soldtoarmenians: (1-laugh)


History of Art was attendinated. There were dementedated nuns. In the lobby, Diefenbaker was giftinated. Also some guy with a hat was there. In the 2nd floor Common room , Callisto, Peter, Parker who is not Peter, Bridge, Rory and Jaye were talkinated to. Rory and Jaye were blaminated for the inateding. Rory might not have entirely deservinated it, but then again, she showinated Xander pictures of Aye-Aye John a demon from hell on her cellphone, so maybe she did.

The passive voice was useinated.

soldtoarmenians: (1-buh)
Heard faintly through the door by anyone passing by in the hall: "WHO WAS FLIRTING AT THE WATCHER'S COUNCIL? THERE WAS NO FLIRTING! UNLESS IT WAS PIPPI AND VICTOR!"

Heard quite a bit more loudly, since Xander opened the door and stuck his head out to make sure people heard it: "THERE WAS KISSING, YES. OF PARKER!"

Xander's hair? No longer pink. No lipstick, no body-glitter, no mousse. He still has a faint line of doomed fish going up his cheek, however, a maple leaf on his forehead, and a statement about dairy products on his arm. Man, those sharpies are a bitch to scrub off.
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Five minutes after getting back from his cancelled Shop class, Xander was sound asleep.

Almost two hours later, he was awake, rubbing his eyes, about to be late for Magical Theory, and still, as far as he could remember, hadn't dreamt one damn thing.

Sighing, he checked his e-mail only to find one about the first play rehearsal, which improved his mood no end, of course, then sat down to write up what he could remember of one of his more common recurring dreams.

Yeah, this one's a little more boring. )
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)


It hadn't exactly been an eventful day; his only class was Art History and that had been a blow-off movie hour with the crazy nun again. The crazy art nun, not the crazy sex-tips nun, although they looked disturbingly like they might be related. Hadn't been a bad day, either, especially not compared to ~OMG Robots Attack!~

But Xander's head was starting to ache again, and his burned finger throbbed; he really wasn't up for heading out to see whether there was anybody in the common room who didn't know about his new weird power and could be freaked out by some less than random channel flipping. Fun, but maybe later when he wasn't so tired and achey.

While he dutifully followed doctor's orders and didn't use booze to bribe the little guy with the mallet, Xander did substitute an overly-large handful of Excedrin, and a twinkie. Because caffeine and sugar? Always conducive to a restful night's sleep. They cut into the headache a bit, but not the tiredness; by the time he'd read and answered a couple e-mails from Parker, Xander was falling asleep over his laptop, and barely had time to move it off the bed before he zonked out completely.

Dream, cut so you can just say no to crack. )



And Xander smacked at his alarm clock with a muttered FRAK. He hit his burned finger on it, and followed that up with a FRELL that wasn't remotely muttered.

And it was 7 a.m., and he had to get up for Shop, and damn if he could remember what the hell he'd just dreamt. He guessed he really would just have to make something up for class today. Also, cheerful? Not so much. Though not entirely inexplicable, what with the hour and the ow.

__
{Dream people utterly modded without their permission, OMG.}

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: (red)


Normal people don't get up hours before they have to be in detention just to pick out what clothes they're gonna wear, do they?(1)

Normal people probably wouldn't choose the color of their shirt based on what might seem to be ulterior motives, either.

And they definitely wouldn't spend the next couple of hours quietly playing Spider Solitaire and vaguely fretting that the guy running detention might be disappointed in them for landing there.(2)

So it's a good thing Xander didn't do any of that. Yup.
__
(1) Well, Willow would, but that'd be mostly to keep her from freaking out over ZOMG a detention, now I'll never get into Oxford!oneoneoneexclamationpoint. Only without the ones.
(2) Well, Willow would, but...
(3) Well, aside from the sudden freaky channel-changing powers, but those are, like, sorta useful, so Xander doesn't expect them to last long.

soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)

Room 406, with deep dedication to an art project. For Shop.
Newspaper, with pertinent, if incomplete, Mountie-information.
Shop class, with KABOOM!
Dewey's office, with annoying note.
Dream's office, with lack of good news.
Jack's poster, with anticlimactic information.
Magical Theory, with the Salem Witch Trials.
2nd floor common room, with possessed TV, random dismemberment and - relax and take a deep breath, because this might come as a bit of a shock around here, but -- boykissing.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)


Unsent:

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.

~Xander

__

Sent:

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

soldtoarmenians: (Default)


When Xander got back from the movies, with a quarter-full box of doughnuts and a small bag of Wonka's candy, sadly without much in the way of stuff for his Shop homework aside from a bottle of that resident freebie survival kit item 'Special Water', and strangely amnesiac about what film might even have been playing, let alone the plot, he checked his e-mail to find one from Parker.

And that was. Yeah. Darla. In jail = good. Claiming she's got a soul = Bitch, Please. This did not bode well. It didn't even bode neutral. It was a bad, bad, bode.

But she was in jail, at least, so right now? Xander's number one priority was getting his shirt down to the laundry room before those custard stains set.

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.

To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.edu
Subject: Catching up on my So Called alleged life

Dear Willow )
soldtoarmenians: (message)


Xander ( slammed out of his room ) carrying a whiteboard and a black dry-erase marker under his arm, heading for... well... anywhere away from there. Anywhere that hopefully contained no singing.

He may have looked a little odd, what with the large piece of duct tape over his mouth.

soldtoarmenians: (smile)
A wee bit of computing... (4th period) - in which Xander may have sent a distracted e-mail or two.
Art History (5th & 6th period) - in which Our Heroes Did Things With Doughnuts.
Study Group: Checking in with the Support Team (after 6th period) - in which someone was hugged by someone's ex-girlfriend, beers were mentioned, and there was a cat who might have been right, but Xander will never admit it, yo.
Study-group: Mountie-distraction (evening, during the vampire hunts party) - in which. Well, in which. Indeed.
soldtoarmenians: (reading)
Xander might have been zipping everything he never ever ever wanted anyone to see on his computer into one big file marked DO NOT OPEN ME, YOU'LL ONLY REGRET IT, hiding that down in \system\boringstuff, and putting a password {twinkies} on it that no one {twinkies} would ever {twinkies} guess, in a million {twinkies} years.

And then he might have been surfing the web and downloading a little music. Possibly.

But if he was, you couldn't see him unless you were hacking the school network or something, because the door was closed.

And it was research. For study group. Really.
__
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.edu
Time: 11:47 FHT
Subject: re: Amy (was re: re: re: Muppet chickens...)

No, I did not lick the hat.

~Xander
__

To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.edu
Time: 11:49 FHT
Subject: re: Amy (was re: re: re: Muppet chickens...)

FROG. I did not lick the FROG.

~Xander
___

{credit, yo} )
soldtoarmenians: (willow)
To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Subject: Amy (was re: re: re: Muppet chickens...)

Xander, have you been licking the frog again?

Love, Willow
soldtoarmenians: (huh.)
After Creature Languages, where today's classroom guest had given Xander more than a little pause in his thoughts about helping out a certain friend back home, he found himself just generally thinking too much. Which is always dangerous, but especially for Xanders.

When he got back to his room in the evening, he opened the window to let in some fresh air, and sat down on his bed with his laptop. After reading and responding to an e-mail from Rory, he grabbed his headphones to listen to the podcast of last night's radio show, and started composing an e-mail of his own )

At which point, Jaye said something about Rita Skeeter, Michael Bolton started singing in Xander's ear, and he ripped the headphones off in horror.

Only to hear more singing in his ear. Well, if his ear were hanging out the window, since the voice was outside.

"Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for youooOOooOOooo..."

Xander blinked, sat up, and did stick his ear out the window. Along with the rest of his head.

And looked down for quite a while.

Eventually he typed again, though

~~~

Whoa, he can sing. So much better than an unexpected Bolton attack. Also? Really nice hat.

Love,
Xander


~~~

was a little lacking in sequitur-ness, and probably likely to make Willow ask him if he'd been licking the frog again. Not that he'd ever licked the frog before.
____

1 )
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Xander was having that stupid dream about the penguins in the bus station again. Only this time they had detonators strapped to their backs, and there was a bear in a mountie hat trying to defuse them, one by one.

Somewhere in the distance, one of the penguins exploded.

He muttered, "Serves you right for boycotting the Ice Capades" aloud, then buried his head under his pillow again.
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: re: re: re: Muppet chickens R Us

> But how do you know they're muppet chickens, as opposed to the regular kind?

Their cock...comb thingies are made of felt. Plus they have visible stitching.

Meanwhile? We have a new security guy, after the big white balloon thing took off. He's a Mountie. Red suit and everything; I kid you not. (No, I have no idea why you wouldn't believe the Mountie after the female roommate and the muppet chickens.) Very polite. He climbed out our window to rescue somebody on the floor below us.

I like his hat.

~Xander

__
{ooc: No, you didn't miss intervening e-mails. It's just a random sneak-peak because player is tired of lame narration.}

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