dollpocalypse: (!?: surprised and mild pos)
The hallway was pretty quiet this early in the morning, but not deserted. There were two teenagers in their pajamas standing outside a friend's door, bearing gifts.

They were givers like that. Just exemplary human beings.

No, really.

"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 [info]regretiz4suckas and [info]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.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: at the computer)
Upon finally returning to his room after a five-day vacation, item one on Topher's agenda was to stand on the inside of the door and just have a moment of dorkish glee. He'd been on a whole other planet! And it was awesome! And he'd gotten bitten by a weird giant bug thing and seen mostly-naked girls and half-naked Ben and Ender and almost crashed Ben's speeder, but it was all on another planet so it was awesome!

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 [livejournal.com profile] lockestheway.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: dungeon master topher yo)
Okay. The world was maybe almost over. Topher was more than a little freaked.

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 [livejournal.com profile] glacial_witch, [livejournal.com profile] brat_intraining, [livejournal.com profile] harpy_daughter and most especially [livejournal.com profile] not_a_parakeet for humoring me and teaching me how this works. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST AND I LOVE YOU.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: computer)
Fact: Research sucked.

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 --

Anyway.

Researching.

It was hard, with the siren call of meta for Skyrim beckoning to him, but Topher was managing.

[[open door, open post]]
dollpocalypse: (neg: wary)
Topher's parents wanted him dead. That was the only explanation.

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.]]
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: (neg: something like heartbroken)
On his way back from that stupid tent yesterday, Topher had stolen cushions from various couches in the dorm building, which meant that there were now several dozen pillows piled up in his bed. (Some were always there. Most of them, not so much.) You could barely even see the Space Battles sheets underneath all of them!

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: drawer of inappropriate starches)
In contrast to the past few days, Topher and Kenzi's room was now meticulously clean. This was because many of Topher's robots and wires and such had been thrown away and/or destroyed. KENZI.

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!]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: sleeping)
Topher, ladies and gentlemen, was not having a great morning.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (!?: oh HELL no)
For the first time since that time last week in Tony's room, Topher woke up naked.

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.]]
dollpocalypse: (riley: superior)
For all the complaints that people were making about the weather, there were at least two Fandom students who seemed oblivious to the snow on this particular Saturday.

Of course, they weren’t quite aware that they were Fandom students at this particular moment, because they were far too busy battling pythons and alligators.

“What, are you stupid? Hit its jaws with the thing!” yelled Dr. Nikki Riley, gesturing to an invisible (but very menacing) alligator snapping at her cohort’s feet. At the same time, Nikki whacked a large python with what appeared to be a large woolly mammoth bone she’d found in the snow. The python hissed and slithered off.

The invisible, invisible python.

Park Ranger Terry O'Hara knew this entire mess was Riley's overly blond fault and wasn't about to let her make things worse! She had a duty to uphold. A duty to the parks. Sure, she'd given alligators some steroids, but that was all in the course of her duty!

"This is all your fault!" Terry let her know. Because it needed to be done.

[[Oh god, so open. And horrible.]]

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