needsaparrot: (with Mel - watching)
The last time Xander missed a really important call, he'd had no other excuse than not hearing the ringtone over his hometown falling into a sinkhole around his ears.

This time, at least he could say it wasn't his fault. The thing hadn't given so much as a buzz in the last two days -- which was actually kind of ridiculous, like half his construction clients had decided to go on vacation or something -- and then all of a sudden the message light was blinking at him from atop the pizza box he hadn't even opened yet.

Funny how, once he'd let it play, Xander really didn't give a crap that it wasn't his fault (or even entirely believe that, because... because there should've been something.)

He wasn't much in the mood for pizza anymore, either.
[Open for texts/calls/people who live in THE FUTURE. Mmm, pizza.]
needsaparrot: (construction)
Doing maintenance and reconstruction for SPD wasn't exactly like being the construction crew for Team Buffy, but it was still a small enough staff that Xander was pretty sure nobody would be around to yell at him for having a seat on the bottom rung of his ladder and making some calls. It sure as hell beat actually watching the paint dry.

[OOC: Open for twinkiephone contact, the singular of spice, or anybody else who happens to be wandering the hallways of 2024.]
needsaparrot: (ducking head)
Xander is exhausted when he finally makes it back to his apartment, and not the good kind of engagement-announcing, Parker-tormenting, hard work and butt-bow-threatening kind of exhaustion.

No, this would be more the missing fiancé, teleporting to Greece, climbing Mount Olympus, hey-let's-play 20-questions-with-the-gods kind of exhaustion. Plus there was hopscotch.

You'd think some of that would go away after he discovered Bridge had been rescued, but not so much. Xander's still bone-weary with worry, and probably will be until he makes it inside and sees him face-to--- "Bridge?"

[OOC: For he whose name is on Xander's ass. Still not you, Jamie.]
needsaparrot: (sprawl)
The weeks leading up to and following graduation had been... busy was not the word. Or well, it was one of the words, along with eventful, Fandomtastic, scary, heart-stopping, sad, worrying, nostalgia-inducing, work-filled, relieving, newsy, romantic, and occasionally MA-rated. Some of which weren't words, but whatever. It all added up to Xander not having had a chance to just flop down and vegetate in front of the tv for quite a while.


Space Battles. He was almost up to the metal bikini.

[OOC: For the BFF. Will also be a linkdrop soonish, la.]
needsaparrot: (with Bronwyn - wee me)
No matter how busy a day certain people might have had today (or yesterday, for that matter), at some point after the ice cream, there comes the bedtime. No, really.

[OOC: For the B-word people and eventually someone else. Whose name is not Madrox, Fray, Weasley, Cooper, Blank, Cox, Krevlornswath, or Animal. *waits to see who I forgot*]
needsaparrot: (smile - looking down longhair)
If Bridge and Xander slept in really, really late and are still kind of lazing around in bed, well, it's been a long, busy week. And if they're still really, really sleepy, well, yesterday was prom night, and Xander had visiting royalty in his bed. You do the math.

[For the B-word-persons.]
needsaparrot: (computer)
Despite Willow's closing rhyme, Xander had walked home slowly after radio, thinking about... well, a little bit of everything. Fandom weirdness. Upcoming graduations. Sooner-coming anniversaries. Nanaimo bars.

What? He had to pass Luke's Diner.

When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.

After this morning's wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.

Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.

Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.

Dear Willow:

I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to...., Xander

[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]
needsaparrot: (ducking head)
After everything that had been going on this week, Xander knew better than to wander around town alone, but staying inside the building was making him want to wear a circular track in the lobby carpet as he read and re-read the letters from the past he'd received from Mel, Willow and Bridge, trying to see if there was some clue he was missing because he wasn't Willow or Bridge. He wasn't the brains of the operation. He was the guy who was okay with an axe and getting better with a crossbow again and awesome at providing sarcasm and pastries, none of which was going to get the people he loved back from the past.

Eventually, he shook his head and headed up to the roof, letters in hand. At least there he could get some air and maybe think a little clearer, and he'd have the best view in town; not like he wouldn't see any angel statues heading for the building, from that high up. He leaned against the waist-high wall overlooking the streets below, smoothing out Bridge's second letter, the one that made him want to punch bricks, to re-read it yet again.

[OOC: For one. Muahaha.]
needsaparrot: (worried)
Xander was all for radio when there was good news to report. He didn't even hold a grudge when the squirrels caught him drunk or talking about porn.

Zoe's announcement however? He could live without news like that. And when only one of his phone calls got any kind of an answer, Xander threw his laptop into its bag and headed down to the school to hit the library. Hopefully Willow just wasn't answering her phone because she was holed up there, right?

[OOC: Estaaaablishy, though Xander's call with Bridge is still being played out.]
needsaparrot: (sleepy)
Like last weekend, Xander had spent this one with his boyfriend. Unlike last weekend, said boyfriend was in no condition to do any... practice-exam-taking. As you do on Spring Break weekends. Instead, there was a lot of ice cream, ear-skritching, DVD-watching, and working up plans for a closet-remodel.

At least he still had a warm body to sleep with? Even if half the time he woke up with a furry tail tickling the end of his nose.

Which, oddly, isn't happening right now. Xander's 7/8ths asleep, so he isn't quite registering what's wrong with that, but his fingers are already patting around on the pillow reaching for something that isn't there.

[OOC: For the furry tail-owner. Up early for great OMG a weekend away from RP - withdrawal! Withdrawal!]
needsaparrot: (sprawl)

Isabel had gone home after their meeting with Parker and Jarod, but Xander and Bridge had decided they'd be less wiped-out tomorrow if they stayed here instead of going back to the island. It'd have been nice if there were any rooms left at the Hyatt besides the rockstars-have-parties-in-the-jacuzzi kind, but any bed without living things besides him and Bridge in it would do, really, for one night.

At least this was a slow week, not another one filled with recovering from being taken over by somebody else for the weekend or visiting people in the clinic. Hate The Moon Day Parties and birthdays were a lot less exhausting. So was spending time with Bridge, meeting new tenants, and goofing off with old friends.

Tomorrow, though.... not so much with the goofing off. Xander flops back on the motel room bed and stretches, then sits back up, fiddling with the remote, kind of tired and wired at the same time.

[For the B-word-person. NFB due to distance, NWS due to magic fingers.]

needsaparrot: (z-xandir-bed)
Wow, Xandir's head is fuzzy. Oh wait, there's a stuffed frog on it.

Except even after he grumbles and shakes it off, recent events are still kind of mysterious. He knows there was a party, but he can't remember much after three tequila, floor. Like where he is now because this definitely isn't his bed, or how he ended up in said bed with a stuffed frog and -- pleasedon'tbeTootpleasdon'tbeTootpleasedon'tbeToot --


'Well, hey there.' )

[Preplayed with [ profile] bridge_carson. Xander has turned into Xandir P. Wifflebottom from Drawn Together; Bridge is now Enari Sen'ichi, aka Sen-chan, his green-ranger counterpart in the Japanese Dekaranger, from whence PR:SPD gets all its fight scenes. NFI, but OOC is love.]
needsaparrot: (sitting)
There's a Galaxy Quest marathon on Xander's tv, which is a fancy way of saying he tossed the S2 dvd in and hit play-all, but he's only half paying attention to that, while futzing around with various apartment-building designs on his laptop, and once again not staring at his cell and waiting for a certain ringtone.
[For, shockingly, a phone call, but if anybody wants to wander by after, sure, it's open.]
needsaparrot: (ducking head)
Not that he had a problem with guests or he wouldn't have asked them to stay in the first place, but sometimes you needed to just get out and clear your head, which was why Xander was up on the roof, staring out at the town.

After what Angelus had done to Willow, Claire and Veronica, asking Mel not to kill him had been.....he really didn't want to think about what it had been, actually. Xanders traditionally attempt to avoid this thing called "self-examination." Worrying about other people is so much more fun. Oh wait, no. But at least he could distract himself by doing something useful. Sort of. Except that despite the fact that he and Dawn had the Best. Slayer. Ever.*, Willow was still asleep, so right now he wasn't feeling all that useful. Mostly just cold.

Yeah, that head-clearing thing was working out really well.
*This statement has not been tested by the Food and Drug Administration. Consume Slayer at your own risk. Contents may settle during shipping. Batteries not included. Please check side of box for which model of Best. Slayer. Ever. is contained within: light, dark, or multi-colored.

[OOC: For... anybody who'd have a reason to wander up to the MCA roof.]
needsaparrot: (grin)
So... while the mistletoe hanging over Jeremiah's tank was probably not too much Christmas spirit, Xander would admit if pressed that the Sta-Puft Marshmallow snow landscape arranged around it, complete with wee marshmallow snowpeople in santa hats, might be a little... Let's just say he's fairly certain Isabel would approve.

But hey, it's cold out there and warm in here, there's eggnog on the coffeetable, and Bitterwoman: A Very Bitter Holiday is playing on at least three channels tonight; he checked. Who is Xander to fight the inevitable?
[OOC: for he who is not Xander, and yet has an anniversary today. What a coincidence! Idling in the general direction of NWS. Someday. After there is sleeps.]
needsaparrot: (unshaven - serious)
While Fandom weirdness had been laying low for a while aside from certain timeline-related Moments Of Awkward, holiday and birthday-type activities had more than stepped up to fill in the space. So tonight's a rare night of relaxing in front of the tv, since most of Xander's non-party time this week has been spent up in the workshop, not being an elf. Exactly.

But certainly not burglarizing Christmas, unlike someone on his tv screen right now.

[OOC: For the non-redheaded tiny Jewish Santa b-word-person.]
needsaparrot: (xanderswillow)
Date: 11/13/2007

Tech, low: I refer the distinguished gentleman... )

Subject: [message failed]

Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.

This may not be a permanent error.

>Tech, low: ...
needsaparrot: (computer)
Date: 11/12/2007

Dear Willow )
needsaparrot: (with Buffy)
Xander is doing something that... well, some people might call it cooking. Probably not people who actually know how to operate a stove, though. There's chicken, or something that started out as chicken, but then he got distracted by the pasta boiling over, and now it's the artist formerly known as chicken. And the superglue formerly known as pasta.

So... pretty much Xander's doing something that's more properly described as 'staring at his kitchen and wondering if it'd be cheating to dump the whole thing and start pressing random buttons on the food replicator.'

It's been... a day.
[OOC: For the boyfriend.]

November 2011

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