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: (genius: focus)
It was morning on day seven of Topher working for Peter, and so far he was finding it to be pretty symbiotic. Work made repression really, really easy, after all, and he was starting to see why Peter was such a workaholic all the time. Skipping out on sleep and meals when he could just tweak code on the holographic desk until things made sense was way better than actually thinking about things.

Granted, the fact that he was working for Peter meant that he did eventually have to speak enough to explain things, which was... not ideal, but it was close to worth it.

"Okay," he said, glancing behind him to Peter, "so here's what I got for you."

His fingers flew over holographic keys on Peter's desk as he ran through a quick and fortunately un-technobabbled explanation of how the new mail filters would work, some quick shortcuts to make gathering intel less of a challenge next time, and finally a few unnecessary and entirely overcomplicated upgrades he'd set up that should make the servers a lot more secure and manageable.

"Got it?"

[[for one, obviously, and SP.]]
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.

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: (smug)
So apparently the squirrels really liked Topher or something. Two radio broadcasts in three days. Seriously, he pretty much wanted them dead or something at this point. They were horrible, horrible creatures.

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.]]
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: (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: (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: (neg: headache)
Topher was not having the best day in the world. Not by a long shot.

First he had woken up to find his eye still smarting from the day before (seriously, how many times was he going to get punched this month? Come on!), and then he had reluctantly trudged to the junk yard to try and find some parts to make into laser robots for Peter. He had actually found some things that might be useful, but he had also stumbled across a rat twice the size of his foot that had sent him shrieking back to the dorms. And of course he'd stumbled on the way, so now he was limping on top of everything else.

The solution? To collapse on his bed and eat some Cheetos, of course. He didn't have any ice to put on his eye, so he dug an ice cream sandwich out of his minifreezer and stuck it on there.

See? All better.

[[Door and post open!]]
dollpocalypse: (considering: head on hand smush)
Topher was incredibly relieved to get out of the cabin and back into his dorm. Not that his dorm was all that special, or anything -- it was nothing like his room at home, that was for sure -- but it didn't smell quite as bad as the cabin and it had a little more space. Plus he was able to set his tech down on the bed or the dresser without worrying about ants or termites or whatever other bugs were supposed to be running around in the wilderness.

He wasn't a terribly outdoorsy person, no.

So Sunday afternoon found him reaffixing the wires to his various computers that he'd brought with him to the cabins and, once that was all done, placing his dresser precariously on top of the foot of his bed with his laptop on top so that he could watch a movie while laying in bed. Sure, he could do that in the common room, but then he would have to talk to people. This was phenomenally lazy easier.

[[Door and post are open!]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: at the computer)
Topher was pretty sure that he was right on the verge of breaking into the files Peter had wanted. He'd spent most of the past week working on it, not to mention today's computer class, and while the files were pretty tough to crack, he knew he'd get it eventually. Come on. He was a genius. Just a few clicks... and... bingo. He was in.

Just what he was in wasn't quite clear. There was a list of names with files on each of them. He clicked on A. Wiggin, not really sure what to expect, and found things like "Command School" and "further education." What? The rest of it was fairly vague, so he went back to look at some other names. This A. Wiggin, whoever he was, was younger than most of them, but other than that, he was just starting to piece everything together when --

Crap. All of a sudden he was locked out of the server, and while he made a few attempts to get back in, he had a feeling it was probably permanent. Ah, well. Hopefully he would have what Peter needed. He took out his phone and sent him a text that just read Got it.

A man of few words, Topher was.

[[For the manipulative brain twin. Conversation and details of what Topher did are NFB, please.]]
dollpocalypse: (victor: toyz)
Topher woke up to find his roommate missing and to find himself the proud owner of a killer headache that he suspected had something to do with the coconut-bra antics that had transpired last night. Well, great. He dug one of his laptops out from where he had been storing it under his pillow (shut up) and pulled up some Minecraft.

That would take care of the headache, yes.

The fact that he looked different today? Totally lost on him.

[[door and post are open]]


dollpocalypse: (Default)

September 2015

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