soldtoarmenians: (latin)

Xander's already handwavily sent out e-mails letting people know his new cellphone number if they didn't have it already, and his UC Sunnydale e-mail address, and... when he's leaving. Which he finally has to say 'tomorrow morning' about instead of 'Friday' because they're one and the same.

Now... he's still packing. Posters, folders, last-minute items and just stuff he wanted to leave up for as long as possible to make the room acknowledge that for now, he still lives here. Every so often he and Bridge are taking a break to look at pictures or watch a dvd, because at this point he's on the flipside of where he was yesterday: if he packs too fast, the room'll be empty, and Xander can't quite take that, not yet.

You can't really say Jeremiah's taking a break; he'd have to have been working in the first place for that to be true. He's just going back and forth between supervising the packing and supervising the loafing.

The door is open. Xander's yearbook is on the desk next to Jeremiah, for anyone who feels like signing it.


[Open all day, or ping in tomorrow if needed since some importantomg people are unfortunately afk today. Good for slowplay until... it's done.]

soldtoarmenians: (sidelong)
Xander's really packing, this time, not just trying not to and failing. He doesn't want to, but the more he gets squared away now, the more time he'll have left to be with people, instead of doing this. And it's... going. Not well, but it's going. The only problem is he doesn't have enough suitcases, and they aren't nearly big enough, or maybe just not the right kind.

Cut for packing woe )

Some things *cough*, he can carry in his head, of course, even if he didn't get a picture. Thing is, the thing is that ... he's going to have to carry all of what matters most in his head.

Because there's no room in his luggage for the whole damned island, or even a miniature giraffe no matter how weetiny he is, and the one thing Xander would leave everything behind for if he could make it fit...


Stupid Samsonite.

[For Bridge.]
soldtoarmenians: (1-close)
"I don't feel very broken-upinated," Xander says, frowning. It's not a sad frown, just a perplexed one. They haven't quite made it into the room yet due to 'stuck making out in the doorframe' issues, so he's perhaps not out in left field with the perplexity there.

[For Bridge, probably vaguely on the unicorporated outskirts of NWS where you still pay local taxes but don't get bus service.]
soldtoarmenians: (phone)
It's a very, very nifty phone. It takes pictures. It gets the internets. It sends text messages. It... doesn't actually have a calling plan, and Xander's not looking too hard at where it's stealing its signal from, just like he's not looking too hard at how it makes, or possibly summons, Twinkies at the press of one of its many buttons, some of which he hasn't even figured out the function of yet. It might brew mochaccinos for all he knows.

So of course one of the few things he hasn't done with it in the weekend that's passed since he got it is the one thing it was designed to do: make a phone call.

He's staring at it now. Kind of working on that.

cut for phone call )

[pre-played with [ profile] bridge_carson; no interaction as Xander's taking off and Bridge-mun is afk. That Xander called home is okay for broadcast; unexpected guest on the other end of the line, no.]
soldtoarmenians: (dinner)
It's not exactly flowers and candles. Xander can do flowers and candles, and honestly he's the type who would, if Bridge were a girl. But he's not, and there's all this buzzing in Xander's brain when he asks himself if guys do stuff like that for themselves or just for girls in which case no, and if he's the kind of guy who just might be an exception to that, does it make him way too girly in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that he's dating a guy? So yeah, not so much because it makes his head hurt.

There's glitter, though. He really can't escape that, considering he's vacuumed three times and it's still twinkling in the carpet. There's also takeout from Ching Tai on the counter, something tall-ish in the corner with a sheet thrown over it, and music - not Steely Dan, it might confuse the frog - playing. Because he's fairly confident that guys can do music and still be guys.

[For Bridge; I know y'all are shocked omg.]
soldtoarmenians: (shop)
A beep distracted Xander from the project he was working on, and he set it aside for a moment, going to the desk and opening his e-mail window.

Subject: Hi!
Dear Xander )

Xander blinked and typed up a reply )

Then he went back to his bed, where the contents of his project were spread out across the blanket.

[Open, though I'm madly combatting a potential worm, so if I disappear unexpectedly it's because I had to re-start.]
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
Xander, sitting at his desk and staring intelligently into space, occasionally tapping a finger against Jeremiah's tank, is trying to decide something very important.





[For the b-word-person. Sidling towards NWS]
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)






[Locked to the poke-ee, not dirty. ...probably.]

soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Waking up in a big bed that somebody else seems to think is a tiny bed judging from how close they're snuggling? That really does not get old, as far as Xander's concerned.

[Er yes, for Bridge. shock!]
soldtoarmenians: (tv)

...*complete silence*


...*complete silence*

*frog croak*

*sound of shower going on, and Rikki Don't Lose That Number being played. Loudly.*

soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Funny how tired you can get just walking back to the dorms to pick up some... stuff that Xander will think of on the spot if anybody asks what he and Bridge are doing here. So tired that clearly you have to crash right where you are because you just don't have the energy to hike aaaaaaaaaall the way back down to the cabins. Woe.

Convenient that 'right where you are' happened to have been Xander's bed, last night? Well, yes, possibly.

Cut for length and bordering-on-NWS but oh so vague. )
Or you could just skip that bit and go straight to the plotty. )

[Preplayed with [ profile] bridge_carson, not open for interaction, but Xander's heading out to flail in other people's posts. NFB due to dorm-sneakiness.]
soldtoarmenians: (twinkie-share)
Several hours after Willow filled the room with cookie-smelly goodness, the room... still smells like cookie-smelly goodness. Funny about that. It's probably the fact that somewhere in the room there is cookie-smelly goodness.

[For Bridge, yis. Gets...bordering on NWS. Which begins to sound familiar. *starts next evening post at noon*]
soldtoarmenians: (shop)
After a certain conversation last night in the Common Room (and no, not the one about dirty chips, though that had turned out to be oddly cool), Xander realized he... really, really needed to clean his room, if there was going to be visiting-by-people-not-Bridge happening. Not that he was a complete and utter slob, especially with his less-slobby-than-thou boyfriend hanging in so much, but things could be straightened and... put away and...changed, yes.

So he did that. There might even have been Bouncy Cleaning Music playing, and a frog rolling his eyes.


[For [ profile] willbedone, but others are welcome to come by earlier or later.]
soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)
After a handwavily arranged meeting in Veronica's room that had led to an evening of tentacles and fake ghosts, Xander's more than happy to get back to his own room, even if he isn't the one most liberally doused with tentacle juice.

[For the bf, omg. NFB; approaches NWS but does not quite get there before the curtain falls.]
soldtoarmenians: (floor)
When Xander lets himself into his room after returning from the park, he's sticky, tired, melon-scented, and, quite frankly, rather squelchy. He's got jello in his shoes.

[For [ profile] bridge_carson]
soldtoarmenians: (grin)
Dear Willow: )

Xander put his laptop aside, and considered the question of whether he was awake enough to hunt down Bridge and get some breakfastlunchdinner. It was, after all, a lot of effort... Still, food could be good. He turned his head and poked the shoulder next to him. "Hey. Wake up."
soldtoarmenians: (t-shirt)

Xander pulls the door shut behind himself as he follows Bridge into his room. The click of the latch catching is familiar. Normal. Casual.

...really loud, for some reason. )

soldtoarmenians: (1-splainy)
"Okay, so, it smells like burntness?" Xander says as he opens the door to go in after Scoobying. "But that is not in fact the thing I did. Well, it's a thing I did, but it would be the thing I did before I did the thing I did. We could call it the Test Thing.

[locked, at least for the moment, zomg]
soldtoarmenians: (huh.)
"It's raining pudding," Xander says, looking out the window a little wistfully. It would probably sound less inane if it weren't the third time he's repeated it.

It's not that he's surprised; it's Fandom. Just... it's raining pudding, and he's inside. Because he already showered once this afternoon, after Scoobying, and it seems like too much of an effort to do it again, even for chocolate. Besides, if he goes out, Bridge will insist on going out too, and that would be a whole other ball of sticky fur.

"Ribbit," Jeremiah adds, in what's probably meant to be a consoling manner.

[Locked to, er. The ferret. And the frog, I s'pose. Aaand contents NFB, yis.]
soldtoarmenians: (jeremiah)
Xander doesn't appear to be here. The door is propped open with a set of unassembled wooden shelves on which the walnut stain is still drying. Hence the open door, so certain frogs don't start complaining loudly about the smell.

Within, Jeremiah is complaining loudly about the smell.


There's a note on the bulletin board that says "Gone to 227. Don't steal the frog, plz."

[Here to enable someone's OCD]


soldtoarmenians: (Default)

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