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: (1-smallsmile)


He was trying to make sure that every minute he had left in Fandom this summer counted. Xander had the feeling someone like Willow wouldn't see it that way, because she'd be trying to cram every possible experience known to humankind into this last month, but... he was good with small and slow and relaxed, so when he remembered this, he'd remember loving it.

So food and fun in the fake snow, a comfortingly familiar dinner in an unfamiliar place, drinking games, making a rare trip to Caritas by himself when Bridge hadn't been feeling well, spending time on the beach with Rory, Callisto and Bridge, teaching his workshop, hanging out in the Common Rooms, playing carnival games and riding the Ferris Wheel with Bridge... It was as close to just right as anything with 'this last month' involved in its description was ever going to be. Not ever enough, but... right.


[*And no mental wherewithal to turn it into an e-mail, so yay lazy narration. Not open for interaction as he's about to wander off to the Common Room.]

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: (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: (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: (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: (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.
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 he...you know, that metaphor is suddenly a lot less metaphorical than it used to be.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Xander woke up... to a bed covered in chocolate eggs.

He would've stopped to say, or at least think WTF? And then wonder if Isabel had done it and decide he needed to cross-stitch Best. Roomie. Ever. on a sampler or something, except the whole room seemed to be covered with them, so he took a wild guess it wasn't her.

And then he was too busy eating.

And then he was too busy discovering that in fact? It is humanly possible to eat too much chocolate. Bleeeeergh sugar-dump.

And then he was too busy stumbling sleepily off to IKEA.
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)


To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
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: (computer)
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Ms. Ahahahaha

Dear Willow )

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: (Default)
Creature Languages. In which the raven quoth pretty much everything but Nevermore.

The last rehearsal, OMG! Where things were rehearsed.

The 2nd floor common room. Where Rory cut her hair. Well, no, she didn't cut it there. But you get the idea.

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