Work Text:
Is you, David Elizabeth Strider, on your desktop computer. To an outsider from the right angle it would look like you are just browsing the net, looking at whatever cool-guy skater blogs kids like you view these days. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Rotate the room a bit, or just look from a different angle, and the image on the CRT display is revealed to be the Club Penguin penguin creation screen. You spent very little time creating your character and slightly more time plugging in your chumhandle as the username. It takes a few seconds but the website deems it appropriate, and allows you entry to your favorite place at the moment. Club. Fucking. Penguin. You are dropped straight into the plaza. After clicking away the tutorial you’ve gone through a fuck ton of times, you immediately click your red avatar into the pizza restaurant. The Italian-themed background loads in, and after a few seconds so do the 3D models of other players. A few seconds of scanning them shows no one immediately special, mostly newbies wearing some of the cheapest shit from the monthly catalogue. You would scoff, but remember you are in no position to do so with your naked penguin showing off his downy junk to the whole server. You instead scan the diner and read the chat bubbles. Someone sitting alone in the bottom left corner of the pizzeria catches your eye. They are one of the exceptions to your previous statement, dressed to the tens in member’s only gear. That is abso-fucking-lutely your next target. You direct your penguin in her direction and watch his phat ass waddle over there to commit atrocities.
She (you assume by the wig, violet color, and dress) is reading the paper and seemingly paying no attention to her surroundings which is perfect for you. You begin easy; Spamming snowballs at her, without stopping. It does take a minute, but eventually she put up the paper and turns to you. She pauses, you can only assume to type.
“Please stop.” she begs. Pleading for mercy already, but you won’t give any. You want to see the life in those beady eyes fade from humiliation and rage.
“nope im good”
The second you press enter you go back to snowballing the shit out of her. She doesn’t say anything, and you begin to think she is attempting to switch servers when a pretty long chat bubble pops above her head.
“You throwing snowballs at me repeatedly is very indicative of your insecurity, you know. I understand. I’m just sitting here, wearing my hard-earned membership clothing and enjoying my time. You, who is very clearly new or broke or both are jealous of my apparel. And instead of grinding to get coin or a membership you take it out on me. That is very telling. Also very”
Her chat bubble ends abruptly. Fucker probably reached the word limit. After a second it disappears and she finishes,
“Sad.”
Outside of the screen your jaw drops. Well, it opens by a centimeter and you immediately clamp your mouth shut but that is still monumental levels of reaction. What the fuck. She’s not right or anything, this is like your seventh alt account, but still what the fuck. Instead of thinking about it you type out an instinctual “Ur mom gay”
She instantly responds.
“Good try. My mother is an alcoholic actually.”
How are you supposed to respond to that?
“ur mom still gay”
The gap between her last chat and this one is the longest by far. You start to think maybe the Ur Mom Gay strat has failed you.
When she disappears, you feel a little disappointed. A real connection was made there. You felt God in this penguin Chili’s tonight. You could attempt another jab at someone nearby, but you have the sneaking suspicion that they witnessed that firsthand.
So instead of that you teleport to the coffee place.
Suddenly, you get a notification.
‘ tentacletherapist has added you as a buddy! ’
Guess she ain’t as easy to shake as you thought. You add her back.
On a whim you teleport to her igloo. Her adding you was basically an invitation, you justify. It takes forever but finally, you load in.
You don’t know what you were expecting but this is along the lines of it, an edgy-goth-vampire shitfest. She’s there, sitting in an ornate chair that was worth more than what you have stashed in your main account times three. You make the first move.
“so we gonna have penguin 6 or wut”
She doesn’t react in any way. Damn, this is the one con of club penguin, you can’t see the reaction your words invoke in people the same way you h can face to face. On the other penguin flipper appendage, looking someone deep in the stupid billed face after harrassing them virtually is hilarious. You ask without thinking:
“got pesterchum?”
She sends a thumbs up emote.
“My username is my handle.”
You minimize internet explorer and type her name into your pretty barren chum list. Before you send her anything, you think of the perfect greeting. This will knock her rich-ass socks off.
“Sup girl”
She comes online shortly after, and replies.
“Hello, boy.”