." they hummed, their gaze soon directing itself to Kirara. Raising an eyebrow, they simply wiped their eyes, murmuring, "You seem... New. Where's Rosaria?"

Rosaria? Do they mean— oh.

"She's on vacation," the girl replied, causing the latter to nod. With a frown, they adjusted how they looked, though they seem to be holding a few packages.

"... I see. Didn't knew she'd be on one, but... At least she's getting a break from being here for 3 years."

After a while, they placed down their packages to grab the documents. It did took a while, but that didn't mean Kirara wasn't paying attention to how they looked when they aren't facing her.

Huh... I guess they look okay. Hm...

"... Here we are. Here's my ID and permit," they said, handing the items to her. "You're free to... Ask me anything, by the way."

Ah, how convenient!

"Hm... Okay. Let me check your documents and see if they check out first."

".. Alright," they murmured, holding back a yawn as they watched Kirara get to work.

With how much she's faced, she could tell that something is up with this... Delivery girl. She couldn't exactly tell what was it, as when she checked the files and information she can gather, they all checked out.

Name: Navina Last Name: Marise Apartment: F02-04 Reason: I'm a resident of the building. I come from my job as a deliveryperson.

The entry permit had the logo clear as day, and just like the previous ones she's seen, it was placed in the exact spot as she's always known. Sure, she can question them for more information, but she'll do it after.

Checking the ID, she began to glance up at the deliveryperson in front of her, as though to verify the appearance they had.

Navina Marise 1775000329

The date and their ID picture matches, and they have the logo, too.

Kirara let out a sigh, putting down the items before she checked the files. She could feel herself at ease, as they were on the list and were... Normal.

Still, it didn't mean that they were off the hook yet. She couldn't tell if they were to be trusted, and after the last doppleganger that came who seem to be near perfect, she was scared of being faced with the perfect one.

She didn't want to die. She can't. Not on her first day—

"You seem... Rather tense."

Kirara flinched.

".. Sorry, did I scare you?" the deliveryperson asked, their brows furrowed in concern. "I didn't know when to bring it up to you, since you seem... Busy, especially with checking for dopplegangers."

She could feel the tension permeate between them, but she swallowed and nodded, her frown present.

Sensing the tension, the latter shifted, their eyes darting away.

"... Sorry. Its not my intention to bother you or anything, since I understand you can't exactly feel safe with dopplegangers about. They could just be anywhere, and it'd be... Difficult to tell if they got the right disguise."

...

Shifting her gaze, she looked up towards them. She noticed though, that amidst the tension, they seem... Conflicted.

"... You seem to know how they work," she began. "Have you worked here? For the... D.D.D., I mean."

"Once," they answered, scratching their arm. "'s... not for me, though. I don't exactly deal with staring well," they explained, chuckling. "Ironic, isn't it? I had to take the next best thing and... Had to face them head on, doing deliveries and the like."

Kirara's eyes softened.

Ah. I get that feeling.

"Does it get difficult?" she asked.

"Sometimes," they replied, their lips curving to a frown. "We're.. Trained to deal with things like this. Though, the superiors didn't bother with me—said that I can tell which is which just fine from my old job here."

They scowled at this, glaring at the package resting by their side.

"... It gets difficult, though. But they won't listen. None of them do."

A beat of silence. And another.

"... Sorry," they whispered, sighing and turning their head down. "I... Don't like to complain. The world's messed up as is, and me complaining to a stranger won't do a damn thing. Not until the D.D.D. finds a way to get rid of these fuckers."

A bit callous, but it wasn't like they're doing this for the wrong reason. Kirara had too much hope that they were normal, and it seems that they are... For now.

"Hah, well, I haven't heard much from the D.D.D. myself," she told them, putting the files away. "I just got recently to this job, and since the usual doorwoman's off for a vacation, I subbed in for her."

Navina nodded in understanding, this time finding themselves able to look at her.

"Rosaria's... A good one," they began, a smile resting on their face. "She's cold and aloof, but... the D.D.D. would make a mistake in getting rid of her. She's the sharpest one, y'know."

"Are you two friends?"

Navina chuckled.

"I guess. Rosaria's the regular I used to see when I was in your place," they informed her, this time smiling—perhaps due to nostalgia, Kirara thinks. "She's got a lot to tell when she... Ah, worked as a bartender, if I remember correctly. Always complained about the others that bothered her in her shifts, and the people she's met."

Though, the smile didn't last long as they sighed, their eyes downcast.

"Though, when she worked here... She and I aren't as close. I'd sometimes speak to her about the things I found interesting, and she'd listen, but when Ms. Pegg died, she... Withdrew from everyone."

...

"... Do you still try to talk to her about it?"

"No," they whispered, closing their eyes. "I... Don't even bother. It's a heavy subject, miss, so we all made a consensus to not speak a word."

Kirara frowned. She could tell that this one was a difficult topic to cover, and since they're strangers, she can't exactly ask the things she wanted. Still, it didn't stop her from trying to befriend at least someone in this place.

"Well... If it helps, maybe she'll find comfort if you deliver something nice to her," she suggested. "Maybe something that'll... Honor ms. Pegg? For her sake?"

Navina's head turned to Kirara for a moment, their eyes remaining dead. However, she can tell there was a bit of a spark in them at the thought—an idea forming from the once burnt bridge of their relationship.

Though they seem to break from their gaze with the doorwoman, Kirara seem relieved when she saw them smile.

"... Maybe. I'll try and... Do that. When Rosaria comes back."

"Hehe, that's the spirit," she tells them. "You better tell me how it goes, okay?"

The deliveryperson nodded with a smile, but they realized something and looked over at their documents.

"Oh, right... Um, I suppose you're done checking, right?"

Oh, shoot!

"Y-Yeah!" the girl nodded, though before she can push the button, they held a hand up. They bent down to grab a package and pushed it through the shoot, their smile seemingly less confident and more nervous.

"... Here, a package from me. Please consider it a thanks for your hardwork, miss," they said, watching Kirara take it with both hands. Inspecting the package, she couldn't help but smile happily at the thought.

Sure, the world was bleak, but... This one may have given her the hope she needs. The light that shows that not everything is as bad as she thinks.

"Thank you so much," she tells them, opening the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

This caught them by surprise.

...

Then, the doorwoman saw them smile.

It reached their eyes this time.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just as they stepped through, the door closed behind them, and finally... Kirara can clock out.

She needs to rest when she gets home. She's got a busy day tomorrow, after all.

@/navxry | do not repost my works | 2024 | entry for may ebg 2024 by @/xianyoon

[henrydoorman]

Hello fellow doorperson,just another day, keeping neighbors safe?

*waving and smiling*

((ooc:this is my first time doing a rp here,lol, I'm honestly lost))

“Yep just another day..how are you?”

[nachamikaelys]

Like the feeling after a successful hunt? Knowing you did a good enough job to fool the doorperson and being rewarded with food?

..Sure, But usually for someone else

[roleplayfinder]

Hi! This is an absolute longshot, but I'm lookkng to write as Francis Moses aka The Milkman from That's Not My Neighbor against someone else's OC. I was specifically looking to play as Doppelganger Francis against a human OC, could be the doorperson, could be a building resident, up to you.

I'm 24 so no minors, and please be literate or semi-lit. Please add me at my discord, hikikomourning , if you're interested! Thank you!

.

[batemanofficial]

my roommate's stupid boyf has been here for the past like 3 days and i'm toying with the idea of snitching on her (we're not supposed to have overnight guests without emailing our roommates and cc'ing the doorperson) (she did not email me).......i don't wanna be a snitch but i also don't want this random man in my house

[soft-doorwoman]

"Oh, hello there! I'm Cheryl Elwood, a doorperson like you. Nice to meet you" She offer her hand to her to shake hand.

[@cheryl-elwood ]

"Oh my, I'm delighted to meet you,miss Cheryl! It's wonderful to make your acquaintance, I'm always happy to meet and befriend a fellow doorperson,we can share knowledge and have fun times together,I hope you feel welcome here!"

she says with a big smile,she shakes your hand with a firm but gentle grasp