Monday Morning: The Park

[xxlstretchpants.livejournal.com]

When the timeline had reverted itself so had Bruce. Instead of finding himself in the duck pond he had been in the preserve.

Still wearing purple pants.

But that was yesterday. Today Bruce was in the park sitting underneath a tree and meditating. Granted he could have gone to Wellspring but with the memories of being trapped in detention the outdoors had a simple appeal to it all.

Heck, even a little sunburn would feel nice to Bruce after everything thing that had happened.

[Open!]

The Streets (and Rooftops) of Fandom, Monday

[so_hawkward]

So, drinking with Tony last night probably hadn't been the smartest idea in the world. Now, instead of being plagued by memories, he was plagued by memories and hungover.

He'd gotten mind controlled again. He'd killed people again - children this time, and... last time he'd only been an accessory to Coulson's death. This time, the blood was on his hands, and he couldn't get the image out of his mind. Sure, Tony said none of it would stick and everyone would be fine today, but that didn't change the kind of person Clint had been turned into.

As wrong as it might have seemed, he found himself back on one of the rooftops in town, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge and looking out at the town. The worst part about the past week was how close he'd been to his usual self, and while he wasn't quite ready to practice with his bow, he wasn't about to let this place take the peace of high places away from him. Maybe if he sat here long enough, he'd start to feel better, if he deserved that.

[Open!]

Outside Devil's Nest, Monday Morning

[bitten_notshy]

Jack supposed he needed to go to work today before he could head to the mainland to meet his housemates. But he wasn't in a mood to spend any more time inside than was absolutely necessary; memories from detention meant that he'd gotten all the inside one man needed a week before.

He carried a laptop and a pile of files to a sidewalk bench near the club's doors and went to work. Sometimes the wind through the trees or the passing butterflies were far more interesting to him than anything on his spreadsheets and order forms and travel-booking sites, but that seemed entirely forgivable.

[OOC: Open post!]

Magic Box, Monday

[harpy-daughter.livejournal.com]

Considering that hiding out from a power-hungry older witch and her minions was the entire reason Surreal was in Fandom in the first place, she was actually taking the event of last week rather well.

...if you definition of 'rather well' was getting into the voodoo dolls and stabbing them repeatedly or trying to light them on fire.

The Magic Box is open if ocd free, but 'ware the witch!

Cafe Luke's, Monday

[gastronomistic]

Vincent was currently involved in what could easily be described as "COOK ALL THE THINGS". Spending a week having to be cautious of a tyrannical regime had lead to some serious cooking withdrawal for him, and he had a whole freezer full of high quality ingredients to make use of.

Today's specials:
Absolutely anything you want

No really. Luke's was open.

The Perk, Monday afternoon

[blondecanary.livejournal.com]

Dinah had left several phone messages for people who she hadn't managed to track down last night. It was one thing to be pretty sure someone was alive, or mostly okay, another to see them. Plus, she owed people, too, from that other 'verse.

So she was here, drinking the biggest cocoa with whipped cream and eating the biggest chocolate chip muffin she could get her hands on.

[ooc: open, and if you think you got a phone call, you did.]

Caritas, Monday

[shagthis.livejournal.com]

Jake had woken up at some point in the mid-afternoon sprawled out on the ground in front of the duck pond, a flamingo chewing on his hair.

Which wasn't actually all that unusual, mind, so it wasn't until he got into Caritas and was hit with some vague memories of it having been a restaurant that he realized that weird-ass dream probably hadn't been a dream after all.

Lord God, where was that maple vodka? He had a feeling he'd be needing rather a lot of it tonight. For himself, if no one else.

Office of the Fandom Island Gazette, Monday

[all-the-news.livejournal.com]

Finally having peeled himself away from hugging his full sized automated printing press, boxes of fresh clean INEDIBLE TREE PULP paper, and ink that didn't taste or smell like beets, Carl headed to the Editor's office and his tape recorder.

He needed to do some research into what all had happened, but first he wanted to get what he remembered recorded. He pressed the record button, then leaned his chin on his palm, trying to figure out where to begin...

"The past. It's something we hold as firm and unchanging. As the ancient Greek poet and playwright Agathon is recorded to have once said, 'Even God cannot change the past.'

"Unfortunately, as I've learned over the last few days, this is not true..."

Carl went quiet after that, musing over what he could remember and what he was about to say next. Finally he reached into his desk and grabbed a notebook and marker.

The front of the Gazette building now had the following sign taped up, in BIG letters:

SPECIAL MIDWEEK EDITION OF THE FANDOM ISLAND GAZETTE OPEN / ANONYMOUS LETTERS ACCEPTED FOR PRINT FREE AD SPACE AVAILABLE SUBMISSIONS ACCEPTED THIS WEEK ONLY

[OOC: if you're looking to talk to Carl, I'm SP due to works stuffs until 7EST. Any ads or IC-anon letters you can leave in the post box and they will be published in a Gazette post Wednesday!]

The Gig, Monday

[whitequeensfire.livejournal.com]

Angelica still wasn't sure what the heck had happened last week. She just knew she had twice as many reasons to hate pink now. First the awful Hellion uniforms, then Umbridge. Ugh.

But it felt good to get back into routine, and she was relieved the horses all seemed none the worse for wear. If they were aware of anything having changed, they'd all just shrugged it off.

J, GOB [Monday evening]

[justwantsquiet.livejournal.com]

Sookie had died last week. That probably entitled her to being able to eat a ton of cupcakes, right? Like, all the cupcakes.

Okay maybe not all of them, but she was curled up at a table with a pretty intense assortment of them and a chocolate milk (see, wholesome), and, of course, her phone.

She'd hesitated over sending the text to a few of her friends, but she figured she ought to get the word out to people she hadn't seen last night -- there might be people who didn't know she was okay, and honestly, she wasn't sure she was. But at least she was alive, and from what she could tell, the dying-in-an-alternate-universe thing kind of freaked out a few people.

[open! if you think you got a text, you did. :)]