#swampmonster

[jamearts]

[G] Queenie meets Jimmy

I think swampmonster's Queenie is a very gorgeous lady and i had to draw her sometime. Even Jimmy is infatuated by her, can you blame him? Queenie © _SwampMonster_ Jimmy Basil-Lisk © ME My linktree: https://linktr.ee/jamearts

[clovedown]

I'm skipping around now but the 5th slot in Dollipops Colorful Creeps palette challenge!

Swamp Monster!

[bramblemoonp]

Inktober Day #1

Swamp Monster

Not much of a swamp monster but this is what I came up w

[brokenpieces-72]

Low Speed

Choo Choo Charles x CoD | Navigation

TW: brutal death, monster fight, swamp monster (some thalassophobia?), let me know if I missed any

You climbed back into the engine, making sure not to put any pressure on your bad leg. You didn't let Soap or Ghost assist, not wanting them to have a reason to leave you behind. A new weapon to add to the mount and plenty of scraps for your to sort through later. No run ins with Charles either. Hopefully, Price and Gaz had been just as fortunate.

"Why do they call you Soap?" You asked the sergeant while he hung by the turret, ready for any possible attacks. Soap perked up at your question while Ghost got the engine started up again.

"So back in mae trainin, I was the best at clearing houses and the fastest. People started callin mae Soap." He explained. "Why do they call ya brat?"

You rubbed your neck, a little ashamed to admit. "People around here don't exactly like me. I used to start trouble when I was younger, and have an attitude. Giving Warren a hard time only made it worse, and now that I'm hunting the giant nightmare train, people think I've been agitating it and making it worse."

"Is that why you've been getting dirty looks?' Ghost asked.

"Yeah. Honestly I don't think they would have been as willing to help if you guys hadn't come along." You said. "Thank you for that."

"Thank us once we kill the bastard." Soap told you. You nod.

"...be wary of Barry the swamp monster. As long as you don't move around, he's kind as a kitten." Lizbeth told the three of you.

"Thanks." You said, hurrying away along the shore of the swamp, letting the other two follow you. You'd met Lizbeth before, and she was a fairly pleasant person. The last thing you had hoped for was to get whatever meat was being guarded by Barry! You also hadn't told the men about Barry, mainly because you didn't know you would have to. At least she had been nice enough to give you the medicine for your leg.

You stopped once you were a good distance away from Lizbeth and could see the bubbles from Barry swimming around. Simon and Johnny had their eyes on you. Ghost had a face that asked you to elaborate, while Johnny was a bit more wide eyed.

"A fucking swamp mosnter?" Johnny asked. You pressed your lips and sighed. "Were you plannin on bringin this up or was it meant to be a fucked up surprise?"

"Neither!" You said. Their eyes remained on you, wnating the full truth. "Okay maybe I forgot a little bit."

"You forgot about the swamp monster, a little bit?" Simon asked, brow raised.

"A lot has happened, and the swamp monster that is contained in the water and isn't capable of coming on land, and therefore is hardly a threat didn't cross my mind over the fact there is a living nightmare running around!" You argued.

"Is there anything else we should- no scratch that, is there anything else on the island that is even remotely abnormal or supernatural?" Soap asked rubbing his temples.

"Yes there is a ghost of some kind in a boulder field that makes drawings." You said. The both of them looked at you, trying to figure out if you were being serious or sarcastic. When you held your ground, Johnny turned and took a few steps, while Simon, folded his arms and sighed, looking at the ground. You shrugged. "It's been a long week."

"Johnny focus up." Simon called. Johnny returned next to his lieutenant. Simon looked at you. "You have a plan?"

You looked out to the water. Simon and Johnny followed your gaze, and can see the bubbles and ripples from Barry. "The water shouldn't be too deep, so you can touch the bottom usually. If Barry senses movement he'll move towards it, but as soon as you stop moving he won't know where you are. Even if he brushes your leg, he won't notice. So... red light green light."

"Red light green light?" Simon asked you. You sighed, fed up with yourself. Yeah it was all you had! You weren't special forces, could you please be cut some slack? Of course you don't say this to him directly.

Johnny seemed to be considering it. "Not the worst idea..."

Simon examined the water. It wasn't exactly shallow, at least from the distance and what he was guessing was Barry's size. He didn't like the idea of going into this without proper protection. Bullet proof vests would only work so well against bites. They were limited in resources though. The suggestion wasn't bad, but he wasn't sure how 'kind of a kitten' Barry would be to treading water. Simon would prefer to send you out to start, test the waters and all that.

"I'll go if you think it's better." You offered. What pissed Simon off was that this was all for some metal scraps.

"I'll do it." Johnny said. You looked up at him and he looked at you. "If there's a fucking swamp monster, the last thing we need is whatever made it to infect your leg."

"Red light green light it is." Simon stated.

Two things about Johnny MacTavish. First off, he's handsome in boxers. You were polite and looked away, but he told you he didn't mind. Didn't stop your face from turning a deep red. When you suggested he keep the vest on he teased you about it, asking if you'd prefer him covered up. Yeah that made you go darker.

The second thing about Johnny is that while he was capable of being a sniper, his patience and stillness were two different things. The red light, green light method was working pretty well. Johnny stepped out into the water and thankfully he could move while keeping his head above water without treading. You were tense, watching every hint of movement in the water for Barry. As soon as Barry started to make his way towards Soap you shouted red light.

Soap held still, keeping an eye out for the bubbles. Simon stood watch with you, coming off as calm and still. He was tense as well. Green light, and Johnny continued toward the island. You made sure Barry was a good distance away before saying it first, but this meant Johnny only got maybe two or three feet before the next red light. He was moving slow, which meant he would be in cold water for while.

Red light. Soap froze in place, the water reaching abve him midsection. He cursed and sighed, waiting as he felt the movement of the monster around him. All three of you held your breath, until Barry moved away. You waited before calling green light again. Soap waited a bit before moving again. This time he tried to go faster, and did make some distance. Red light, and Johnny looked around in place. He was still but his body twisted slightly in the water.

"Stop... stop moving!" You shouted at him. Simon was about to shout the same thing.

"It's fine." Soap called back, trying to spot Barry in the dirty water. He could see the ripples and bubbles but not the monster. Once Barry left him alone, you didn't get the chance to say green light, because he started moving.

"Soap! Stop fucking moving!" Simon barked at him. Soap couldn't see it, but Ghost was standing fairly calmly, but right near the edge of the water. Meanwhile, you had your head in your hands with baited breath.

"He's kind as a kitten!" Johnny argued, stopping when he saw Barry coming back. Johnny continued to look around.

"Soap you're making the poor kid panic! Stop!" Simon said.

"Literally said he's kind as a kitten LT. !" Soap argued again.

"Soap..." You tensed watching him look around in the water. "You... You butt fucking skank! Stop fucking moving!"

Soap stopped, and waited. He waited for the signal this time and once he got to the island you turned away and started pacing on the shore while he went to find the meat Lizbeth wanted. You finally took the breath you had been holding back in your anxiousness. You returned to your spot next to Ghost who gently pats your shoulder.

"If he always like that?" You asked. Ghost didn't answer and instead directed your attention to Johnny who had found a fish.

"Follow orders this time sergeant!" Ghost yelled to Soap. You could make out Soap nodding as he waded back into the water. "And keep the meat out of the water!"

Soap held the fish over his head and you called out red light. Johnny stopped. He was trying to go faster this time. It didn't stop him from looking around for Barry when he approached. Green light... red light... green light... red light. Johnny was about halfway when he tensed himself, not even turning in place. He felt the thing brush against his leg.

"You good?" You asked.

"Shut up!" He snapped, waiting for Barry to leave. You stayed quiet, seeing Barry hadn't moved away from Soap. It felt like an hour had passed before Barry finally swam off. Soap waited for the signal, and you waited until Barry was far enough away.

"Green light." You said. Johnny pushed through the water as hard and as fast as he could, thankfully making it before Barry decided to come looking for a snack again. Johnny tossed the meat to the side before dropping to his knees, and holding his chest. Simon came back with a blanket from the train, while Johnny was trying to steady his heart beat. You took a moment yourself, relieved he came back okay. Simon got the blanket around Johnny and you got his clothes for him.

Lizbeth gave you plenty of scraps for your efforts, and you got an earful of scottish curses from Johnny. Lizbeth was also kind enough to let him properly dry off and change in her cabin.

"Been a while since I've had a handsome young man in my cabin." She teased to you. Johnny may have considered changing in the train after that comment, but Simon told him to just go. As an extra bonus for your trouble, Lizbeth also let you have some of the stew she was brewing. The two soldiers were skeptical but you assured them Lizbeth wouldn't do something like poison or drug them.

"Now what are two soldiers doing in a place like this?" She asked while you ate. The three of you looked at each other. "It's not hard to tell dearies, not many people traverse this island, especially with vests like those."

"Long story." You answered. Lizbeth gave you a knowing look. Another mystical warning was coming. It never made it to you, because your meal was interrupted by a train whistle.

Lizbeth got back into her cabin, with the three of you following behind. Your train was too far away to make it before you would be spotted by Charles. Lizbeth had her cabin locked up tight while you listened to the awful noises of Charles. You watched out the back winow with a view overlooking the swamp, maintaining cover with Soap and Ghost. Charles legs stabbed into the water, any blood hidden by his red paint, dripping and staining the already murky swamp.

Lizbeth watched as well, hand over her mouth. Finding the signs of Barry was nearly impossible with how Charles was just scuttling about likely smelling the meat they had found earlier. Johnny finally got to see the beast he had been fleeing from in the water, and in action.

Charles let out a pained cry, that nearly destroyed your eardrums. When you looked you saw a strange mass had latched itself on to Charles's leg. Charles was bigger, and thrashed his weighted around, trying to get Barry to let go. The air is filled with ear piercing screams and water splashing. Charles chased Barry like a dog chasing it's tail, while Barry continued to flop around, keeping a grip on Charles leg. The noise seemed to go on forever, as did the fighting, until Charles decided it had had enough.

Charles slammed down the leg that Barry had latched himself, over and over, faster and faster. Finally Barry's grip loosened, and Charles went in for the kill. Without mercy, Charles spearin into Barry with another leg, shoving Barry back into the water in the process. The demon train wasn't done with him. Charles continued to slam Barry in and out of water, until Barry was finally off of Charle's leg. Lizbeth looked away, while you froze, your blood going cold. You wished you'd turned away from the sight as Charles stabbed into Barry for a second time and whipped Barry off his limb, and into the swamp, before waiting. It was seeing if Barry was actually dead, looking for the bubbles and ripples of life.

Nothing.

Charles, seemingly satisified with the lack of life, left.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[mamawasatesttube]

how a kiss should taste

T | 6.8k | anitacassie hair care, internalized homophobia, and tender feelings ♥ | written as a @wlwdcchampionship steal!

“Deal with my hair for me?” Anita wheedles, her voice muffled against Cassie’s T-shirt. “Pleaaaase?” Cassie’s eyes widen. Anita wants her to take care of her hair for her? That’s… whoa. Anita is very particular about her hair. It symbolized her connection to her mom for so long; her mom’s back now, and Anita has her family again—bigger than before, given that her parents have a thing with Agent Maad now—but it’s still incredibly meaningful to her. Most people don’t get to touch it, let alone actually participate in Anita’s careful hair-care routines. Frankly, Anita’s way more likely to walk around in her underwear without caring who looks at her than she is to let just about anyone outside her family or her very closest friends do her hair. Like—Cassie is definitely one of those closest friends, and she’s still surprised Anita’s asking. That’s how loath Anita usually is to let others mess with her hair. “You’re sure?” Cassie asks, a second or two late. “I know you, um, don’t usually like when people touch your hair and stuff, and—” Anita laughs at her, face still smushed into her belly. “Girl, would I be the one approaching you about it if I wasn’t sure?”

It’s a small room, kinda dingy in the way cheap roadside motels always are. But it’s shelter—four walls and a roof, and a bed with pillows and blankets, and with how bone-tired she is, that’s all Cassie can ask for.

Water runs in the bathroom—Anita’s still in the shower, wrangling all the swampmonster goop out of her braids. She’s been at it for half an hour; she’s probably getting close to done, right?

How she has the energy for all of that after the day they’ve had, Cassie doesn’t know. She’s got the strength of gods flowing through her veins, and she’s still ready to conk out; Anita’s gotta be running on sheer willpower at this point. It’s mighty impressive.

Cassie sighs, leaning against the edge of the tiny desk crammed into one corner of the room. She’s half-tempted to stick her shitty corner store TV dinner in the microwave, eat, and crash, poor Anita still in the shower be damned, but she holds herself back. It’d be rude, and Anita’s just as tired as she is. And if Cassie’s asleep, who’s gonna tell Anita there’s a second microwavable casserole in the minifridge for her?

See, yeah, it would be rude and unchivalrous. Cassie pinches the bridge of her nose, then rubs her eyes, and finally rakes her hand through her hair. It still catches her by surprise, how short it is now—she hasn’t had it this short since she was fourteen or fifteen, still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and innocent.

What a joke.

{ read on ao3! }

[moongoblinsims]

hello, hope you're having a good day! could i ask wcif the big feet and the skeleton bra from this post, please? thank you very much for your time <3

🖤 SwampMonster!Brandon's big feet are from @sp-creates's Expanded Mermaids Mod 2.0 (SP_EM_Gillyweed_Male_Fixed) 🖤 Ghoul!Britney's skeleton bra is from @plazasims's demonic lingerie set

[joifee]

My dear qpJoifee, once again I've come from the war (procrastinating)

I have another AU idea (Well more than one, But I dont wanna overwhelm LMAO)

So I've been thinking about Mirror Birds (Jimmy x Martyn) bc ofc I do.

And my idea involves a fairy tale, basically Beauty and The Beast AU, with Jimmy as a beast (because he's always cursed) and Martyn as a beauty (My dude is basically a male reincarnation of modern Beauty and no one can tell me no ToT)

The role of the father that wronged the beast would take Grian. He wouldn't be Martyns father but rather an older brother.

What my inspiration thought, is not really Disney but the original fairytales written down by Perault and Villeneuve. Which is similar enough to Disney but goes way off tracks later. (There's literally more to the story after the Disney's happy ending)

Grian would get across an abandoned castle, but no one was there. He would be well fed by the food that came out of nowhere, but just was on the table. He would get a nice warm room, and in the morning his Horse would be well and rested. But as he was about to leave, he saw a beautiful rose and plucks it.

Instantly, he was confronted by the Beast, for stealing his most prized possession, after partaking in his hospitality. There's just something so sweet thinking about a huge beast tending and delighting in roses.

Grian explains that the rose was a gift for his brother, and the Beast is willing to trade his imprisonment for the imprisonment of his brother, but on one condition: Grian has to be honest about what this transaction involves. No tricking the other into it. Jimmy insists that if the trade is to take place, Martyn HAS to consent to it. (I love that bc it's in the actual fairy tale.)

Grian of course wasn't willing to take the deal, instead tricking the beast and running away on his horse. That didn't last long tho, as Grian did tell Martyn of what happened, but he insisted that Martyn NEVER goes to find the beast, which martyn of course agrees to.

But I wanna also implement the Listeners in the story as fairies (which are also part of the og fairytale) that prompt Martyn to go see the beast, and that the sacrifice he will make for his brother will have its rewards.

There's a LOT more to this au but I already feel like I overwrote it in your ask, so for now, I will leave it like that.

my dear qpromeo excuse the short answer because i did a silly today (aka i did housework, literally used up all my energy and now i am dizzy and i am nauseous lying in bed for the rest of the evening) mirror bird is like one of your fav ships isnt it? because i feel the brainrot hahahaah thats nice i actually know the original story of beauty and the beast; i love fairytales and like i used to have a old fairytale book with all the unedited fairytales (and well exspecially the german ones that are nearly all very bloody/gruesome) I like the idea! I kinda imagine jimmy either looking like a big beast with feathers and claws or like some sort of swampmonster also totally could see martyn wanting to put his nose into the whole situation. maybe jimmy was cursed to be a beast by the watchers and the listeners are the fairies i like the idea^^

[sadpankio]

My fav overwatch skins for each character

Tank

D.Va: Junebug, White cat

Doomfist: swampmonster

Junkerqueen: plutonium

Orisa: reindeer, forest spirt

Ramattra: wandering monk

Reinhardt: greifhardt

Roadhog: toxic, Mako

Sigma: prophet

Winston: gargoyle, safari

Wrecking ball: junker, snowball

Zarya: workout

DPS

Ashe: poolside, little red

Bastion: antique

Cassidy: lifeguard, blackwatch, mountain man

Echo: moth, surf’s up

Genji: blackwatch, sparrow, young Genji

Hanzo: scion, young Hanzo, wave

Junkrat: beachrat

Mei: honeydew, Luna

Pharah: asp, raindancer

Reaper: solider24, blackwatch Reyes, el blanco

Sojourn: captain chases

Solider76 (ace): slasher76, grillmaster 76

Sombra: Los muertos, neon cat, virus

Symmetra: Devi, goddess, magician

Trobjörn: Blackbeard

Tracer: nezha, Mach T

Widowmaker: Côte d’Azur, rose, pale serpent

Support

Ana: captain Amari, snow owl, sniper, wastelander

Baptiste: tropical, talon,

Brigitte: vampire hunter, ironclad, opera

Illari: daybreak, chumpi

Kiriko: sukajan, take

Lifeweaver: amsonia, magnolia, orchid

Lúcio: equalizer, jazzy, poison dart

Mercy: witch, winged victory, pink mercy

Moira: glam, moon

Zenyatta: zealot

[brynnterpretations]

Greatest Disease

3/3 of Cracks in the Mortar

One girl leaves. One girl stays. This is a tale as old as time.“

🔗 Read on AO3 ⋆ 🔙

⌗ gretta keene/beverly marsh (one-sided) ⌗ referenced gretta keene/sally mueller ⌗ bullying implied/referenced eating disorders ⌗ love/hate ⌗ implied/referenced alcohol abuse ⌗ 1990s ⌗ title from "bluebell" by babes in toyland

I

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Beverly left Derry in the night — it was hush-hush, to the point not even Sally had any idea about it. The night she found out about it, Gretta flooded every crevice there was in her liver with her mother’s alcohol, blasting Heart alone in her room. Her vision swam, and it looked like the expensive, little toy horses strewn about were judging her with beady eyes, because really, Gretta? You’re this pathetic? At the time, she was sure why she was so angry. It was because if she knew Beverly Slut Marsh, Beverly Swampmonster Marsh, was hitching it to fucking Kennebunkport —seriously, out of all places the little shit didn’t belong, it was Kennebenukport—she would’ve gotten some good hits in. The past year, she’d say she held herself back. Gretta could do worse, had done worse, and that was something she took pride in, but now she had no one left to do it to.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ At least, not for the summer. June had set in fat, thick heat waves, ones that made Gretta’s makeup sweat into tacky streak marks. Gretta hated the summer; good parties, ones that happened on Broadway instead of the filthy, dollar-brand neighborhoods down further south, were few and far-between. Everyone who could actually throw a rager that didn’t make Gretta want to rip her hair out was going to Hawaii or the Bahamas or whatever luxury place that smelled of saltwater and luxury perfume and fish. Her days were spent drinking, meandering through boutiques with out-of-date designer dresses with Sally and Marcia, and avoiding her father at every cost. Fortunately, this night he and her mother were on a date night — poor fucker — and she wouldn’t have to worry about him slipping into her room with cold, wandering hands.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She leaned over in an embarrassing manner, taking a swig of her mother’s amaretto straight from the bottle. She’d long gotten through her tequila, and she didn’t want to risk getting into any alcohol her mother would notice was missing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Truthfully, Beverly had been fun. Thinking that to herself made her feel worse — more perverted, somehow, because it wasn’t just hatred, but something else. When she woke up the next day with a hangover that feels like the thrumming of lights, numb in their violence, she got ready for school. It’d been thirty-one days since summer break started. 

II

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta was seventeen-years-old, and she flew through the streets of Derry like Jesus. She’d taken up rollerblading with Sally and Marcia, and after a while, found she only really liked it when she was drunk. Usually, she’d down enough shots of vodka to make a sailor wince in the divorced silence of Marcia’s home. Then, on shaky legs — she normally wasn’t someone to get drunk easily, but since she started factoring the calories of alcohol in the logs in her diary, she’d rarely eaten anything on days she drank — she would depart to Main St. with Sally and Marcia in tow.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A lot of times, they’d day-drink, but on June 16th, 1992, they glided at 12 A.M. like there was nothing in the world that could hurt them; at least, not without consequences. And, truthfully, nothing could. Henry Bowers had been arrested for the string of murders that had marred the town the years before, and for the most part, things were back to normal; the curfew had gone back to normal, and nobody really mentioned it. There was no reason to. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta’s parents were on the Tropicale for their anniversary, while Marcia’s mother was somewhere in Portland for the weekend for a “girl’s trip”: so, getting blackout-drunk at Flash and falling asleep in a meticulously-piled mass of coke. Seemingly, things were perfect for a night of drinking and skating; Gretta was bored, Marcia was on-edge, and Sally was stewing in anxiety over something-or-other. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And, once outside, she felt like God, the son, the Holy Spirit, the trifecta: beautiful, untouchable, and surrounded by a ring of piss-yellow light from the street lamps above them. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She fell on the gravel near the Kissing Bridge, skinning the palms of her hands into a bloody jerky. The drunkenness made her only laugh. 

III

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta’s father pulls some strings, and she pulls some of her own, so she ends up at Dartmouth with a full-scholarship: Go Big Greens ! She’s one of four to go to college in her graduating class, and besides that little Rockford shit going to Stanford, thinks she’s done much better for herself than any of the losers could’ve. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She plays lacrosse, joins a sorority, gets kicked out of the sorority while still a pledge off of a bullshit standards case that she can’t be assed to remember the specifics of, switches her major twice, and fucks her first girl for real , all in freshman year. It’s different from Sally, where it felt purely transactional: get me off, and I’ll give you crumbs of validation . This, though, wasn’t anything out of love. They met at some dumbass SNU party, where they moved between each other like flitting birds—Gretta not caring that much, the other girl probably trying to decipher whether or not she wants to try fucking a girl and then getting her reputation ruined.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She has red hair like Beverly, but none of the fire. Gretta bites her right thigh, unbruised and unbattered, as hard as she can. 

IV

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta is finishing up her junior year at Dartmouth, and is already sick of it. She’s never liked school. The only reason that she is staying is because she doesn’t want to be like everyone else in Derry — stuck in that stagnant holding place with no possibility. A degree meant that she could go anywhere, do anything, and be anyone besides a housewife with wallpaper peeling from indoor smoking. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She took up cigarettes randomly after going to a club, where a wasted guy seemed to think a cigarette or a two-dollar appletini would guarantee instant sex. She didn’t think of Beverly until she had stolen a pack of Winstons to smoke alone on the rooftop of her student apartment, where the stars looked like the pinpricks you got from vaccines. When they were fifteen-years-old and Gretta had emerged from the pharmacy with puffy, tear-beaten cheeks, she’d offered her a drag. She wanted to say yes, but she felt that kindness from Beverly was some way of one-upping her: you’ve made my life a living hell, yet I’m still being nice to you, in a way you’re not capable of. Gretta had taken a couple of seconds to stare her down before shoving Beverly’s cigarette into her dainty wrist. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She fumbles in her messenger bag for a shot she could’ve sworn she had, and when she only pulls out a couple keys, she decides she hates Beverly more than she thinks she ever could have before.

V

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ One girl leaves. One girl stays. This is a tale as old as time. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta comes back for Christmas; she’d stuck herself firm inside the thick, dark of Buffalo, where you can come across coke quicker than you could inhale. Derry remains a nefarious something inside her: a tumor so familiar you can’t eject it without feeling a hideous sense of emptiness. As awful as everything about it was, it was somewhere where she was on top of the world, once she ignored every touch and offhand look when she was younger.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She doesn’t follow her mother’s dress code; she doesn’t care, which is liberating in  a way she never thought she’d experience. Even in the times she thought he was free, as anyone who eats and pukes their way to the top of the high-school totem pole would— Gretta Keene, on top of the world! —she’s out of the age where her father would sneak a hand, and she’s out of an age where she would care about her mother and her aunt talking behind her back— ”you raised her right, didn’t you?” The only standards worth anything were of what she gave herself. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Gretta sees Beverly smoking a cigarette outside of Secondhand Rose, and her heart stops: not in a way where she feels guilty, but where she realizes that she was real, all along. Beverly has become a figment of her imagination, one that she only thinks of when she’s cold and sweating and waiting for another fix, or food, or companionship.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She doesn’t know why Beverly’s here. She hates her for that. Her father is a creepy, disgusting fuck, and her mother’s been dead for years. There’s no reason for her to be here, in what has always been Gretta's town, first and foremost.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Too, Gretta doesn’t know what she’d expect of Beverly; for her to say something, or imprint her cigarette into Gretta’s wrist like she’d done to Beverly all those years ago, or what. All she knows is that when Beverly gives her one fleeting look before taking a drag and walking into Secondhand Rose, is that she isn’t sure whether she hates her or not.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ That night, with the snow falling like bodies, she calls the last number she remembers Beverly having, and is only met with a slow, empty ring.

[cryptozoolliegy]

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Why have gender when I can be a swamp monster?

[sophiefranz]

Swamp’d #inkdrawings #ink #brush #drybrush #monstober #halloweenie #swampmonster https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj161bvrpAz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[farel-dal]

#monstober 012 #swampmonster #swampthing #manthing #inkdrawings #halloweenie (at Tryon Creek State Natural Area) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj17MxrLjNo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[andrewbarrillustrator]

#hartmanmonstroween 16: Swamp Mummy #dailyweirdo #dailymonster #creaturedesign #drawingprompts #uotesmonstober #horror #mummy #swamp #swampmonster #aligatorman #undead # https://www.instagram.com/p/CVJFWtOFGY8/?utm_medium=tumblr

[whiteleech]

Weretober Day 3 - Crocodile