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: (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: (computer)
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.ednet
Subject: Stuff You Should Know About Fandom Before You Get Here

Dear Willow: )
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: (thinking)
...if you're a Xander, and it's Thursday night:

1. Need more shower gel.

2. Marty makes an eerily familiar woman. Note: this is not pondered in the shower.

3. If he doesn't know the stuff on the Art History final tomorrow, he doesn't know it; if he does, he does. There's nothing more he can cram into his head at this point, and he's not planning on trying. Yay evening of downloaded Mr. What episodes.

4. Somewhere there exists a future without a Michelin Man. Is that frightening or hopeful?

5. Hmm, cupcake bribery. In Music class tomorrow. Spoils to be shared by the winning party. This might be pondered in the shower. But ZOMG not dirty! Dude, shower.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)

Well, that's gonna give Xander a convenient reason to unload a second birthday gift on Isabel, courtesy of Shop, finally give Aeryn the thing he'd bought for her when she came back and then never really found a non-awkward way to pass on, and give Angela the present Rory had helped him pick out at IKEA. And proves he was not on crack to think that buying some foodie gift baskets for the insane amount of parties they have around here could be an idea.

Too bad it doesn't really provide an excuse for handing over the other present he bought on Sunday, but... ah well. He'll be more neurotic about that bridge when know, that metaphor is suddenly a lot less metaphorical than it used to be.

soldtoarmenians: (latin)
Xander? Totally flopped on his bed with a bag of pretzels, poking the internet for stuff about alternate universes for his incredibly vaguely planned final project in Magical Theory. Not randomly flipping back to his e-mail tab at all. That'd be stupid, since he's got a New Mail popup set.


{Open for teh roomie, at the moment}
soldtoarmenians: (grin)
It's really weird to hyperventilate while randomly grinning. It kind of makes your teeth hurt.

Also you don't even notice that there's a weetiny bunny with weetiny red pipecleaner anntennae taped to its ears, hugging your ankle. And if you did, you probably wouldn't care.
soldtoarmenians: (computer)

Subject: re: Ms. Ahahahaha

Dear Xander )

Xander stared at the first e-mail for a few seconds as he sat at his desk, then a wide grin spread over his face. Quickly, he forwarded it to Isabel, Rory, John, Callisto, and... who else. Krycek was probably pissed at her for the same reasons Cal was, yis. Sendinate. Yay.

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.


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.


Feb. 28th, 2006 12:21 am
soldtoarmenians: (ow)
Dear Willow:

Robots? Create an unpleasant vacuum effect.

They also punch people, make you miss your other classes, are not vulnerable to flying twinkies unless you set them on fire (the twinkies, not the robots, though probably if you set the robots on fire they would be vulnerable to flying twinkies), cause license plates to fly at your face and hurt you, do not like it when you hold hands with other guys in a completely platonic way, jeez, are mean to your hair, are mean to John's feet, dance badly, indirectly cause situations where the strongest girl in the world accidentally hits you in the head with a boot because you are a butterfingers, threaten your little sister, and will only shut up and die already under the combined lethal force of bullets and George W. Bush..

Also? They suck.

Love, Xander.

After escaping the incredibly aptly-named-today Danger Shop, Xander went along to the Town Emergency Clinic with Pippi, Pip, Walter, Nadia, Sydney, and John, to get various OW seen to, then finally, finally came back home to 406. (Where before falling asleep he zipped off an e-mail, clearly.)

soldtoarmenians: (red)
Not in the places that matter...

Speak for yourself, John.

Xander raised an eyebrow at the radio, then lowered it again. Several times.

And then went back to being in an inexplicably cheerful mood, despite the fact that he was lying on his bed flipping through a printout of A Midsummer Night's Dream and totally should have been plotting Jake Gavin's early demise, or at least looking forward to watching Callisto carry it out. But nope. Cheerful. Possibly even humming. Possibly even humming O Canada. Possibly even in Inuktitut.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)


Dear Mom and Dad: today I got my missing clothes back and pictured Jake Gavin in a cheerleading outfit, wore John Crichton and got detention for sharing him with Ms. Skeeter, totally had a catfight with Rory Gilmore over a hot Mountie except not because that would be weird and make Dad nod knowingly and say he always knew it which would be one of the 4,000 reasons I'm never actually mailing this letter, took a mid-term in Art History and haven't written a word of it yet, ZOMG, did not tell Angela Chase a fart joke but did almost tell the one about Really Strong Guy Who Can Fly mistaking Unseeable Guy for Bitterwoman, did inform Jaye Tyler that she's abnormal to her everlasting shock, and was informed by Parker who has no first name because I enjoy existing, that I'm an asshat. No, sorry, a bottom. No, sorry, the Bottom. I might be needing to murderize Jake Gavin, cheerleading uniform or not; if so, don't worry. I won't call you for bail money.

Yeah, my life's not complicated.

Hey, if you happen to see a giant snake around town? You're not imagining it; drive the other way.




Dear Willow: Hey. Remember that shared nightmare about ever having to go on a stage again? Guess what...

soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)
Shop class, in which Xander made a statement about Valentine' Day, and so did John. Except John's involved acidic fish.
Magical Theory, in which there was open question period. Except Xander really only had the one, and he wasn't going to repeat it in class.
Aeryn is leaving which explains the acidic fish.

Xander and Jeremiah visited to say goodbye. Later, there was pet time in the common room.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
After selling Crichton some Twinkies in Shop first one's free, little boy..., and learning about personal shields in Magical Theory, in the evening Xander headed off, with a bit of 'Why the hell did I sign up for this again? It's not like I'm seeing anyone' to the Boys Only Valentine's Day Stragetic Session.
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Hey, it was quiet up there, at least outside Xander's head, and he wasn't in the mood to sleep. Twinkies might eat him.

Subject: Catching up on my So Called alleged life

Dear Willow )
soldtoarmenians: (jeremiah)
With Xander flipped out about something or other, taking off for God knows where and still not back yet, it was up to Jeremiah to protect Room 406. So he did. Vigilantly. Except for that one bit where he got a little distracted. But mostly? Completely on the ball. Ribbit.


{ooc - mostly to appease the frog's OCD, but if roomie wants to use it as a room post, feel free.}
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Shop class wherein Xander failed at cooking, but won at scoring free innuendo food from Crichton. And Nadia modded his banana OMG! Bananamodder!
Open shop in 3rd period wherein stakes were carved and roomies were bestest.
Magical Theory wherein Xander failed a Turing test at life to be psychic, and no one was surprised.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Art History, wherein Xander did not think about Lee Adama's shirt or the lack thereof, and the Romans sucked.
Lunch - wherein Xander is clearly going to Hell because he exchanged fortune-cookie-based innuendo with Pippi Longstocking.
Yet another e-mail from Rory Gilmore re: Sekrit Girly Shopping Trip For Study Group.
Meeting in the library, wherein Xander coined studly new words and did not remotely bemoan his lack of scrapbooking a more enjoyable hobby.
Actual Sekrit Girly Shopping. No, we're not shitting you; people bought glitter.
Meeting in Rory's room wherein vampires scrapbooking Mounties Studying was discussed.
soldtoarmenians: (torture)
{NFB and locked, because it's mostly a link post, with a bit of Xander listening to his unheard voicemails, then he's outta here}

"Hey, frog-face," Xander said to Jeremiah as he came in.

Xander peeled off his dry, but still coffee-scented shirt, and after taking a whiff of his t-shirt, quickly figured out that the smell had soaked through, so that one got tossed into the box he was using for a hamper as well. Switching it out for a plain white one that just read "Buttery" in hot-pink letters, and God only knew where he'd picked that one up, he headed over to drop some food of the non-wriggling type into Jeremiah's tank )

He listened through the rest of his Friday calls, from Veronica, another new kid with a thick Scottish accent, and... Han Solo talking about-- Rightokayhangingupnow Talking about something Xander couldn't remember because of a very specific and localized case of brain-ebola-avoiding amnesia. Yes.

He hung up the phone and very carefully considered the outgoing calls he'd made in response to those voicemails, and where on God's pink and fluffy earth they might have gone.

Then he considered the chance that if he dived under his bed and never ever came out again, Jeremiah would figure out a way to carry Twinkies and new issues of Really Strong Guy Who Can Fly to Xander for the next fifty years or so.

There were some flying pigs on his roomie's pajamas that were about three times as likely, he reluctantly decided. Shaking his head, he headed for the door. "I'm going out," he told Jeremiah. "To be with people who are not frogs. To demonstrate my complete coolness with the fact that I am a moron. I'll let you know how that goes. Don't perve on Isabel while I'm gone - or at least take pictures, if you do."


soldtoarmenians: (Default)

January 2007

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