sins0fthefather

[sins0fthefather]

love like a dog : fucked up toby romance headcanons

puppy love but make it depraved

he gives you a love like rotten fruit. maybe it could've been good if he hadn't been touched by decay, if he hadn't allowed himself to spoil. unfortunately, the rot flows through his veins like a sludge, infecting the things that get too close. just like you did. his sick latched onto you and festered like an infected scar.

he knows the mold is inherent to him, that it's in his instincts; this incessant drive to be fed, satisfied, noticed. he takes warmth from whoever will give it, wherever he can get it. he roams like a mutt with his nose to the ground, a fugitive hunting for scraps. wagging his tail at even the suggestion of tenderness, uncaring of where it comes from, only that he's receiving it.

he sticks to your heels, stays so close that you trip over his unrelenting fervor for you. as a stray, he sat and waited for someone to accept the things he couldn't change, for someone to stop and look between the bars of his cage. he waited so long for you. when you leave he'll wait for your return. if you're late he'll wait until then. he'll wait and wait and wait.

he worships the hand that feeds him. that hand is yours. he leans into it, tries to force himself under your palm, thrusts himself beneath the divine light of your gaze. if you even cast a glance his way it's enough for his tail to wag. he pursues your attention and affection like a hound, with no regard as to whether or not he's hurting himself in the process. the only thing you do is reinforce it with every bit of praise you give him, and he accepts it graciously. you're his person.

he doesn't bark or bare his teeth for fear of getting hit again. he bares them at the world, but never at you. he had been taught to bite, but he is not a bad dog. everything he does is with the intent to please. he brings you gifts, kneels and lays them at your feet with his tail between his legs, hoping that he'll be rewarded with your touch. hoping that it makes him worthy.

he doesn't even care if you love him as much as he loves you. he'll sleep at the foot of your bed if it means he can be on it, follow you if it means he can be close, spend his days at your feet if it means there's a chance you'll scratch him behind the ears. he'll sit at your door until you want him. he'll pull out his canines and declaw himself just to prove he'd never hurt you.

he loves like a dog and he takes what he is given.

[sins0fthefather]

Cravings Run like Water.

Entry II- J.I.N

It felt like ages since he had tasted a proper meal.

The smell of autumn was cool on his tongue as the crunch of leaves pervaded the deafening sting of the air, a chill running up the spine of anyone less protected. A chill he could not feel, nor see, nor taste. It had been ages since he had felt just about anything.

Well, anything besides the ache in his stomach.

His hands reached out to hold against the bending of tree lines, grasping and trembling for anything that could guide him along. It had been dark for a long time. Far too long. His limbs croaked with each movement in an unfamiliar urgency, much like a piece of himself that didn’t truly belong to him. He didn’t know where his feet had taken him— he didn’t bother to ask. It mattered very little in the end where his hunger took him, it wasn’t as if he had a semblance of control over it after all. He let his body have it’s way with him, much as it tore him apart. The smell of flesh pierced through his senses, granting him the briefest sense of direction. The presence of civilization was more filling than the former option.

I will not starve.

It wasn’t a request or passing comment, it was a command of a highest order. A slave to the being hidden away behind his mask, he was at his core torn from his own senses of morality. The legs that carried him stalked forward with a slow trudge that could only be compared to the wariness of a wild animal. He could no longer tell if he was the predator or prey. He would sacrifice anything to rip his mind away from his body’s actions, away from the eradication of beauty that he was responsible for, yet the hunger only drew him further and further. His hands reached out against the ridges of bricks and the grooves of wood, each stepping stone letting him stalk behind the outer limits of the town his other half had dragged him to. The scent of blood unlike his own filled his senses, presenting itself to him like a full course tray picked to his tastes. Would his trembling hands grasp at the throat of a son? A daughter? A family? A sacrificial lamb? Much of it was up for debate, left to the devices of the him inside of him.

Without much thought— much resistance— he had felt his way through the panel of a nearby window. Cold. Much like himself. His body slumped against the floor with little effort, the muffled squeak underneath him failing to showcase just how overbearing his form had become. The scent was unbearable, teasing him further throughout the domain that did not belong to him. Each step into foreign territory was hesitant, feeling around for furniture and obstacles his eyes could no longer perceive. Before long he had slinked his way up the structure of a staircase, the carpet underneath his skin almost familiar. Yet, it wasn’t, and the shadow that encroached as he followed his senses made it clear. Every step was torture, a breathless please escaping the confines of his mind with each thump. Yet, his other half refused to listen, much like the unfeeling being it was.

The low creak of an unkempt door rang out so clearly to him as he pressed against the wooden structure, a sound so loud to his ears and only his. It was sharp. Foreboding. Similar to the shifting of grass underneath his heel when paired with the elements. Yet it was a sensation unnoticed, one that many would excuse for something lurking around the corner in a bad dream. This case would not be so simple. He crept further, further, feeling, sensing, smelling for any hint of what his body craved. It was only when his legs teetered against the surface of a bedpost did he realize his instincts had carried him there, watching as he had trembled.

He could hear breathing underneath him, steady in it’s slowness as the calm remained. From the scent, he could pick up the fact that it was a female. He had cursed himself every step of the way, but the crisp clarity of undeniable hunger prevailed against all other odds. He didn’t register how his body had leaned forward on it’s own, his hand sliding into a nearby pocket for the familiar edge of a sharpened scalpel. The image of what he was doing was unclear, until the soft hitching of uneasiness caught his attention.

He could not see it, but he felt it crawling against his skin. The figure underneath him had awoken, her stare piercing in the fear that overtook it. Fear of him— of what he had become.

“… J—.. Jack?”

The sound of her voice was quiet, yet oh so jarring. He felt his hands freeze under such a simple plea, second guessing himself. Did this person know him? Was he unknowingly targeting the livelihood of his own familiarity? His kin? Even then, he couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that followed him. He felt her fingers brush against him, searching for answers just as desperately as he was. It was only when her hands found his ID wrapped around his collar did his stomach sink further into himself.

Of course she didn’t know who he was. That would’ve been too easy. She was merely reading off of what was provided to her, fumbling for any sense of security within the darkness. A low rumble left him in response, a hand traveling up to raise the mask that had hidden his more horrific features. Even if he had prayed for another outcome throughout the entire journey, a beast’s hunger still belonged to the heart of one. The cold handle of his blade reminded him of the fact that he was, at the end of the day, a beast all the same. His voice came out pleading, begging— asking for forgiveness long in advance. Yet, no amount of forgiveness would sway his hunger.

“… I’m sorry.”

[sins0fthefather]

Why are you so gay?

Its the trauma

[sins0fthefather]

Who cares if it’s “unrealistic” or “cringe” !!! I love it

I'm going be real with you guys, I LOVE the Creepypasta mansion AU. It's so weirdly interesting to just think of this creepy mansion in the woods with different entities, monsters, ghosts, extremely mentally ill humans, with a big tall pale man ruling it all. I also really like the idea of Zalgo against Slenderman too with them always fighting all the time. I'm sorry but it's just too cool and nostalgic and I don't plan on changing my mind. 😭

[sins0fthefather]

My favorite thing is the fandom collectively deciding to use Liu as a metaphorical trauma-dump filled punching bag

Just read something that absolutely devistated me.

Liu not immediately dying from his wounds and instead shambles over to his parents bedroom, seeing their corpses and trying to see if they are still alive. He is bleeding profusely, his wounds start to hurt, his vision is blurry, but he could recognize his mothers pajamas from a mile away. He holds onto her hand, slowly losing it's heat, desperate to find some kind of life in his mother but to no avail.

He curls up against her side as he sees the red and blue flashing lights, slowly losing consciousness from blood loss.

[sins0fthefather]

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

[sins0fthefather]

THIS THIS THIS. The charm of the creepypasta fandom IS all of the different interpretations that bring each character to life in their own unique ways. It’s not a fandom where there’s a clear cut path to follow for a movie production to follow, so no matter what someone would be left disappointed. It’s one of those things where people just have to leave it to the original media instead of attempt to bring it into a platform that erases all of the good attributes of this fandom’s creative sphere.

hot take- I hope nobody ever makes a creepypasta movie. Ever. Even if it’s animated. Everybody has such different variations of each character. Like for example- Somebody might view jeff as like an angsty teenager and others might view him as like a gross man in his 40s, you know? And it goes beyond that into personality. I know a lot of people like me in the fandom who dislike the canon stories and have made ones of their own, and stuff like that. I feel like a movie would never work because if they just go off the popular fanon interpretation it would disappoint people. As well as the canon versions, AS WELL AS THE MORE REALISTIC- FANON VERSIONS?? like I just think it would be a total disappointment either way. Don’t even get me started on which versions of the characters they would use since there’s so many. Like for me personally it would just be disappointing and if it was a really really big movie the fandom would get like lots of like ACTUAL weirdos and oh my god it would get so weird.

[sins0fthefather]

Can we kiss. Say yes btw

Reblog my shit and I’ll consider it

[sins0fthefather]

Somethin’ Sweet Enough to Taste.

Entry I— J.A.W

The quiet thrill of the crisp autumn air was a luxury appreciated by few. It welcomed the change of pace the quiet town of Northfield held this time of year with open arms. Bound together by harvests, pumpkin patches, and the shrill of passing crows, very few found themselves wanting for much within the confines of their simplicity. It was a settlement that found comfort in the silence of the nights that passed.

Perhaps a bit too much comfort.

The hushed thump of boots traveled their way through the empty streets, noting the frost that had begun to layer the roads. It had never chilled so quickly there in the past. The thought brought a smirk to the lips of the body accompanying the sound, as if it were all too familiar to him. His eyes flickered towards the glazed panes of a nearby café, his gaze lingering on his own reflection for enough beats to satisfy himself. Only then did his attention bother to catch onto the silhouette of the waitress stationed inside, his brow furrowing at the way she swayed while wiping tables.

He had made up his mind long before the bell above the door chimed, clicking along in rhythm with the pace of his boots.

The woman instinctively raised her head at the noise, an agitated huff escaping her before she had even turned around. A late customer or two never bothered her much, but this was ridiculous timing. She struggled to hide the frustration behind her words as she began, “We’re closing—“

“Surely it doesn’t take that long to make one simple fuckin’ black coffee.” The figure interrupted, his sneer hidden behind the surgical mask that covered the lower half of his face. The amusement behind his eyes was evident however, lacking the decency to even pretend his gaze wasn’t dragging along her form. He almost looked disappointed at what was in front of him. He then invited himself to sit at one of the nearby booths, crossing a leg over the other as his fingers tapped against the smooth surface of the table in front of him. The frown that tugged at the waitress’s lips only seemed to earn a snicker out of him.

“Got a name for that order?” The woman reluctantly asked, turning on her heel towards the pot behind the counter. It was hardly fresh, but the mere prospect of drawing another batch made her scowl.

At her question, the figure’s smirk faltered. His gaze only seemed to harden at her tone. “There’s nobody else in here. Is one really necessary?” He leaned back into his seat, a singular hand snaking into one of his jacket pockets.

His question was enough to make her tilt her head back at him, her once sunny eyes only littered with aggravation. One bad review from a customer wouldn’t kill her, surely. A guileful grin played at her expression, “If you want your ‘fuckin’ coffee,’ yes.”

The waitress’s musings were met with a twitch of a brow, a curling of a fist as the man before her sucked back a breath filled with his own colorful insults. Instead, her question waited for a few beats. He seemed almost hesitant, as if considering the option of a fake name to suffice her wager. Soon after however, he seemed to come to his conclusion— one that allowed his solitary smirk to return. “It’s Jeff,” he began as his muscles relaxed, “Surely you can spell that, right dollface?”

His words made the woman’s own self amusement deflate, her grin thinning into a line within the matter of seconds. She was tempted to spell it incorrectly on purpose out of spite as she wrapped the now-full cup up in it’s sleeve. Instead she settled for a cat-scratched ‘Jeffrey,’ fastening a to-go lid up against it. She slid it onto the table between the booths, restraining herself back from letting it hit the wall. “Have a nice night,” She practically forced her words out through her teeth.

While he had planned on reacting with his previous snark, a certain coldness overtook his eyes as he glanced at the name inscribed on the cup’s sleeve. With a slow rise he stood from his seat, his gaze purposefully avoiding the waitress that stood before him. He turned his back towards her, pulling at his mouth’s masked constraints to take a ginger sip at the lukewarm coffee offered to him. As she peered over his shoulder, she squinted.

Was that… blood around his mouth?

Before she could voice her concerns, her previous formalities were met with a rasping response, “I’ll be sure to visit again soon. Don’t miss me too much.” His words ended with a slight snicker, pulling his mask back up around his face. His head turned back to steal one last glance at her, his pale blue eyes saving her face in their memory. Without waiting for a retort his boots thumped against the tile once more, slipping out of the café door much like the shadows that littered the streets.

His mind was too preoccupied on the feel of the blade within his pocket to dwell on anything other than the ‘shining review’ he’d leave his newest doting server.

[sins0fthefather]

the sad thing is zane never resorts to violence

The sad thing is that I’m friends with you

[sins0fthefather]

where were you august 27th, 2023?

Where were YOU. Huh. Crickets. Nothing. Silencio. Suspicious…

[sins0fthefather]

Readers my beloved you go queen

happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

[sins0fthefather]

Tick-Tock croc 👻👻👻👻👻

Being anon doesn’t help if literally only u call me this…….

[sins0fthefather]

aaaaa?

A.

[sins0fthefather]

Apollyon/Sins —

they/them

Hello hello! This blog is basically going to be my free range zone to post whatever creepypasta brainworms I have in my head. Overall worldbuilding, character hcs, drabbles, you name it. Knowing me though it’s probably mostly going to be Jeff related since he’s the one I’m most comfortable writing.

I’ll post actual boundaries and such once I start posting some real content, toodles for now!

[sins0fthefather]

Lets see how you dodge them apples once the chronic fatigue sets in.

hey whats the sad thing

I’m pipebombing you I know where you are little man

[sins0fthefather]

hey whats the sad thing

I’m pipebombing you I know where you are little man