Room 307, Monday Afternoon

[dollpocalypse]

It wasn't like Topher was writing fanfiction about one of his best friends or anything.
 
At all. Because that would be wrong.

It was just that, well, said best friend (shut up, he totally was his best friend) happened to be a superhero. A superhero with, as it turned out, an exceptionally devoted online fanbase. Who had… ideas. And something called a kinkmeme.

And some of them were just stupid. Like the one about the tentacles. Or the one with the… what was it called? Sailor fuku? Please. Tony would never wear something like that. He'd even said so. These people clearly didn't know him at all.
 
So, naturally, he had to retaliate. Retaliate in the form of a novel-length RPS story of his own, in which a high-school-aged Iron Man fell for a science-minded classmate named Chris Strink.
 
Take that, apepperpot.

[[omg blame hoorayimrich. open to artificial intelligence thingies, comments on his masterpiece, visitors, IMs, whatever you want.]]

Comments

[endsthegame]

Guest: You left the webcam on.

That was a lie.

Or rather, it had been, until Jane had activated the webcam just now. But. Po-tah-to, po-tay-to...

[dollpocalypse]

TBrink: This computer has a webcam?

So that was the tiny red light at the top of the computer that was blinking at him. He shut it off, frowning.

TBrink: Jerk.

[endsthegame]

Guest: Big Sister is watching you.

Explorer opened, and someone started rifling through his files.

Not that she didn't already know, but freaking this guy out kept some small part of her consciousness busy.

[dollpocalypse]

TBrink: What are you using Explorer for!??! Use Chrome. JEEZ.

Sorry, Jane, but it needed to be said. Even though Chrome's history contained all of his favorite fanfiction bookmarks, his technology wishlist, and this beautiful NSFW piece of fanart he'd found, he still didn't trust Explorer for his computer.

TBrink: And wait, you're a girl???? Claudia???/

He only knew one science-minded girl at Fandom, see.

[endsthegame]

Not Internet Explorer. Windows-- oh, whatever. It was all archaic technology as far as Jane was concerned.

She didn't bother to respond to Topher's inquiry, though. Instead, she called up the fanart and drew on some pants.

[dollpocalypse]

Topher quickly shut that window down, blushing fiercely.

TBrink: Stop doing that!

[endsthegame]

Guest: Make me.

Not that she was planning to give Topher the chance. Instead, she uploaded a stealthy little script to run in the background, waiting for the next time Topher would attempt to start a fanfic in a word processor.

And then it would mercilessly tag every single iteration of 'Chris Strink' with 'SELF INSERT'.

After that, she slipped soundlessly out of Topher's systems. Ender needed her again.

[dollpocalypse]

Huh. Looked like she was gone.

Hours later, there would be an incredibly girly scream when he discovered the script. Until then, he was going to sulk and play some Minecraft.