#monster barry

[askspidertrain]

Say hi to Barry the swamp monster, would you?

[crimsondomingo]

Whumptober Day 9: Shackled

Len woke with a start, his surroundings too dim to remember where he was. He knew he should expect pain—he’d been struck in the head, hadn’t he?—but he didn’t feel any throbbing, only a crick in his back from how he was sprawled on the floor.

Then, when he tried to sit up, he felt resistance and the bite of the shackles digging into his wrists, holding him to the pipe. He thought it was a pipe and that maybe he was in a basement, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted enough to be sure.

“You’re awake.”

Dread washed through Len like something dragging all his insides into the pit of his stomach. With the voice came the rest of his memories from earlier—why he’d been hit over the head and everything that had led up to it.

The strangeness of the hotel that he could never quite shake.

The way he’d dismissed his unease because of the adorable concierge—Barry—with his beautiful smile and bright green eyes.

How the other guests kept disappearing, and Barry would say he didn’t know where they were or that they’d checked out, but then Len found some of their things, their bags, a stray torn bit of a shirt.

How he’d gone looking because something had to be wrong, and he worried for Barry’s safety as well as his own, especially if Barry was so naïve as to what was going on in his hotel.

And then he remembered the carnage, bursting into a room where he’d heard awful slurping and tearing noises to find a mutilated half-eaten corpse washing the room in tissue and blood, while a monster out of Lovecraft’s worst nightmares feasted.

Len had turned and bolted but something struck him from behind and he’d gone down.

Now, it had him. The monster, the killer, the—

“Barry?” Len said in disbelief as the figure stepped closer, enough for his eyes to focus and realize who had spoken. Barry’s smile was… unsettling. “You’re working with it? Feeding it?”

“It,” Barry repeated with a cringe, crouching in front of Len. His clothes seemed too dark in places, like they were stained in oil. “Am I really so terrible? I can’t help that I need to feed, Len. It’s my nature.”

No, no, no.

Len trembled, because the green eyes were too bright, he realized, and the stains so obviously blood.

Barry reached for him, and Len struggled wildly to rip the shackles from the pipe.

“Don’t do that. You’ll cut your wrists.” Barry calmly grasped Len’s hands and pulled, snapping the chain around the pipe like it was a pencil cracking in half, though the shackles remained on his wrists. “I need to eat, you see, but I don’t kill everyone. It had just been so long during the off season, and I was so hungry. Sometimes people pass through, and I let them live. But I need to eat, Len, and you smell so good…”

Len wanted to struggle, his brain told him to fight—fight—but he was paralyzed with the fear that nothing he did could possibly matter against something so strong.  

Barry laid Len out on the cold basement floor and started shifting his clothes aside to touch him. “You smell different from the others. So much better…”

“P-please…”

Barry’s eyes flashed, his pupils going slit, and his teeth were suddenly razor sharp when he smiled. At his core, he still looked like the sweet boy from the front desk, but Len could perceive so much more now, the insane form he’d caught a glimpse of with too many mouths and eyes and limbs like tentacles, and Barry’s voice echoing like screaming and hissing and whispering all at once.

Len didn’t want to be eaten. To think, he’d once thought how nice it would be to kiss this mouth and now it was going to devour him.

“If I were to spare you…”

Len’s eyes snapped to Barry’s, the slit pupils returning to normal.

“…could I keep you?”

“Sh-shackled in your basement?”

“No. No… you could be free if you promised to stay. The smell of you… the feel of you… I don’t understand it, but I don’t want to lose it.” He ran his hands, just normal hands again, up Len’s stomach. “Would you, Len? Would you stay?”

Len had no destination, no prospects, no people in his life or plan, but did he want his destination to be here, in some murder hotel with a monster?

Barry seemed so beautiful and innocent again, touching Len gently with a strange curiosity.

But if Len refused him, he could easily rend him into a splatter of bloody pieces.

“O-okay. Set me free… and I’ll stay.”

[askspidertrain]

*gives Barry a fluffy cat*

[askspidertrain]

Charles, do you ever season or cook your flesh, or do you only like it raw? I heard Barry’s swamp witch makes a great stew out of human meat

[askspidertrain]

🎄 Merry Christmas! 🎁

Hi! Just wanted to stop by and say I like your art and I hope things will be great for you! Also here! *gives gift that contains a plushie of Charles* since you made a ask blog for him i thought I'd make a great gift! Happy Holidays!

(Also question does Charles know thomas and friends? And how does Barry feel about the witch lady? [Forgot her name])

He does not.

Merry late christmas! <3<3<3

[askspidertrain]

I am now thinking about Barry Simba-ing Charles. Because he looks big enough to pull it off

He almost could...

Charles is a bit too heavy for him though

[askspidertrain]

So, what’s your relationship with Barry? Friends? Acquaintances? Lovers? That one overly friendly coworker you barely tolerate but can’t murder?

[askspidertrain]

charles to hug you just wrap your arms around a person and squeeze but dont do it too hard or you might hurt them

Humans seem a little too fragile to try hugging...