#misplacedmonster

[undead-and-undying]

“So... before we get to my house, just be warned that my roommates are a bit old-fashioned when it comes to household appliances.”

As they walked through an old part of town, Eve stopped in front of a rather large victorian-style home. She unlocked the black metal gate, feeling a bit strange bringing Yvain here. She wasn’t used to bringing guests home, but the evening was still young. She was sure her housemates would still be asleep for a few hours, definitely enough time to have dinner with her friend.

Unbeknownst to her, the vampires were currently in the process of rising, having decided that they had slumbered enough for the day.

“We have a gas-stove,” she explained as she led him up the walkway, past the rose bushes and onto the porch. “Hopefully that works for you?”

(( @misplacedmonster >:3c))

[the-ghost-face]

Making friends is hard out here. Survivors tended to reject him, and other killers terrified him. He didn’t have a lot of option, though. “...You...Hello.” (Misplacedmonster)

@misplacedmonster

Danny turned around when he heard the voice, seeing the zombie-like creature standing there. He was surprised to see a walking, decaying dead thing that actually had some semblance of a vocabulary. What’s more, this one had a light in its eyes—and something else, something that almost seemed kind. “Definitely not one of Nemesis’ zombies,” he muttered to himself.

When he spoke again, it was a bit louder, so the other could hear him clearly. “And who, pray tell, are you, my half-rotted friend?”

[entitys-hunting-dog]

The Freak wandered around with an offering, not to the Entity, but in hopes of making a new friend. Being newer, being kinder, being less of a killer almost seemed to ostracize the ghoul from the others in the fog. He used to make his friends happy by showing off his cooking, so here he was with a small, raw pork tenderloin. Not cooked, but food was food. He hoped coming here wasn’t a bad idea. (Misplacedmonster)

{ @misplacedmonster }

It hadn't eaten in so very long. It didn't need to, not since it died and came to serve its new higher self, but the satisfaction of feeling meat shred beneath its claws and spill warm blood down its gullet was such a clear, true memory, even before it awoke to itself. But that satisfaction was so rarely its, as the higher self needed feeding before it, and so most prey was placed on the large claws to be eaten by its master, and return later for further hunting. Only now and then was it allowed the beauty and rightness of feasting. All this to say that when it finally smelled the hint of fresh, bloody meat on the fog-laden wind, it noticed. In minutes, its lanky form stretched out from the burrow it had made itself and began following the scent.

[a-swines-baptism]

Yvain was very explicitly told not to go snooping in Amanda’s room, but technically this wasn’t snooping. He’d walked by with his laundry basket, saw her clothes scattered around on the floor, and figured she’d like if he threw them in a load along with his sweaters. He’d idly been picking up discarded shirts when he saw...it. (Misplacedmonster)

She should’ve gotten rid of it. It’d been... what, a couple months since she’d found him again? She’s had plenty of time to plan something else, and yeah, there was ideas, but... There’s no two ways about it, she’d been slacking on purpose. Every second Yvain wasn’t in her grasp was a second she got to spend outside the Entity’s grasp; just a normal human living something much closer to a normal life than what her first life passed for. Mali was surprisingly tolerable to live around-- it turned out the two of them had some similar personality beats-- and Yvain was nothing if entertaining. Beyond all that, she had a home. She’d started a job so she could pay rent here, and honestly she was actually kind of enjoying it. She was starting to actually live the life that she could’ve had before John showed up, she didn’t want to leave.

The mask had been in her closet for a long time. Tucked away meticulously, where no one would find it. The best idea would’ve been to burn it, honestly, or just tossed it off a bridge somewhere. But part of her was paranoid, what if it would know somehow? She’d had a proper spell of anxiety over that last night, taken the damn thing out and nearly convinced herself to end all of this now, but sense had just won out by the early AM. It just so happened that exhaustion had got to her before she remembered to put it back.

So there it is. Tanned pigshide, empty eye sockets, a stitched-closed snout, and long black hair falling down the back. And Amanda, oblivious, was sat downstairs, reading.

[pushspacetocontinue]

@misplacedmonster

“Take your shoes off and I’ll show you!”

He would guide his friend to the living room, where with a blanket and some clothesline, the ghoul had set up a makeshift tent.

“As for the lack of stars? My roommate’s friend lent me this nightlight...projector thingie? Well, it makes ceiling stars!” He grinned. “Is it...good enough?”

“Sure, sure thing...”

Russell had to take a moment to untie the sneakers and then retrieve the bag again once they were off.

He couldn’t help smile once he saw the set up in the living room; it was just lovely to see. 

“This, this is real nice, Yvain,” Russell said, as he gazed over at every little detail, before he then nodded, “Of, of course it is. That’s a really, a really nice idea. And I think it’ll, it’ll complete things just, just right.”

[miss-shojo]

Gettin’ it with a Ghoul

@misplacedmonster

Heels? Check. Cute short-length dress? Check. Winged eyeliner and fluffy gorgeous hair? Double check. Fresh baked cookies? Final check. 

Shojo arrived at Yvain’s apartment with an objective and a plan: make Yvain notice her. She pressed the button for the doorbell and waited patiently, smiling to herself in excitement and hoping to see his cute face again very soon. 

[poppyfieldrot]

Half Alive

@misplacedmonster sent:

“I hope...I hope he actually comes.” Yvain texted Mali nervously in anticipation of getting either stood up, or almost as scary, getting to meet his new friend from online. Instead of a bar, he chose a restaurant, one he knew didn’t get too busy, so they could chat easier and so the ghoul who wouldn’t need to bring his headphones.

Lawrence had been incredibly thankful when Yvain had suggested a restaurant, as opposed to a myriad of other places that would simply be. Terrible. There would still be people, of course, and it would still be frightening. But that’s far better than terrifying, and he really wanted to meet this person.

They’d interacted online quite a bit, and Lawrence found himself attached. At least a little. Yvain seemed nice. Though, Lawrence had neglected to give his real name. As always, he was only known as his screen name. ‘poppyfieldrot’. It seemed at least a little telling, but he wasn’t on any social media so it didn’t matter.

He’d given a short and easy description for the other to look for. Blond hair, blue eyes, red flannel, and bringing along a single sprig of lavender. Might as well, and at least it was a useful flower. This is what real people do, right? Just try to be a real person.

He tried to dress a little less like a strange cross between a homeless man and a serial killer, even shaved, and headed out to the restaurant. La Pomme D’Eve. The Apple of Eve. A weird name, but it seemed nice enough. Quiet enough. The lights were warm, the atmosphere lacked the sort of intense and lively aura that many chain restaurants held. This, however, was not a chain. It was family owned —he’d looked it up. just in case.— and advertised a friendly and calm environment.

Whether that’s true or not is for him to find out.

[blooddrinkingbartender]

@misplacedmonster

“A week,” he bluntly answered. Yvain kept rubbing his eyes, touching and scratching his face. “Ghouls don’t need that much sleep, you know?”

Though they did still need it. A few days here and there were common, expected, and not unhealthy, but a week? Really pushing it.

“A week, right...” Bill said. He ignored the tone for the time being. It was easy to be jaded when you were tired, “Okay, not that much, you say, but it still sounds like you need some sort of amount, and you’re not getting it.”

Bill thinks briefly.

“Has something been bothering you?”