soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Xander stared at his duffel bag, trying to think of anything he'd missed packing. Granted he was staring at it in the dark from his bed, where he'd been lying for the last 20 minutes, trying to get to sleep early so he'd be awake at the butt crack of dawn when Willow and her allegedly frog-safe magic portal were supposed to appear. But even if he'd had the light on, and even if there were anything he'd missed shoving into the oversized green army duffel, he knew there wouldn't be anyplace to fit it. Every nook and cranny and pocket was stuffed to seam-threatening with presents and laundry, some of which was actually clean.

So staring at the bag was pretty much an exercise in trying to ignore the fact that sleeping in a bed on Christmas Eve just didn't feel right. Especially a silent, comfy bed, with no sounds of yelling, cheesy Lawrence Welk Christmas albums, or broken glassware echoing from down the hall, and no intermittently rattling doorknob as one drunken family member or another mistook his room for the bathroom again.

He turned over and stuck his head underneath the pillow, but that just made it stuffier, not less weird. Sighing, Xander sat up and looked out the window. Where, if this were any other Christmas, he and his sleeping bag and a plate of the least strange-looking food he could find in the kitchen would be. Well, if this were any other Christmas and Sunnydale instead of Fandom. He opened the window to stick his head out -- and drew it back in almost immediately, shivering. Right. He slammed his window shut. If this were any other Christmas and Sunnydale instead of Fandom, and California instead of the freaking North Pole Virginia.

Xander flicked the light on, shook his head, and crawled out of bed and into his jeans. "How do you feel about camping, buddy?" he asked Jeremiah, who just blinked back at him in the sudden light.


"No, not outside; I'd you'd freeze to death."

Xander dragged his sleeping back out of the closet, filled his pillowcase with every bit of junk food in the room as well as all of the extra chocolate boxes he'd bought in Chicago for last-minute gifts, grabbed Jeremiah's tank, and headed out of room 406. On the way out the door, he tripped over a package leaning against it and almost went sprawling -- Jeremiah thudded loudly against the side of his tank and gave an agrieved croak.

"Sorry!" Xander said, righting the tank and checking to see that his frog looked, if pissier, not much the worse for wear. He scooped up the package and dropped it into his pillowcase with the junk food, then headed for the Common Room.

Which was dark. And empty. And quieter than even the Harris front lawn ever was, where at least Xander could usually hear the blessedly distant music and yelling as a faint background noise. The whole 4th floor was dark and silent.

He tromped down the stairs and peeked in on the 3rd floor - same deal.

Finally, on the 2nd, there was light, and noise.
soldtoarmenians: (holiday)
Subject: Chrismakuhstice

You are coming, right? I'm pretty sure I can fine-tune Giles' portal spell for frogs this time, so no more unexpected color-changes. The only thing is I've got an exam to make up and can't get away to do it until Christmas morning, so we'll miss A Charlie Brown Christmas - it's just not going to be the same without the Snoopy Dance.

love, Willow

Subject: re: Chrismakuhstice

We'll be there, even if I have to bribe Jeremiah with more of those nasty flobberworm larvae things. Which you are feeding him this time, missy.

It's just possible that a special Christmas morning performance of the Snoopy Dance could be arranged. Maybe. Someone could rent a DVD, for instance. Also, buy Giles a DVD player and teach him how to use it...


In other words, OOC... )
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
...Xander slept a lot? And fed his frog.

Also, Journalism project grades came out.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Principal Bristow held his final office hours. Xander continued not to get summoned to them, which made him shocked OMGsad grateful, so he tiptoed by with a going-away present. And then tiptoed away again...
soldtoarmenians: (holiday)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

Acting on an OMG Top Secret voicemail from Logan, Xander met him in the Library for a Totally Legitimate Research Project In The Porn Section Of Special Collections which is still being slowplayed la la la the adventure continues OMG OVER!.

Sometime after they finally escaped, Xander discovered presents from Ms. Calendar -- and like the very occasionally quick-thinking guy he is, dropped off one in return.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

After leaving a message for Kiki, Xander headed off to Study Hall, secure in the knowledge that wahoo, his finals were over, and his Christmas shopping was done. On his way back to his room, he stopped by the 2nd floor common room to trade gifts with Cally, and got himself a Jeremiah-shaped homework-storage-device trash can out of the experience.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, merely for linky historical purposes, etc.}

After realizing in Journalism that he'd finished his final project not only on time, but several hours before it was actually due, Xander took a moment to recover from the heart palpitations, then headed off to Investigators' Club.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

Journalism was all existentialist poems about Finals Week, while in Music 101 there actually was a final. And it was the Best. Final. Ever. Doo dee dee da dee *CLANG*
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

Journalism was a free period today, which was good, because the actual writing of his final project was kicking Xander's ass. A trip down to the 2nd floor common room was supposed to give his brain a bit of a TV break, but instead he it turned out to be Gay As Blazes and some decidedly weird interaction with Angel.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

After hitting Study Hall and Journalism (where the topic of the day was a very ironic 'punctuality,' Xander headed back to his room to work on his final interview project for Journalism, and wait for Veronica to show up and interview him.

Also somewhere on campus, there were goings-on between Logan Echolls and a certain now-missing wrestling coach, wherein Xander's name might also have been taken in vain. But those wouldn't be of interest to anybody, because they're totally legit goings-on. For a class that they don't have.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes.}

After Ethics Class and Journalism Class, Xander paid a visit to Caritas, where he got to see a new and different side of Veronica Mars. And make croaking noises.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes. Standard FH encryption if there's a hacker so desperately bored as to be skimming Xander's outgoing transmissions.}

Subject: re: Freaked!

> (You're taking the SATs again, right? *looks at you*)

La la la la la I so can't hear you....

In other news, our Journalism prof freaked everybody out by cancelling class but leaving us a note that the final project was due Friday at midnight. Cue flailing and gnashing of teeth, because it's actually supposed to be due next Friday. See me not freaking because there's no way I was gonna write a 400 word article in one night even if it was true I am calm, cool, and collected, and actually wrote down the correct date in the first place?

The Not-a-Scooby-Gang thing went off pretty well. The idea is to have some kind of group in place to check out the weird stuff around here instead of pretending it's not happening or hoping somebody else is taking care of it, which. Yeah. Kind of feels like home. Plus one of our big projects is making sure Angel doesn't go psycho-boy on us again. Shucks, making sure Angel isn't happy; that's not going to be fun. For him. At all.

Oh God, I didn't tell you who one of our advisors is -- Miss Calendar! She's... back from the dead, I guess; there's a lot of that going around. Though hell if I know if it's our Miss Calendar or the one from some other timeline, considering the situation around here. I stopped at the Perk for coffee with Buffy - this Buffy - last Friday, and Ms. Calendar was there. And then I met up with her again in study hall on Wednesday, and now the Investigators' Club this Friday.

Aaaaaaaaand... I may have somehow got muself invited on a little road-trip to Chicago yesterday. Where there may have been some shopping and gremlins for presents. For some people. You never know.


> P.S. Big freak. *runs*

P.S. Little freak. *chases you*
soldtoarmenians: (tv)
Wherein there are Missing posters for a certain toaster.
soldtoarmenians: (oldskool)
{backdated, purely for linky historical purposes. Standard FH encryption if there's a hacker so desperately bored as to be skimming Xander's outgoing transmissions. Xander's WillowTM = not the one from Fandom High, but the one from his own timeline who he got to see over Thanksgiving weekend. Where he did not get funny syphillis, thankyouverymuch.}

Subject: Freaked!

I am freaked out, therefore you must be freaked out. No, not over the Angel-is-Angel-again thing, which seems to be holding as far as I've heard, and as far as I can tell he's moved out of the room, by the way. Not that he's actually told me he's moved out, but hey, one less conversation with the formerly evil undead is not breaking my heart.

What is freaking me out is that I got -- wait for it -- not just an A, but an A plus on an assignment. Granted this was Music 101 with Professor Dude Ted, but still, an A+? Help me, Obi Willow Kenobi. You're my only hope! Damn, I can't make that joke, curse all you fellow students who are fictional in my canon. People are gonna start... I don't know. Expecting me to get good grades. Probably didn't help that I did the extra-credit in Journalism Class either, but I've got an excuse for that, at least - no self-respecting wanna-be class clown could pass up an opportunity to tell a teacher where he was after his fourth drink and why he has a fish in his pocket.

In good, non-freaky news, it looks like we have (or going to) something around here that's almost like a Scooby Gang, though it's called the Investigators Club. Parker - I told you about her; she was part of the group that helped re-soul Angel - tipped me off to it yesterday, and sent around an e-mail today. This is good - I've kind of missed the whole 'meeting in the library to eat doughnuts research evil' schtick. Yes, that's freaking me out too. :-P

-*- Xander

Subject: re: Freaked!

An A+! I'm so proud! You're all scholarly now. (You're taking the SATs again, right? *looks at you*)

You'll have to keep me up to date on your Scooby stuff -- around here everybody's in on the magic and weirdness, which is cool, but not quite the same as that "us against the demon world" thing we had going back in Sunnydale. I miss you guys it too.


P.S. Big freak. *runs*
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
After spending most of Journalism (after a quick detour home) in Study Hall, Xander dropped a somewhat forlorn-looking Jeremiah off at his room, then headed into town to meet [ profile] dbiers for his interview with Ed.

Afterwards, the two of them ended up at Caritas, where drinks were, due to some gift horse he wasn't going to look into the mouth of, on the house. Woohoo! Xander also got the heads-up from [ profile] mparker16 about a meeting on Friday.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)

{{Journalism interview, which happened in Very Very Slow Play due to interview being with [ profile] scissors__ who is on the other side of the world, and [ profile] dbiers, who has the Kobolian Death Flu. Affects no one and nothing outside the bounds of gathering research for Xander's Journalism final.}}

Within )

soldtoarmenians: (yuh-huh)
"You can just stop giving me that look," Xander said as he set Jeremiah's tank down on his desk. "I mean it."

There was silence from the small plastic tank, and Xander sighed, tossing his duffel bag on the bed. The disturbingly clean, non-ash-bedecked bed, in the room that was not only empty of -- thank God -- his roommate, but quite a bit of said roommate's stuff, judging from the half-open closet door.

He turned to face the tank again, crossed arms at odds with the guilty look on his face.

"I said I was sorry I forgot to ask Giles what effect his portal-spell thing could have on frogs. And I am. But it could've been worse; you could've got turned into a newt, or... or a hamster or something. This is no big deal; Willow says it might even wear off on its own. And it's not like you didn't get spoiled rotten and stuffed full of more crickets than you could fit down your shiny..." Xander winced. "Purple gullet."

Jeremiah said nothing. Not even a comforting riddeeep. He just kept glaring at Xander with big, round, bulgey violet eyes.

Xander groaned and shook his head as he dug in his bag. "Glad to know I'm keeping up the Harris tradition of brilliantly successful parenthood." He dangled a small glass bottle enticingly in front of the tank. "Dried mealworm?"


soldtoarmenians: (Default)

January 2007

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