soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Xander was sort of just sitting in bed checking e-mail, as you do, since somebody else wasn't awake and despite the ice cream-and-leftover-birthday-cake remedy he'd brought back last night, somebody else was in theory still sleeping off a headache.

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: wrosenberg@ucsd.edu
Subject: New E-Mail Address, Poke, I'm Home, Poke, Rats I No Longer Have, Poke, Various, Poke, Sundry

Dear Xander )

*blinkblink* Xander hit reply and was about to open with asking if she was okay with the thing with the thing no longer being a thing, given other things with things and how they were no longer things, and other people's similar things with things, but then for some reason he became very interested in the fact that Bridge seemed to have a new freckle on his left wrist just below the edge of his glove, and by the time he started typing, he'd forgotten completely about whatever he was going to ask. Huh.

Dear Willow )

Dear Willow )

[Not open for IC interaction; teal dear and others are welcome to stop by and let your eyes glaze over OOC-ly. Bridgemodding with permission zomg.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.ednet
Subject: Stuff You Should Know About Fandom Before You Get Here

Dear Willow: )

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: (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.

Saturday

Mar. 18th, 2006 11:55 pm
soldtoarmenians: (play1)


After the play -- during which Xander noticed Molly was not, in fact, twelve, was somehow convinced to wear the squeaky leather after all, and then suddenly became decidedly not himself -- Xander, freshly showerinated and thus most assuredly deleatherated, headed out of 406 on a quest for snacks. As you do.

And said sure, why not, to going along on an Adventure. Because that always works out well.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)


Art History featured sharing of flags and teasinating of Rory with a side-order of backdrop-painting.

Music -- which Xander is not in, so he was not there, saw an appearance by the elusive Twinkie-thief. And some people in leather pants (and skirt yay go Ninja Vin Diesel). This is a complete coincidence. And also Xander was not there.

He was in the common room just long enough to follow Rory and a bunch of other people off to Bridge's place for a game of I Never. Which he totally won. Not because he was the last person to pass out, but because he was smart enough not to touch the spacevodka, and that so counts as winninating in Xander's book.

soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Xander sat with his laptop, now detangled from Pippi's crystal ball, and shook his head as he opened his e-mail program and modded the fact that Willow totally had the computer refitted for both British and Amrican power and wireless before she gave it to him.

Could he possibly have a normal vacation? Was it possible to even think that sentence without bursting into hysterical giggles and making everybody crammed into Marty and Angela's room look at him even funnier than they usually did? Noooo. Instead, Angel had to go and get poisoned, and Not-the-Scoobies, UK edition (otherwise known as FHUK), had figured out that they should try to find the current HQ for the Watchers' Council to see if they had anything helpful. Using Willow's hacked WC files to consult Pippi's crystal ball and a call to Giles had netted them an address, and they were currently making plans to head off there.

Xander, meanwhile, was taking a second to breathe, and send an e-mail.

Dear Willow )

3/4

Mar. 4th, 2006 02:54 pm
soldtoarmenians: (red)
Xander didn't get a lot of sleep after hitting Jake and Logan's party last night, but he still managed to drag himself down to the front gates the next day to sign-in
and leave for the trip to England. After a surprisingly short but bumpy bus ride, he checked in to the fancy-liek-whoa hotel, then headed off to dinner with Rory, Marty, Angela, Parker, Jaye, and Zero, followed up by a trip to the London Eye, wherein there was far too much discussion of -- quell your shock -- boykissing.
soldtoarmenians: (yuh-huh)
After checking his incoming e-mail left Xander thinking "Ouch, dude, my sympathies" at the evidence that Marty had fallen victim to the stupidity of drunken e-mailing this weekend too, and checking his outgoing e-mail at least verified that his own example of that had only been misdirected to Parker and not, say, the entire student body, Xander actually considered ... homework.

Yes, he felt his forehead again; still no fever.

Crap, though, because he'd never collected up the stuff he was supposed to get for his Survival Kit in Shop, and that was due tomorrow.

Leaving a note ) for Isabel, he made sure he had the credit card from Professor MacGyver, and headed into town.
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: (the hell?)
After returning from registration and helping himself happily to some of the pretzels Isabel had left out for him -- and eyeing the Tabasco sauce warily but not touching it -- Xander checked his voicemail.

And stopped after hearing the first one. Then he replayed it. Several times. If there were anyone in the room besides Jeremiah, they'd have seen his face go through an amazing variation of expressions, from confused to -- very briefly -- contemplative, to completely freaked out.

Then, before his brain had really re-engaged, he picked up the phone and thought he called Marty back.

When he'd slammed the phone down from that experience, and buried his head in his hands for a few moments, he looked up to see Jeremiah watching him intently. "What?" he asked, his face still rather pale.

"Blerbbit?"

"Yes, I know I was in complete spaz-out mode, thank you. Wouldn't you be? Or do you get a lot of ferret-sex offers from other boy frogs? Assuming you're actually a boy, and no, I'm not checking right now; one of us might get the wrong idea, judging by how today is going."

Sighing, he picked up the phone, intending to call Marty back and try to sound like less of a closet basket case. Or possibly hang up in a panic when the machine picked up; he'd burn that bridge when he got to it. Except he never got to it, because he heard the skip in the dial tone indicating there were more voicemails.

After letting the second one play, the idea of sex with Marty was suddenly saved for his private gentleman's time in the shower not the biggest issue on his mind. He quickly called Parker or not to let her know what he'd heard.

The third message just made him giggle hysterically and not remotely suspect that the others had been wrong numbers, though that might have been residual WTF-overflow from the first two.

But wait, there's more! [Phale, Cordy, Janet, and Logan] )
soldtoarmenians: (Default)
We had to write about our predictions for the student elections, for Journalism. Then we got to gossip. For credit! I may love this teacher. I also may have said something about sleeping with Faith. Uh, someone else sleeping with Faith. That I heard about. Somewhere.


Hit Study Hall and... um. Marty was apparently bitten by a gremlin. Either that or he just likes to pretend to be a woman. Which, hey, who doesn't?

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