[[preplayed with the lovely momslilassassin, selfhelphero and hoorayimrich as omnomnomtech. NFB and whatall.]]
[[preplayed with the lovely momslilassassin, selfhelphero and hoorayimrich as omnomnomtech. NFB and whatall.]]
But in happier news, he'd finally finished his Christmas present for Tony and he had Billy coming over in a little bit to play video games. Both of which were good things.
There was nothing weird about taking a few seconds to organize his room before Billy showed up, right? Like moving some of the garbage off the floor and all that and organizing the bags of chips and video game controllers all in one place opposite the TV? That was just manners or something.
[[Oooopen, expecting three, Peter thread is last.]]
They were givers like that. Just exemplary human beings.
"Do you think he even does Christmas?" Topher wondered, moving to the side to let Kenzi knock.
( The fact that they might be waking him up had nothing to do with anything. Nope. )
[[Preplayed with regretiz4suckas and lockestheway, because timezones suck and we wanted A Very Black Hat Trio Christmas, dammit. NFI, OOC welcome, and all good for broadcast except for the talk of Karla, which is NFB.]]
Once that was taken care of, he composed himself (though he still looked a little overenthusiastic) and started unpacking. He set Kenzi's present on the dresser, tossed his clothes and the stupid, stupid poncho into their rightful places on the floor, and then shoved his luggage under his bed.
And then his room was neatly in order (you know, if you were Topher), which left him to flop down on his bed and grab his laptop.
( After almost having gotten Peter into trouble this weekend, he felt like he should look at a few things... )
[[Door is cracked, post is open. Spybots and stuff under the cut NFB, and obviously done with the permission of the marvelous lockestheway.]]
He didn't run, though it was a near thing, and that was mainly because his legs still felt a little shaky after having flown around a freaking mountaintop on a wingless dragon. So he walked, his heart pounding erratically with worry and hope. A nervous habit kicked in, and as he stepped into view of the very tip of the island, Topher brought one knuckle up into his mouth to chew on uncertainly.
Please let him be there, please let him be there...
[[For guess who.]]
So out came the dice and the cape, and after making a quick annoucement, he set up at a toadstool with some character sheets for some pre-apocalyptic Dungeons and Dragons.
Kid had priorities.
[[OCD is up! Yep, idea stolen from Buffy 7x22, "Chosen." Anyone can play, and if you want to ICly be talked into it, lemme know and I'll have Topher get naggy. I have an AIM chat for this if you wanna pop in -- rpwithinanrpyegods. Have fun!
OH, and a million thanks to glacial_witch, brat_intraining, harpy_daughter and most especially not_a_parakeet for humoring me and teaching me how this works. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST AND I LOVE YOU.]]
However. Supposedly there were things around town that were trying to eat people. So Peter wanted him to move.
And plus, it was probably a good idea to get a change of underwear at some point. And pizza delivery guys didn't get that stuff for you. Not that he'd asked, or anything.
But... lab. Cozy. Comfy. Full of tech that could possibly save the world. And it smelled comforting, like engine grease and Tony. And Warren was here, and and and...
Okay. Yeah. Topher definitely wasn't leaving anytime soon. He was just going to take two steps outside in the direction of the dorms so he could tell Peter he'd tried, then probably hurry back into the lab. That was the best possible plan, right? Right.
[[For them whose services
He kicked the floor, and then, finding that unhelpful, threw the phone and that stupid orb he was still holding onto the ground and hurled a hard punch at the wall.
Fuck, that hurt.
But it did kill some of the helpless feeling, at least. Now there was just... grief.
With a choked sob, Topher collapsed down to the floor with his back to the wall, cradling his bleeding hand and just hating everything.
[[I'M SORRY. HE JUST HAS A LOT OF FEELINGS. for two, and NFB.]]
But here Topher was, doing it anyway. Because Peter had told him to, and that was enough, most of the time, to get him to do things. Sad but true.
And... maybe Topher was a little bit more inclined to do as Peter said this week in particular for another reason too. Which would be the need to appease him in light of the terrifying possibility that maybe, just maybe, Karla had blabbed the contents of their conversation the other day and now Peter wanted to kill him and get a new tech person and not be his friend anymore and and and --
It was hard, with the siren call of
[[open door, open post]]
Well, there could be others. Maybe they just wanted him attacked by something big and scary that made chittering noises. Or they just wanted him to be hit by a train and live.
But he was guessing dead for now. Because that portal that was supposed to take him and Kenzi first-class, direct to LA? Had taken him here. Where it was dark. And cold. And wet. And there were chittering noises and train tracks and he had rat fear, okay? And the dark freaked him out. Which was why he was clinging to Kenzi's shirt and making tiny, high-pitched noises.
"I don't like this," he whimpered. "I don't like this I don't like this I don't like this..."
( And there was just so much to like! )
[[nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, we think we're funny.]]
What the hell?
"Dude, what happened?"
[[for him whose lab it is, yo, and NFB]]
As it turned out, it was harder to take stories down from a kink meme than you might think. Perils of posting anonymously and all that -- no easy delete button.
Which was why it was fortunate that Topher didn't need a delete button, and managed with little trouble to not only take the story down, but also to gift the moderators with some thoughtful presents to express his appreciation of their entire stupid system.
Mean, system-disrupty presents. Sorry,
Pepper totally anonymous moderators.
At least it felt useful to do that rather than the whole video-game-zombie-killing thing. That was a plus. Once he was finished, he considered working a bit on some of Peter's spybots, since his weetiny self had not been kind to them, but the memory of working on them with Tony put that on a definite hold.
Moping Hacking for sport it was.
for that guy getting a jump start on his career as a heartbreaker actually screw that, i'm bored. door shut but post open.]]
But there were bags of chips under his bed and he really didn't want to find out if the chips had rodent friends down there, so he had to settle for burrowing under the blankets instead, laptop open in front of him as he vengefully and imprecisely shot at zombies in a video game.
Like this weekend hadn't been bad enough. Like he hadn't gotten a stupid (albeit newly vanished) haircut and a hangover. Like he hadn't made a total moron out of himself in front of Ben and Jello Girl and Peter, then hurt his hand making the world's shittiest piece of technology. Now he'd done something to piss Tony off too, and -- here was the kicker -- he didn't even know what it was. Because Tony already knew about that stupid fanfiction story that that bitch Karla had told everyone about, and he hadn't been mad at him after the whole lap-sitting thing on Thursday night, and their encounter as kids on Saturday hadn't been too horrible, and nothing bad had happened in frat, so... what was it?
For a second, he wondered if maybe Kenzi had said something... but they weren't close, were they? He dismissed the idea and shot furiously at zombies. The volume was up ridiculously high, but he wasn't too bothered by the noise of the explosions right now. Or the gore. Even the stuff that normally squicked him out was fine.
[[Door closed, post wide open. This kid. So much emo.]]
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.]]
However, he was no longer eating ice cream. That was because ice cream tended to melt if he sat and ate a whole tub all in one go, which was really the only way he wanted to do it. So instead, he had moved on to cake. A cake that had come pre-frosted from the grocery store, sure, but now it had Funfetti on it too.
SHUT UP. HE WAS HUNGRY.
[[Closed door, open post! Was supposed to be up early enough to beat timezone suck, BUT SOMEONE BEAT ME. Whatevs.]]
There was, however, a fairly complex chain of wires attached to the TV, and three video game controllers set out on the floor. And there was a T-shirted Kenzi in the tub, a pajama-clad Topher who had dragged his mattress onto the floor in front of the TV, and a zombie-killing game on the screen.
Peter was sure to love this arrangement!
[[For the evil overlord and lady! Kenzi modded with permission. Up early for timezones!]]
However, in an attempt to
Obviously this break would be easy and painless. Hey, maybe later he could convince Peter to stop by his room to play video games or something!
[[For she who knows who she is! And then the other she, who also knows. And then I guess open.]]
His morning (or afternoon, really) started out with a loud groan of protest against just about everything. Then, before his eyes could even open but just as the events of last night started to come back to him, he shrieked.
And then his ankle throbbed and he shrieked again.
Ohhhh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. Today was THE WORST EVER. He thought about getting up and taking something to get rid of that horrible headache of his, not to mention the severe ankle pain, but... didn't. He just rolled over onto his stomach and whimpered quietly into the pillow.
[[Post is as open as open can be! Door is closed but unlocked.]]
Which... was the least of his problems once his memories flooded back. Tony. Ben. Nate. All of the anonymous "clients" from his past. It was completely horrifying, and the memory alone gave him what appeared to be a nervous tic of the neck spasm variety.
He didn't think he'd actually... followed through. He remembered flirting and -- oh god, KISSING, but then it got fuzzy and he remembered things like Kotex and Bounty. Did that mean he had... used those things? That didn't seem to make sense. But that hardly mattered, did it, when he had DONE THINGS! Things with -- guys!
"Oh, god," he muttered. "I was in love with Tony!"
Yeah, he was going to hide in bed today. ALONE.
[[OOC: Door is closed, post is open. I'm actually moving today, holycrapwtf, so expect extreeeeme SP.]]
It was probably best not to ask where he'd gotten the giant screen or the makeshift console that didn't seem to have a brand name on it. The answer to that came from the enormous mountain of wires and various other pieces of orphaned tech equipment on the floor.
After hooking up two controllers and setting up a giant bowl of food that he'd unceremoniously stolen from the picnic, he flopped down on his bed and started booting up the game. This was way better than meeting newbies, he decided. Unless the newbies were zombies, but he doubted that.
[[Door is cracked, post is open, thread with Tony is chronologically last!]]