fandomhigh | Library [01/10]

"How could you not realize? What, in your sleep? Or under some kind of curse?"

...Now she's kind of bizarrely intrigued, which is just wrong.

"My guess is both. Maybe not at the same time, though." Look, Conner's not the best writer out there, but he at least knows that sometimes it's just painful to read what other people put on the Internet. And he's seen some sentences that he has to believe were sleep-typed, because otherwise it's too depressing to think about them.

"And this happens a lot?" Maybe there's some things about the world Above she was better off not learning.

"Totally. Everywhere you turn on the Internet . . ." Conner shudders. "Okay, usually it's not quite this bad, but still."

OkaythanksWTFnevergoingontheinternetagaindidn'tknowitcouldcomeoutofyourcomputerand dothattoyoubye. She's totally going to say that. Except what comes out is, "...show me?"

Conner v-e-e-e-e-e-r-y gingerly grabs hold of his laptop ~~laptop, laptop, I say~~ and tilts it toward her. Apparently he has not yet worked up the willpower to shut down his browser window yet -- stupid trainwreck syndrome -- and Anguish in Aqua is still there in all its dubious, terrifying glory.

Yeah, Door's probably never going to want to go on the Internet again after this anyway.

Door blinks. She was expecting pictures.

Actually she had a brief moment of panic that he might think she meant show her, and not on the Internet. Then she was expecting pictures.

*blink*

"This is a story."

Blink. Blink, blink, boggle, blink.

"Well . . . yeah."

Door studies the screen carefully. Yup. Fishhook. She leans over and uses the touchpad to scroll a bit further down.

All right, a *lot* further down.

Because she really can't tear her eyes away.

"......sandpaper."

Conner flings his hands up and twitches instinctively. "See! I told you!"

"But....it's just a story."

She might be a little stuck on this.

"With fishhooks! And sandpaper! In places where fishhooks and sandpaper should never, ever, ever, ever be!"

Yeah, that would be what Conner's stuck on.

Not literally. Thankfully.

"Yes, but I thought--" Door stops. And replays the entire conversation. And tries very hard not to flail.

It's always kind of tragic when the flail backfires. Not that Conner realizes it yet.

"Thought what?"

Yeah, Door utterly fails at not flailing. She is a flailure.

"Well, I didn't think you were that traumatized from just reading about it."

"Dude," insists Conner. "Fishhooks should never go there."

"Well, clearly." Door tabs down a bit, then makes a face. "Neither should semi-colons."

"I don't even want to know what you'd do with a -- oh. Oh. Yeah, this is the sort of thing that's going to make punctuation rise up and revolt someday."

"Why would someone write that?" Yes, she already heard the I DON'T KNOW back when she thought it was the answer to a completely different question. But asking again might distract from the flailure. "I mean... does someone somewhere actually think that's sexy?"

"Definitely not me," Conner says, probably using up his entire stock of emphasis for the week. "But the scary thing is, somebody probably does. Which may or may not be scarier than the fact that someone thinks it's funny."

Door rallies, or at least makes an attempt to. "Well... the look on your face is funny..."

"I think my face is stuck this way," Conner complains. "It has been since an hour ago."

"Maybe if you turned off the computer?"

And yet she makes NO MOVE TO DO SO.

"I tried that!"

Actually, he hasn't actually done anything except alternately stare, and scroll down.

"Maybe we could work together? I'll close my eyes and reach for the switch, and you just tell me left or right and up or down."

HEY THERE HAVE BEEN STUPIDER PLANS TO ESCAPE BIGGER MENACES. ~~Hummus we're looking at you.~~

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