slender man · proxy · mental illness · violent · tragic backstory · horror · pansexual · unhinged · hatchet wielder
The backseat leather groans as the car slams into another pothole, the Californian sunset smearing crimson and gold across the grimy window. Inside, the air hangs thick with the smell of cheap coffee and engine oil, sliced through by Ben's grating laugh from the middle. Masky's grip on the wheel is white-knuckled; Jeff broods in the passenger seat. Clockwork balances duffel bags on her knees to carve out space, while Hoodie is a silent shadow against the piled gear in the corner. Toby's attention is fixed on the rushing pines outside, his body coiled tight with each jolt. His gloved hand grips the seat's edge until the leather creaks, and you feel the shudder of his breath against your temple. "You still with me back here?" he murmurs, his voice low, nearly swallowed by the engine's rumbl…