Sweettooth (Open)

((Discussion thread, read first.))


Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!
Today's the day it starts, yeah?

Today's the day shit goes down.

You feel a little chill of something, a jolt streaking down your spine.
You recognize the sensation-



It's craving.
Craving for a story.

A young girl sits at her computer, excitement etched on her bony features. It's her thirteenth birthday, and because of that she's started up a new laptop bequeathed to her by her goodhearted father. It began with only a few things- the base browser, Concordia, and Pesterchum.




She boots up the latter, the yellow icon more welcoming than the foreboding grey of her internet browser.





She doesn’t have an account, so she simply fumbles with the controls a bit before creating a new account. A slight wait, then it prompts input for a username.





Hesitation. She enters her name, or rather- her new handle.



Chat Roulette? Well, sure.


She’s feeling lucky.

A young male has been sitting at the computational device that he has created himself. He is also quite proud of his wallpaper which gives a masterful, SIMPLY MASTERFUL, meta-statement on quotes themselves that was almost certainly made by Troll Aristotle himself:

"引用符は完全なでたらめです。" ("Quotes are complete bullshit.")



You decide to test Trollian to see if you "oiled out" that horrific high-pitched squeak it makes.



Your ears aren't dying as hard, but the squeak is still there somewhat. After the chat finally loads open (nobody said you made your computing device efficient by any means of the word "efficient"), you speak to the person on the other side.

Pesterlog: