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trulyumai · 24 days

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Oh, Mr mosses (Series!) V

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Hello everyone, a bit longer of a chapter but thats okay! After Thursday I will be final free! Which means I'll have more time for writing and answering requests, thank you for your patience! <3

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death, Mutilation.

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 @itoshilvr @wilddreamer98 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

God, even the way she laid there, limp against the office wall was everything to him.

Biting down on 28 only crunches and squelches echoed through the room, the said man laid in pieces by his feet.

He casually sat there in her squeaky chair, munching on a limb like it was normal; an everyday hobby.

Humming a familiar tune he threw the rest of the arm past him, somewhere towards the cabinets, he had to guess.

With his feet on the desk he sighed.

Soon the D.D.D would learn of his presence, his safety would be at risk and his little toy would be in even more danger than she already was.

Maybe he would take her, hide her away to be his little wife. That is what they’re called, aren’t they?

First things first; he had to dispose of the replica.

Clicking his teeth he scratched his nails on the wood beside him.

That fucking fool. A useless mirror image he copied.

He had to learn everything about the man before taking his face; starting with his job, his hobbies, his routes, down to the fucking shampoo he preferred. Until it got to his favorite area, the most recent addition in his life; the pretty receptionist.

He knew it would be so easy to manipulate the woman. Her mind was so weak compared to him, with just a tad bit of bending (Mentally and a bit physically), he molded her perfectly for him.

Enough to not only get access to the building, but to her as well.

She groaned as she laid there, she must be having a nightmare. He hoped it involved him, with some image of the mimic biting chunks out or flesh, kissing them as he went on. Holding back a grin he decided to move her, before someone else were to poke their nose in the already bloodied business of theirs. He pulled her up until she reached his chest and eyed the old corroded clipboard by the door.

Going down the list of names he got to her; room 24 Level 2.

Stepping through the red he rubbed his feet on 28’s corpse, letting the leftover blood dry on his once white, button up. We wouldn’t want a little trail now would we?

Clicking the green button he passed 28 once more, whistling lowly as the elevator pushed its doors open with a groan.

Stepping in his clawed finger pressed the second button on the wall, watched as the doors came together with a satisfying thunk.

Belly satiated and full, he looked down at the woman in his arms, her head was lolled to the side, leaning firmly on his chest. Grinning wide he bent towards her, pressing a sloppy, bloody kiss to her forehead, cheek and nose.

The box dinged once again, the doors slid open loudly to indicate their arrival to her floor.

Walking through the corridor, he read the numbers idly

10, 12, 14,

A turn left

16, 18, 20-

A creek escaped, some neighbor had opened their door, just up ahead.

It was that rich suited prick.

“Ah! Francis, lovely to- is that the receptionist?” His grin was hesitant, eying the girl with bloody marks on her face.

He could kill him now, but it would be more of a mess to deal with, he doubted he could hide another body from the D.D.D.

Mustering up a smile, his sharp teeth gritted together.

“She’s ah, not feeling well,” attempting to move past the pompous man and walk towards her door just steps away, the man stopped them once more and put a hand out for extra measure.

Growling he slowly turned, met the eyes of the man once more.

“Do we have a problem,” he gritted, claws digging into the poor girl below him.

“Well- ah, tell her to visit me when she feels up to it,”

He put his hand back at his side, rubbing his fingers idly.

“I have a job opportunity for her, you see!”

Not bothering to waste anymore time, he pressed on to her room. Ignoring the suited man's stares as he clicked her key into place, shoving them both inside before slamming the door.

“Fucking prick.” He muttered.

But now he was all alone, could touch and prod at the girl with no interruptions.

Looking around he noticed the apartment was tidy; everything had a place, plants sat by the darkened windowsill and beside them, a full bookcase was laid about. Her kitchen was spotless, only a few decorative items littered the counters while the sink was, of course, empty.

Holding her up with one hand he scratched at his gums, pieces of bone were starting to prod against his teeth, becoming more annoying than painful.

Looking for her bedroom he propped open a door with his shoulder, and with a thump, dumped her unceremoniously on the mattress.

It was then, he realized.

“Oh fuck.”

Bolting angrily back towards the door, the hallway and elevator as fast as he could, he bit down on his annoyingly human cheek; hard.

He left the elevator unlocked.

Any other mimic could come through freely and he really couldn’t have that.

Another competition for his food? Yeah no, fuck that. He hated how territorial his kind was, made everything a pain in the ass to retrieve and made survival even more strenuous.

It’s why he found himself here; In this little rundown apartment, with surprisingly good security.

Being denied and caught over and over made everything so much more satisfying, because he knew that if he waited- stuck around for the right moment, he’d get in.

Watched plenty of his kind die too, before deciding to take a shape of his own, and finally, making his way to the pretty and gullible receptionist.

Mashing the first floor button he clawed at his face, light red marks dented down with each press of his fingers.

Ironically enough, he’s the one that has to distinguish between what’s real and fake now.

Waiting for the elevator he growled.

“What a pain in the ass.”

——

The milkman was tired. Getting in, absolutely no one was there to check his ID, and he wondered if the receptionist was okay (Yet again). It seemed that lately, that’s all he could think about. Her health, the way she smiled, her pretty hands.

Not once had she missed any of her shifts, and although he had only been there for a short time, he would always hear from the neighbors how dutiful she was.

Come sickness, fatigue, anything, she would be there.

Walking past the office, his fingers shook cautiously by his sides.

Enough was enough, he would talk to her, he couldn’t avoid her forever and his little, “crush,” wasn’t going away anytime soon.

So with a long intake of air. He pressed her floor number.

It was now or never.

The doors closed, and the travel up began.

Floor1

Ding!

Floor 2

Ding!

With his head pointed downwards he heard the doors sliding open before walking forward, passing a quick figure to his left. Not bothering to greet them he kept his head down.

The anxiety was getting to him and wait- he didn’t even know what room she was in!

Head up, he turned back toward the figure that passed him.

They obviously resided on this floor, maybe he could attempt to ask them about her room without completely looking like a creep.

But what he saw he just couldn’t explain- rationally describe.

His face stared back at him, it was set in a scowl while he noticed vast amounts of blood adorned his usually crisp white shirt. The doors were on their way to closing, and this version of him reached out to stop it.

He was too late, the metal doors crashed together and Francis could feel his heart jumping out of his chest.

What the actual fuck was going on.

Was he that tired?

Grabbing his face he turned back, mumbling incessant comforts to stop the beats of his heart from getting any faster.

He needed to find her room, and fast.

The first thing she noticed was her head. It boomed with an unfathomable amount of pressure, and she was hesitant to open her eyes.

She felt around, immediately recognizing the comfort of her own duvet, the silkiness of her pillows, the faint wafts of the candle she lit the night prior. It calmed the tenseness found between her shoulders, instantly relaxing against the cushioned material.

With a muffled groan she allowed her eyelids to slink up, her messy room greeted her vision.

Not remembering the trip up, she laid there, stretched out and confused.

Craning her head just off the side of the bed, the receptionist glanced towards the hallway; to her front door that was wide open.

Jerking up, her feet collided with one another, and looking more like a newborn calf than human she attempted her way to the front of the room.

Never before had a fatigue caused this much confusion; chaos to her mind.

Something had to be wrong.

She remembered clocking in, idly sitting by as the clock ticked and ticked. After that it was all blank- it startled her to no end.

With a hand on the door frame her figure leaned on the wall, just outside her abode.

Biting her lip she held back a whimper, the bright lights of the hall burned her eyes, she tried to go off of memory, closing her eyes as she felt for every familiar bump and groove of the space.

Turning to where she remembered the elevator was, someone bumped into her- hard.

“My goodness!” That voice… could it really be?

“Francis?” Squinting her eyes she blinked repeatedly, trying to get the figure to focus in her vision.

“H-Hey,” the deep voice answered back, smiling, as she knew it was the tired mailman. Only he could have such a serious yet flustered sounding voice.

“I've been looking for you,”

The man gripped the girl's shoulders, light yet firm and bent down just to meet her gaze.

“Some… things have been happening, I wanted to see if you were okay.” Flustered, the girl forced out a laugh, taking a hand off her shoulder she gripped it softly.

“I'm okay, you look more disheveled than me, big guy, what's up?” Kneading the flesh around his knuckles the man couldn't help but relax.

She smelled so good- of lilac and vanilla, it invaded his senses and corrupted his mind. He couldn't even remember the duplicate until it was shoved back by his consciousness.

Letting out a low moan he shook his head. ‘Focus Francis, god-’

“I have to talk to you,” he blurted out, face getting warmer as she paused her movement, and looked right at him.

Letting out a giggle she rested her arm, just so it leaned comfortably in the crook of his elbow.

“Okay? My rooms around the corner, if you wanna talk there?”

Not relying on his words he nodded his head, letting the girl lightly pull his arm to her apartment.

Now, he just had to figure out how to explain his bloody twin.

Should be easy!

And if she calls him crazy, and ultimately pushes him out of the apartment- possibly building, at least he got to get this close to her.

Smelling her, touching her, it was better than living alone with his thoughts- tormenting him every hour of the week that he lazily spent thinking about her anyway.

Inhaling her flowery scent once more he shuddered, he hoped the pretty girl would believe him, so he could once more bask in her presence and ignore every little thing around.

#francis mosses x reader #horror #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #francis mosses x you #game x reader #horror game #x reader #fanfiction #romance #Mimic #Thank you Caseoh for showing me this game ILY

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tishalfdeadwaffles · 20 days

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(The secret history spoiler warning)

unironically the thing I love most about the secret history is that it’s messed up by all means. Each character from the Greek class is messed up one way or another, and their faults, their fatal flaws—they’re not just any flaws no, they’re flaws that make these characters horrid. Yes they had cute interactions, yes I always think about their time in the countryhouse, when they were by the lake and Camilla injured her foot, Francis in his robe and Henry in his suit with the trousers rolled up to the knees, looking like a banker in an old impressionist painting, as he wades into the water, Charles saving Richard a sandwich and almost getting in trouble for it, bunny being kind to Richard at the start of the book and trusting him to the very end, the way bunny and Marion were so old married couple coded, Judy Poovey talking Richard’s ears off and being a girl 🎀, Henry beating up that jock for Camilla

Despite all this, Charles remains an incestuous drunkard and an abuser, Francis remains a melodramatic man who’d ask just about anyone he thinks attractive to bed on the first meeting, he’s also an anxious mess and refuses to believe there are consequences to his chain smoking, Camilla is manipulative and we know little of her bc of Richard’s idolisation, Richard morbidly longing for the picturesque at the expense of others’ lives and viewing the Greek class through rose tinted glasses, bunny was a homophobe and racist and leeched off everyone’s money—he literally put Richard on the spot during one of their first interactions in the book when he took him to the Brasserie and had Henry pay for everything—and looking through his sick friend’s diary and he was so darn annoying I couldn’t stand him at all in the first read, and even that might as well be exaggerated because it’s only Richard’s perspective on him, and bunny seemed to be well liked in the university by those outside the Greek class. I don’t even know where to start with Henry, I’m gonna have to make a separate post for him alone at this point. And even Judy, remember when Richard met her in the bathroom and she was talking about her slamming into Camilla when Camilla JUST entered the place, and when Camilla called her out Judy just dunked her beer on her because being drunk is a perfect excuse to see that as the right thing to do? And then when Henry and Charles went up to defend Camilla Judy called them abusers for defending her? 😭 though Henry breaking Spike’s bones is another thing to be honest. and don’t get me started on the bacchanal—the four of them killing an innocent man in their frenzy and getting away with it and brushing it under the rug later on. They’re literal murderers, and that’s before the plan of murdering Bunny was introduced

and ALL of them are chainsmokers and alcoholics to a dangerous point, can you even imagine the smell?????

anyhow, the main point of this ramble, is that to get a good sense of what this book is really about, I’d suggest rereading it at least once. Donna is a master of her craft, and this work of hers is anything but shallow, even the flaws are so perfectly placed and shadowed by our unreliable narrator to the point where there’s a big bunch of readers who completely ignore them (think of how there’s critics and readers who assume that Lolita is a romance novel) , but if you look from a more rational angle you’ll understand what Donna was trying to communicate

and I love love love how she did all of this

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #tsh #the secret history #the secret history Donna tartt #henry winter #richard papen #bunny corcoran #francis abernathy #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #The Greek class #tw spoilers #tsh spoilers

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