tomorrow's the anniversary — trade with @fallowwisp
summary: tomorrow was the death anniversary of a loved one to greta and she spends the night playfully wrestling with stephanie to honor her memory.
word count: 1114 words
warnings: mentioned death
a/n: i just realized ren and stephanie both share the same pains of losing their loved one to a doppel :(( and it's probably why stephen felt so drawn to her. oh well, at least they're comforting each other and being all lovey-dovey. hey, if you're curious about trading with me for a fic, read this post!
credits: @fallowwisp for their real cute ren x stephanie thumbnail art & @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers
Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the death of a beloved person in someone's loving memory.
Night fell and the stars decorated the night sky and the moon was full as Ren crossed her arms over the windowsill and looked out the window. It reminded her of when Greta used to do something like this when she would babysit her, and they'd point at stars and name them something fancy like 'Jupi', 'Terra', or 'Peter'--- Okay, maybe not very fancy names. --- but when Ren pointed towards the moon, she said she couldn't think of a name and just referred to it as a delicious block of cheese.
She couldn't be more right about that. Ren giggled softly to herself. It does look like cheese… A really delicious block of cheese.
A sigh escaped her and her lips set into a deep frown as she slumped forward against the windowsill.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and rested a chin on her shoulder. "Rough day?" That all-too familiarly raspy voice with a dry tone greeted her from behind and Ren turned her head to the side to nuzzle her face into her girlfriend's neck. Not wanting to worry her, Ren opted for a different response, "Mmmhm…" Ren replied and sighed into her neck. "But I'm not tired yet, what about you, Steph?"
"Work wasn't too demanding today so I have energy."
Stephanie blinked towards Ren whose entire face lit up all of a sudden. She remembered something that Greta always liked to ask of her back then and how she always rejected it in one way or another. Maybe tonight would be her way of finally honoring that request, albeit with another person.
"We should wrestle!"
"What?" Stephanie was taken aback by Ren's sudden request.
"Come on, I've always wanted to see how strong you are, Steph." Ren giggled and turned in her arms to observe her reaction more closely. Usually, Stephanie didn't show much on her face, but Ren knew better and saw the way her brow twitched subtly.
Stephanie heaved a sigh, "I might hurt you, Ren."
"You won't, don't worry about me!" Ren shook her head, recalling that it was the same reason she used for Greta back then, too. "Don't these bad girls tell you I'm a worthy competitor?" She lifted one arm into the air and curled her forearm into her elbow, making the muscles of her biceps bulge. Stephanie stared at it and swallowed once as her face began to look red.
"…Fine." Ren smiled and clapped her hands slowly. Stephanie shook her head and suddenly smirked, which made Ren blink and her cheeks heat up in confusion. "But you're going to regret that."
"Wha-"
Already with her arms wrapped around Ren's waist, she lifted her up effortlessly and backed towards the bed before toppling her over in quick succession. Ren 'eep'ed and rolled over, but she didn't let herself stay down --- just as quickly, she curled to the side and elbowed Stephanie's back as she landed anticlimactically onto the mattress on a missed tackling attempt.
"Ow!"
"Sorry!-" But she wasn't actually sorry, for she ended up locking her arm around Steph's anyway and squeezing it tightly with her muscles. Stephanie pounded her fist on the side of the bed before somehow mustering all the strength to roll Ren over onto her stomach below her and lock her arm behind her.
She squeezed tightly, which made Ren hiss with a grit of her teeth, counted One… Two… in her head before a kick below her legs sent her falling onto the bed on her back and giving the brunette girl with the scarred lip above her a chance to strike back. What she did next surprised Stephanie herself though- because she didn't even bother incapacitating her physically. Instead, she pressed an arm on the mattress beside her girlfriend's head, practically pinning her there and locking her in place.
"Wow," Stephanie blinked up at her and then smiled. Ren smiled back, thinking she had finally gotten the best of her muscular pilot girlfriend, and as Stephanie's hands reached up towards her, she expected her to cradle her face and congratulate her, but instead, it aimed for her neck, right under her chin where the spot she was ticklish the most resided, and began her merciless assault.
"Haha- Hah-! Wait-!"
Under Stephanie's surprise attack, Ren laughed hysterically and completely forgot her role as Stephanie's most worthy wrestling competitor as she rolled onto her side with tears gathering in the corner of her eyes from all the laughing.
"Oh gosh- make it stop! Bwahahahaha!!"
"Not unless you deem me the champion first." Stephanie deadpanned as she continued her assault and smiled sadistically at her girlfriend's suffering under her hands.
"Okay-! Okay, fine- you're-!"
Stephanie's hands slowed down its assault and that's when she made her mistake--- because Ren quickly jumped forward and pinned her back towards the bed. Her eyes locked onto her neck in particular, fingers poised and ready to descend upon the underneath of her chin to receive a taste of her own medicine. But when it did, well…
"…Is that the best you can do?" Stephanie smirked back.
"I-I'm trying-" Her fingers moved towards other spots, trying to find anything that could be used against the smug woman that was still below her, but instead, all spots came up null--- Stephanie wasn't ticklish anywhere. "What're you, my pa? You're not ticklish anywhere!"
"Yeah, too bad," Stephanie snorted.
Ren rolled her eyes, but quickly got distracted anyway when Stephanie wrapped her arms around her waist. Her face from up close looked just as beautiful as ever, and she still couldn't believe that she had the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world right under her and smiling. Steph reached up and wiped the corner of her eyes that had somehow gathered tears and she fell on top of her completely, snuggling into her form.
Remembering Greta, Ren imagined how the kid would react if she knew she was dating this beautiful, strong, smart and kind woman in front of her. If she were to have been alive this far into the future…
She would be happy… She'd have more than one person to demand a piggyback ride from now. Ren sniffled.
Stephanie's hand laid on top of Ren's head and began to gently stroke the back of her hair. "…You don't have to go through tomorrow alone, alright?"
"Yeah…" And Ren relaxed into it as she closed her eyes and drifted herself back to sleep.
Tomorrow was the anniversary of the death of a beloved person in someone's loving memory, and Ren didn't have to go through it alone.
made by who???? try aka @notmyy4 that's whattt!! for this fic they requested of their oc and nacha + francis ehe
OKAY FIRST OFF!!!! I AM SO FREAKING HONORED TO BE TRADING WITH LITERALLY NOTMYY4???? MY MOST FAVORITE TNMN ARTIST EVER????????? back when i was in the og fandom i was literally so taken with their works because of how they do the neighbors' features justice and the coloring is so decadent i feel like if i ated it it would taste like perfectly toasted toast with decadent chocolate spread waughh dsjfhjahakhd
WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY, i am IN LOVEEEEEEEE i was fangirling about this yesterday and i still am, literally jumped for joys and screamttttttt. anastacha looks so pretty and she's really growing up awwww. david looks nonchalant but WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE BRO (the biggest anastacha simp)
as a bonus, it was actually based on this scene from my olden DavidTacha fic hehe
David is one awkward teenage boy and his age shows lmaoaoaoao
summary: plain nacha dating the school's heartthrob is bound to get some looks, but when she was insulted on a double date for resorting to wearing her mom's dress and her boyfriend didn't do anything about it, she stormed out on them and met a certain strange boy who always sat alone during lunchtime.
word count: 2093 words
warnings: period-accurate sexism, ron granger
a/n: getting to trade with my most favorite tnmn artist EVER???? someone pinch meeeeeeeee is this the real life or is this just fantasy /lyr i had fun writing the milkbread dynamic in this one and made it extra sweet considering the og future stuff they will have is so freaking bitter (/pos). LET ME AT RONNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!! hey, if you're curious about trading with me for a fic, read this post!
credits: @notmyy4 for the amazing francis and nacha thumbnail art & @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers
Nacha knew full well she wasn't your run-of-the-mill popular girl who's extremely pretty---she wasn't perfectly skinny and even she didn't bother with a few bed hairs here and there---, but she was the straight-A student of her school who had her entire future set for her because of her intellect.
And Ron, the guy she was dating, was the school heartthrob. Nacha was smart enough to figure out that talks were gonna happen before she even agreed to him asking her out, but knowing something didn't equate to being unaffected by it. In fact, all it did was make her more frustrated, because people, as they were, couldn't somehow find it in them to mind their own businesses even after how many days had passed.
She would even go so far as to say that it was worse than their usual school gossip, because at least those faded into obscurity the moment someone opened their mouth about another one of Stacy's flings, but this didn't.
People would always think of her as the girl that never deserved Ron.
And it was even more obvious now, in front of her supposed friend with her boyfriend as they stared at her with a look that bordered on disgust mixed in with confusion. What they were so confused about? Probably strands of her curly hair that had gone rogue, maybe the way she had her back slightly hunched, or even her slightly wider nostrils from breathing slightly harder! They always found something to pick on when it came to her, and who wouldn't when the man next to her had looks equivalent to that of a Greek statue?
"Nacha…" That pitying tone… Nacha chewed on her lower lip, already aware of what was coming next. "That dress… isn't it a little too plain for a double date?"
Nacha's eyes blinked open wide. Of all the things they could insult her with, it just had to be her dress. The double date had come on such a short notice and before that, her only other dress that came in handy for these ostentatious events had been ruined when someone accidentally spilled their potent drink on her and ruined the color. Her mother lent her a dress from her own wardrobe, knowing she was distressed from not having anything to wear, and she had thought the blue polka-dotted dress was cute and modest enough for their tastes. But it seemed as if nothing she ever tried to do for these people was enough for them.
"Hah, that's what I told her!" Nacha's pupils moved quickly towards the corner of her eyes where her boyfriend sat languidly with his arms stretched wide over the seat's headrest behind him. His leg crossed over the other as he smirked. "It looks like something my mom would wear. Like, sheesh, what are you? In your 50s?"
The entire table burst into laughter except for Nacha who clenched her hands in her lap and gritted her teeth. What kind of boyfriend says that about their girlfriend in front of others? Nacha told him the circumstance surrounding her wardrobe change and he chose to make fun of it anyway?
"Haaa…" Ron wheezed loudly and noticed his girlfriend's dim expression. After rolling his eyes, he nudged her shoulder playfully in an attempt to coax her into speaking up. "Come on, babe, you should learn to take a joke."
"A joke?" When she finally bit back, the table around her turned silent. "I've been the brunt of the same joke ever since I started dating you, Ron, and it's getting fucking old!"
"Yeesh, smarty pants, tone your language down." Her 'friend''s boyfriend sassed and making Nacha's cheeks flush even more.
"You're not part of this!"
"Babe, calm down, are you on that time of the month again?"
At this point, Nacha could practically feel hot steam sizzling out of her ears and making her even angrier. "No! I'm not on my period-" Ron cringed, "-and I'm done hearing talks of how I'm out of your league so many times!" Tears began gathering in the corner of her eyes.
"Baby, you're embarrassing me right now…" Ron groaned. "Let's be reasonable here. It's just a dress, why do you suddenly have to make it all about yourself? You're fine the way you look! It's just the dress…"
"This was a dress from my mom, alright?!"
…
Silence ensued as the girl in front of her and her boyfriend looked at each other and shook their heads.
"Makes sense." Ron shrugged.
Nacha has had enough. She pounded both hands onto the table, gathered her bag and slung it around her shoulder before storming out on them. Stupid Ron and his stupid friends… Nacha wiped at the corner of her eyes stricken with tears, and turned a sharp right towards a corner of the diner. Unable to take any more of the emotions that were begging to explode on the surface, she ended up slumping onto the dark red wallpaper beside her.
With her back to the wall, she slowly slid off while sniffling and eventually fell completely onto the floor completely sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her knees and cradled her head in its confines while weeping.
Ugh, look at you… Nacha sniffled and wiped at her cheek for the beads of sadness that streaked down the slope of her skin. Pathetic, just as ugly as they say…
Her sobbing continued on for minutes until she felt something foreign touch her cheek and when she opened her eyes to see what it was, she saw ---even in the blurry haze--- a paper tissue being handed towards her.
"Here…" A soft-spoken masculine voice called out to her and it made Anastacha's cheeks flush with more than just the previous anger that had built up.
Ugh, of course someone can see you, Nacha… You're crying in the middle of a restaurant, not in a bathroom. Still, the thought of how she must have looked like in that moment made her unable to speak. Instead, she swiftly grabbed the tissue from whatever good Samaritan decided to grace her with their presence's hand and quickly fixed herself up with it.
"Careful… Don't do it too fast…"
She slowed down somewhat but was still in an obvious hurry to remove all evidence of flimsy emotion in the heat of the moment from her face. The man who had given her the tissue sighed as she finally opened her eyes to look up at her savior, fully intending to thank him until she saw what she was looking at and the words vanished before it could leave her mouth.
It's that kid… Nacha's eyes widened slightly, taking in his features--- the tired eyes, the sharp brown hair, and that hooked nose. There was no denying it.
"Mmm… You looked sad… No one usually cries in the middle of a restaurant…"
Nacha narrowed her eyes at him and pouted, not sure what to make of what he just said --- Was that an insult or…? Thinking about it, however, it was true that people didn't usually make floor break(down)s in the middle of a public establishment, lest they want to make a fool of themselves and be on the headlines of her high school's school-sanctioned newspaper. At that, Nacha let out a snort and hauled herself up, "Yeah, you're right. I'm the first one who's done it."
As she sat down next to him, he arched a brow towards her. "Why are you so sure of that…?"
Nacha rolled her eyes, it was so obviously a joke and yet it still managed to fly over his head. Oh well, she supposed from the dark bags under his eyes, he probably didn't have half a mind to think of anything too deeply.
"It's a joke, I'm Nacha. Nice to meet you."
"…Francis."
So it is him. Nacha swallowed. "I've seen you around. You always liked to sit by yourself, I'm surprised you're letting me sit with you."
Francis blinked. "You sat down yourself…" Nacha's brow twitched. "Besides… People don't usually sit with me, that's why…"
"Really? You don't seem mean-" Maybe a bit of an airhead. "-and you handed me that tissue just now so you must be really nice."
"That's not what they say…"
"Is it the eyes?"
Francis nodded, but didn't explain any further. Silence ensued for a few moments before he spoke up once more, "That, and I just try to get by… What's the point of befriending people in high school…? We'll all… yawn… graduate anyway…"
"That may be true, but you might go to college with some of them."
"Mmm…" He waved his hand dismissal. "It's a slim chance…"
Nacha sighed, somewhat annoyed by his pessimistic ideology. Still, he seemed to be genuine about it, and that just made it more sadder. "Why were you crying anyway…?"
"Oh- that…" Nacha frowned, recalling what they said about her and pinched the fabric of her dress to stretch it absentmindedly before releasing it with a sigh. "Hey, if you were to date the prettiest girl in school, how would you feel about being compared to her all the time?"
"The prettiest girl in school…?" Francis blinked. "That's subjective…"
"It's a hypothetical!" Nacha sighed and crossed her arms. Why was she even getting so worked up about his obliviousness? Whatever. "The point is, they keep comparing you to her, saying how she's much better than you, saying bad things about your looks and all of that…" She groaned. "It's a just an 'if' statement, alright?"
"…So that's what happened to you…"
"I'm not saying- ack- okay, fine! It is what happened! But with Ron…"
"Who?"
"Don't tell me. You don't know who Ron is?"
Francis shrugged.
"Oh my God…" Nacha couldn't help but cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You said you're just trying to get by and you don't even know some of the biggest names in school."
Francis tilted his head to the side, "I don't know him, but… I know you."
"Huh?" Nacha's face lit up.
"You're that girl who always took up the window seat in the library… You always look so focused while reading, it makes me wonder what it is you're reading…"
Nacha blinked twice and her face heated up. "You- you noticed that?"
"Mmm… Yeah… And you have pretty red curls and freckles and blue-and-green eyes… It's hard to forget you…"
She couldn't believe it. Was she really hearing all this from someone she only saw at lunch and didn't label further than the 'weird kid who sat alone at lunch'? And why was she getting so excited and flustered over it anyway?!
"Hah… You're just saying that. People say my clothes are plain, I don't have the energy or time to fix all my bed hairs down, and compared to-"
"Would I have recognized you if you looked plain…?"
"What- what does that mean…?'
"Mmm… I don't know…"
Nacha blinked and sighed. What did I expect… Still, hearing that from someone who barely interacted with anyone and looked like he was two nights of unrest away from stepping out of his body, it was… oddly nice. And definitely sounded more genuine than whatever Ron was even trying to pull back there. He has a point, Nacha herself barely saw other women who had all the features he listed about her. And wasn't that the reason why Ron approached her in the first place? …Okay, probably not. But still, if her looks caught the attention of someone who looked so absentminded and didn't even know who Ron is, then she wasn't at all the plain ugly girl that they gossiped in halls about when referring to her.
Finally, she stood up.
"Mmm…?"
Nacha shook her head. She wasn't just going to storm out and prove to be nothing more than a cowardly dog with her tail tucked between her legs! After all, she was Nacha Mikaelys; a straight-A student, the one who caught Francis Mosses's attention, and Ron Granger's girlfriend.
"I'm going to go back."
"Go back where…?"
"To my date. I kind of stormed out on them." Nacha scratched her cheek and smiled sheepishly.
"Okay…"
Nacha smiled and waved him goodbye, sprinting back towards her abandoned double date with renewed confidence. And in the back of her mind, as she sat back with her group and they laughed and chatted on like nothing happened, she made sure that next time, she would leave a thank you note on that lonely desk Francis always sat on.
summary: on his day-off, francis had expected to be lulled to sleep but ended up meeting a strange character who apparently knows of his murders.
word count: 2231 words
warnings: morbid objects, mentions of murder and mutilation, malicious intent
a/n: triple trouble!!!! writing ambrose was like breathing air, it came so naturally to me lmaoo. hey, if you're curious about trading with me for a fic, read this post!
credits: @thescarletkiller for the real angsty sk!francis thumbnail art & @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers
Yesterday had been one, extremely tiring day for Francis.
Yet another husband was home that day and accused him of sleeping with her wife when the mailman was sweating more about it than he was. On the bright side, no actual beatdown happened ---like they usually do--- and Francis got off with a heart heavy with annoyance but at least with no scars. Lord knows he can't keep splurging on medical supplies because some people like to swing their fist at any given time without any decent reason.
But today, home sweet home it is, and he is finally free from having to likely face off against another situation like that, with the worn down couch as his only friend in these trying times. And as he plopped down onto it, an object that had been squeezed between the head rest and the cushions was spit out in front of Francis, revitalizing the light in his eyes even if it was only a small ray.
Nacha… Francis frowned as he cradled the polaroid of a redhead woman with curly hair and the most beautiful freckled face, smiling wide at the camera. Oh, how he missed her. Why did she have to leave? He was doing so well, and yet… His eyes closed tightly. Perhaps if he couldn't see her now, with this picture as his reminder, he might see her in his dreams.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Francis's eye twitched but he kept his eyes shut, trying to drown out the knocking sounds by imagining the sound of Nacha's voice lulling him to sleep. That high-pitched but sweet, melodious voice of hers that never failed to make him feel at ease made him grin ear-to-ear until-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
His eyes blew open wide and he let out a low grunt. The only person that could think of bothering him on his day-off would be the D.D.D. and yet he was pretty sure that they usually would turn the lights red in his room whenever they did that. This was just plain, rude knocking. And when the third loud sequence of three knocks happened again, Francis found himself rising to his feet quickly to stop it from becoming a fourth.
Francis's steps were rushed and he opened the door haphazardly on the third knock that was about to happen and he came face-to-face with the most curious guest that he had ever since on his doorstep. Ambrose, was it? Francis vaguely recalled from what the neighbors had spoken about him that he was a cold man who would cruelly prank other tenants with his 'mouth tarantula' trick---and Nacha had been one of his victims. Immediately, his mouth was set in a thin line and he expressed no enthusiasm in this surprise visit.
Still, it wouldn't do him any good to be rude to him. Small talk before other things, right? That's what his mother told him. Right now, he really wanted to drag this man inside and stab him to his rightful death, but he knew better than to go against his mother's teachings and lose his 'manners'.
"Mmm… Good morning…" He greeted flatly with a small nod of his head.
"You're Francis Mosses, right? The milkman?" The man didn't miss a single beat, which only made Francis more tense. "I've seen you around."
"You too." Or whatever he wanted Francis to say in that moment. Seriously, how does one even respond to that?
"I know it's you." Mmm- huh? "You've been killing people and mutilating their faces and bodies to the point that, if it weren't for individual apartments and their tenants being tracked, they wouldn't be identified at all."
Francis gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. "…That's a dangerous claim to make. Are you certain you want to keep going with this assumption?"
"I want to know why you do it. What's your agenda?"
"I have no agenda. If you think I'm one of your cartoony villains in a cartoon show who plans to destroy the world, you're being childish. I'm not going around doing anything for fun."
"…You just confirmed that you are the killer."
His eye twitched and his extremely red eyes looked even more tired --- like they were going to pop a vein any second now. He stepped into Ambrose's personal space but the man didn't step back. "If you already know what happens to those people, then you should know I don't make exceptions."
"With mutilating their faces and bodies? I know. I'm the mortician."
Francis scoffed. "Then what are you here for?"
"Morbid curiosity, nothing more, nothing less." Ambrose met his intense gaze without any indication of fear in his eyes---not even a waver of his pupils. "Since you've confirmed to me that you're responsible for doing it. I want to know: why? What is your modus operandi here?"
"…Tsk, no matter what, you won't get me to say it."
"I won't tell the police."
"Still no. And if you're dead set on finding out, I will make sure there are no traces of you ever coming here after I'm done with you."
Ambrose sighed. It was tough luck trying to get someone to admit to their reasons, especially one for murder --- a normal person would conclude that, but he was not a normal person.
"The reason why I'm in my job is because of how aesthetically pleasing it is."
"...Pleasing? To see what? Dead people?" Francis snapped back.
Ambrose didn't let himself be baited. "Exactly. Corpses of all kinds are fascinating. The way your victims specifically had been horribly mutilated made me interested. Were you doing it for fun or for survival? You can say whatever, but I'd be disappointed if it was the latter."
"Hah…" What does it matter to me if this guy gets disappointed? But it wasn't survival either. For Francis, killing had been a favor to himself and society. Most of the folks he had killed had been nothing but scums to him, after all. So what did it matter? On the other hand, his previous kills had also become gratifying in a way. He might even go so far as to say that killing had been satisfying. Seeing the corpses he had mutilated beyond recognition, the way tissue and flesh merged together to create one beautiful red mess was so revitalizing. "The sight is… mmm… satisfying, I guess."
"You think so, too?"
Taken aback with confusion, Francis nodded his head slowly, while still feeling a bit suspicious.
"…My apartment is downstairs. We can talk there."
"Why not here?"
"I have a collection of gore, skulls, and other morbidities downstairs and it's not like it'll appear in your room out of nowhere."
"…I'll think about it."
Ambrose shrugged. "Suit yourself."
And then he was gone, like he hadn't just earned a target on his back from snooping his nose where it didn't belong. Well, it's not like he could actually kill the guy so soon after his previous one. Looks like he'd have to hold out.
Francis tsk'ed and stepped back into his apartment before kicking the door back into being closed.
That collection doesn't sound too bad…
And it looked like he was going to have something to do one of these days after all.
Two weeks later, Francis would be facing a door that he didn't think he'd be facing during his time while being in the apartment.
And as he stood in front of the red door to F02-05, he felt a sense of unease that he couldn't quite shake off. As far as he was concerned, Ambrose wasn't the only tenant of this room, and there was another person… Someone that Francis did not at all want to come face-to-face with, but it had to be done.
He lifted a hand up and knocked his knuckles against the wooden frame three times. It opened quick--- far too quickly for Francis's liking.
"Oh." Disappointment was already evident from her tone, but she still strained a smile towards Francis. Saeko, Francis recalled was her name. His blood boiled at the sight of her; after all, she was one of the only other people in the apartment who could talk with Nacha freely while he was forbidden to even go up to her apartment door. "Hello, Francis." He was just about to open his mouth but she cut him off faster. "No, sorry. Nacha isn't here and I don't think she wants to see you. So please leave her alone."
His eye twitched. For God's sake, that wasn't even who he was here for! And he knew full well that Nacha didn't want to see him. Why couldn't people just not be nosy for once and leave him alone on his thing with Nacha?
"Mmm… I'm looking for Ambrose…"
Her eyes widened, clearly not having predicted. "O-oh-! Really? Gosh, I'm sorry about that." Her apologetic tone didn't match her expression, however, which was still strained. Still she looked back at someone in the background that Francis couldn't see and proceeded to shout, "Babe! You have a guest!"
After a momentary pause, Saeko opened their door wider, letting Francis watch as Ambrose walked towards them in casualwear. "Ah, Francis, you've come."
"I had nothing to do…" He shrugged. "You mentioned a collection…?"
"This way. Saeko, please accommodate him."
Saeko bowed his head towards Francis and angled to the side to make room for Francis to enter their apartment. "Welcome in."
Francis's confusion was eased when he noticed that the woman beside him didn't actually look all that genuine about it and still strained to keep her smile warm and inviting. Whatever, right? He didn't really care about how others thought of him and he knew plenty of his neighbors hated him anyway.
He walked inside, following after Ambrose who patted a black cat sleeping soundly on top of a drawer in the middle of the room before continuing towards the door to his right and opening it with a twist of the knob. Once inside, Francis stopped in his tracks suddenly and looked up at the glass cabinet full of macabre objects --- human and animal skulls, jars containing preserved organs, and a poorly taxidermized bird that was probably customed.
"You like that one?" Ambrose said and opened the intricate glass door to take the taxidermized bird from the middle shelf. "This was one of my first works. Saeko and I found this bird dead on the ground, and to preserve it, I decided to try my hand at taxidermy."
"Aren't you a mortician…?"
"It's a hobby." Ambrose hummed and put it back inside." If you need anything taxidermized, I can do it for free."
"Huh… What's the catch?"
"You tell me about your reasons for killing."
"You're really still on that…?"
Ambrose shrugged.
"How do you even… mmm… know…?"
"I smelled blood in the bags you would dispose of."
"Smell…?"
"As someone who works in the mortuary, I'm familiar with the scent of blood."
"Couldn't you have… I don't know- reasoned out that it was because I had a wound…?"
"For me to even smell blood from your bag, it would have to be more than the meager amount a wound makes."
"…Fair enough…"
"So?"
"I killed them because I hate them."
"Is… that it?"
Francis sighed, "Of course you don't get it. You're not the one wearing a milkman uniform going door to door in people's apartments and getting beaten up by these people."
"I doubt that's all of it though."
"…"
Ambrose exhaled through his nose and decided to change the subject, "What other oddities have you taken a fancy in?"
Francis looked around and found himself staring at the human skull once again. "Is this…?"
"It's a real human skull."
"…There's a hole in its cranium."
"A gunshot wound," Ambrose replied and began wiping some of his skulls that had started to gather dust. "Donated his body to science. Thought I'd keep the skull…for science."
Francis snorted and looked around some more. "First a mortician, then a taxidermist, and now a scientist… You have a lot of jobs…"
Ambrose shrugged, "You've never seen a human skull before?"
"Sometimes…” Ambrose stared at him with an unbridled expression on his face. “I don't usually cut that deep…"
"Hah, well, it looks a little like this."
The emphasis on his last word made Francis turn his head around and almost give himself a heart attack when he saw the skull fit snugly like a costume mask on Ambrose's head. "What the-?!"
"Relax, relax…" His tone was dry, with a teasing lilt to it as he smirked. He finally took off the skull from his head and it almost got stuck midway but he didn't even panic as he simply angled it a different way and finally took it off of his head with a pop.
"That was a dead person's head…"
"Yes, and?"
Francis facepalmed.
"I'm not wearing anyone's skin, am I?"
"It might as well be the same thing." Francis sighed, but he felt a little… lighter(?) somehow. This man was interesting and even he couldn't deny it. For a man who seemed so apathetic, he had interesting hobbies and seemed genuine for the most part.
"What else do you want to see?"
One corner of Francis's smile twitched upwards and he tiredly pointed at a display of a preserved finger. "That one…"
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#photography
