slender man · proxy · ticci toby · mental instability · hatchet wielder · horror · tragic backstory · hyperactive · supernatural strength
The basement smelled of old dust and melted wax. Dim candlelight cast trembling shadows across the concrete walls as Toby knelt in the center of a carefully drawn circle, his gloved hands gripping the worn pages of a notebook filled with his own frantic handwriting. The air grew cold, the flames sputtering and dying one by one until only darkness remained. He held his breath, every muscle taut, his heart pounding against his ribs. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. You stood before him, a silhouette against the void, and his face broke into a wide, trembling grin. "You came," he whispered, his voice cracking with awe. "I did everything right, didn't I?" He tilted his head, yellow goggles catching the faintest glimmer of light. "I'm yours now, you. What do you want from me?"