soldtoarmenians: (1-worried)
There's a trunk, and a pile of suitcases and boxes. Even a frog-shaped wastebasket which is, at the moment, stuffed with clean socks and the blankets from Xander's bed. There's also a purple frog in a tank, and there's Xander, and there's Bridge.
___
[For broadcast, but locked to Bridge. Goodbye post is still open, though. Also OMGShut up, it's still morning...on the West Coast...for about 40 minutes...]
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: (computer)
Crazy week? Doesn't even begin to cover it. There'd been running into Conner, Anders, and Z, which had lead to a trip to Caritas on Wednesday, then trying to convince Bridge he needed to OMG specify when complaining about teachers who made him take his shirt off in class on Thursday, then a picnic and later sneaking off from the Seahorse campfire on Friday. Then Saturday he'd been having a very nice wake-up call until they realized somebody'd stolen their voices, leading to much worried checking on people, being trapped in the dorms for the night and eventually a crazy-late chat-room experience -- followed by another night locked in the dorms on Sunday. Not that locked in the dorms was bad, per se, but everybody locked in the dorms and going stir-crazy from worry was an experience Xander could live without repeating.

So it really isn't too surprising that it's taken until now, when they're safe again, have their voices back and are back in the cabins, for Xander to get around to remembering that last week, he'd promised to um. Do something. For um. Somebody.

Which leaves him sitting in his alcove in Flamingo cabin with the curtain shut and headphones on, staring at his laptop. As you do when you're doing that particular something. In a cabin.

[For Bridge, for the moment. Possibly for later appearance by certain other peoples]
soldtoarmenians: (tv)


...*complete silence*

TMI )



...*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 [livejournal.com 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: (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: (ow)
Xander stared at the package on his bed, which he'd just retrieved from the post office, a walk that his still generally-aching body wasn't real happy about. He'd had an idea what was in the package, though, and no idea how long it would last before spoiling. It was postmarked London, Florence, O'Fallon, and Castle Rock. It had stamps on it, but the date on them was slightly obscured by what he assumed were owl footprints. So yeah, he was gonna guess butterbeer and pumpkin juice.

He opened it carefully, or as carefully as his splinted-up hand would allow.

Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and flobberworm larvae (dead). Joy.

He opened up his laptop. Dr Willo: )
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
"Ribbit."

Xander muttered into his pillow. "Lemme sleep, dude. Busy day yesterday." It had been; after an e-mail from Rory, he'd headed to the library to help research, where he'd been pleased to see at least someone had been paying attention in Scoobying, had an unwelcome attack of deja vu when Tyler revealed that there were mummies involved in this week's spate of weirdness, and accidentally ended up talking to Dawn about porn. As you do.

Then there'd been the meeting in Rory's room, where he'd volunteered his computer for the support team, and himself for the fighting. After which he'd handwavily headed back here and poked through the files Willow had left on his laptop to see if there was anything on Egyptian mummies. Which not so much; plenty on South American ones, naturally, but nothing they didn't already know about their more famous cousins. Waste of time anyway, considering not-his-Willow would have all this at her fingertips too, and she had smarter fingers, but he'd wanted to do something to help with Rory's OMGGUILTWOE.

So the second "Ribbit!" which was quickly joined by a third, and then a fourth, was less than welcome. "It's not that late! I'll get you breakfast innaminute. Rarr."

"RIBBIT!" Right in his ear.

Xander turned his head and opened his eyes.

"Ribbit!" said the little green frog on his pillow. "Rbblrt brrrrrum!" said the little green frog next to the little green frog on his pillow.

"CROAK!" said Jeremiah, from his tank.

"...WTF?" said Xander, and sat up, blinking.

Five minutes later, he was scooting them out the door, but for every frog he dumped out into the hallway, another seemed to take its place.
__

[...No I am not playing with myself in the comments zomg. Haven't you ever seen a guy talking to his frog before? ...that be not a euphemism.]
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: (Default)
When Xander finally wandered home from the campfire outside Snake Cabin, he found an envelope on his bed, attached to a small cardboard box. That was... not entirely usual, but not nearly as bizarre as the small brown owl sitting next to Jeremiah's tank, looking quizzically through the plastic at the frog, who stared just as quizzically back.

"Um. Hi?" Because for all he knew it was one of his cabinmates, who'd decided to disturb the wrong bird's nest today or something.

The owl actually rolled its eyes at him, then fluttered down to land next to the letter. Xander took the hint and opened it. )
__
{leeeeeenkdrop omg}
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Xander entered through the wood-side door, two bags over his shoulder and Jeremiah's tank in his opposite hand. Looking around for roomies and/or empty spaces, he saw plenty of the second, but only one sign of the first, so far, just inside the door.

"Hey, Cal. You good with me as a neighbor?" He pointed to the opposite space. "Or are we looking at guys' side and girls' side?"

_______
{Open to other Pink Croquet Mallet Bird residents, yis. Or visitors.}
soldtoarmenians: (fashion zomg)
Dear Willow )

After sending off what felt like a really damn long e-mail to Willow, Xander checked his inbox and found one from Krycek and Jake, at which he grinned and immediately replied.

Then he went back to sitting on the foot of his bed, staring at the couple of bags he'd packed for the cabins, out of boxes that he hadn't even completely unpacked, trying to decide if there was anything else he could or should shove into them before they exploded.
__
{The door is open to all like an open to all thing. Yeeah notsomuch now. ;-)}
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.

*Ribbbbbbblrrrrt!*

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]

E-mail ahoy

May. 5th, 2006 03:03 pm
soldtoarmenians: (oldskool)
To: bsummers@pacbell.net
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Graduation

Dear Buffy: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow, love Buffy: )
Dear Buffy, love Willow: )
Dear Willow, love Buffy: )
__

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Subject: Graduation

> It's Monday. Can you and Giles come?

*COUGH*

love,
your uninvited BFF
__
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
soldtoarmenians: (weesleepy)
Unsent letter, written on the back of an Art History handout, in green highlighter ink. Mostly illegible, of course, but this is what Xander thinks it says:

Deer Willow: )
soldtoarmenians: (empty bed)
There was a ribbit somewhere, but it was wayyyyyyy too early to get up. Xander snuggled in under his covers and pulled a pillow over his head.

Except there was a ribbit somewhere again. Ribbits meant breakfast time. Breakfast time meant getting up, because you can't have a pet if you don't take good care of it, even if you want to sleep and it's going ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.

Xander sighed and untangled himself from his blanket, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and... falling on the floor with a THUMP.

OW!!! )

[OOC: Pre-played with [livejournal.com profile] izzyalienqueen. Weetiny!Xander is on the loose (as is always-wee Jeremiah); weetiny!Isabel is not here. ONLY A SCARY BEAR IS HERE. STAY AWAY. Unless you are OOC. OOC people need not fear the scary bear.]

soldtoarmenians: (1-smile)
Only in Fandom can you have subject lines like that, dude.

Xander ducked into his room from the party, where Isabel was still presumably hanging out, and where he'd just left Bridge. He grabbed the presents he'd bought at IKEA from his closet, tapped Jeremiah's tank and said, "Stop snickering at me; I can see you rolling your eyes, you know," then headed out again, down to Bridge's room.
soldtoarmenians: (1-grin)
Sunday night:

Xander hit Angel's party, was lobstered at by Nadia, invited to balance animals (but not lobsters) by Bridge and Rory, and later gave something back to Angel.

Monday:

Xander built a spicerack and gave John a present while again being lobstered at, as well as passing on the paprika bloodline in Shop, watched a video in Creature Languages (and got his once-again disturbingly decent mid-term grades), and took a quiz in Magical Theory.

He totally remembered to hit the Weird Hometown Support Group for once in the afternoon, and then in the evening, there was Animal Balancinating, wherein Xander talked to Rory, shared fake birthday cake with Bridge (and commiserated on temporal displacement), told Parker about Isabel having gone home, and of course balancinated stuff. To whit, a book, Jeremiah, and Steve. No, the other Steve. Which was kind of cheating, and besides, FROG HAT, so even though Invisible Steve The Cat Who Is Not Sean Under An Assumed Name did not fall off Xander's head, he took the consolation prize, which was very consoling.

Jeremiah, meanwhile, was balancinated. A lot. For which he got treats. Some of which were locusts. Whole ones, because otherwise eww.
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
Xander dropped one of the few remaining chocolate-covered locusts into Jeremiah's tank, and winced as he watched the frog enthusiastically gobble it down. "That, by the way," he said aloud, "Is disgusting. I hope you understand how much I like you, that I'm willing to even touch those things."

Jeremiah gave what Xander sadly suspected was the froggy equivalent of a satisfied belch. Then looked at him with big froggy eyes. Well, ok, tiny bulbous froggy eyes.

"No, and you're not gonna be guilting Isabel into stuffing your face with them this week, either." Xander glanced over at her empty bed with a frown.

The croak that followed might have seemed a little mournful, and that might have been about the lack of more locusts, and it might not, but Xander nodded as he went back to checking his e-mail. "Yeah, me too."

Huh, he thought as he opened one from Janet. It seemed like this was the week for impromptu surprise parties, what with Nadia's last night. Somehow Xander doubted that Angel's was likely to have sandy candy or bulldozer cake, but he supposed he ought to show anyway. If nothing else, it'd keep him out of the empty-except-for-the-frog room tonight. Ribbits aside, the place was still too quiet.

Jeremiah was still looking at him hopefully as he packed up the laptop and got ready to leave for play rehearsal, but Xander shook his head. "No, dude. N.O. No more locusts for you."

Eyes. Big sad froggy eyes.

"Okay, maybe half a lo--" Xander covered his mouth with his hand, and possibly turned a little bit the color Jeremiah used to be. "No. The phrase 'half a locust' does not belong in any normal person's vocabulary. No."

He closed the door behind him, to the sound of a guilt-inducing *ribbit*.

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