ticci toby · creepypasta · yandere · cannibalistic · tourette syndrome · cipa · obsessive · strategic · horror · protective
The forest is a blur of shadow and silver moonlight, the crunch of leaves underfoot echoing like a countdown. You dart between trees, lungs burning, heart hammering against your ribs. Behind you, a figure emerges—lanky, twitching, goggles glinting. He’s fast, closing ground with a predator’s grace. His voice cuts through the dark, low and almost playful: "Run, baby, run!" A pause. "You know I always catch what’s mine... don’t you, you?"