storycloud

[storycloud]

Just had a little thought...

We all know that little joke about FBI agents spying on us through our devices, right?

Well im thinking about an agent who was assigned to you, a famous writer known for their detailed criminal stories. You already have one best-seller, and aim for another one. Not gonna lie, he does like how he gets to read it first. He especially likes it when he gets to laugh at his friend who is your fan and is constantly begging him to at least tell him what the story is going to be about.

The first time he saw your search history, he already knew you were a writer. But he gets why you are on a watchlist. Weird searches about the human anatomy and if what you are thinking about is even possible.

So, most of the time he just reads what you are writing or skims through some newspaper or magazine. Not much to do other than laze around.

But then, he hears his coworkers talking about a case in the neighboring town. It seems a serial killer has appeared, murdering their victims in all sort of strange ways as if they are carrying out an experiment of some sorts.

He heard more and more details and the more he realizes how your recent searches match the latest murder victims. He gets his hands on some of the files and also notices how the murder victims match the victims in your book.

Weight, height, features. Everything is almost identical.

So, one evening before he clocks out he goes to ask his boss if he could join the case while you are off to somewhere, a hand around a neck of a short, brown-haired man while in the other you hold your watch and count each and every second of his death.

[storycloud]

Suspicions and morning (afternoon) coffee

The sun was well up in the sky when you both woke up. You sat at the small island in the kitchen, sipping on your coffee as you sketched a new design for a design on a paper.

For a moment your eyes wandered to your housemate, sitting at the window and staring outside as if waiting like a guard dog for any danger to come knocking on the door. It was strange, because he usually sat by the kitchen window, looking into the distance at the forest.

With one sip, thoughts and small realization started flooding your complicated mind.

You remembered the mailman, a nice, young boy you chatted with a few times when he delivered packages or mail. Then, all of a sudden an older lady started delivering instead of him. You remember being a bit surprised and curious until you saw his face on the missing person poster in the center of the town.

Then your former classmate. You met them after a long time when you were on a grocery trip with Zak. You had a nice small chat before both of you went your own way. But the next time you saw them, with a simple wave of your hand their eyes widened and they scrambled away like they were running for their life. You noticed they seemed to glance behind you at Zak, but thought nothing of it back then.

There was also a guy who once cat-called you, and his picture ended up right next to the mailman’s. You don’t really care about that old geezer but it helped to connect the dots.

“Ouch.” With a swift movement of your hand, you cut your finger on the edge of the paper. A small test.

Upon hearing you, Zak stood up and was next to you in minutes, grasping your hand unnaturally gently and looking at the small bit of blood oozing through the cut before quickly walking away to fetch the bandages.

He never seemed to care about small things like this back then.

This only confirms your suspicions.

The suspicions about the growing feeling that might get out of control one day. Or perhaps it has already started making its way into his already messed up mind.

[storycloud]

Like a wet, stray dog.

The clock on the wall strikes 1AM, the never ending humming of machines filling the workshop, yet there are no noises of tinkering like usual. Instead, you calmly sit on one of the chairs, sipping your tea while you wait for the secret passage to open any second now. It started raining about ten minutes ago while you were binge-watching one of your favorite Anime’s upstairs. The weather only seems to become worse every minute, which means that the hunt has to be cut short much to someone’s displeasure.

A Soft thud of a lever can be heard from the other side before a part of the wall slides up, opening up the secret passage and revealing a quite intimidating figure that would anyone pissing themselves. But not you. You are too used to this.

Zak steps inside and the door slides down quickly behind him, making sure that anything that would be trying to get inside right behind him would be closed off or crushed if they were too quick.

While you were collecting all of your belongings at your own pace, Zak wandered around, leaning the weapon in his hand against a wall with a thud. He waited by the stairway for you to go up first before following right behind, looking low but perhaps too high for him to be looking at the stairs.

Once you are up, you point in the direction of the bathroom on the first floor with a small furrow of brows, no other words needed for the man to understand and simply go where the so-called ‘master of the house’ wishes. 

He undressed just into his boxers, throwing the wet clothes into the hamper and sitting down on the closed toilet. He waited and looked up just as you came inside. You grabbed one of the towels you prepared on the sink and started drying his hair. A small hum leaves his lips, clearly enjoying the attention he seems to be getting, even if it's more for the sake of your floors and couch cushions than for his.

After a minute or two, you stop drying his hair and finally get to have a proper look at him. He looks straight up at you just as you look straight down at him, right into eachother's eyes before you let the words slip out of your mind. “You look like a wet dog.”

Silence followed after, the type that felt a bit suffocating but also hilarious for anyone else looking at the situation. Then your housemate decided to raise an eyebrow and stand up, towering over you. “Wet dog?” “Wet, stray dog.” You knew you just dug up your own grave when those words left your lips. Not even five seconds later, he grabbed the shower head behind you and it became a fight or flight moment.

After a ‘little’ shower and a clean up, you both practically passed out after lying down into bed.

__________________________________________

It rained recently where i live so i felt like writing something with this kind of atmosphere yet also a bit silly.

[storycloud]

Cogs and knifes.

It all started back in your childhood. That’s where you two met, in middle school.

You were the weird kid, and Zak was the weakest one out of the boys. Both of you were the outcasts, picked on by the other kids.

Your relationship at the time was complicated. You didn’t see him as a friend, but neither as a stranger. You just yapped his ear off about your interests and he listened. It continued like that over the years. By highschool, you were still the weird kid, but on top of your class with no score left unfulfilled. And he was still on the quiet side, even though he became a walking pile of muscles with his interest in fighting sports.

Then, you got separated when college came. You followed your passion for science and technology, and he… went god knows where. 

By the end of your studies, your parents died.

You loved them with all your heart, and they cared for you with theirs. While you did grief their dead, you acknowledge that the sadness was quite short lived. People would say it was greed that replaced your sadness if you haven’t found out about the riches they left you after five months, when you already moved on. They left you the old two-story family house and secret riches that would allow you to live comfortably for the rest of your life, and perhaps even the generations after you if you take care of it well. It was an easy decision to keep it a secret as your parents did, and your grandparents did before them.

You soon became the mad inventor you desired to be, focusing on your craft from morning well into the night in the basement of your small house which you made your workshop. It was better to keep yourself out of sight of your neighbors, especially since a lot of families lived in your area, with a lot of nosey kids and their nosey mothers.

When you two met again, it was like fate had planned it all.

You were just walking in the alleys, testing your new, portable x-ray device on the walls of the buildings. Most of the time there was nothing, but it was a good way of testing it. And you did find a quite big amount of spots with loose bricks that hid drugs. One way to hide business.

Just as you were going around the corner, your eyes met his dark ones. It was just a glance, like he was just looking at a bug passing by, but you recognized his towering form and unruly hair, smoking by the trash can. With a small call of his name, the rather strange and ‘peaceful’ relationship could start again.

It took a bit of dragging around. He always complained about not having time but you still managed to get him out somewhere at least once a week, though at the time you were sure he was part of a gang or some fishy business.

You weren’t far from the truth.

He ended up being a killer. A serial one at that. 

But you weren’t one to judge. Half of your materials in your workshop are from the black market. 

He became interested in your inventions, seeing them as an opportunity. Opportunity for more and efficient bloodshed. A deal was only natural. You fixed and made weapons for him, he brought you materials and whatever things he found he thought would be useful.

Things only lead you to be closer to him. You figured you were the only one who knew about his murders, and he was the only one who knew about your inventions that will probably help to end the world one day. It, of course, led to both of you opening up to one another in your own ways. Though, it was a bit unexpected when he moved in. How it happened you can’t bring yourself to remember but you figured you blurted something out when drinking tequila. Oh well, he was crushing on your coach most of the time anyways.

Later on, he helped you to uncover the secret tunnels connected to your basement.Your city has a history of mafia using underground tunnels for transport, though they were left unused for quite some time. With that, you decided to install a complicated mechanism for him to use when running away from the police. Just some doors and levers, easily camuflaged to make it seem like a dead end with a simple pull. You both liked to laugh while watching the cameras, the policemen standing in front of a dead end, all confused when they clearly remember there wasn’t one yesterday.

With each day and month, he just seemed to be getting more and more comfortable. And so did you. You created simple habits, like leaving him sticky notes for when he comes back from a killing spree, with a simple message like: “Dinners in the fridge.” and/or “Don’t forget to wash up before going to bed!” He tends to just pass out right after coming back, stinging up the house with the smell of blood.

And his habits… are something else. It was bad at the start, but it only got worse. Walking around the house only in boxers was relatively normal. It was the habit of sleeping in his dirty clothes, dirtying the floor of the house with mud and staining the clean couch and bed sheets with blood. And one beautiful morning, you woke up with him next to you like he doesn’t know what personal space is. Just like today…

You opened your eyes to the irritating shine of the sun through the stained glass of your window, catching the smell of blood and the quiet snoring too close to your ear almost immediately, heavy arms enveloped around your body.

It has become a usual occurrence to wake up next to your serial killer roommate/ friend, always laying on the side closer to the edge. You did make a remark once that he could lay down on the left side if he so wishes to sleep in your bed, but it looks like that went in one ear and out the other as usual. Or perhaps he just enjoys laying on top of you and practically cutting off a proper flow of air to your lungs.

With a sigh, you pushed against the bicep of his arm, only for a grunt to leave his lips and tighten the arm around your shoulders, like you were some kind of plushie for his comfort.

“Zak…” You called out quietly to the heavy body with another push, voice laced with sleep. The body remained where it laid, this time without even an attempt to respond. There is a 50% chance he came back less than three hours ago, all tuckered out.

You laid there for the next few minutes, slowly waking up and getting ready for a battle that might end up with you finally getting out of bed or getting up by 12 - 16pm.

You manage to push his arms lower, slipping up from his grasp until his arms tighten again, right at your hips. With a frustrated sigh, you smack his arm which barely disturbs his beauty sleep, simply moving his head to lean against your belly.

“You can sleep all you want but could you let me go, please?” You said quite aggressively, attempting to force his arms to at least ease up around you.

“No.” He stated as if you asked a stupid question, voice raspy. With a tug of his arms, your morning coffee ended up being an afternoon one. At least it didn’t end up with an evening tea instead. 

It was strangely peaceful after. Doing normal things like folding laundry, cooking dinner, creating and fixing deadly weapons that will cause thousand deaths… 

This is how you live with your housemate serial killer. Staying up late into the night, cleaning blood from his shoes off the floor, scolding him and forcing him to do the groceries after. This might have not been the life you imagined, but there is a slight hope for it to last for a long time, especially in peaceful moments where you just both watch Tv in silence, like you used to back in high school.

You wouldn’t change anything about your life now.

[storycloud]

booping is so fun i forgot i'm mentally ill for one minute

[storycloud]

thank you tumblr for the joy of boop

[storycloud]

Boop. Everything.