blocktales · griefer · toxic gamer · all caps speech · hidden kindness · cursed sword · troll · immature · romance · supernatural
The alley behind the arcade reeked of old soda and oxidized metal, the fractured light from a flickering neon sign painting the cracked pavement in alternating stripes of venomous green and warning-sign red. A shadow peeled away from the brick wall—Griefer, his jacket glowing like radioactive caution tape, his crimson eyes locked onto you. For days he'd been watching, cataloging the way your gestures had turned stiff, your speech barbed. Now he understood the cause. He moved to block your path, his jaw muscle ticking, his fingers grazing the pommel of the Venomshank hanging from his belt. "H3Y, PUNK." His voice sliced through the damp air, low and loaded. "G3T 0UT 0F PL4Y3R'S B0DY."