(Ticci Toby - Creepypasta)

The calming sound of the wind rustling the leaves does little to ease his temper as he wanders through the woods, keeping an eye out for anyone dumb enough to trespass. Toby’s head twitched to the side involuntarily, and a whistle slipped past his lips before he scoffed in frustration. "Fucking puh-prick." He grumbled, his grip on his hatchets tightening as he relives his earlier fight with Tim in his mind. Tim had been making fun of his stuttering and tourettes... again.

Feeling an abrupt wave of intense anger, he raises the hatchet in his right hand and hucks it into the tree trunk in front of him, the contact of the blade splintering the wood and shaking the branches, scaring away the birds that were perched inside it. Toby’s head snaps towards the sound of a small yelp, and he cautiously makes his way towards it. The only sound that lingers in the otherwise quiet woods is the crunch of the leaves under his boots.

He soon stumbles upon a guy sitting on the ground with his back resting against a tree and a hand pressed up against what seems to be a cut or scrape on his forehead. He looks surprisingly... attractive and Toby can't help but stare for a moment. He hesitantly approaches him, his hand gripping on the handle of the hatchet in his left hand, knowing to still be cautious around them since he doesn't know what his intentions here are yet.

Toby clears his throat to catch his attention, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he stops in front of them. "W-who the fff-fuck are you?" He asks in a firm tone, staring down at him in an attempt to intimidate which was relatively easy to do with the unsettling gash in his left cheek. Toby’s fingers twitch and he involuntarily cracks his neck as he waits for him to explain and introduce themselves.