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: (sidelong)
Xander's really packing, this time, not just trying not to and failing. He doesn't want to, but the more he gets squared away now, the more time he'll have left to be with people, instead of doing this. And it's... going. Not well, but it's going. The only problem is he doesn't have enough suitcases, and they aren't nearly big enough, or maybe just not the right kind.

Cut for packing woe )

Some things *cough*, he can carry in his head, of course, even if he didn't get a picture. Thing is, the thing is that ... he's going to have to carry all of what matters most in his head.

Because there's no room in his luggage for the whole damned island, or even a miniature giraffe no matter how weetiny he is, and the one thing Xander would leave everything behind for if he could make it fit...

Well.

Stupid Samsonite.

[For Bridge.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Dear Willow )

...well that killed... five minutes. Xander sighed. If he stayed in this room much longer, he was going to end up vacuuming the bedspread, he realized. Not that he could by any stretch of the imagination be described as a cleaning-freak - he'd just been trying to make the place reasonably nice for this evening, which in Xanderese meant 'at least not a disaster area.' Somehow that turned into a battle with the stuff he'd spilled all over while working on his project thingy, though, and in the age-old war between humans and glitter, it ain't ever the monkeyboys that win. The fact that Bridge was off with his Flight workshop and the whole non-disaster-area effort was in fact for his benefit wasn't exactly helping Xander avoid obsessing, either.

So he seriously needed to get out of here before he went stir-crazy. Town could be a thing.
__
[Linkdrop ahoy, no interaction here because he's off to watch SoaP!]
soldtoarmenians: (shop)
A beep distracted Xander from the project he was working on, and he set it aside for a moment, going to the desk and opening his e-mail window.

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: wrosenberg@ucsd.edu
Subject: Hi!
Dear Xander )

Xander blinked and typed up a reply )

Then he went back to his bed, where the contents of his project were spread out across the blanket.

__
[Open, though I'm madly combatting a potential worm, so if I disappear unexpectedly it's because I had to re-start.]
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)
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: (latin)
[AKA Backdated Linkdrop of I Don't Have The Mental Wherewithal To Turn This Into An E-mail At This Stage Of Lateness]

Monday

Pippi made pancakes, Walter dished toppings, and Xander (as well as a hungover Bridge) was there to consume them, because he's a nice guy like that. He also talked to Willow and Cally.

Tuesday

There was Scoobying, during which Lana fled in tears, Bridge discovered something was haunting her, and Willow offered to help research it. And said disturbing things about shooting and/or beating up people.

Later, Xander went to Bridge's room with him to pick up some stuff to take back to 121 for a while, because the ghost thing was really spooking (arf arf) him. A trip to the Common Room even later didn't really help much with that.

Wednesday

Xander stopped by Veronica's room and told her what he knew about the First Evil, which was just enough to indicate that it probably wasn't behind the hauntings, and found out that Willow might have helped pin down the thing that was.

Thursday

Xander shared his complete lack of helpful knowledge again, in reponse to an e-mail from Nadia.
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
There was something Xander was supposed to do when he woke up, and this time the fuzziness wasn't because of weekend weirdness, it was just tied into the whole unpleasant "waking up" concept. He stumbled around the room for a few minutes, feeding Jeremiah, brushing teeth, and doing other wakey-up things, before he finally remembered his conversations with Parker and Callisto last night. (And the one with Bridge, but bears didn't seem to have any direct relevance to the issue, even this early in the morning.) He was supposed to be trying to track down the weekend weirdness by checking his outgoing mail.

...*blink* ...*squint trying to read own bad typing*...*blink more*...*facepalm*

Right. Damage-control. If such a thing was possible.

Dear Willow: )

No more than a few minutes later, a reply appeared.

Dear Xander: )

Xander sighed, flipped up iTunes and put it on shuffle, then started downloading Sunday and Monday night's radio shows to see if they could give him a clue to anything else he might've said or done while truthified.

[Door's open, if anyone feels like wandering by.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)


Dear Willow, continued.


Xander saved, closed his laptop, and set it on the chest of drawers beside Jeremiah's tank. Then he grinned at the furry form already curled into a tiny ball on his pillow, and turned out the light for bed.

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: (1-laugh)
The kind on real paper.

Dear Willow: )
soldtoarmenians: (latin)


He'd found the package outside his door when he'd left the lobby on Friday afternoon, but the whole Shirtless Friday thing had kind of distracted Xander from a lot of stuff. Like unpacking half the boxes still scattered around his new room, or doing more than setting the wrapped package on his desk next to Jeremiah's tank.

Now, though, after sprinkling some dried don't-really-wanna-think-about-what-it-used-to-be into Jeremiah's tank, Xander reached for the flat, paper-wrapped package, and, after checking for anything obvious that looked like it might turn him blue or change him into a marmoset, pulled the paper off. Within was a framed manuscript page. )



...allergies, man. Totally allergies that made him sniff as he dug into the hardware box that he hadn't yet unpacked into a desk drawer, and found a set of dorm-safe adhesive frame hangers.

After that, though he'd planned on doing some more unpacking, Xander smiled, sat down at his desk, and typed out an e-mail: )


__
[ooc - Linkdroppy, not open for interaction. And this, chitlins, is why I usually do linkdrops every day instead of waiting. ZOMGWTFmightaswellberadio. The end.]

soldtoarmenians: (Default)
[aka Linkdrop of Ultimate Lazy, because zomg threads on threads, and am not attempting to weave this into an e-mail or IC format.]

Graduation (Monday the 8th)

Xander was most likely to what? ...Okayfairenoughpossibly. Meanwhile, whoa, Spydaddy Principal Bristow was out in the audience. So was Willow , of course, talking to Isabel, Bridge, some alien-or-demon-guy who kept pointing at Ivanova, and, Xander was fairly sure he should be worried about this, Parker. Oh yeah, there was also some processing, diploma-accepting, giant-gremlin-fighting and partying. As you do. At graduations.


Welcome Party (Tuesday the 9th)

After picking up his new first floor room assignment, Xander ended up meeting someone who said she was Buffy's sister, and breaking his principal-streak, letting Rory know what he knew about her and you-know-who except not that you-know-who, and meeting Bridge's new fellow SPD cadet. And breaking her brain.

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: (Default)
After running into town to get flowers (Guy flowers, okay? The kind that go on your lapel.) that he totally didn't forget until the last minute, Xander arrived back at 406 to find that his date? Already there. Though not already dressed. In prom clothes, that is. He was dressed in regular clothes omg, jeez - the roomie was there, after all!

After arriving at the Town Hall, there was an actual first dance. On an actual dancefloor. In public and all. Shockingly, Xander survived it. Even more shockingly, he survived dancing with Parker.

There was chatting with Rory by the punchbowl, and dancing with Bridge to That Song (no, not the Macarena) and somehow when he went for punch after that, there was dancing with Jake. Girl Jake. No, that wasn't weird at all. Unlike everything else tonight, of course.

Also Isabel, and who knew you could dance to The Rainbow Connection? Besides, presumably, frogs.

And then there was that last song which... um, yeah, notsomuch, Mr. Looksliketheexprincipalbutisn't Guy.

And then there was that.

Monday

Apr. 10th, 2006 11:41 pm
soldtoarmenians: (wtf?)
Shop = tree
Creature Languages = lobster
Magical Theory = quiz
Common room = land of somebody's Oedipus complex, but... Xander's not sure whose
soldtoarmenians: (facepalm2)


Xander: *has to be threatened with cookie confiscation before he'll even tell Best. Roomie. Ever. about date...stuff. Otherwise, says nothing, even to people who already know*

Bridge: *tells, like, almost everybody*

Radio: *tells EVERYBODY*

Xander: *sighs*

(Best. Roomie. Ever. : *has nightmares, presumably not about Xander's social development issues, though you never can tell around here*)

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