a/n : 2k words. this is a mix of his original storyline in marble hornets + the usual creepypasta ideas.
CW : MARBLE HORNETS SPOILERS⚠️, a LOT of religious talk, religion being enforced with poor intent, mental illness of a parent, taboo mental illness, depression, psychotic major depression, traditional lifestyle, mentions of physical abuse, loss of religious faith, suicide attempts, suicidial ideology, mentions of schizophrenia, creepypasta-appropriate violence, possible revival.
-Much like the rest of the residents, Brian doesn’t remember the large majority of his adolescence, but he remembers how it made him feel and the impact that it left on him.
-He was born in and lived in Alabama up until his later college days. He never planned on leaving, at least not the state – it just seemed like the perfect place for him, where he was intended to be for the rest of his life. He just didn’t see the use in leaving.
-Brian was raised with more discipline than what’s typical, although all of it seemed incredibly normal to him. The predominant religion in his small town had been Southern Baptist for as long as his family lived there, so it was only natural for him to fall into that category as well. He liked going to church, the routine of it and the rhythm the pastor fell into. I imagine that, for a very long portion of his life, he actually wanted to work for the church. Something very important about his character, early-on in life, is that he loved the community and wholeness that his town gave him. He’d been a very big people-person from the start, and this contributes later on to him wishing to be a psychologist. This isn’t the only factor, though.
-It wasn’t ever said aloud in the house, but Brian always knew that there was something different about his mother.
-Psychotic Depression is different from typical Depression due to the fact that it’s characterized by frequent hallucinations. These delusions are more than often projections of the haver’s personal troubles at that time, and the general condition is typically a result of a traumatic event. There’s a plethora of medications and treatments available for people with PMD, but not for the town that Brian grew up in. Even the idea of such a mental illness was very taboo for them, much less Brian’s family. He never knew exactly why his mother was so quiet, why she only left the house for church and the regular grocery shopping, but for the longest time it was his idea of normal.
-The repression of his mom’s condition was due to his father’s intense shame. He lacked the words to explain it to their kids, but instead exhibited the determination to “make her better again”. She stayed in the house the majority of the time, so Brian’s dad played a major role in keeping up with the kids. He ensured that they got to every soccer practice, every school event, and every church trip. He was a blue-collar kind of guy, worked hard everyday and came home to dinner on the table. It was a traditional lifestyle that Brian found comfort in, but none of that meant it was perfect.
-The church taught Brian compliance – he learned the teachings of God, a moral guide, and that the Lord’s version of compassion was wrapped in verses. But his dad taught him obedience. In these types of households, the father is seen as the channel between Christ and his family ; this means that he was the holder of the book, the one who enforced its pages. That being said, Brian’s dad was always very traditional in his parenting.
-Religion was another family member in Brian’s household – it had a spot at the dinner table and slept in every bedroom. When somebody tested that faith, it was unfailingly met with hour-long lectures that made Brian’s ears ring afterwards. Only on occasion would he or his brother get shoved into a wall or grappled by the roots of their hair, but when something familiar and warm wanes into the dull pain in the base of your neck? That’s when it grows to be something adjacent to loathing. What their father viewed as instilling a sense of righteousness was instead fostering a sick-like kind of malice that found Brian around his teenage years.
-Brian tried extremely hard in school, but things didn’t always make sense to him. He averaged out as a solid B- student, just enough to remain on his high school football team. He wasn’t necessarily good at everything he did, but he put enough passion into it for him to just barely get away with it. His father wasn’t always a huge fan of his efforts, but when Brian’s mom had the energy to speak, she praised him thoughtfully and endlessly. She was the reason that he was capable of getting into university, alongside majoring in psychology against his father’s wishes.
-Never in his life had Brian experienced more freedom than in college. He hadn’t moved out-of-state, but there was nothing to compare it to when he had barely left his small town his entire life. The lack of guidance both thrilled and terrified him, finding his freshman year completely foreign to everything he had known before. Once he found his crowd, though, everything started to fit into place.
-The most pivotal moment of Brian’s life was his mother’s first suicide attempt. It was closer to the end of his first year away from the family, just after he had come home for Christmas. He drove two hours in the dead of night so he could get to the “wellness hospital” where she had been moved. It changed his entire perspective on how he grew up, the challenges she must’ve faced raising him, and made him want to work so much harder towards his degree. Notably, also, it’s where he met Tim for the first time. Tim was in recovery for what the doctors assumed was schizophrenia, so he was placed in a similar area to Brian’s mom. He was the only person able to console Brian after seeing his mother in a hospital gown with IVs in her arm. They talked into the early hours of the night about topics ranging from how they grew up to what plans they had for the future. The bond they built was easily stronger than any other they had before stepping into the hospital that night.
-After the events of Marble Hornets, Brian doesn’t really know if he died. All he remembers is waking up in the residence’s infirmary with a raging migraine and the entirety of his back painted blue and purple with bruising. He was bedbound for a number of weeks while he collected his strength again. During this time he came to a conclusion beyond his beliefs : if he died, He had brought him back to life for the purpose of serving Him like he had done before. If he had just been severely injured, he could tell that he was healing faster than any human should be able to. Either way, Brian knew that he was going to be in for a long career of being nothing more than a vessel for Him.
-Has the cleanest bedroom in the house, majorly out of habit. He’s always been used to having his room very clean for the sake of his own mental state and productivity, as well as the fact that he NEVER stops rubbing it in everyone else’s face. Shames everybody else in the house for being “slobs”. He genuinely will not step foot into Toby’s room, and especially not Ben’s.
-If Camel cigarettes have no buyers, Brian is dead. He smokes them like he’s doing it competitively, but he used to strictly smoke Marlboro. They were all that his dad had lying around for him and his brother to steal, but in college he once got so drunk that he smoked one backwards and the taste put him off of them permanently. Camel is his pick without fail now.
-His gun is probably his most prized possession. It’s a Colt 1911 45 that he’s had since he was a kid, the color worn around the grip and the barrel warm from constant use. He has a number of holsters to put it in, but he strangely finds it most efficient to just stuff it in the waist of his jeans when he’s out on the job. He has made numerous comments on how, if the house were to somehow catch fire, he’d grab the gun before even thinking about Tobias.
-Has a very traditional southern accent, but he also has a certain volume and inflection that resembles that of a preacher. It’s in the way that he paces his words and puts emphasis on what needs to be heard. Nevertheless, he doesn’t speak as much as the others tend to do – he takes after his mother in that way. He thinks that arguing with each other is useless when it comes to their way of life, but it doesn’t stop him from making the occasional order or sarcastic comment. He speaks to Tim the most, but that’s majorly because they’re on missions together the most often. This being said, he cannot stand somebody talking his ear off for too long, it’s one of his biggest pet peeves.
-Furthermore, Brian and Tim have a sort of peculiar friendship after the events of Marble Hornets. It’s a kind of situation where they both know that they did each other SO wrong, but there’s a mutual understanding of their circumstances. They mainly just… breeze past all of it, especially since it’s hard to remember the majority of the events. This doesn’t mean that they weren’t tense at first, it definitely took some time for them to settle the waters there.
-Continues to keep a bible in his nightstand and a wooden cross above his bed, simply out of tradition. The last time that he prayed was during the period where he was recovering in the infirmary, and he had begged God to kill him on that bed. He thought he had stopped believing after his teenage years, but old habits die hard.
-Very dirty blonde hair that looks brown until he steps into the sunlight. He grows it out until it’s too much past his ears for his liking, subsequently buzzing it once in a blue moon. It grows extremely fast, so most of the time he has it hanging loose at around 2-3 inches. He doesn’t put a lot of product in it, just brushes it enough to be mildly presentable.
-A sharp, more square-shaped face, but he has softer features than the rest of the residents. His eyes are green in a round almond shape and accompanied by thin eyebrows and a large roman nose. He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does the first thing you’ll see is his tooth gap. It’s in every church photo of him when he was younger, something his mom assured him was charming as he grew up. He keeps his stubble controlled for the most part, never letting it get too out of control and typically aiming for a clean-shaven look.
-Has a very muscular build, as well as being exactly 6’0. He actually does lift weights on a regular basis, as well as gaining muscle through the physical combat that he does day to day. Very equal muscle distribution between his arms, legs, and core. He eats as healthy as possible for the lifestyle that he endures, he’s very clearly a chicken and rice kind of guy. Despite being active daily, he has very sore muscles from previous injuries.
-Very basic sense of style – a lot of plain T-shirts that are fitted around the sleeves, blue jeans with rips that have only occurred through natural processes, and brown boots that are scuffed to no ends. Generally, he just likes clothes that he can move around in without thinking too much about whether he’s going to slip or overheat. And, obviously, he does wear his hoodie more than anything else in his closet.
-Very naturally tan, but he also somehow always manages to get a farmer’s tan beyond his natural complexion. He has a couple of freckles along the bridge of his nose and on the tops of his shoulders. Alongside this, Brian’s skin is littered with varying stab-wounds and such from years of him carrying out his job.
a/n : 2.5k words. i know nothing will compare to his original story and him "feeling a feeling" but trust me when i say that im trying.
CW : hinted child neglect, appropriate violence, he is burned alive per usual, nerve damage, experimental self-harm, stealing, emotional unavailability, appropriate wounds and scars, very minor slendersickness mentions
CHILDHOOD
-It was more than often that Jeff deduced that he was born inherently “wrong” in a number of aspects.
-He was born in New Jersey and lived there for the majority of his adolescence, shaping a quick-witted attitude and aversion to beating around the bush – he’s always been very direct when speaking his mind. This never really sat well with his parents, nor anyone else that happened to interact with him.
-There’s a particular kind of kid that never gets invited to birthday parties growing up, not because of their weird tendencies or because they’re necessarily outcasted by the rest of the kids, but more so because they do it to themselves. That one kid that tears pages out of textbooks and flips desks over during class, the same one that always hangs around peers a couple years older than them. Jeff didn’t like the idea of school, or really any type of institution that implemented a strict schedule and time limits placed on him – he never hated learning, just the way the system was structured. He preferred doing what he wanted on his own time, and these limits bled into everyday life for him, only further contributing to the walls between himself and his parents.
-Even in the original story, Jeff’s parents are presented as very… performative? They live in the sunnier, more tight-knit community where everyone knows everything about everybody. It’s only natural that they show up to every event, every meeting, really anywhere that makes it possible to flaunt how much better they’re off. The kind of household where the grass is always green, the garden always watered, and the residents always smiling. The goals were always unachievable, and this is what fostered their youngest son’s hostility for that kind of convention – he’d always been very observant and capable of reading people, he knew the two-sided nature of families they were surrounded by. He detested the constrained nature of it, how unnaturally people bent to exhibit conformity.
-The only person Jeff ever connected with was his older brother, Liu. There was a two year age gap between them, but Jeff had been born with the same maturity he’d carry for the rest of his life. Jeff’s walls and disconnect from other people was fostered by his own distaste around his perception of people, but sometimes Liu felt too real for him. Ever since he could remember, Liu’s strength and heartfelt behavior was so much more than skin-deep. He did things with intent to help rather than a kindness to perform. As for the favoritism from their parents, it was made clear as day – moreover, they seemed to weaponize it. Liu consistently tried to include Jeff in places that weren’t meant for him, additionally facilitated by their parents. Early on in his life, Jeff understood what had happened ; the eldest brother had been born so good, so righteous, that there had been none left for the latter. And maybe Jeff was okay with that, or maybe it was just easier to plainly accept it.
-As it was aforementioned, it’s not hard to believe that Jeff was failing out of nearly every class. He did just enough so that he wouldn’t have to repeat the grade or do summer school, furthermore showing that he WAS capable of completing the work. It confused his teachers endlessly, and when questioned about it? He just shrugged. The truth was probably something much simpler like pure spite or that he just didn’t want to. There was only one class that he was even remotely passing : his elective music class. There were very few things that Jeff valued more than his guitar, something that his parents very reluctantly bought him for his fourteenth birthday. They figured, like most of his hobbies he’d had in the past, he’d pick it up for a while and drop it once he realized it was too complex for him. What they didn’t expect was him playing it every minute of the day that he wasn’t preoccupied.
-Jeff liked music because there were no rules to it as long as it sounded good. In his teenage years he got super into traditional emo music, later getting into the style and belief-system of all of it. This was the closest he ever got to being in a community or feeling like he was a part in a bigger group, but this was still restrained by his parents. For obvious reasons, they weren’t fans of his newfound passions, but he knew that they’d never do anything about it. It was the same way when he’d get in trouble in school or with an elderly neighbor – chide him in public, neglect the problem in private. If it didn’t seriously tarnish their family’s image, it was unlikely anything would be done. Their claim? They’d tried to connect with him when he was younger, but they knew there was something different about him ; malicious, almost.
-It wasn’t until high school that Jeffery started getting violent with his aggressions. Not entirely his fault, he rebutted, as he was majorly provoked by other kids. They’d assumed him quiet based off of his brooding, unapproachable presence that he carried. They couldn’t have been more wrong. He was more tame when his brother, seventeen years old at this point, was around. But when Jeff got caught, more than once, walking out of afterschool detention by a couple of guys no older than his brother? That’s when he started carrying little things : pocket knives, lighters, brass knuckles. It wasn’t really like he needed it, he’d always been very scrappy when it came to fighting. He pulled hair, shoved, elbowed – anything that gave him an advantage beyond his awkwardly lean frame. He won fights, for the most part, until he had to face Liu and tell him what had happened.
-Over his freshman year, the change in Jeff was apparent to even the furthest onlookers. Obviously he had always been strange, obnoxiously free-spoken, and distant, but the violence he faced made him colder. It was exhibited in how he became paranoid, constantly checking over his shoulder to look for something nobody else was aware of. His parents noticed how his old habit of scrunching his face in repulsion was slowly replaced by his eyes only ever expressing resentment and nothing more. Liu saw it in the way that his posture stiffened whenever someone bigger than him walked by, a silent testament that said “I could take them”.
-All of this forewarning unknowingly peaked at a completely unpredictable time. It had been one of the neighbor’s son’s birthday parties, one of the routine events that gave the neighborhood an excuse to get excited and show out. By no surprise, Jeffery was dragged out of his room to attend said occasion. He had already made plans to remove himself from the premises as quickly and quietly as possible, seeing as it was only so far from his own residence, but he hadn’t planned what had happened in the actual event.
-If you asked Jeff what being burned alive felt like, he’d probably say that it hurt. But if he were to explain what being burned alive felt like, he’d say that it feels cold at first. Like you’re jumping into a pool in the midst of summer – it starts at your feet and climbs up your skin. The burning, however, begins in your spine and squeezes your brain, subsequently frying your nerves of any feeling. He would say that sometimes he wished that he had died that day. Other times, he’d say he knew he should have died.
ADULTHOOD
-The kind of guy that walks around like he owns the place regardless of where he is. He exhibits confidence in the most obnoxious, annoying sense of the word. Always has his chest puffed out a little, constantly clenches his fists, and manspreads every single time he sits down.
-Believe or not, he does shower! Maybe not as much as he should, given his occupation, but still a pretty decent amount. Despite this, he will continue to smell like a weird combination of pot and blood for the rest of his life. The smell has stained the walls of his bedroom, all of his clothes, and his hair. He doesn’t inherently try to get it out, but he’s completely aware of the scent, it’s just that there’s really nobody to tell him that he should go and get properly cleaned up.
-Has an INCREDIBLY thick New Jersey accent, he grew up there his entire life and clings onto that accent with every day that passes. I imagine that the smoke-inhalation he faced didn’t do wonders for his vocal abilities, so his voice is also very raspy and has some edge to it. He’s always been very quippy and sarcastic, yet this increases tenfold as he gets older. Cusses like a sailor 100%.
-Holds onto his “scrappy” way of fighting, but he tends to work out on a more regular basis now. Nothing super intense or intricate, just traditional prison workouts. On a daily basis he does push-ups, curl-ups, and loves doing pull-ups on his doorframe. He DID once break and splinter the wood connecting to the wall, but just deemed it extra airflow when his door was closed. It’s safe to say that it never got fixed and now he just does it on whatever door he can.
-He has very minimal feeling in the majority of his body. His hands go numb, he gets pain in his lower legs, and he has issues with tensing certain muscles in his stomach. After realizing this in his recovery, he started trying to see how far he can go without feeling anything. Burns cigarettes on his arms regularly, pretty much any time that he smokes. Purposefully knicks his fingertips and hands when playing with his switchblades. He’s not much better than Toby when it comes to biting the inside of his lips, either, he just isn’t missing enough feeling to go as far as him.
-Loves stealing. He’ll steal anything from anywhere or anyone, even if he doesn’t want it. It’s his love language. When it comes to people he knows well, he might see something that he knows they’d want and take it without another thought occurring to him. If he can find a way to smuggle, pocket, or blatantly walk out with something without paying… he doesn’t even think about it before doing it. Has never gotten caught and doesn’t plan to, he’s been doing it since he could remember walking into a store.
-He doesn’t play the guitar anymore, but he’s still really into a lot of the same music. He’s moved more into metalhead territory, as well as a lot of old rap, screamo, and punk. More than likely has hearing damage from years of playing music as loud as he possibly can, as well as exhibiting no signs of stopping.
-As a large majority of the fandom suggests, he only really talks to Ben. They’re both equally immature, sarcastic, and are just generally on the same wavelength. Emotionally unavailable and incapable of expressing affection, Jeff won’t ever tell Ben how much trust he has in him. It’s a very brotherly bond, the way that they mellow each other out and keep the other sane. It’s an unspoken kind of deal, though.
-Does not care enough to invest in lotion despite needing it so desperately. His skin is very genuinely white as paper with a leathery, very dry texture. He has a couple paler pink spots, some new cigarette-burn scars, and a lengthy collection of healed wounds he suffered while on the job. He prefers hands-on combat, so he tends to get a little too close for comfort, resulting in a good amount of temporary bruises and lasting gashes.
-Directly after the accident, Jeff’s hair was just absolutely singed. They shaved it clean to his incredulous dismay, and miraculously, it grew back. Somewhat. He has a couple of spots where it’s never going to come back, but other than that? He’s never gonna cut it again. Moreover, it did grow back a slightly darker brown than before, but he chose to dye it black. He chooses cheap box dye that’s never gonna come out of his head, but it’s not like he plans on changing up his look anytime soon. Nevertheless, his hair does grow very slowly, so it stays around his mid-chest in choppy layers. He very frequently ties it in a ponytail, mainly whenever he’s exercising or carrying out a job.
-One of the things that he kept from before the accident was his icy blue eyes. The only difference was the feeling that they held – they’re shiftier now, more pensive, and impossible to read. The most expressive his eyes get is when he rolls them, other than that they’re completely void of any emotion. Even when he’s laughing, Ben has made numerous comments on how Jeff’s eyes freak him out.
-He’s 6 '3 on the dot and very lean. He gets lazy with eating – not the way that Toby forgets for extended periods of time, but instead just doesn’t want to “waste time” cooking or anything. He eats whatever’s in the fridge or easy to make. He’s got a decent build going on, majorly working on the strength in his arms and his abdomen. He has a shorter torso and longer legs, tired from years of being on the run constantly.
-His facial structure is entirely made of sharp edges and heavy shadows. His eyebrows are thick, straight, and accompanied by a silver piercing on his left side. His undereyes are dark underneath his tired, bitter eyes, seemingly so deep into his face when compared to his straight, protruding nose. His lips are constantly pale and chapped, more than often bleeding from consistent biting. He’s got a very gaunt, hollow face, especially when you take his scars into account. On either side of his mouth, the smile-like-scars go up for about three inches each. They’re more healed at the ends, but become more prominent around an inch going inward.
-Wears a faded band tee almost every day of his life, typically paired with some sweats or darkwash jeans. He doesn’t own a lot of clothes, but when he looks for something new it has to be comfortable and easy to move in. Also a big fan of tank-tops and compression shirts, as well as the obvious hoodie when the winter weather starts to roll in.
-Lives in his combat boots. They’re one of the only things he owns that he keeps mildly clean, and that says a lot to begin with. Jet black with the laces always tied a little too tight against the thick leather.
-Wears a couple pieces of silver jewelry, mainly rings and loose necklaces. Almost all of his stuff is fake because it’s easier to steal in stores that sell cheap jewelry, as well as the fact that he gets turned down at the door whenever trying to go anywhere nicer.
a/n : 2.1k words -- my asks are open! planning on making a masterlist soon...
CW : mentions of crime, mentions of intoxication, isolation, implied betrayal, cult activity, human sacrifice, demonic sacrifice, enucleation, eyeless jack appropriate physical transformation, shame, guilt, maybe body horror
-Jack Nyras was born in Russia to two parents – warm, in spite of their location.
-The city that he grew up in was one frequently overlooked by tourists for the sheer amount of crime and violence that festered in it – major gang activity, aggressive theft, and homicide. A place where silence meant worse than the sirens he'd learned to tune out.
-Jack grew up surrounded by the constant danger of drunkards and the habitual winter that plagued his homeland. You would think this would shape his humanity and person wholly; factors that would turn him apathetic and selfish. This assumption prevails wrong in light of his educated, structured, and unconditionally loving parents. The environment their family resided in wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t hinder their efforts.
-Fishing and going on nature walks with his father on most weekends, returning from school to read with and cook alongside his mother. From early on in his life, he learned a multitude of skills and retained them with constant vigor. He fostered a library of passions and excelled in school, beyond his years in his emotional and intellectual abilities. His growth never stopped – his head was empty and begged ceaselessly for information.
-Jack could have pursued any career that he wished with his education and wide range of interests in STEM centered topics. Healthcare found him when he roamed the streets too close to dark and found what people could do to each other when adrenaline mingled with opportunity. He didn’t just want to keep people safe, he wanted to prevent the malevolence that plagued the hopeless and repressed the optimistic.
-When Jack turned 14 and his classmates became the perpetually inebriated population that dimmed the corner stores and classrooms alike, his parents packed up and immigrated to North America. They advocated for his future and gave him expectations that he worked tirelessly to achieve.
-Finding asylum in the mountains of Maine, Jack didn’t mind the harsh winter weather – not in comparison to where he came from. His yearning for knowledge extended here; there were more libraries, more opportunities for him. He consumed as much English media as he could – television, books, music. His avid eagerness for education and intent impressed teachers and other students alike, as well as his sociability.
-Jack has always been endlessly conversational. He’s a good listener, actively engages in conversation, reads social cues well, and is incredibly polite. He was raised to have a kind heart and couldn’t comprehend being ill-mannered toward anyone. Basically lives and breathes “treat others how you want to be treated.”
-Because of this, he wasn’t bullied as some clichés might suggest. He was never the “nerdy-new-kid” or outcasted because of his foreign roots. He was logical, athletic, friendly, creative – he fit into every category of person, so, simply put, everybody enjoyed his company. It was difficult to find him without a smile in his eyes or a joke dancing on his lips. To teachers, he was a pleasure to have in class. To neighbors, he brightened the community and unearthed the warmth in the highlands. To his friends, he was just Jack. And his parents couldn’t have been more proud of him.
-This was increased tenfold when Jack was accepted into a prestigious university not too far from where his parents were. Not an Ivy League by any means, but better than either of them had gone to. He was specifically going into Family Medicine, pursuing a career that he had dreamed lifelong for.
-College was different from what he had expected – overwhelming and understimulating all the same. Although he had previously been praised as a prodigy at home, all of the students surrounding him possessed the same, if not extended, capacity that he did.
-The classes were easy but tedious, leaving no time to meet new people like he had originally hoped. This left him with a new complex – ostracized and excluded, Jack had never been truly on his own before. He found camaraderie in his roommate and late nights eating junk and watching whatever was airing.
-This repetitive but familiar routine was interrupted when he was taking out the trash one night. This is where he met Jenny – she was bright-eyed, spirited, and matched his wits. The kind of girl you might take home to meet the family. She asked about the accent that tinged his English, what products he used to get his hair so wavy, and what his major was. It was safe to assume that the saturation of her mind captivated him immediately.
-This solace came to a standstill no less than five weeks later. It was almost as ordinary a day as any other – classes, lunch, Jenny, sleep. Though, April invited the first rain of the season that day ; dense, hurried droplets plunging to the ground with great haste. Jack swept the water from his eyes as he rushed through the trimmed grass. Jenny had assured him that the trees would provide enough shelter from the rain to have a comfortable evening together. Blindly, he trusted her insistence to join the group.
-It started off slow. She began inviting him to hang around with her and her friends just days later. A cleared out place in the forest that consisted of a couple of picnic tables and scattered, shattered beer bottles. It was secluded away from the common grounds of the university, impossibly tall trees shading the grassy domain and providing a comfortable atmosphere. It was the most connected he had felt to people in months – between morning courses and afternoon shifts, he had found himself there more nights than not. It was the “American Dream” college experience he previously hoped for. The months of solitude that rattled his bones had been warmed over by the mutuality his new friends gave him.
-The last moments Jack retained were of the following: water violently rushing down his back and slicking the fabric of his clothes to his skin. The crisp chills that plagued him entirely of goosebumps and left him hollow. The cruel way that it felt like home to him. The blunt pain in the back of his head that stole the vision from his eyes and left him stranded. The way that the cold burns hot when you’ve always been freezing.
-The ritual left Jack hollow; he had been born with an aptitude for life. There wasn’t a moment of his adolescence where he was empty-headed or idle for too long, but the ritual was meant to strip him of any humanity that he possessed.
-The pain he endured came in waves of unconsciousness. During the ritual, his eyes were removed from their sockets and hot tar was poured down his front. He was restrained against the clearing’s waterlogged grass and relentlessly battered by the rain. Hot and cold merged into the one sensation of adamant throbbing. His lungs burned with the stress of inhaling, his heart thrumming in his ears. Dying would have been easier.
-Jack knew Hunger intimately – it was the way that he was an endless pit of want. Hunger cradled Jack’s head and kissed his eyelids when he slept. He had been born hungry and insatiable, the sickness that had damned him from the start. All the same, that’s what had made him human. Nothing inside of him changed when his skin went cold and pale, but rather he bared the obscenity that was his psyche.
-Jack killed Jenny and the rest of the cult out of distress, not malice. He went through the motions mindlessly, more of an observer to his actions rather than in control of them. This challenges one of the more complex aspects of him – Jack can and can’t see at the same time. He lacks the obvious physical organ that allows any other human to see, but this contradicts the otherworldly nature of his vessel. His vision is very dark (allusive to the tar) so he sees minimal colors, though he can diligently make out shapes and track movement.
-For an extended period of time, Jack didn’t live in the residency. Considering the irrepressible force he was, it wasn’t surprising that it was difficult for The Operator to get ahold of him. Meanwhile, he lived in the thickest parts of the woods. Partially due to the violent nature of his physical transformation, as well as the shame that consumed him. With his upbringing being in a majorly turbulent area, he had developed the idea that ferocity followed where he went – the situation he found himself in didn’t help.
-Before the ritual, Jack was about 5’8” (172.72 cm) and of an average build for a 19-year-old university student, as well as just below the average height of a Russian man.
-His skin was fairly warm-toned – compatible with his toffee brown hair and hazel eyes. You know that stereotype about a lot of guys having super long, naturally curled eyelashes? Jack doesn’t beat this cliché. He also had a couple of moles scattered around his jaw and hairline, accompanied by some acne scarring from his youth.
-His sharp features favored his mother, but his voice was intensely adjacent to his father’s. Smooth with a little sharpness around the edges. He moved to America as a teen, so his accent was still prominent in the way that he enunciated words and slowed down his sentences.
-Had the straightest, whitest, most picture-perfect teeth. I can see his dad working as a dentist (possibly one of the other factors that compelled him to pursue a job in the medical field) so his teeth were always taken care of. Seriously a movie-star type of smile with dimples and everything.
-He always dressed very refined and classy – dark, warm sweaters over collared shirts paired with jeans that hung straight and a little loose. Early on in his life, his mother taught him how to knit articles of clothing like scarves, hats, gloves, and sweaters – so those were the staples of most of his outfits. Always used fun-colored yarn because that’s what his mother used when he was a kid.
-After the ritual, however, Jack grew a great deal. He sprouted up to a towering 6’5” (195.58 cm) and developed plenty of muscle. The process was painful: his bones strained against their confinements and his tendons tensed unnaturally. It dulled after a while, but it was initially harrowing.
-His skin paled to a weak, cool-toned gray with scattered clusters of veins showing in darker, bruised knots. Other than these blemishes, his skin was nearly spotless – free of any scars, freckles, or previous damage. He’s not immune, though; he’d continue to accumulate more scars as his time progressed. His nails grew faster and stronger with a blue tint, more comparable to claws rather than fingernails.
-Jack’s eyes became entirely black and inky with tar. The amount that spills from his sockets isn’t typically excessive, but he has his moments. Increases in capacity whenever he’s stressed or drastically hungry.
-Retained a lot of his human features like his greek nose, thick eyebrows, and general bone structure. However, his naturally wavy hair dimmed to a much darker, colder brown color. His texture stayed the same, but the length grew quicker and denser than before. Moreover, his teeth enlarged significantly. I imagine him having a cross between bear and lion teeth. A plentiful amount for his diet, prominent canines & molars, and sharp enough to bite through tougher meat.
-Jack’s voice deepened measurably. It’s less human, but he’s just as careful with his words and pronunciation. The depth of it alone could rattle anyone’s bones – low in his chest, rumbling in his throat. For a while after the ritual, he had a little bit of a lisp because of the way his lips form around his teeth. It went away naturally as he grew into his body.
-Continues to dress like he had before, just with extended comfort. Dark hoodies, scrubs, and dark-wash jeans that are big enough to hang off of his frame. He stopped knitting after he recognized that his fingernails got in the way of the process – he’d still wear the items his mother made him if they fit.
-After moving into the residency, he grew more cautious with his mannerisms. He knew that it was easy to perceive him as threatening, and they had a right to believe so. Jack continued in his role as a caretaker in a medical sense, using his knowledge to mend and piece together the occupants there. He keeps to himself because he understands that they can’t relate to him in any sense, apart from working together.
-He’s extremely passionate about taking care of the other inhabitants, despite their frequent disinterest and refusal. Even after everything he’d been through – hell and back – it didn’t hinder his desire to help people. Additionally, he figured that everyone in the house would die without his knowledge and assistance, and it was the job that he was assigned to perform.
a/n : this is a sequel to my childhood headcanons for him & will reference those a couple times!
CW : psychosis, hallucinations, paranoia, ticci toby appropriate mental health symptoms, mentions of bipolar/mania, mentions of past abuse, slender sickness, mentions of grief, memory loss, mentions of poverty, mention of trichotillomania
Behavior/Behaviorisms
-Very fidgety/constantly paranoid. He never experienced a moment of true comfort growing up - he’s constantly kept on edge, waiting for something bad to happen. Other than chewing his nails and the inside of his cheek, he frequently taps his foot and tends to pull his hair out as a kind of self soothing action.
-Residents of the house have tried to get him to stop but most have given up.
-People with tourettes typically reach REM sleep in lower percentages due to the constant movement out of their control, so he’s constantly tired and groggy. He actually sleeps a lot to try and compensate for it, but it’s just not good quality sleep.
-Due to his CIPA (Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis) he has to go to the infirmary at least once a week for a checkup. Once came back from a mission with a completely shattered forearm and had no idea until he tried to smoke a cigarette and saw bone poking through his skin.
-He doesn’t shower nearly as much as he should, but when he does he checks the water with a thermometer Jack gave him so he doesn’t boil his skin off.
-The floor of his room is NOT visible most of the time. He cleans it once in a blue moon when he reaches mania/is hyperactive but it doesn’t last long.
-Talks quickly in hopes that his stutter will be ignored and his point will come across. He will not repeat what he said to begin with.
-People typically headcanon him as very childish and one of the younger residents, which I agree with! Though, I find him childish in the sense of his inability to develop most social skills growing up. He’s bad at regulating his emotions, reacts on impulse, and doesn’t think about how his actions can affect others. This is very similar to how his father would act, just not nearly with as much fire behind it. Toby’s immaturity and volatility comes from the environment he grew up in - from not knowing how else to act.
-If he manages to form a relationship with someone (whether it be platonic or romantic) he becomes super co-dependent and clingy. Constantly texting them and getting upset when they don’t reply immediately.
-Has psychosis frequently ; hears his father yelling at him in the margins of his head but usually thinks it’s Tim in the distance. Otherwise, he hallucinates Lyra whenever he has bad anxiety (so, like… all the time). When he sees her, she’s more of an idea than a clear image. He knows that he’s supposed to be scared of her & that she’s someone he knew Before. The slender sickness he’s been enduring for years has totally rotted his brain to be based in the present, so he doesn’t have an ounce of memory of her other than this.
-Cannot drive. He understands how to drive, knows road signs and turn signals, but freaks out every time he’s behind the wheel. He was the one driving the car when Lyra died, so it’s triggering anytime he’s in a car - but particularly when he’s in the driver’s seat.
-Mentioned in my headcanons of his adolescence, but he did not get a good education. He regularly feels inferior because of this - it’s not like his profession calls for much thinking, but he wishes he knew more. He never got to leave his small town - as far as he’s aware. Lyra probably got the idea in his head that they would travel the world together after he graduated. He grieves this empty promise that he doesn’t recall the details of.
Physical Appearance
-Forgets to eat routinely, but when he eats HE EATS. Grew up poor and has this aching urge that tells him he’s gonna run out of food, so when he does remember to eat something he binge eats and makes himself nauseous. Nevertheless, he’s gotten a pretty lean, muscled physique with the constant labor he does.
-Sickly pale with possibly the darkest eyebags you’ve ever seen. Most people with CIPA don’t sweat/sweat very minimally, so his skin is extremely dry. He does have faint freckles, though.
-Tall, around 5 '10 (rounds up to 6 ft every time someone asks). He’d matured faster than most of the kids his age, so his height just added to his awkward demeanor and how he stuck out so prominently in school.
-Light brown, reddish hair that’s technically curly but very damaged. He typically brushes it out and doesn’t style it, but it’s better than when he doesn’t brush or wash it for weeks.
-Big brown eyes that are tinted gray and shift duller during the winter time. Near identical to his mom’s.
-The gash on the side of his cheek, a result of his anxious habits and CIPA, is on the right side of his face. He first broke through the skin when he was an older teen, but since then he’s started chewing on the inside of his left cheek. Brian smacks him every time he catches him doing it, concerned it’ll deter from eating even more.
-If I had a nickel for every pair of shoes Toby has… I’d have roughly five cents. He’s worn the same pair of black Converse he’s had since he left his house at 17. They’re worn in, stained, and torn at the toe. If someone were to buy him a new pair, he’d probably still wear the old ones. They fit him and that’s really all that matters to him. That and the fact he has a sort of sentimental connection to them.
-Wears anything that gives him free movement, AKA a lot of loose t-shirts and sweaters. This especially applies to when he has to chop wood for the rest of the residency. Typically sticks to sweatpants but will wear baggy jeans on occasion. If it were up to him, he would walk out into -3°F weather in a tank-top and sweats.
-You know how some streamers have an indent in their head/hair because of how often they wear their headphones? Toby has this with his goggles. He wears them over his eyes during active missions, but props them up on top of his head when they’re driving home.
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