dollpocalypse: (conv: casual)
The reason it had taken Topher so long to leave was because he just wasn't a hundred percent sure of where he was going after this. His parents wanted him to travel, but Topher just wanted to play video games and nap between now and Stanford's September 15 start date. So it had taken him some time to sort that out with his parents (video games won).

It definitely had not been because he was sentimental about packing up his room. No sirree. Topher was just fine packing up all the spare dice, leftover paintball guns, bits of old explosives and his futuristic desk-thing on his own, and throwing away things like preteen girl shoes and old Christmas presents was even easier. He was fine. Really.

It was just -- three years in one place was a long time for a just-turned-18-year-old. He wondered if he'd ever come back here.
dollpocalypse: (fact: messy desk)
Topher was annoyed.

He had had a Creepy Construction Worker communicator (which in itself was cool) and access to the network that it ran on (which was much cooler), and now he didn't. All thanks to Riley.

Well, mostly thanks to Electroclash, if you wanted to get technical. The point was that Topher didn't think it was his own fault. But he'd wasted his time with the ECHO and hadn't learned much beyond one dumb person's name, which didn't do a lot of good seeing as the supposedly "multiversal" internet seemed pretty determined not to show any results on the good doctor. And he still didn't know what a stupid Vault was, besides the place where Barry Plodder kept all his money in the wizard bank.

He could sketch the communicator from memory, but that wouldn't do a lot of good without access to the network. There was a small chance that he could make his laptop try to reconnect if he constructed something really similar to the ECHO, but that probably wasn't going to happen.

...Definitely wasn't going to happen. Still, sketching the dumb thing was at least more useful than sitting around and sulking next to Broca II, so he sat at his desk with some mechanical pencils and started to do just that.

[[door mostly open, post totally so!]]
dollpocalypse: (?: sup with this theme?)
There was one thing that no one had warned Topher about before he left for his college interview on the mainland, and that was the matter of what to wear. So out of a desire to avoid being judged childish by the alumni interviewer, he had gone all out and put on a suit. After lint-rolling away the glitter still lingering on the shoulders from the last school dance, of course.

Other than the awkward moment when the interviewer asked why he was so dressed up ("Uh... church," Topher replied after a long enough pause to make the lie obvious), the interview had gone well, he thought. Sure, he could have made the answer to the question about his biggest weakness sound less obviously rehearsed, but he got in the right amount of self-promoting and even got a grin or two out of the interviewer when he answered a question about his inspirations with a Space Battles quote.

So he was feeling pretty good about it when he got back to his dorm room and tossed his suit jacket to the floor before flopping on his bed. Now there were only two more weeks to go before he found out Stanford's decision, and then he could stop feeling all twitchy and nervous and start feeling twitchy and excited instead.

[[door and post open!]]
dollpocalypse: (bfflz: with printy sierra (haunted))
The cool thing about one guy quitting on "moral grounds" right after the flyers had gone out about Take Your Daughter to Work Day was this: Topher now had said scientist's office for the rest of the summer. It was a little too fancy-schmancy for him, and it could use a fridge and a trampoline and maybe some posters of superheroes and cats hanging off of , but it was a place to hang out that wasn't the conference room when the team was working on "intern-unfriendly" (i.e., high-clearance-level) projects in the labs.
 
Also, his chair was insanely comfortable.
 
When he got a call from Billy in the middle of the day, Topher was pretty excited about the opportunity to show off his new digs, so his response to Billy's weirdly-worded request to stop by was a resounding "Duh." Making out in an office was supposed to be hot, right? He just... might want to turn off the surveillance feed out of his office first.

Vital testing apparatus disabled.

Perfect.

[[for the reality warper, and NFB for distance, please! thread may contain mentions of what amounts to dubcon.]]
dollpocalypse: (twenty: smirk)
It had officially been forever since the guys' last drinking night, so with the six of them all on the island for a weekend, there was really no excuse not to have some kind of gathering. And since Topher's hotel room had space on the ceiling and awesome futuristic-looking furniture, there was pretty much exactly no question about where this gathering would be.

And with an alcohol tolerance that had been drastically reduced by going almost fourteen years without drinking at all, Topher stood a very high chance of getting stupidly drunk tonight. It was probably going to be hilarious.

The bar was stocked to capacity with, among other things, every necessary ingredient for every girly cocktail ever invented, and Topher had hauled the entire contents of his office's Drawer of Inappropriate Starches onto the table for the occasion. (Ivy would get more for him before he got back to LA, he was sure. ...He was mostly sure.)

"B-t-dubs, there's astronaut ice cream in the bathtub," Topher announced loudly to everyone. "...No idea why it's there. But Ben gets last dibs."

Cruel, Topher. Cruel.

[[for the 20-years-older nerds! let's see if two decades made them more responsible.]]
dollpocalypse: (twenty: lol)
Clad in his finest suit, Topher was halfway through a Mountain Dew and trying to decide whether or not he knew the way out of the park when his phone rang.

"Go for Brink." The person on the other end of the line sounded urgent, so Topher took a sip of soda. No, more like a slurp. "No, I'm not at my -- I'm not at my desk, Boyd." He waved a hand, bored with the response he got. "What do you mean, 'what do you mean?' I'm. Not at. My desk. Am I speaking Swahili?"

Boyd spoke Swahili, apparently. "Of course you do. Listen, Boyd, I'm off today. I know! First time for everything, right? So whatever you need, talk to Ivy. No, really. I've got a feed of my office straight to my phone and I can't wait to see her face when you --" He held his phone away from his ear, examining it. "And... you hung up. Okay. Bye, Boyd! Have fun with Echo!"

Okay, he was talking to the empty park right now. That was sketchy. He should stop that.

Topher ended the call, swiped around on his phone, and pulled up that office feed. Sure enough, there was Ivy, fidgeting as she paced around the office, clearly intimidated by the power that came with being in charge of things for the first time since being hired. It was entrancing.

[[open park!]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: dumbest thing i've ever heard)
In preparation for his portal tomorrow morning, Topher was cleaning his room -- no. Topher was organizing his room, and it was turning out to be a surprisingly horrifying process.

The thing was that he was, on the surface, a very neat person. His clean clothes were always folded because that's how the dry-cleaners left them and there was rarely visible stuff on the floor of his side of the room besides wires. However, that was only because all of the stuff that was on the floor inevitably got shoved under his desk or bed or into his closet so he wouldn't have to see it all the time. Having a mess was fine, but having to look at it was quite another. No, thank you.

Unfortunately, packing for the summer meant that he finally did have to deal with this mess, which led to situations like, for instance, Topher crouching beside his bed, squinting at the mess underneath it, and asking aloud, "Is that a shirt or a possum?"

He wasn't a hundred percent sure, and it was a rather alarming concern to have, so to avoid having to go near the maybe-possum, Topher decided to abandon his half-packed bags for right now and perch himself on top of his desk with his laptop in his lap, where he began modifying Broca II's code so that he could go check it out. Robot dogs were useful that way.

[[open door, open post! probably his last on-island dorm post until fall.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: getting into bed)
Topher woke up today with a two-minute coughing fit, which, as far as weird weekend mornings-after went, wasn't as bad as some that he'd experienced over the past few years. It wasn't an epic headache or a still-painful bruise, but it was annoying, as was the lingering smell of weed in the room.

A mental review of the weekend's events revealed that he'd missed work -- possibly his last day of work for this school year, depending on whether he felt like going this week -- but that wasn't a huge problem; on top of that, Topher supposed that if he was ever going to smoke pot, doing it while he was temporarly not asthmatic was probably the way to go, so the only real surprise came when he checked the date on his digital watch and paused.

"Oh, hey," he said aloud, blinking. "I'm seventeen."

Had been for a few days now, actually. Huh. Fancy that.

To celebrate, he got up, cracked the door open to air out the weed smell, and flopped in his desk chair with some celebratory Ding-Dongs. He would have put a candle in one of them, but he only had so much energy for this.

[[door open, post open!]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: computer)
Topher had just discovered something surprising. Apparently, there was a school trip in a few days.

He'd been kind of planning on hacking into the database of eligible students for a science fair in Baltimore whose competition was next week, but now he had to choose between science and travel. That was ordinarily an easy decision. Science won out.

'Science' was pretty much the direction he was unequivocally leaning now, in fact, but then he actually started working on that hacking project and was surprised at how difficult it was. "Science fair in Baltimore has more security than the space army," he muttered to himself, annoyedly typing away. If this took more than another half hour, he might just sign up for the trip already and save his ego this unnecessary trauma.

[[open door and post!]]
dollpocalypse: (conv: talkin' over shoulder)
Some boarding school students might have gone home for Christmas. Topher, whose family was not in the slightest bit religious, had spared everyone the need to observe the holiday by waiting a few days to go home, and he brought a guest. The result of this, especially after years of not hearing about Topher's friends at all, was that his highly polite and welcoming parents had been practically bouncing by the time Topher and Billy's portal arrived, and after a few minutes of gushing over both of them, took the boys' things to put upstairs while Topher gave Billy the tour.

"And this is my room," Topher concluded as they reached the top floor of the townhouse. The rest of the house was almost intimidatingly nice, decoration-wise: framed paintings hung on the wall and every inch of floor was covered either in soft carpeting or in marble tiles. As Topher swung his bedroom door open, it became apparent that his room was not quite up to the standard the rest of the house had set, an image best conveyed by the fact that although his room was certainly big enough for a normal, human-sized bed, he'd insisted on twin-size bunk beds, the bottom bunk of which had no mattress and instead contained a TV and some X-Box controllers.

He surveyed the room through the critical lens one tends to develop when examining one's living space with company present. "...There's an air mattress we can bring in, probably."

Probably.

[[for the boyfriend, mostly! phone calls are also okay!]]
dollpocalypse: (meh: HUH.)
All things considered, there had been worse weeks on this island than just being monochromatic and really really boring. However, most of the other weeks hadn't involved being so mean to Billy (and Topher did realize that he'd been mean to Billy, whether it'd been intentional on other!him's part or not), so this one pretty much ranked as an awkward one.

Plus he was pretty damn sore from all the jogging other!him had been doing, so. There was that as well.

He mulled it over for a moment or two, decided that it was almost definitely excusable in the long run, then settled on his bed with Broca II in his lap and put on a movie on one of his laptops. Meanwhile, he took out his iPad and idly coded while the movie was playing. He wasn't sure what he was doing yet, but so far it had 'this island is batshit' written in binary, so that was a good start.

[[open!]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: so so sad)
Today, incidentally, was not proving to be much better than yesterday or Monday had been. Not even GLaDOS' class had cheered Topher up, which was really saying something, because... GLaDOS. But Topher had had two crappy conversations today and he was still in a bad mood about the whole kid-weekend thing, so even fun experimental science could only do so much.

Now, since brooding on the roof sucked and it wasn't his day at Stark's, Topher was pretty much just hanging out in his room with Broca II under a tent of Space Battles blankets. Not a fort. Just blankets on his bed that also happened to be over his head. There was a difference.

If, from the hallway, people could hear noises that sounded like tires screeching, it was possible that Topher was watching a car chase movie without the aid of headphones. Whoops.

[[door shut, post open!]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: drawer of inappropriate starches)
Well, it had been a pretty slow week for Topher so far, leaving out the safari with Billy and Ace and that weird conversation with Natalie the other day, and maybe a tiny part of him was scandalized and appalled by the fact that some kid he didn't know on the radio had accused him of not being a partier. He was totally capable of partying, okay? Just with people he liked. That was critical.

So what was his solution? That's right. A movie night with some bros.

Well, two bros and a boyfriend. Whatever.

So the beds got pushed together, a thoroughly unreasonable amount of room service was ordered even considering they were four teenage boys, and a really bad movie was on. There were dinosaurs in it, and the dinosaurs had laser guns. That probably said it all.

"I'm sending a copy of this to Ben for whenever he gets to be a person again," Topher declared, leaning forward to grab another handful of Cheetos. "This is gold."

[[for the bros!]]
dollpocalypse: (neu: ponders)
The second Topher stepped out of his portal onto the Causeway, he wanted to turn back and head back to Peter's place. That place had technology, a blissful lack of noise and visitors, and a guilt-free environment free of awkward apologies and blaming himself for stuff. Basically, it was perfect. Fandom was... not.

It was even less perfect after Topher went to class, where all that guilt-free philosophy imparted unto him by Peter was promptly zapped away by the same scarily-persuasive Wiggin rationalizing that had gotten it into his head in the first place. Weighed down by the fresh reminder of all the bad stuff he'd done that week, he trudged back to his room and without even bothering to close the door properly, strode on in, flopped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

Seriously, he'd love a portal back to Haiti. Even one that took him through a layover filled with giant rats would be fine. Maybe if he intentionally took one of those, the schadenfreude would be enough for Peter to let him stay a little longer?

...Whatever, he could dream.
dollpocalypse: (neg: sit here & angst till he texts back)
When Topher had snapped back to reality yesterday, he'd been in a closet up at the school, and after a few hours had finally managed to get up to trudge back to his room. There, he'd proceeded to gather up the Space Battles sheets from his bed and drag them into his own closet, and... well, hide.

That was where he woke up this morning (not that he'd gotten very much sleep), and with everything going on in his head (Victor Kate Elle Stephanie Billy Victor) he thought he might just... stay that way. For a long time. Here there wasn't anything going on besides his thoughts, but there also wasn't anyone who could hate him for what he'd done (and he couldn't stop hearing Tony's voice in his head calling him a monster), and... he'd done some pretty horrible things.

Like with Peter.

Oh fuck, Peter.

[[establishy]]
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: (fact: getting into bed)
So for Topher, today had been noteworthy due to a variety of circumstances, the most obvious of which being:

1.) His best friend was apparently a world-famous political blogger who'd saved a whole bunch of kids' lives
2.) Said best friend had just been forced to go into hiding to avoid being killed by a Belgian psychopath
3.) Topher's room was still full of paint fumes, and
4.) It was his sixteenth birthday.

As a result of all of that, plus the portal-lag that came from the round-trip excursion to Peter's universe, Topher was just a little bit exhausted by the time he got back to his room in the evening. Too exhausted, in fact, to indulge in his usual birthday tradition of a cupcake and a couple rounds of laser tag at the nearest arena. So instead, by the time he got to his room, he flopped down on his bed to try to repress concerns about Peter by playing Tetris on his phone.

At least he was kicking ass at it, so, you know, there was that.

[[open! billy | dave | kenzi | ben ]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: drawer of inappropriate starches)
Look. When you'd been playing paintball all night and wondered whether you'd ever get the smell of paint out of your nostrils in your entire life, you didn't settle for just any coffee and breakfast food. Oh, no, no, no, no.

You wanted Denny's.

Which was why a portal could be found relatively early Sunday morning just outside Caritas, ready to shuttle anyone who wanted to go over to the Denny's on the mainland.

And sure enough, emerging from that portal, people would find a near-limitless selection of breakfast foods to be enjoyed well into the afternoon. Oddly enough, the wait staff didn't seem too surprised by the assumed crowd of paint-splattered people showing up -- but then, they were used to Fandom hijinks, and this was hardly the weirdest one they'd ever had.

[[NFB, BUT YES, OPEN TO ALL. DENNY'S IS FOR WINNERS. or more accurately, denny's is for anyone who feels like showing up. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.]]
dollpocalypse: (awk: bye now)
"Yeah, but you can't just go to bars like that," Topher was in the middle of explaining to Maria over a breakfast of Mountain Dew and Doritos. "They're... I don't know. For grown-ups or whatever."

"Not always," Maria informed him almost a little sharply, though she didn't look like she had an interest in elaborating on that. "And it's not as though I drank. Which I don't, for the record. I just met your friend Kenzi and some Jedi who knows you guys and learned all about the time you shrunk some girl's laundry."

Topher made a face. "You heard about that?" he groused.

"Yep," Maria confirmed. "And did Dad really punch Peter at a dance? Don't get me wrong, it's seriously badass and I'd do it if I went to school with him too, but it doesn't sound like high school-dad."

Topher winced. "Yeah... maybe don't mention that one to him," he suggested. "Just. Eat your breakfast, okay?"

"Then can I look at your computer?"

Topher sighed. "Be my guest."

[[door and post open! yeah, i really freaking love this kid, why do you ask?]]
dollpocalypse: (awk: ahaha plzleave)
Topher shifted a little in his seat, taking in the restaurant and all the people and especially the other people at his table.

Dinner. Dinner with Billy and Ben and Ender.

Well, this wasn't going to be awkward at all.

"So... do you think they have onion rings?"

[[for the three! okay for broadcast since it's in rio, just in a separate post so we don't break the trips post, la.]]

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