bridge_carson: (asleep)
He reaches out to touch, before he remembers that he can't. Not without the gloves, or else he'll know too much. They'll be in his head and they’ll hate that they’re there. Hate that he knows who they truly are, deep down. That he can see.

Sometimes, the things he can see are beautiful. Kindness. Love.

Sometimes, they're ugly. Fear. Hatred. Anger. Despair.

He's standing in a crowded hallway, all around him his classmates walking, running, laughing as they head to their next class. That casual brush of skin against skin as two people bump into each other- he shies away from it, fears it. At the same time he craves it, more than anything.

He reaches out to touch, before he remembers that he can't- and he doesn't need his fingers to see terror, this time. It's there in front of him, just before they both flinch away.


Bridge's eyes snap open as he finds himself coming dangerously close to falling off the bed. He manages to grab the mattress and push himself back from the edge before that actually happens, though. So now he's just lying there, trying to calm down.

[ooc: For... the person who this room actually belongs to.]
bridge_carson: (happy)
The tent is set up, the blanket is spread out on the sand and there's a picnic basket full of good food.

Bridge is sitting on the blanket, wiggling his bare feet in the sand like a dork as he waits for Xander.
bridge_carson: (asleep)
The problem with being out in nature is that it's really, really hard to *ignore* nature. Especially first thing in the morning. But Bridge is doing his best to muffle the sounds of birds and animals and other nature-related things by... snuggling in to the other person currently occupying the bed.
bridge_carson: (kissing2)
The nice thing about a keypad lock? No fumbling for keys while being distracted by something- or, well, someone- else.

[NWS, yo]
bridge_carson: (worried)
After going to talk to Principal Washburn, Bridge had headed back to the Scoobying Workshop, but for the rest of the class he was pretty worried and distracted.

Which is why, shortly after the workshop is over, Bridge is back in his room, grabbing a change of clothes and stuffing them into a bag.
bridge_carson: (confused)
"You didn't *let* it take your axe," Bridge says again, frowning. "It flung you into a *tree*." He slips off a glove to quickly enter his keycode, and opens the door.
bridge_carson: (vaguely naughty)
"I think it's this way," Bridge says, gesturing to the woods just past the Flamingo cabin. "Least, that's what I've heard."

[ooc: locked to he who knows who he is, omg. also, NFB.]
bridge_carson: (buildy too)
After moving his stuff over from 227, and hanging out with his cabinmates in the common room, Bridge is currently sprawled on his bed, the curtain pulled back, and is writing in a notebook. Every once and a while, he absently tosses a ball down the cabin hallway for RIC.

[ooc: open, but responses may be slowish for a while]
bridge_carson: (buildy too)
Bridge was sprawled on his bed, notebook open to a page of schematics, and a multitude of assorted parts scattered on the bedspread around him.

The door was propped open with a box containing the parts of a disassembled television set.

[ooc: door is openinated. but not opinionated, like i first typed. it's just a door after all.]
bridge_carson: (weebridgey)
Bridge reaches up and punches in the keycode- it's a bit of a reach for his weetiny self but he manages. The door swings open and he and Xander go inside. RIC, who was sitting under Bridge's bed, pokes his head out and meows at the two of them.

"Hi, RIC!" Bridge says to the robot dog.
bridge_carson: (tux)
Well, Xander and Bridge have made it through Prom.

And now, look, they've made it to Bridge's room.
bridge_carson: (studying)
Bridge is currently sitting on the bed, books and papers spread out haphazardly around him. He figures he might as well get some studying in, what with the shadow of finals looming menacingly about, while he waits.
bridge_carson: (amused)
The door's open, and Bridge is waiting for... well, pretty much one specific person, actually.
bridge_carson: (laugh)
Bridge had a date in a few hours.

Bridge was, in the meantime, in his room.

Bridge was maybe pacing nervously.

The door? Closed, but unlocked.

[ooc: specifically for a few certain people, though anyone is welcome to stop by.]
bridge_carson: (happy)
Bridge flips open his phone and sees the "new message" notification.

Grinning like a dork (yes, yet again today), he opens the message.
bridge_carson: (angry)
Bridge stomps into his room after leaving the Common Room, and sits down on his bed, leaning against the wall, a slight scowl on his face.

It seems, however, that he's left the door open.

Oops.
bridge_carson: (argh)
Bridge is... still avoiding people. After ACJ, he heads right back to his room and shuts the door.

He's moved on from merely sorting all his stuff into cataloguing. There's even a spreadsheet. This is never good.

[ooc: open to omgsomeone.]

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November 2011

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