#gretta keene

[bowerspowers]

Let’s talk about Gretta!

Firstly, there are two versions of Gretta. Her name is spelled differently between both versions as well as an entirely different last name.

Greta Bowie; from the novel and miniseries is a rich girl from West Broadway. It clearly states she’s wealthy and she’s described as very pretty.

Which you can clearly see here! I think this version of Greta is more book accurate; she’s rude and snobbish but honestly she isn’t as brutal as Megan’s portrayal of Gretta Keene…

Now don’t get me wrong, but I prefer Gretta Keene over Greta Bowie. I���ll just say it.

Also! Y’all keep forgetting the second t in her name! Gretta Keene has two t’s and three e’s. Not a big deal but I thought it was neat.

As far as the credits go I’m not sure if that’s consistent across the board but her necklace absolutely sells it from the movie.

At first my blind ass read it as pretty, but nope! Two t’s confirmed!

Anyways, the whole point of this post…..

I don’t think Gretta Keene is a Rich girl like she is as Greta Bowie.

One might say her necklaces say otherwise, but honestly gold plated jewelry isn’t THAT expensive. And her father is a Pharmacist so they clearly have SOME money in the family… but I don’t think she lives in a Victorian Level house like the source material Greta does.

Gretta spends her summer sitting in her father’s pharmacy — on more than one occasion we see her there. Once when Beverly was hiding from her before running into the Losers for the first time. And the second time when Eddie encounters her and we get the iconic LOVER signature on his cast. (She was an icon for that, sorry I’m going to say it. And the gum on top of a germaphobes cast? Chefs kiss.) Without even going into the topic — she was the initial catalyst for Eddie finally standing up to Sonia as well. So… Go her!

Either way, can you really imagine rich girl Gretta Keene willingly staying with her father at work during summer? Greta Bowie would never.

My second thought is:

Timeskip Gretta. While very on brand for the times, she really doesn’t scream Wealth. And I’m not saying she isn’t pretty or any of that; but I feel like her still living with her father (and contently in Derry for that matter) ain’t screaming nepo baby to me.

Which is totally fine! She’s still an icon. You could even say a lot of this scene was manipulated by Pennywise. That’s also a possibility!

But I really think it further separates Keene from Bowie further — the latter which perished in a car accident under the influence of both alcohol and drugs.

Is Gretta Keene as West Broadway girl? Sure, to separate her and categorize her for simplicity sake. Yes. It’s also Not That Deep, but I personally think she’s upper middle class at best.

I REALLY hope Welcome to Derry gives us more Keene and Mueller family members. ESPECIALLY the latter as the Mueller’s had a huge role in the horrid crimes at the Black Spot — strictly for the sake of world building I REALLY hope we can learn more about the West Broadway families.

On another note!

This is writing in the bathroom stalls at Derry High. I fully believe GK is for Gretta Keene. Just a fun little headcanon ♡ and I’m dying to know who CS is. A headcanon I always played with was Henry’s cousin Connor — his last name likely isn’t Bowers as they are cousins not brothers. But who knows!

On a FINAL note.

You may hate Greta, you may hate Gretta.

If you do she isn’t for you! Take this instead ♡

[brynnterpretations]

Vomit My Heart, Pull My Legs Apart

“If it was what Beverly was good for, nobody could fault Gretta for wanting a taste."

🔗 Read on AO3

⌗ gretta keene/beverly marsh (one-sided) ⌗ referenced gretta keene/sally mueller ⌗ bullying ⌗ sexual harassment ⌗ eating disorders ⌗ love/hate ⌗ binge-drinking ⌗ vomiting ⌗ song: i wanna sex you up (color me badd) ⌗ song: poison (bell biv devoe) ⌗ song: push it (salt-n-pepa) ⌗ its 1991 what can i say ⌗ titled after "vomit heart" by babes in toyland

By fifth period, word had gotten around that Beverly Marsh had been sucking Belch Huggins’ dick behind the bleachers.

“Christ,” laughed Sally, “that’s sad.”

It was. While everyone knew Beverly was a slut, Belch Huggins was a new low. Since Henry the Psycho had been jailed for killing all those kids, the Bowers Gang had splintered off, and while Victor had graduated, Belch had been held back a year. The guy was dumb as rocks. Ugly as them, too. Plus, he reeked. Just thinking about the dick cheese on the fucker made Gretta involuntarily shudder.

“It’s a new low, for sure,” muttered Gretta, leaning closer to the smudged bathroom mirror as she reapplied her mascara. Tears from her earlier vomiting of stomach acid and bile had made her bottom lashes clump together, and she hissed as the wand only further melded them. “Marc, do you have your L'Oréal?”

Truthfully, it was such a low that it pissed Gretta off, for a reason she couldn’t really decipher. Beverly was easy — everyone knew that. Since she’d affiliated herself with the Losers, it became common knowledge that she was riding all of them at the Quarry like they were Stevenson rocking horses. Still, though, she couldn’t act like she hadn’t expected some modicum of decency since sophomore year had started. Bev, to some extent, had started cleaning herself up, flying through the APs and IBs she shared with Marcia and playing on the lacrosse team in that egregiously short uniform of theirs (“easy access, am I right, boys?”). She’d started dressing a bit nicer, too, even though her clothes were still clearly coming out of Salvation Army bins down on Main Street. One may even say Beverly was pretty now, with her dusting of cheap mascara and wide eyes and toned legs.

“Shit,” cursed Gretta. She’d been so lost in her head that she now looked more like a raccoon than a human, her cheeks fat and bloated and eyes outlined by halos of charcoal. 

“Do you want me to help?” asked Sally. Gretta thought of her bubblegum breath and hot, damp hands, cloying and always so desperate to please, and inhaled through her nose.

“No,” she murmured under her breath. “It’s fine. Whatever.”

She grabbed her cheer bag from the ground, rifling through it to find her camisole and miniskirt. She and her girls were going to Jeremy Bent’s party at Witcham, and they had a decent amount of time between now, the pregame, and the actual party. 

“Wait outside,” she said, tossing her clothes over her shoulder. Sally and Marcia gave each other a dubious look. “Do you people even listen to what I say? Guard the door, too. Jesus.”

The two scuttled out as Gretta rolled her eyes and started stripping off her uniform. Bruises stained her inner thighs and hipbones, which jutted out unattractively in comparison to the doughiness the water retention in her face had created. If she wanted to get laid tonight and not have shit clogging up her school’s ecosystem, it would have to be with someone very, very drunk. 

That just made her think of Beverly Marsh, and she huffed. Beverly, who slept with half the town, yet didn’t have the marks to show it. Beverly, who always acted so poor and weak around her white-trash father, yet always left her apartment with a smile on her face and this holier-than-thou attitude that she held like a knife whenever Gretta treated her like the garbage she was. 

Maybe the whole Huggins debacle pissed her off so much because Gretta knew that Beverly really wasn’t sleeping with everyone in existence and probably would’ve dropped dead before getting on her knees for Belch Huggins. She was a pump-and-dump, sure, but Beverly clearly had standards, as nonsensical to Gretta they were.

 Once in her outfit, backed away to the back of the restroom, getting on her tiptoes to inspect herself. Black skirt with a bow-tied string for a belt. Lacy, hot-pink tank top. Neon Reeboks. All to say, look, but don’t touch, and ooze a certain sense of bitchiness. Chipmunk cheeks. Stubby legs. Rotten teeth.

“Come back in,” she said.

Sally and Marcia sheepishly walked in, looking like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. She knew they gossiped about her, but considering she knew damn well that they’d never tell anyone besides each other, she let them have at it. Within reason. She’d let them have their little moments of “wow, Gretta seems off” together instead of being at each other’s throats 24/7.

“You look beautiful,” said Sally, closing the door.

“Your shooters in the bag?”

Sally nodded.

“Toss me one,” said Gretta, “we’re starting early.”

I Wanna Sex You Up blared through Jeremy’s speakers. Despite Jeremy wearing knockoff Calvin Klein and living on Witcham Street — cow shit chic, as her mother called it — the fucker had a nice house. Big open living room, marble-topped kitchen counter already sticky with alcohol, and a pool outside. Gretta wished it wasn’t October in Maine, because she could use a swim. Derec Ruddock had let her finish his joint, and she felt like she was itching out of her skin.

She didn’t really feel as drunk as she did irritated, to be honest. She’d had three shooters, a swig of vodka, and two glasses of jungle since arriving, yet her mood the entire day had sullied the normal giddiness alcohol gave her. It was only thirty minutes into the party, and Gretta was over it.

Sally tottered over to her, already sporting a stain on her white tulle shirt. “BP?”

Gretta gave her a size-up. Sally’s cherry lip gloss had smeared past her lip into a milky pink sheen, and her eyes had that giddy, distant sort of look she always got when she’d had too many shots. “Not if you’re gonna make me lose.”

Sally whined, a shrill, irritating sound, snaking her arm around Gretta’s. “You don’t have to be on my team, you know. There’s someone I think you’ll really want to see.”

Gretta scrunched her nose. There wasn’t really anyone she was interested in. Sure, she’d staked her claim on Mikey Ewart, but she’d made it clear since 8th grade that she was not the type of girl to immediately fuck a guy within the start of a party.

“Fine,” muttered Gretta, “where’s Marc?”

“Talking to Jeremy,” giggled Sally as she led her through the crowd. She was needy — whenever Gretta was in a bad mood and hadn’t let Sally get in-between her legs in a couple of days, she became skittish, histrionic. “They’re quite the match, I’d say.”

Rolling her eyes, Gretta allowed Sally to whisk her down to the basement. It was stuffier than the rest of the house. Tarp was laid over the carpet and made soft noises when Gretta’s Reeboks treaded on it, and there was a lingering smell of stale beer. Still, it was less crowded than upstairs with less harah lighting, so Gretta would take what she could get.

“There,” nodded Sally, “have a go?”

Beverly fucking Marsh stood at the corner of the room, wearing one of her nicer donation-pile dresses, some billowing cami with an old couch pattern to it. It was clearly for someone more well-endowed than her, the hem of the dress awkwardly bunching up where her sparse chest was. As always, she wore a collection of cheap jewelry dangling off her wrists, her apartment-key necklace knocking into her prominent chest bones as she laughed with Mikey Ewart. Bitch bitch cunt. Beverly had done herself up a bit, with dark eyeshadow framing her freakishly blue eyes, mascara making her eyelashes even more voluminous than they already were. Slightly smudged red lipstick, too, a shade that Gretta’s mother would immediately call a slut paint. As Gretta stared her down, stomach churning, she felt like Beverly was actually able to pass as someone not the epitome of white trash, while Gretta was balloon-cheeked, stubby—

“Hey, Marsh,” called out Gretta, hand already fishing one of her last whiskey shooters from her purse. “2v2.”

Beverly looked up with those impossibly wide doe eyes, clearly startled. Considering Beverly’s reputation, she, at first, had no clue how the little shit had made it to a place like Jeremy’s, before recalling she was on the team with Mikey’s big sister — Dina, or something. She was upstairs and another one of those holier-than-thou types, probably thinking herself to be a good, sweet person for inviting fucking Swampmonster to a party.

“Oh, hey, G,” grinned Mikey. Unlike Jeremy’s, Mikey’s CK was actually real, but she was so pissed that she couldn’t care, downing her shooter and giving Mikey a nasty smile.

“Whatcha waiting for?” she sing-songed. “I don’t bite.”

Gretta did bite. Hard. Beverly had looked over to Mikey with that stupid faux-innocent look on her face, the one that said please daddy get me out of this sticky situation, but Mikey was too stupid to notice — one of the things she liked about the guy. Dumb boys were the easiest. 

As Mikey jovially pranced over, Beverly shuffled behind him, holding her jungle with an iron grip. Cute. “Eye to eye. You and Sally.”

“Your wish is my command,” said Mikey with a smile. 

The alcohol was finally starting to kick in for Gretta, making her body feel like it was buzzing, the remnants of her headache fading into a pleasant thrum. 

“Eye—to—eye—“

Despite her drunkenness, Sally’s ball made it — a fucking golf ball, Jesus, what did a girl have to do to get a ping-pong at a party — while Mikey’s didn’t. Baseball apparently didn’t do much for the guy’s hand-eye coordination. 

“Broadways first,” smiled Gretta as Mikey faux-grumbled to Beverly. Gretta saw her laugh weakly, obviously trying to just get through the round before skittering back to her shithole of an apartment. “You go, Sally.”

Sally looked at her with wide, drunken eyes, obviously trying to gauge what Gretta wanted out of the round. Gretta knocked her knee into Sally’s: just go.

Hers almost made it into the middle, but awkwardly bounced off. It was better than Gretta was expecting her to be, honestly, and she got points for scoring first, anyway. Gretta plucked her golf ball from her cup, meeting Beverly’s eyes.

“You first,” said Gretta sweetly.

With that, the game turned rhythmic. Beverly missed. Gretta didn’t. When Gretta held out her hand, Sally handed her her last tequila shooter, which Gretta threw back with practiced ease. Ball in, ball out, ball in, ball out — Gretta could barely remember why she had been in such a sullen mood at the start of the party. There was such an easiness to everything she did and felt. She never wanted it to end.

When Gretta’s turn came again, she looked over to Sally. She returned her gaze with big, brown eyes, so sick and desperate for approval. She leaned into Gretta, hot hands grazing her sides. “When do you want to get out of here?”

It took Gretta a few seconds to process what she said. She stared at Sally Mueller, her friend of eight years, who would do anything and everything to please her, who meant something to her — but not enough. She smiled.

“Let’s finish the game,” she said.

She retrieved the pong ball and readied her aim. Mikey was whispering something into Beverly’s ear as his hand rubbed at the small of her back, probably trying to bestow some ancient high-school BP strategies onto her, and Gretta felt something hot splinter in her.

Pop. The golf ball went smack-dab into Beverly Marsh’s perfectly blushing cheek.

Beverly stumbled back, and Mikey, off his ass on Busch, took a few seconds to register before gingerly placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you—”

“What the fuck, Gretta?” asked Beverly. Her voice got higher when she drank. 

“Oh, poor thing,” cooed Gretta, all faux-sympathy. She felt a drunken surge of power, and with that came giddiness, like there was a light filling and warming all the dark, gutty crevices inside her body. “God, I’m so sorry.” 

“Shit, that’s Jeremy’s fault,” muttered Mikey. “Nobody could find the ping-pong balls. Probably had them wedged up his ass from how much of a control-freak he’s been about getting the party on the calendar—”

Before Mikey could finish his ramble in a semi-coherent way, Beverly had darted out of the room, her worn Dr. Martens click-clacking on the stairs. Gretta held back a laugh, while Sally had put her hand to her mouth, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Ah, fuck,” said Mikey, rubbing a hand over his face. He stumbled halfway over to Gretta and Sally. “Dina’s gonna be pissed.”

“Why’s that?” asked Sally. She, too, was drunk off her fucking ass, putting her entire body weight onto the table and looking at Mikey as if he was the second coming of Jesus.

“Girl’s had a rough go of things lately,” Mikey mumbled, voice teetering on a whine. Ew, thought Gretta, feeling her empty stomach churn with disgust. “We were trying to make it better, get her away from all the shit.”

Well, I’m right, as always, thought Gretta. “Let me fix it.” 

Mikey looked at her from his right eye. His hand was still covering half of his face, and he seemed to be drunk enough to not realize that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” smiled Gretta. “No problem. It’s my bad, really. Sally, if you can stay?”

Sally appeared to almost cartoonishly crumple into herself — you don’t want me to help? —  and it made Gretta laugh, a light, airy one. She felt better than she’d ever felt in her life.

“I’ll be right back,” Gretta whispered into Sally’s ear before flittering away, like a bird flying for the first and final time. Everything felt perfect, until flashes came in her vision that made her suddenly furious and nearly aflame with her rage, but then she just had to see the faces of everyone at Jeremy Bent’s Witcham St. party to feel grounded again. She didn’t really know where she was going as the music wavered around her—Girl, I Must Warn You! I Sense Something Strange In My Mind—until she was outside the bathroom closest to the door.

The sad, loser bathroom, where the sad losers went to cry, sad losers like Beverly Marsh. Gretta leaned against the door, the cool of the wood against her flushed face feeling nearly orgasmic, and closed her eyes.

It wasn’t until Salt-n-Pepa started leaking around the corner that Gretta remembered. She knocked on the door. 

“Almost done.”

That flat, neutral tone of Beverly’s — gutless in its lack of conviction, in anything. Gretta inhaled deeply, a flash of hatred streaking through her body, and knocked again with both of her hands, beating on the door like the knuckles of a madwoman.

“Jesus, what the fuck do you want?” snapped Beverly, opening the door. The eye makeup she’d bothered to do had been cried off, a pink welt forming on her right cheek. It was round and pink like a cripps apple, and Gretta was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to bite it.

“Oh, fuck no,” said Beverly, about to shut the door, until Gretta manhandled her way in. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m really sorry about all this,” said Gretta, locking the door. She turned to Beverly, her vision swimming slightly, giving her a nasty smile. “That looks like it hurts.” 

Beverly watched her warily. They’d never been left alone together in such a small space, and she looked like a cornered animal, yet Gretta could tell she was still calculating, still trying to calmly and indifferently get herself out of the situation, and it pissed her off. “I wonder why.”

“That cheek gonna stop you from rubbing up on every walking dick you see?”

“Jesus, is that your problem?” scoffed Beverly. Her head bobbed a bit, like she was trying to physically shake the alcohol off without looking too drunk. “Michael’s all yours, believe me.”

Gretta cocked her head. Stared. Felt a rush of tenderness for Beverly, feeling a sick sort of satisfaction for having a mark on her body that came from hers.

“Enjoy your shitty—” 

She did it without thinking, closing the space between them, mashing her lips on Beverly’s. It hurt, and that was what made it feel good, the mashing of Beverly’s teeth on hers as the redhead backed into the wall, nearly falling over the toilet. Gretta hadn’t ever kissed anyone standing up, and there was something that felt very purposeful and intentful about it, something that made her want to pin Beverly to the wall and make her regret ever talking to Mikey or getting on her knobby knees for any guy who treated her nicely. Without thinking, her hand found Beverly’s lower thigh— 

Gretta saw herself collide with the back of the door before feeling it. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?” gasped Beverly. Her lipstick was smeared. She looked hurt, and she looked very good that way, a speck of blood beading at the corner of her lip. Gretta could taste it on her own.

She exhaled a ragged breath, staring at her, Beverly staring back, the animalistic feeling of everything turning into an exhaustion that made her want to throw up everything in her body. Beverly had never looked at her like that before. She’d been awful to her, had bruised Beverly, but hadn’t really done anything like this. Probably hadn’t ever seemed like the type of girl to do that sort of thing to other girls, to want it from other girls.

In Gretta’s inaction, Beverly darted past her and slammed the door shut. She didn’t hear any yelling, anything to indicate that Beverly was going to tattle. Nobody would believe her, anyway. Beverly was the whore who always insisted she wasn’t one, even though she obviously was, and she was so slutty that nobody would be surprised if she made a pass on Gretta — there was a reason she hung around Trashmouth, anyway. She couldn’t beat herself up for it later, either. If it was what Beverly was good for, nobody could fault Gretta for wanting a taste.

She stared at herself in the mirror, smudged from a bad cleaning job. The song felt like it was going on forever, making her stomach churn. Yeah, You! Come Here, Gimme A Kiss, Better Make It Fast Or Else I'm Gonna Get Pissed— 

It didn’t take long for Gretta to start puking bile into the sink.

[deadinderry]

gretta had been facing her locker, only seeing henry from the mirror on the door. “whatever, bowers. your funeral.” she slams the door, swiveling around to face him. “that tramp stacy is totally doing it with steven dalt in there, but whatever. be the kid who walked in on that freak show.” she shrugs, a grin on her face. “just don’t say i didn’t warn ‘ya.”

@deadinderry asked:

"I   wouldn’t   go   in   there." for henry from gretta.

Henry stopped, his hands inches from the door handle as she called out. He let out a hmm and turned around to face her, his defences up. "And why do you care if I go in there?" He questioned the girl. He didn't care for her; she was just another face in the crowd. If he wanted to go inside, he would.

[princess-glassred]

Imagine if Bev hadn't already gotten her period before she met the losers and just got it on a random day they were hanging out at the club house. She's just chilling with them all like normal until suddenly her ovaries start kicking her ass and she just keels over in pain. Everyone is freaking out, most of the boys think she's dying. Mike is horrified because hes rather sheltered from most things, doesnt even know what a period is. Eddie is horrified cause of the blood on her dress. Ben and Bill wanna help but they don't know how. Stan has totally checked out. And richie tries to crack a joke about "oh geez bev are you having a woman problem or something?" Until he realizes, yes, she actually is.

They sit Bev down and try to awkwardly help the best the can. Mike gives Bev a soda can he was drinking out of cause its still cold and he thinks she can press it against her stomach to ease the pain. Stan just kinda kicks dirt over the spot on the ground where she bled everywhere and says that's good enough. Bev eventually pulls Eddie and Bill aside and asks them if they will go to the pharmacy and get her some pads because she 1. Doesn't wanna see Mr. Keene again 2. Doesn't wanna risk running into Gretta when she already feels bad. 3. Doesn't wanna walk around town with blood all over her dress. And 4. Doesn't want her dad to see her buying these yet.

Eddie and Bill ride their bikes to the pharmacy and spend the next five minutes awkwardly perusing the women' aisle overwhelmed by choice. They have no idea what option to get and they also dont get why there are so many. Bill just tells him to get the one on the right because "it has flowers on the box... girls like flowers.". Eddie also picks up a box of tampons and when bill asks why he says that next time Richie gets a random nosebleed he's gonna hand him one of these. At the register Mr. Keene is very weirded out by the fact that these two thirteen year old boys are buying period products and nothing else, Eddie's not even here for an inhaler refill. He asks who these are for and Eddie says "my mom" and Bill says he is also buying period products for Eddie's mother. Riiight. 😑

When all is said and done though i think things could have totally been worse, and although her friends were terrified and panicking they were still pretty respectful about it. Honestly probably better than if this had happened at home or, god forbid, at class.

This post is sponsored by me being on my period today, 😃 it fucking sucks. 😄

[venuscheered]

I’m gonna say it! you guys love shitting on Gretta Keene and Sally Mueller and Marcia Fadden for the same reasons you thirst for the Bowers Gang. All y’all do it so don’t even pretend 😭 but if the roles were reversed and they were guys they’d be hella popular characters.

[dastmalchiansnose]

get to know your mutuals

thank you for the tag, @strang3lov3! ♡

what's the origin of your blog title?

david dastmalchian's nose is one of my favorite things about him visually! i really like noses like that, but I'm not sure what they're called. roman nose? idk.

favourite fandoms?

i love the succession fandom, even though it's slowed down considerably. also, outing myself as a reddit user here, but i love r/okbuddysuccession, LOL. i also love the dastmalchian fandom by itself, as well as hamish linklater's!

otp(s)/shipname?

erin x riley from midnight mass, eileen x rebecca from eileen, and gretta keene x beverly marsh from it (2017) (mmm give me da toxic yuri)

favorite color?

dark brown

favorite game?

word games! IRL, i love scrabble, and digitally, i love wordle and word hunt + anagrams on IOS. i also love playing chess even though i am so bad at it, and always lose to my twelve-year-old cousin.

song stuck in your head?

I'M FEARFUL I'M FEARFUL I'M FEARFUL OF FLYING AND FLYING IS FEARFUL OF ME!!!!

weirdest habit/trait?

i couldn't think of any from the top of my head, so i asked my family; my sister and dad said eating lemons dipped in sugar (it is GAS, try it if you haven't), and my mom said my memory. i have a very strong memory and can recall exactly how i felt in the moment, physically and emotionally.

hobbies?

reading, writing, listening to music, playing the guitar, rollerblading, and playing minecraft!

if you work, what's your profession?

i'm currently a cashier and training assistant at a chain restaurant, and do babysitting on the side.

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?

student rights lawyer! i'm currently minoring in legal studies, but i'm going back-and-forth on actually going to law school because it is just... so much money. it has been a dream of mine since i was in middle school, though.

something you're good at?

i'd say i'm pretty good at writing! i've also got a knack for word games, too. anyone who plays word hunt or anagrams with me gets annihilated.

something you're bad at?

comforting people. i'm very solution-oriented, and i don't really know how to just sit there and listen, which is what a lot of people want.

something you love?

my doggy ♡

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff?

mbti & enneagram

something you hate?

i have such an irrational hatred for "womp womp" and every time i see or hear it i get sent into a primal rage

something you collect?

calico critters! i'm really sad, though, because my dad's dog got my hedgehog family and now they are all permanently disfigured.

something you forget?

to text people back, to the point it became my new year's resolution in 2024

what's your love language?

quality time

favorite movie/show?

hereditary for movie, and midnight mass for show!

favorite food?

grrr don't make me choose... either chana saag or yellow curry

favorite animal?

my doggy x2 ♡

are you musical?

i love music (i actually have a blog for it!), but i'm kind of a jack-of-all-trades and master of none with instruments. i play guitar, mandolin, ukulele, and banjo, but... i'm mediocre at all of them. i just do it because i like it. i also never bothered to learn how to read musical notes, so...

what were you like as a child?

very serious, type-a, and neurotic. also very mean to my big sister, because we were and are so different and argued all the time (sorry, kelsey).

favorite subject at school?

any english course; my favorite class of all time, though, was an environmental sociology course last year!

least favorite subject?

drama. i fucking hated drama with all my heart in high school. i'm not an actress.

what's your best character trait?

my principles? does that count? i always stick to what i believe in and am pretty consistent.

what's your worst character trait?

stubbornness, which does go hand-in-hand with my best character trait.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?

that i did my laundry earlier >_<

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?

aghhh either audre lorde or andrea dworkin. maybe valerie solanas, too, specifically after the andy warhol debacle.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!):

pulling triggers by notyourfavouriteboy on ao3!

tagging:

@verylightsheep & @donadefr3sa & @murdocsgirl & @ronecam & @minty-oblivion & @polkastuff & @murdocs-sweetheart

[reddie-ao3feed]

I can't see what anyone can see in anyone else (but you)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/LyzQpo8 by edsspaghedsloser The year is 1991, Eddie is fifteen years old. His mother has allowed him to attend summer camp, after much persuasion from Sharon Denbrough. This awkward, hormonal teen was allowed to leave the house! WOOP! Words: 2854, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: IT - Stephen King Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Henry Bowers, Reginald "Belch" Huggins, Patrick Hockstetter, Victor Criss, Greta Bowie | Gretta Keene, Sally Mueller, Myra Kaspbrak, Patricia Blum Uris, Georgie Denbrough, The Losers Club (IT), Adrian Mellon, Don Hagarty, Donald Uris, Sharon Denbrough, Henry Bowers's Gang (IT), The Losers - Character Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Connor Bowers & Richie Tozier Additional Tags: Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Mentioned Sonia Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Ben Hanscom Loves Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Pop Culture, 1980s, Scary Movies, Campfires read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/LyzQpo8

[burning-blossomss]

Connections

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Bowers gang

Carla has known these guys for a long time, like, since elementary school.

Vic and Carla are.. complicated. They have had a toxic, on again off again thing since last summer. They care about eachother but not enough to be vulnerable emotionally, and Vic isn't emotionally mature enough for a healthy relationship. Their "love" (if thats even the right word) is like a chain with a manacle at each end.

Says she hates Patrick and don't get me wrong, she does, but she also has always found him hot. She is in denial.

Henry thinks Carla is a major bitch and Carla thinks Henry is a redneck asshole, she makes fun of his mullet a lot behind his back.

Reggie is also someone Carla kinda tolerates, he's never been HORRIBLE to her but she thinks he needs to grow some spine and stand up to Henry every once and awhile.

Loser's Club

Carla tutors Richie is history because he's failing and she's great at that class, she thinks he's a pretty funny kid.

Carla has always been kind to Beverly, she knows what it's like to have rumours spread about her and is there to talk to if Bev ever needs it.

tbh she barely knows the other kids in the Loser's Club.

Misc

Carla thinks Gretta Keene is a bit of a bitch and doesn't really like her.

One time Butch Bowers arrested Tammy and Carla has had major beef with this man ever since, also Butch doesn't like her parents so in extension he doesn't like her.

Other ocs

Tammy Harlowe is Carla's ride or die, her best friend since second grade. They match eachother's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.

Steven Miller is Carla's neighbor and a friend of hers, she's always thought he was cute and has a little crush on him

Carla likes her mother but her father has some mental health issues and PTSD that makes him difficult to deal with, he used to be very verbally and emotionally abusive because of that but is trying to be better, Carla still doesn't trust him. Her father caused her to started burning things out of anger and a way to rebel. She has always been very close with her mother. Her mother taught her about feminism and had Carla reading a book whenever she could.

Tammy's kid sister Hannah is kinda like the little sister Carla has never had.

–––

Carla has always found Madeleine Darlington @rwottingraven fascinating. She thinks she's funny and really cool and wants to get to know her better.

Carla doesn't know what to make of Casy Jones, @casseyjonessthegirlkissser on one hand, she's really nice and cool and Carla loved Casey's racoon. On the other hand, she's a little.. off. But then again, who is she to judge?

Brock Bloom @ruzthl3ss-s (love interest) is the first guy she's gone out with that's treated her like someone worth respect. He's mature and kind and respectful, his calmness balances her out.

[444names]

Names generated from American, French, German and Dutch forenames, excluding the letter "I"

Aachry Aafan Aaldradran Aaltorg Aance Aanda Aarcorsus Aarlexanny Aarma Aberrya Abretje Aderry Adewaron Adjean Adjes Adradelord Agandy Agnel Agneth Albeanel Alberl Alberth Aldance Almatter Alphana Alvalrann Alynda Ameloth Andor Andsa Angobby Angotte Anoît Anpatsy Anyane Areth Argert Arnatte Arnda Aärollyne...

Beandordt Beandy Beanna Belva Bermared Bermarvé Berne Betch Betjenra Bette Betteffer Beugla Blancy Bober Bobyne Bodne Bonney Borgreter Bradrene Brannonne Brathann Brenn Brené Calber Calen Calfreen Carace Cared Carle Carloderes Carndren Carnekke Carry Casta Catsy Channem Chantone Charnekke Chary Chele Chery Chlora Clacon Claurégo Cléme Colger Colly Colte Coltje Conel Coredua Coresebet Corethaël Corgud Corna Corne Curaquel Cédrah Daalmune Daand Daary Dagdam Dagnès Dagtjean Dalevenjas Dance Dancecco Danevey Danger Danne Darnez Deannola Debashawna Debesty Delent Delma Delsa Derno Deterle Dolaume Dolernouk Duart Eandy Eanmarnes Eanne Ebert Edwallyn Elhane Ellanny Elotterre Emeloreda Erhald Esevalfra Ettyrolk Everenez Faber Fanean Fanes Fanna Faymo Fernda Ferta Floudua Fonna Frace Fracout Frada Freenjach Frelyne Frence Frentjet Fretterne Genny Geona Geonrya Geore Gerada Geran Geraurosel Gerce Gerry Gharkolyd Glaud Godoren Goeleeley Goren Gorostald Gotharl Gotheredem Gotthanto Gredd Green Grena Grenn Grenne Gretta Grettesl Guely Gunda Gunekkee Guste Gwenn Günth Haemaula Harachal Hareghaël Hellexanne Heody Hernouke Herreste Herryleen Hersha Holeonarry Holke Honne Honyaane Hopath Hugerme Hugorgen Hunda Hundy Hérès Jaandrenda Jaane Jaarma Jaccal Jacech Jacey Jacha Jachowanda Jacquelle Janatrane Jancenrany Jancent Jandy Jealen Jeandt Jeane Jeank Jeanlettha Jeart Jeathera Jefael Jentope Jerbas Jerren Jeryssam Jesmutz Jesta Joana Joanfra Joanoue Jodellmar Joelse Johanne Joharle Johartopha Johawn Johawrenja Jonne Jorace Joren Joret Jorobby Jorys Josan Josetchan Josetterna Josham Joshel Jossa Jostacha Joycey Juady Juanda Juang Juanna Julanor Jularady Jérane Jérola Jérèse Karace Karlee Karley Karlys Karmarmas Karryle Katha Kathemmy Kaymotte Keene Keharrya Kelle Kendy Kenrad Kento Keret Kryne Laneke Lareda Lascard Lauston Leesusto Lenry Leorna Lethannale Lorah Loredge Lorel Loren Lorgel Lorgeo Loscath Lotherno Loudy Louthendy Ludebke Luppe Luttace Lutto Lynnes Maggy Magje Magnèse Malken Manclah Marald Maranne Maraus Marayl Marebasto Mared Margarsus Marger Marla Marlessa Marley Marne Marnonny Marnoît Maroley Marom Marranneal Marryanne Marte Marton Maryl Mathes Matondse Mattera Maxen Maxene Medel Melauk Melleon Mesleen Monal Mored Morew Nadrenth Nonnya Ocheltony Olaurt Olker Olley Orader Ostéph Otheatra Otthéo Pamue Patheane Patrane Paura Pedert Penzo Pertanlore Pharce Phazel Poldel Polenethan Racquel Radle Rafje Rance Rannelf Ranton Redar Redus Remman Rencele Renthy Reste Rette Rocham Roeloen Rolaus Romadrene Ronne Rosett Rosetta Rothela Rotte Royce Rudol Rudon Rémen Sabrus Sadal Sannet Sanny Saymonsgar Scatton Shanna Shanne Shany Sharce Shelon Sheloyced Shlenney Sjaafjea Sopaud Stertando Suely Susta Sévenz Séver Sévertan Tabepha Talder Talenkel Tallee Tamarette Tellencely Tellyn Telyne Tendonne Tevernda Torryne Trana Tyrack Udets Urenjan Urette Uwenzo Valeert Valentz Valmand Valmanne Vetchella Vérès Waldelle Waytooke Werek Xandy Xeldele Yanue Yvolger Zablaurt Zabra Éloyann Élène Élèney Érèse

[bowerspowers]

gretta is actually so pretty , y'all are just blind !

[brynnterpretations]

And I'll Be The Biggest Scar On Your Back 

Their dads got along.

⌗ gretta keene x beverly marsh ⌗ implied/referenced eating disorders ⌗ implied/referenced child abuse ⌗ bullying ⌗ love/hate ⌗ title from "good sister bad sister" by hole

If every day you asked Gretta Keene why she started being nasty to Beverly Marsh, the answer would never stay the same.

Beverly just sparked that kind of reaction in her, she guessed. Sometimes, she thought of how Beverly placed her cherry-red lips on Bill Denbrough’s lips, the stupid stutterer that she found herself attracted to when she was eight, and remembered sticking Hubba Bubba in her hair and feeling a hot, exhilarating sense of pride when Beverly had turned around, deer-eyed and yet to realize she’d have to cut off a chunk of her pretty auburn hair. Other times, she thought of how she invoked the look from Gretta's father, yet never had to deal with the repercussions of it, always gliding away with nothing but a fine, easy bruise or two from her own dad. Mostly, in the comfort of Gretta's room, with no one and nothing but her and a dull ache in her groin, she would decide that she hated Beverly for putting up with her bullshit while still never putting down with it, somehow seeming so above her even in her hideous Salvation Army jewlery and her dresses that smelled of cat piss and tobacco, never telling anyone when she’d seen Gretta come out of the bathroom puffy-faced and bile-breathed, or when her denim jacket had slipped during an assembly to reveal a nasty bruise on her upper back. She never looked at her with sympathy, only walking away — not darting like anyone with a brain would, but slowly, patiently walking away, like Gretta was just any other person, like she wouldn’t bash her brains in.

And, at times like these, she’d say it was because their dads got along. Even though Alvin Marsh was a piece of white trash that would be better off dead, he and Norman shared the same proclivities, each hang-out ending with them exchanging envelopes or boxes or whatever-the-fuck and the lingering of. Before that, though, Beverly would always be dropped off into Gretta’s custody with him chumming it up with Plumber Alvin about how good these two get along, only interrupting when Gretta had been annoyed enough to consider beating the shit out of Beverly again, both of their fathers be damned.

“I never want to be here either, you know,” said Beverly. Her voice was always soft, dull, unworried, sounding too old for a sixteen-year-old’s. It felt inexplicably presumptuous to Gretta, and she hated it.

“Did I say you did?” Gretta said back, her tone irritated.

Beverly gave a peek at her surroundings. Usually, they just sat in silence in the extravagantly kitsch Keene dining room, but her dad had acted squirrelly about that and sent them to her room. Gretta had a nice room. The walls were painted purple. She had framed posters for Bananarama and The Bangles. She had a canopy bed. It was probably nicer than anything Beverly had ever seen, and that made Gretta feel good. 

“Probably don’t see anything like this in your shithole apartment, huh,” said Gretta. As much as she didn’t want Beverly in her room, there was no point in Gretta being uncomfortable, so she sat herself on her bed, watching her warily. According to the Muellers, Marsh had a penchant for stealing. 

“Joan Jett?” asked Beverly, unphased, nodding over to a small print of Joan Jett that she had on her desk, surrounded by Precious Moments figurines and empty shooter bottles. From the back, Gretta was able to think she was pretty, probably because she was able to pretend it wasn’t Beverly, it wasn’t the girl she bullied, it wasn’t the girl she hated, it wasn’t the girl she’d be fine with in any other circumstances. Pretty hair, long legs, long fingers. All patchouli and nicotine and garbage, so easily bruised by just a hand around her neck.

“Yeah,” Gretta said.

Beverly looked away and shrugged. “I didn’t know you liked her.”

“You don’t know a lot of things,” snapped Gretta, “proper etiquette, for starters.”

Beverly had taken a seat at her desk, and Gretta didn’t want to think of the secondhand smoke that would be embedding itself into the faux fur of her fuzzy desk chair or the warmth that she would leave behind.

She rested her skinny, pale arm on the desk, looking at Gretta with her wide, blue eyes, unamused. “May I sit?”

Maybe the most consistent answer to why Gretta hated Beverly so much was that she both loathed her and loved her, wanted to turn her teeth inwards with her fist and then kiss into her mashed mouth, how she wanted to go back to third grade and just choose someone else to pick on, how she wanted to break the hand Beverly always raised in class then be the one to nurse it back to health, with Beverly having no option but to grovel and say thank you—her old, poor fuck of a father certainly would never get it fixed for her. But the thoughts don’t really last if she tries hard enough. 

“Not like I can stop you,” said Gretta.

She turned on the radio. 

[deadinderry]

if anybody is open to doing a roleplay with gretta i would be so down for that. usually people aren’t too keene abt her (pun intended)

[fauxfinale-moved]

the hush of the barrens made even the faintest of steps audible , twigs snapping - stones shuffling ; it was comparable to a pin dropping in a vacant room .

hazel eyes flit up towards the tozier studying him , all the while her lips pressed together . it was scary , not in the way someone like henry bowers or gretta keene might stare ... but the uncertainty of knowing what one of derry high school's most popular students may be thinking ; was enough to churn a gut or two .

the cheerleader pushes her frame up , seated onto her knees - the quilted fabric underneath her bunched up as she shifted . her parasol , dainty ( and unnecessary ) continued to swirl .

' you look ... different than i remember . '

she looks perplexed , all signs pointed to marilyn mistaking him with his twin . good natured at heart , it wasn't likely that she even knew the tozier family had a set of twins . unfortunately for edgar , it would seem richie would absorb most of the spot light .

a lovely day to spend at the quarry - awfully lonesome , though . her friends on the cheer squad , nor jocks wanted to go .

she idly spins a parasol between her finger tips , excitement tends to finds it's way to her , unfortunately the wait is terribly mundane .

[princess-glassred]

NEW IT OC!! 💓🎀🎊🧸

•She is 14

•She is albino and epileptic, both things she gets fiercly bullied for.

•Lynette's family moved to Derry when she was only knee high, they thought this would be a good place to move without a lot of people to bother them about Lynette's "conditions", only to realize later that Derry doesn't respond well to strange new people.

•She lives in the fancier part of town with Gretta Keene and Marcia Fadden

•She is an only child

•Her father, Tompson Billard, is a pretty successful data broker for a random company. He adores his daughter very much and does his best to provide Lynette and his wife with everything they could ever want or need.

•Lynette's mother, Diana Billard, is just a housewife, although given the fact they can afford cleaners to come every few days she doesn't do a lot of house wifing. Lynette and her mother love each other a lot, but Diana has always felt immense guilt over Lynette's albinism and epilepsy, because she appearently had a very stressful pregnancy and thinks that made Lynette come out different. She tends to overcompensate because of this by being super close with her daughter. Diana is the kind of mom to make jokes about how she and her daughter are "twins" wenever they get the same kind of ice cream or both wear a pony tail.

•Lynette is spoiled a lot at home, her parents are often insecure about her self image so they give her everything she could ever want and more. Her father buys her pretty dresses all the time so people can see how pretty she is, which Lynette appreciates a lot. It seems to carry this tone of insecurity with it though, like they really want Lynette to believe it but they can only half believe it themselves. Lynette's not a terrible person because of her spoiled behavior, shes more spoiled sweet tbh. But a part of her feels a bit overburdened by the constant showering of presents at home.

•Her epilepsy medication makes her very very skinny and frail.

•She's also pretty lanky so that only adds to her odd appearance.

•She's quite girly to be honest, she loves lots of stereotypically feminine stuff

•Lynette is also really interested in the 70's and early 70's culture, she loves old sitcoms and her favorite band is the beatles. She gets this most from her mother and father who sort of forced their interests onto her.

•She's a goody two shoes, she'd hardly have anything bad to say about her parents even if she tried.

•She likes flowers, birds, animals, envirementalism, icecream, pretty dresses, rocking out to music in her room, fashion magazines, barbie dolls, jewlery, hair accessories, dancing, and just generally being a stereotypical teenage girl.

•She also loves being outside although she rarely is cause she gets sunburnt very easily.

•favorite food is strawberry pancakes ala mode, favorite place in Derry is the Chillology icecream shop, favorite movie is the princess bride, favorite colors are Pink, purple, and gold, favorite band is the beatles, favorite animal is a Linnete bird, favorite book is prince and the pauper, and her favorite person is probably Shelley Duvall. She is her IDOL.

•Kids nickname her Doughnut at school because she is white like powder and it's ironic because she hardly ever eats. Her epilepsy meds make her appetite very small.

•Her dislikes are taking her meds, having people endlessly ask her questions about her albinism, getting on stage in front of people, blood of any kind, social gatherings, overly loud people like Richie Tozier.

•Her most prized possesion is her locket, inside of it is a picture of her pet hamster she's named Mcartney after Paul Mcartney.

•She has to travel out of town once every few months to go see a doctor about her epilepsy, sometimes she undergoes procedures and brain scans and sometimes it's just a check up, but she gets out of school quite a bit.

•People at school ask if she's a ghost or an alien because shes albino, scrawny, and has issues with her brain.

•Lynette's biggest flaw is that sometimes she is insecure about her own independance to a fault, sometimes even to the point of apathy. Her parents tell her she can't do something and she believes it, so she doesn't. If you ask her to do something super physically taxxing and dangerous she will probably break down in tears and insist she can't. She wasn't made to be adventurous, she was made to sit in her house and be pretty. But at the same time, Linette does indeed want a life that's free from pills and pretty dresses. She would love to be bold, she just doesn't think she can. She sees women all around her succumb to the role of being a housewife who wistfully watches as the world goes by and she hates that that might be her future- if she even gets married at all. Linette is admittedly quite cowardly when it comes to her own destiny.

•She's very quiet, which also doesn't help the fact a lot of kids think she's creepy, but she likes to be in her own head about things in case she says the wrong thing.

•She actually dated Eddie Kaspbrak for a short period of time. They dated for a month because she thought he was cute and Eddie unknowingly was looking for any girl who could cover up his queer feelings. The odd couple recieved a lot of snickers and teasings when they were together, eddie was already small and compared to a lanky girl like Lynette it was simply ridiculous. It made Eddie wonder if his father felt the same way walking around with his mother, a very skinny guy with a borderline obeses housewife lugging him around. Eddie also got teased for dating a freak like Lynette, and even richie jokingly asked if he was only dating her for money. Their relationship came to an end however when Lynette, like the mature mini adult she was, realized they didn't have anything in common other than being disabled. Lynette liked Eddie because he was picked on for his asthma like she was picked on for her epilepsy and albinism, but the two couldn't be more opposite. Eddie was loud, argumentative, and sometimes foul mouth while Lynette was passive and quite to an almost annoying extent. She would talk about how she loved flowers and he'd freak cause he was allergic, he'd say he loved trains and Lynette would complain about how loud they were and how all the carbon emissions they made harmed the natural wildlife. Looking back on their relationship, eddie feels bad that he used her like that, and would sometimes het mad at her for not being rebellious like he was. The relationship was doomed from the start.

•She doesn't like Richie very much, she assumes he's a good person and all (Lynette is so niave thinks everyone is a good person deep down, even Henry Bowers) but she doesn't find him funny nor entertaining at all, and honestly she just thinks he's annoying and causes too many problems in class. It does not help that Richie made some honestly kind of mean remarks about her when Eddie was dating her, mostly because he was jealous and insecure about his own sexuality.

•She has a mild friendship with Stanley Uris though, mostly due their love of birds. Her friendship with Stan helped her realize that she didn't actually love Eddie at all because she kept thinking about how much she LOVED hanging out with Stan and talking about their interest compared to the pure anxiety of everytime Eddie and her tried to hang out. Stan likes Lynette a lot, but he does feel a little bit sorry for her because she doesn't seem to know what she's doing or how capable she is.

•I think Lynette is pan, as in she loves everyone and everybody, she just doesn't realize it yet. Maybe when she's older.

•If Pennywise were to chase her down I think it would either be as a bunch of shopping mall manniquins sprang to life. It would represent a lot about what she fears most, the fact the manniquin only exists to wear pretty clothes and stand there, the lack of a face and how identical they all are symbolizing a loss of indentity, ect. Pennywise would probably attack her in the Derry mall parking lot after hours.

•As an adult I think she'd run a bunch of non profit charities to help animals, the envirement, and epilepsy awareness. As a job though she'd have her own jewlery business that she can run by herself.

•I think Lynette will find her independance eventually, just not in Derry. She's a bright girl, she's just struggling real bad.

[venuscheered]

[ fenix residence ]

marilyn's house , located along west broadway near gretta keene , sally mueller , and next door neighbors with sawyer thomas.

her house is fenced in with a white wooden fence , providing privacy for the family and their yard . next to marilyn's bedroom ( seen : top left window ) there is a balcony which attaches to a small patio below . marilyn uses this in order to sneak out at night - but also serves well for people to climb up and in .

her bedroom is clean - organized decently well . an attached bathroom as well as a walk in closet are typical of houses in this neighborhood . across the hallways is her brother's bedroom , although he is rarely home as he's deployed in the military .

her bedroom consists of mostly white , beige , and browns - it's feminine without being too in your face about it .

her back yard is fenced in , her parents spending much money on landscaping which includes an in ground swimming pool and a small gazebo . making marilyn's house great for hosting parties whenever family is away