dollpocalypse: (meh: HUH.)
Fact: In a universe with infinite distractions, there were totally things to do that didn't involve fretting over his okay-fine-it-was-okay-to-use-the-actual-word boyfriend's visit home to a universe which (at least upon last inspection) appeared to be one of the dangerous ones full of, like, evil robots and stuff, and focusing only on the worrying about said visit home meant passing up a world of opportunities of other stuff to pay attention to.

Second, more unfortunate fact: This had not stopped Topher so far.

Well, yes, okay, he was trying to read a book (Introduction to Clinical Neurology, on his tablet of course because who bought books anymore?), but the fretting was making that kind of a challenge. Just a bit. After a while, he just wound up lying on his bed, tablet placed firmly on top of his face, resigned and annoyed.

He really needed to invent a better distraction.

[[open door, open post.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: sleeping)
Over the past few days, Topher had learned some things about close-quarters communal living. The first thing he'd learned was that his normal sleep schedule (waking up early to play on his laptop, then taking a few naps interspersed with occasional breaks for video games) wasn't really going to fly here. The light from the computer while other people were sleeping tended to be a little on the annoying side, and while he ordinarily wouldn't care... well. He was sleeping next to Billy.

So.

Morning again, with Topher fidgeting and trying not to make an excessive amount of noise, playing Angry Birds and cupping one hand around his phone to try to prevent the light from bothering anyone.

By which he meant Billy.

If it bothered Mercy or Sam, he was pretty much okay with that. Sorry, guys.

[[open open!]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: computer)
Topher glanced furtively up and down the hall as he reached his room, holding a plastic bag to his chest and hoping no one had seen him. Then, satisfied that he hadn't been spotted, he quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside.

He'd just come from a convenience store, you see, where he'd picked up something that he absolutely never wanted anyone else to see. Ever.

It was a stack of magazines. Specifically, magazines that... technically seemed to be geared to people looking for advice on... kissing and such. Or people looking for glossy pictures of Justin Bieber, but Topher's interest in this matter was strictly the former.

So, like a mature adult, he took his laptop and his stack of magazines and pulled his blankets up over his head, using the light from his laptop as a lamp, then started to read.

And occasionally highlight things. Shut up, okay?

[[open!]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: sleeping)
So lately? Topher had been getting a little bit better at getting people. He wasn't great at it or anything, wasn't even really good, and still needed to ask a lot of questions, but at least by now he knew what to ask. And who to ask, and how to ask, and just generally the right way to figure things out.

Which he thought he had, yesterday. Figured stuff out, that was. Because... Billy. There had been Ben's advice and everyone else ever's implications and he'd been pretty sure he was right. Because of, like, the scientific method, where Ben and Kenzi and Tony and Peter and Ender were all test subjects and they'd all given him data to suggest that: yes, Billy was okay, Billy was cleared, he should try this with Billy, because it wasn't like he was ever going to get anywhere with anyone else this kind of thing made people happy, and Billy made Topher happy and maybe it would be a good thing. To try it. And he'd thought he was right. Been pretty sure, as a scientist, that his data proved his hypothesis.

Except he definitely had not been right, because he'd tried to do what everyone else thought he should do and wound up getting laughed at.

So. Fuck that. Fuck talking to people. Fuck going outside, too. Today he was buried under all his blankets and reading a comic and wondering why it wasn't helping him feel better yet.

Any second now.

[[door closed, post open, emo within]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: could've handled that better)
In retrospect, deciding to go running with Tony and Billy today was not really a plan worthy of Topher's 'genius' title.

Point the first: Topher sucked at running. He was terrible at it. Just really, really bad. So there was a lot of panting and doubling over with his hands on his knees going on.

Point the second: Tony. Running. Unf.

And point the third: Billy too.

Topher was pretty sure he was going to die.

[[for the aforementioned hotasses!]]
dollpocalypse: (neu: i can't really take care of myself)
The world hadn't ended. The world was okay and there were people hugging and crying, but the lights were still off in the room across the hall from his, which meant that Topher had only one place to check.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (neu: i can't really take care of myself)
The world hadn't ended. The world was okay and there were people hugging and crying, but the lights were still off in the room across the hall from his, which meant that Topher had only one place to check.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: might weep)
Topher flung the door open with more force than he'd ever realized he was capable of, his heart pounding. That was partially from having run all the way here while crying, though the helpless grief and rage battling inside him was also a close second. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before -- like he'd just lost something completely irreplacable and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fix it with science or programming or anything without at least a scan of Tony's brain and a wildly undeserved medical degree. It was just... just the worst thing ever.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: might weep)
Topher flung the door open with more force than he'd ever realized he was capable of, his heart pounding. That was partially from having run all the way here while crying, though the helpless grief and rage battling inside him was also a close second. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before -- like he'd just lost something completely irreplacable and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fix it with science or programming or anything without at least a scan of Tony's brain and a wildly undeserved medical degree. It was just... just the worst thing ever.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: hand snappy)

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.

So. 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.]]

dollpocalypse: (tech: hand snappy)

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.

So. 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.]]

dollpocalypse: (neg: why does the suit want to hurt me?)
After an hour and twenty-five minutes spent trying to trace a text message that had just come in on his phone, Topher was forced to conclude two things: one, it was legit, and two, he sort of wanted to crawl under his bed and never come out ever again.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: why does the suit want to hurt me?)
After an hour and twenty-five minutes spent trying to trace a text message that had just come in on his phone, Topher was forced to conclude two things: one, it was legit, and two, he sort of wanted to crawl under his bed and never come out ever again.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: thinking at computer)
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 [livejournal.com profile] hoorayimrich. open to artificial intelligence thingies, comments on his masterpiece, visitors, IMs, whatever you want.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: thinking at computer)
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 [livejournal.com profile] hoorayimrich. open to artificial intelligence thingies, comments on his masterpiece, visitors, IMs, whatever you want.]]

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