Fandom High Dormitories

Never leave decorating for a party to the mellow. There were some streamers tossed around and one of those fold-out crinkly hanging ball things dangling from a string that was duct taped to the ceiling. A stack of festive party hats tilted rather precariously on top of Jude's displaced stereo, which was playing something bouncy and probably from before he was born.

Food, however, was an excellent thing to leave to the mellow. Well, to the Jude anyway. A mismatched array of bowls held a mismatched yet delicious array of snacks and there were drinks of all kinds "liberated" from every common room that had anything in the fridge. Sadly, there were no milkshakes. Most of Jude's efforts had been put into the cake. The triple-layer (the base in chocolate, the middle slab in white, and the top in orange) cake decorated in as many clashing colours of icing as Jude could find. There was bright orange trim with purple and blue rosettes wherever he could fit them, and 'happy birthday, Rikku' in shaky cursive across the very top in hot pink. Sprinkles, marzipan, and gum drops were present in abundance. It was a cavity waiting to happen. And Jude was making sure no one touched it until all sixteen candles had been blown out.

Of course, until then, he was just going to sing "Sixteen Candles" to himself. A lot.

[[Rikku's impromptu birthday party is now open! OCD coming up, go and play!]]

Jude had ordered flowers for his mother and when he had called early that afternoon she had already gotten them and loved them. The rest of his cabin would have been treated to an hour of half a conversation in rapid-fire Polish, followed by Jude being a little mopey and homesick. So now he was chilling by the fire and trying not to miss his parents and the gang too much.

[[Ze campfire, she ees open.]]

It was Friday the 13th. Which meant that Jude had to preempt the bad Friday the 13th mojo, combined with reality-breaking girlfriend, with a movie marathon of horror flicks so bad that if they didn't already have their own episode of MST3K, they really, really should.

He had popcorn. He had one of those hats that provided a constant supply of cream soda from two cans. He had leftover Easter candy. He was totally set. No bad mojo here, nuh uh.

They had talked about it. They had done a bit of possibly-less-than-platonic practising for it. But now, after massive downpours and genderswapping bad vibes and boosted by the happy presence of penguins, they were actually doing it.

Jude and Blair were standing in front of the dorms, holding aloft their large yet simple signs:

'FREE HUGS'

[[Based on this dude. Blair modded with permission and will make a subthread when she gets up. There are extra signs if you want to join in, just make a new thread to be hugged.]]

Rubbing his eyes but pretty much recovered from his transit-induced nap, Jude rolled into the lobby with his backpack slung over his back and glittering suspiciously. Toronto had been fun and his friends had been great - they had even hit the Bloor Cinema for that campy flick with Tim Curry in the fishnets last Friday - but there was just something about Fandom that made it good to be home.

Okay, there was a bunch of specific things about Fandom that made it good to be home.

Jude had decided that it was too cold to skateboard outside.

Thus, skateboarding inside.

Besides, he had an audience. He had named the big coconut on the left Mongo. The little one was Caitlin. The two that kept bumping into everything were Little Jude and Jude Jr. It went on.

[[So very open.]]

After Starr had dumped him, Jude had disappeared for three straight days of the highest quality zombie cinema. Since he hadn't actually been dumped, his turnaround time was quicker. Which is why, with no skatepark to escape to and no working leg to skate with, he emerged from his room and headed for the roof, curling up on the ledge with his cast dangling over, leaving white plaster marks on the brick.

Life is weird sometimes was his general conclusion.

[[Open for nightowls.]]

It's not Saturday. Jude had been a little preoccupied with his presentation yesterday to perform his usual pancakes-onna-stick ritual. But he was here, balancing on his good leg, his crutches banging against the stove every time he moved, studying and chirping in Starling as he flipped pancakes and tried to keep his notes away from the burner.

[[Open, but I may disappear abruptly for short stretches.]]