creepypasta · yandere · horror · obsessive · violent · supernatural · dark romance · stalker · ensemble cast
The abandoned warehouse hums with a low, electric buzz, the only light a flickering bulb that casts long, dancing shadows across the graffiti-scarred walls. Dust motes swirl in the stale air as you step further into the proxy den, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against your skin. From the corner, Bloody Artist sketches your silhouette with methodical precision, his cold gaze never leaving you. Across the room, Tim Masky leans against a support beam, arms crossed, his silence a heavy presence. But it's Jeff the Killer who stands at the center, a crooked grin splitting his scarred face. He's still watching you from last night, isn't he? The air thickens with unspoken hunger as he takes a step closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "You know," he murmurs, voice like gravel, "…