Fandom High Dormitories

Wayne may have been feeling just a little bit...funneh that morning (the highlights on hockeyfights.com that he started his day with were always exciting, sure, but never exactly that exciting), but it seemed as though he weren't the only thing funneh about this morning. Oh, well, sure, things were on track with breakfast, fer the most part, all the proper food in the fridge, the cabinets regular cabinets again, and he got started on the coffee and the prep work jus' fine, but the problem seemed to be the pancakes. Not how they tasted, or anything like that, and mebbe it was just him, but he could have sworn, every time he poured a pancake into the pan, it just wound up looking...

Well. He wasn't sure there was really a polite way to put it. But they ended up looking very much not like pancakes, and much more like...well...

There was no polite way to say it, so he wouldn't say it at all.

He almost thought that, if the pancakes were gonna go and insist on being...funneh, then maybe he should skip the pancakes all together. But his sense for tradition was far stronger than his sense for propriety, and so it seemed like all them inappropriately suggestive pancake shapes were here to stay.

Which he may have then regretted, as it seemed his initial consideration of the normal foods was incorrect, or, at least, it had changed while writing the post while he cooked, because it appeared as though all the usual maple syrup to accompany said pancakes had definitely been replaced with...whipped cream.

"Inappropriate!" he told the fridge after squinting at it in disapproval, but what could he do? Alls he wanted was to have a nice Monday morning breakfast, because, y'know. Tradition.

[[ open breakfast is open! And sex pollen weekend has already broken my computer, as it has literally crashed every single time I've made a post so far today. Thanks, computer! ]]

Wayne fucking loved Christmas, there was no doubt about that, and, by the time he'd finished with everything back at the farm, there was hardly any time left before Christmas, and it didn't make a whole lot of sense to go back to school for maybe two whole fucking classes and then go right on back to Letterkenny for Christmas, so he'd pert'near decided to just stay put for a while. But now that Christmas and Boxing Day was out of the way, it looked like he was heading on back finally.

And straight into an Impromptu (but not really, since he'd been planning it, just didn't tell anyone) Belated Christmas Party.

Look. He had gifts for everyone, you see, and giving out gifts during a Christmas party was tradition, and everyone knew how Wayne felt about tradition. Even if it was December 28th. But fuck all if Fandom ever really cared about things like proper dates and reality and what-have-you in the first place.

He may have even sent out a few messages. He may have also sent squirrels out to alert people, feeling like a real fuckin' Disney princess over here, and then he got things set up, which mostly just involved food and stuff for Christmas drinks (classy ones, though, gotta keep it classy until midnight, when it would be time for the Three Wisemen), Christmas movies on rotation on the TV, and Wayne, set off to the side in an armchair with a small little Christmas tree sitting on a table beside him (because a tree was tradition), ready to dole out gifts.

He made sure the first gift went out to Prompto, though, because while he really didn't care too much for the weird skid kid, he was still a friend and Nina's brother now, apparentleh, so he got a gift, and an important one for the night, too. Prompto was no Bonnie McMurray, but he was a good photographer, so Wayne could entrust in him a disposable camera to keep all the memories of the night.

If the guy would ever stop gushing over the fact that Wayne had even gotten him anything and was giving him such an important task, to the point where Wayne just had to interrupt with a very firm, "Well, pitter-patter," and told Prompto to just send the next person over already.

It probably wouldn't be the best fucking Christmas ever, but it was still probably going to be a pretty darn good one.

[[ impromptu (but not really because I've been mostly planning this for weeks now) belated christmas party OCD is on the way up! Let's get at 'er! Up stupid early because I have to be at work stupid early, and a little SP more'n likeleh because of said stupid work, buuuuut I haaaaad to have Wayne do his Christmas gift thing! ]]

Wayne had been here long enough that, well, he could sort of regard something like all this chocolate in literally every single cabinet of the kitchen was something that could be turned into a 'life gives you lemons' situation, only it was with chocolate and not lemons.

Which was why the pancakes that morning were chocolate, and Wayne whipped them up alongside a few prepared defenses for said chocolate, knowing how sometimes Nina seemed to get a little squirrely about him actually deviating from his usual and making a fuss about it (and then turning right back around and likeleh accussing him of being too stubborn and stuck in his ways!).

It should be noted, though, that each and every pancake had precisely five pieces of chocolate in it. One at each corner, then one right in the middle, because anything more than that was just dessert.

[[ open breakfast is open! and posted before 8am my time because, apparentleh, if it's not posted by then, people start lookin' to steal it ]]

As far as the sort of tomfuckery this island liked to throw around all over the place, the last weekend actually hadn't been too bad, but that didn't stop Wayne from just feeling glad to have woken up that morning back to his proper age again and having things get back into their usual swing of things, just in time for Monday Morning Brek'est Breakfast as normal.

Even if his reasons for being glad for this were about a good 50/50 split between just liking things to stay as normal as possibe around here and the fact that he'd run around calling his girlfriend Thuri.

And, oh, sure, he'd get over the lisp just fine. He'd done it once, he'd do it again. But it wasn't himself he was worried about getting over it, it was more other people, but if they had a lick of sense to 'em, they'd just forget about it and move on with their lives.

But that was usually the problem.

Either way, there was breakfast that morning, like pert'near every Monday morning, with all the usual things because somehow the island managed to provide enough in the fridge for it even if Wayne hadn't exactly had a chance to do his usual Sunday breakfast shopping that weekend.

[[ and of course, if it's brek'est, it's open! ]]

Wayne should have figured he'd had too many completely normal breakfasts in a row. And that morning was one of the particularleh annoying ones where it started out completely normal, and then went a little weird right toward the end. Because there he was, just going about his usual business of making breakfast in the morning, everything going along accordin' to plan, until he went to actually take the pancakes or the eggs or the bacon or whatever else it was out of the pan and onto a plate.

Because that was when the food suddenly went miniature.

Little mini pancakes. Little tiny eggs. Itty bitty bacon. Normal sized in the pan. Baby sized out.

"So's it's not only gotta be annoying," he grumbled at the food, "it's gotta be inefficient, too, huh?"

Because now he had to make at least twice as much food to equal the usual amount of food he'd put on a plate, and he'd found out it wasn't just the one pan, it was all the pans, and he also had to brace himself for at least a few of the usual breakfast crew probably going around talkin' about how cute all the mini food was.

But there was nothin' cute about inefficiency!

[[ and breakfast is served! Open! ]]

At some point last week, Wayne had been making some notes about some of the regionally inspired breakfasts they'd been having to carry on over to his own Monday Morning Breakfasts, but, really, when all was said and done, when he actually got to making breakfast that morning, he decided, fuck, all that was gonna do was make him him miss the place. Not necessarily miss bein' on vacation, he didn't really do well with idleness and vacations and things like that, but he had enjoyed the trip, and decided maybe getting back to the more traditional stuff could be in order jus' to sort of set up the idea that it was back to the old usual grind again.

So there were pancakes and eggs and bacon and what have you as per usual, and that was all well and dandy, but then there was the whole issue with the coffee, and the fact that what Wayne got when he brewed up a pot was less of life-giving bean juice and more midnight matinee horror show. Because what he got was definitely a pot of what was absolutely fake blood (because real blood didn't really look like that).

He sniffed it, made a face, and poured the whole pot right down the sink and rinsed it out (and the sink, too, lest it look like he was up to something decidedly not breakfast related around here), and tried again. Same thing. Dumped that, figgured mebbe the third time's a charm, but no such luck. Which left him to narrow his eyes at the coffee maker, squinting at it accusingly.

"Now, look here, bud," he said, fully aware that he was standing there, talking to a kitchen appliance, "if you've got a problem with coffee this morning, then you've got a problem with me, an' I suggest you let that one marinate!"

This island had put them through a lot of terrible things, sure but no coffee on a Monday morning after a vacation? Fuck a duck, that was just a whole new level of cruelty that Wayne almost couldn't stand to contemplate.

[[ My schedule's a bit wonky this week, so a bit of SP on my end, more'n likeleh, but open breakfast is definitely open! ]]