🌙 — Late Nights

NEW ART‼️‼️,,,, what do u guys think Toby’s favorite song would be

cringetober day 30

another one i wanna redo cause i rushed it too much

*chewing noises*

chat i got from a toby bot

🪓 — Heart to Unbeating Heart

a boy who lost everything sits in the pews of an abandoned church with a beast who feasts on man.

- jack sat silently in the pews of an abandoned church he would visit on a particularly hard day. he remained still as the cool air was only accompanied by the soft pattering of the rain outside. the shower leaked its way through the rotting rooftop and onto the decaying wooden floors.

- the occasional roar of thunder bellowed out across the dark late evening skies, causing jack to hold his breath for a moment in fear that god had found him. he knew he had no place in a holy house of the father, he had been stripped of that right when he had lost his humanity.

- with another crack of thunder, the beast heard the sound of the church doors slamming open. yet still, he remained. an unfortunately familiar voice echoed through the nave, characteristically loud and intrusive.

- “ive been looking for you, you sneaky fucker.”

- a frustrated sigh escaped through the sharp teeth of the demonic once-man as he stood up and faced the noise. though his sight had long been replaced with thick black tar, his sharp senses allowed him to see in many other ways. the boy at the entrance smelt of death and ash, a perfect example of the person he was. it seemed everything he touched turned to char and all he knew was how to burn down everything around him. all he knew was that when the world got rough, he had to get rougher to match.

- “its toby, blind fuck.” the boy spoke in a strained, harsh tone, as if he were injured. jack knew this to be true as the putrid smell of blood overcame the calming scent of wet wood and divinity of the church.

- “i know.” jack replied, not moving from where he stood. “well then help me out here! fuck!” toby snapped and limped his weak, nearly mangled body towards the larger being who was known for his impressive anatomical knowledge. on occasion, jack would do medical check-ins for the reckless boy who endured a condition that wouldn’t let him feel, or understand injurious pain responses.

- toby pushed past jack and threw himself onto the pew, his frame was significantly smaller and lankier than the beasts, but jack knew he was no match in combat with the experienced younger. in the house of god, during the storm, he had no choice but to assist in patching his wounds.

- as the grey-tinted claws of his made their way around the open wounds, he came to realize how severe the injuries truly were. multiple deep cuts that desperately needed stitches were etched into tobys arm and torso, as if he was mauled. hearing a bag unzipping, he felt medical supplies being placed into his once-hands.

- “this… this is all i got, can you work with it?” toby spoke through a hitched breath, and jack heard the strength escape the lively boy with the blood he was losing.

- “needle and thread…? and…” he took a deep breath in, “homebrew.”

- “listen, if you cant help me… ill go fu.. fucking find someone else.”

- hostility was second nature to the human. toby had war tearing through his teeth and he wore his anger like a badge of honour. this was in contrast to jack who was a rather passive being. the two had their differences.

-“no, i can work with this. sit still.”

- his sharp, thick once-hands steadily stuck the piece of thread through the sewing needle, and placed it to the side. he then opened the bottle of liquor which immediately filled the cold, rainy air with a strong almost sour smell. jacks sensitive nose scrunched as he poured the alcohol onto tobys open wounds to clean them as much as it could.

- as the creature worked at the injuries beside the boy joining him in the pews, toby stared up at a decaying crucifix statue up at the collapsing altar ahead. he took a deep breath in as all time escaped his perception. in this moment, it was him and a demon in a place they shouldn’t have been in, all long forgotten by civilization.

- jack noticed the unusual silence in the boy, and made awkward conversation.

- “what happened to you..?”

- “you know me, always disobeying. got into a fight, thats all.”

- “with masky?”

- “with brian.”

- a sudden twitch from the tourettes ridden juvenile stopped jack for a moment as he allowed the other to collect himself again. to hear he had been fighting with brian thomas of all people, a man he thought toby had at least a semblance of respect for, was a small surprise. or possibly no surprise at all.

- the wounded continued, breaking the heavy silence. “i did what i had to do.” the air began to grow suffocating.

- “no, toby. there are lines you shouldn’t cross,” the beast scolded softly.

-“there are lines i cross to survive. you know all ‘bout that don’t you?” toby spoke lowly.

-“you seem to have lost your humanity, then.”

- toby silently mouthed off, knowing jack couldn't see the mocking expressions he made. a whisper of frustration escaped the elders mouth for a moment as he scrambled to patch up a reopened wound that was now gushing blood.

- in attempts to distract, jack continued. “have you ever heard the story of icarus?”

- “what? the fucking idiot who flew too close to the sun?”

- “they say that on his way down, he was cheering and hollering. died with hunger in his eyes.” jack worked his stitches tighter this time, learning from his mistake. he never once looked up to meet the boys gaze as he spoke.

- “and your point is?”

- “have you ever tried praying?”

- toby scoffed at the question, turning his head away from looking at jack to glare at the statue ahead. “i have. but no matter what forgiveness i get for the shit i do, i know ill do it again.” the younger spoke, quietly this time. he did not break his stare at christ.

- there was a long pause of silence that lingered for a moment, and the conversation between the two stood still in the doorway as though it did not want to make its leave yet. as jack worked on the deep gashes, and toby looked up at the son of god, both of them kept their thoughts to themselves for the moment. only the rain filled the room, and the smell of blood.

- finally, toby spoke.

- “i wonder if jesus ever hated his father.”

- the sudden change in tone from a harsh one, to one that was soft, meaningful, made jacks unbeating heart sink for a moment.

- “jesus was not human enough for that.” jack responded.

- toby smirked at the irony, eyeing the demonic figure patching him up.

- “thats a rich judgment coming from you,” he teased.

- “call it an educated guess.”

- “do you ever miss your father?” toby spoke softly once again. he looked at the scars and blood that littered his body. some of which existed long before he had became a proxy.

- “no, i dont think of those things anymore,” jack paused for a moment before continuing, “… do you?”

- another pause.

- “i do. i do, and i dont know why,” the wounded replied.

- the beast questioned him, “do you miss your father, or do you need a father?”

- toby stared up again in the eyes of jesus and thought about it for a moment.

- “i want to be something great, something so biblical theres statues of me up in buildings made in my honour,” the boy painted a picture of virtuous suffering, “i want to be so great i dont need a father.”

- “even christ needed a father.”

- “so then what will become of me?” toby questioned with soft concern.

- jack let out a low chuckle to himself as he poked another needle through the pale skin of the bleeding boy.

- “icarus.”

- toby stared for a second, taken aback by the witty reply.

- “youre too smart for your own good jack.”

- “you sound like my mother”

- the sound of the two mens chuckling escaped their smile-twisted mouths like an intertwined dance of companionship and further beneath, a mutual understanding.

- passing casual chatter that opened the weight of the air came to a close as the medic creature finished the last of the stitches. he instructed toby to sit still for awhile and allow himself to recover, knowing fully well the boy wasn’t going to listen. to his surprise, though, toby remained seated. he had a slight smile on his face as he looked forward.

- “never thought i’d catch myself in one of these places,” he spoke with a hint of nostalgia for what could’ve been on his tongue.

- “i used to frequent church, until my transformation. i have long stopped going since i have done what ive done,” jack opened up, sitting still beside the other.

- “god doesn’t care what you have done.”

- “i do. i care.”

- the church was silent. the tall, crumbling statue of jesus stood before the two men.

- “you know you need to be more careful. you throw yourself around recklessly and get others to clean up your mess. what if one day nobody comes to save you?” the tar-eyed once-man spoke in a lecture that coated concern.

- “thats fine. i know im going to end up dying like a dog. ive known this for awhile now.”

- “and you think fighting for your place in this world will make you any more deserving? you act as if you need to earn your right to exist.”

- “you know nothing of war,” toby sneered.

- “you know nothing of mercy,” jack replied.

- “who needs mercy?”

- “you do, toby.”

- toby fiddled with his thumbs, he swallowed, but never did he break his stare from that forsaken statue.

- “god knows what you’ve done, and he still loves you,” jack reassured, speaking words only known to him in his religious past. he knew nothing better than to speak words of faith, its all the tragic creature had left of his humanity.

- “is that supposed to make shit better? he’s still god, and i’m still a killer. his love wont scrub the blood from my hands.”

- “you’re only human.”

- the words that escaped jacks mouth made toby turn his head to face the beast. for a moment, he had forgotten him and the demon weren’t one in the same. he stared.

- “you know, i always seem to forget that. i was just a boy once, before i became this”

- jack stared back through black sockets.

- “you still are. just a boy, i mean.”

- a deep sigh escaped toby, and he noticed the rain had stopped. the night was young and his wounds were patched. he was done here, and it was time to make his leave.

- steadily, he stood up and began to repack his bag as jack stood and watched through his black, dripping sockets. toby weakenly lifted his hatchet from the floor and dragged it behind him as he made his way to the church doors, stepping through the blood-mixed water puddles on the damaged floors.

- “your kind, the proxies. you have always treated me as if i wasnt an abomination. ive always appreciated that,” jack confessed, stopping the leaving boy in his tracks. distance between them was now large, but after tonight, they knew the connection they developed would stay.

- “well, we know another human being when we see one.”

- toby swung his dragging hatchet over his shoulder and made his leave out of the decaying church doors, pushing his limping body.

- jack stood in silence for a moment before he turned around to face that familiar crucifix statue of jesus that stared down at him in disdain. he reached down and picked up a piece of rubble off of the ground, reeling his arm back and chucking it at the head of christ.

- despite everything, jack was still alive. and despite god, he held humanity in his veins.

amogsus

tim masky as tobys dad is my favorite headcanon ,,,

IDEA FROM @cupid-la-beaux LAWL

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i can't donate but posting this in hopes anyone see their message

Natalie Ouellette (Clockwork)

🪓 — Teenagers. Ticci Toby

“you’re never gonna fit in much kid” / “make ‘em pay for the things that they did”

- toby rogers was an angry boy. angry at the world, at everyone. his rage was violent and loud, like his fathers was. it moved him.

- there was a biblical righteousness in his wrath, his calloused hands pridefully gripping the bloody axe as he stands tall over his pretty victim. what a mess he made. this was a typical scene for the boy, it was his desperate attempt at finding a sliver of control in his powerless life.

- one evening, he found himself mingling in a sketchy, broken down apartment with two familiar men he knew as tim wright and brian thomas, alongside some other faces he never cared to remember. it was the type of place heavy with past of brutality and crime. the type of place most normal people would be too scared to go near, fearing they would only become a victim to guys like him.

- though he was typically ignored in conversation, the rough boy forced himself into the world that constantly rejected him, intruding on any space he could. there was a loud, but subtle, desperate attempt to be something bigger than himself.

- volatility run coarse through him. for one moment he was sitting on a raggedy, stained old couch in the dank apartment living room chatting with his colleagues as they talked over beers, and the next he was storming angrily out of the building at a comment someone had made.

- he was always the runt of the group, the butt of a joke. the people around him would pick on him like predator to prey, and laughed as they watched him squirm between their teeth.

- when he left, slamming the front door behind him, the conversations and dark chatter continued on as normal. it was if he was never there, and nobody cared. there was a cruel indifference to the boys suffering, as god turns a blind eye.

- not until he returned with a metal baseball bat in his hand did they understand the extent of his rage. one look into his darkened eyes and they knew better than to try to restrain a rabid dog.

- with quick motion, he raised the bat up high and began smashing every bottle, window, tv screen and table in the room. he ignored the angry shouts for him to ‘calm the fuck down’ and to ‘put the fucking bat away’. he hit the weapon furiously at anything he could. “you think its fucking funny now?”

- sharp exhales escaped his grimacing mouth as his chest raised and fell in an attempt to catch his breath. he stood victorious amongst the destruction he had caused, shards of glass and splintered wood cluttered the dirty carpeted floor. through gritted teeth, he muttered “do not fuck with me”.

- the metal bat clattered to the ground as he let out a final frustrated sigh before taking his leave. he didn’t say another word. he had done enough.