guilty as charged, tuesday afternoon

[necroslacker]

Natalie was gone to Montreal which left Sam alone. After this weekend, it wasn't the greatest feeling but at least he was himself and he could be out and about and didn't have to hide.

So, he had the front door of the shop wide open, letting the heat come in while he went to work on repairing a few skateboards and stocking inventory that had come in over the weekend.

Turtle and Canary, Tuesday

[catchmeifyoucan.livejournal.com]

It was Tuesday already, and Frank still hadn't gotten over everything that had happened last week.

-- Oh, did you think he was wallowing in despair or something like that? No, no, no, no, no. What Frank still hadn't gotten over was how much fun it had been, secretly being a rebel and then finally helping to break everyone out of detention to help overthrow the evil regime and all that. It was exacty the kind of thing he'd like to put in a letter home to brag to his dad about... but of course that would be a terrible plan, because as with all of Fandom's bouts of wackiness, you sort of had to be there.

So today he was whistling to himself as he ambled around the store, running that whole locker thing over in his head a bunch of times and being very pleased with himself.

Turtle and Canary was open!

The Arms Hotel Lobby, Tuesday

[montecito-east.livejournal.com]

Mary was running late today. Not only had she overslept, but she'd been having nightmares about being chased by werewolves wearing pink sweaters. Needless to say, she was a bit cranky today. Her mood was not improved when Gunther showed up with his arm in a sling, claiming that his arm still hurt from when his alternate self got injured last week. Mary considered explaining alternate universes to Gunther again, but decided she didn't have the patience for it.

Welcome to the Arms Hotel
Today's Specials
Chicken with Herb-Roasted Potatoes
Berry, Coconut and Meringue Pie


[Open! The OCD did not stick the landing and will not be going to the all-around final.]

Caritas- Tuesday

[throughaphase]

It was still a little weird reconciling what the place was last week with what it always had been. That said, Kitty was also taking advantage of it with the special.

Say the password, get a free drink!

Of course, as the password was "Hawkeye" there were probably a select few who'd guess it if they didn't already know it. Blame Clint, okay?


[Yeah, so I didn't work out how anyone would get the password, so Idk. Magic of handwavy or whatever. Some SP, work, yadda yadda.]

Class: Psionics for the Headblind Herd, The Community Center, Tuesday Evening

[icecoldfrost]

"So apparently some of you had commonsense knocked out of your skull last week by the pink abomination." Emma was clearly very supportive. Or something. "And while I mentioned before you can't keep a trained and determined telepath - or magic - out of your brain, you can make them work at it."

"So today you're going to learn how to shore-up your own automatic mental shields, and hopefully a few other tricks."

"Now the first thing to remember is this: Your mind is your reality. I'm not going to get in a psionic catfight with someone in their own brain, as that gives them the home field advantage. I'm going to bring it into my space, where I get to write the laws of reality."

"So I want you all to come up with a 'safe spot' in your brain. A happy memory, an imaginary place, something you can visualize easily and will never forget. If you can't think of something, pair up with someone else and brainstorm an idea."

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center - Tuesday

[xxlstretchpants.livejournal.com]

Bruce was behind the counter today poking halfheartedly at the keyboard of his beat up laptop.

Inventory had been done and the meditation area had been tidied up. The option to meditate was there for Bruce but write now zoning out in front of a computer had it's own merits.

It was a geek method of mediation. Really.

Stark Industries, Tuesday, July 31

[ultron_junior]

There was no singing going on at the repair shop today. Not much repairing, either, though Victor made a few token feints in that direction so none of the other employees would be slammed because the Tuesday guy was a slacker.

He was still preoccupied by how Wrong the week before had been. He'd run some virus and firewall upgrades after he met Electroclash, but he was haunted by the fear they wouldn't be enough if somebody really wanted to get in. So the code he was examining for security flaws on the laptop screens near the back of the shop? Those would be the lines that made Victor, Victor.

If he ignored what even he had to admit was a bit of an uncanny valley factor, it was ... actually kind of beautiful.

[OOC: Open shop!]

J,GoB Tuesday Evening

[stykera]

Stark had spent most of the day outside. A week of being locked up tends to lead to that sort of thing, even if it was a week spent in another reality. A reality which had been lacking in many things, like freedom and real food and fresh air.

Eventually he made his way to JGoB. He hadn't given in to the cupcake craving yet but now seemed a fine time for something extremely chocolatey. So Stark was now seated at a table with a good view of the street and working his way through an oversized cupcake that probably contained a week's worth of chocolate. A week's worth seemed reasonable to him, considering. The 2nd cupcake that was in a box on the table in front of him was less reasonable but Stark wasn't going to let that stop him.

[I have no cupcakes. But there is leftover birthday cake in the fridge. Also this is open.]

Everything But The Monkey, Tuesday

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

After classes, Kenzi went and picked up - in both senses - Arietty, and headed down to town with the fashion-doll sized girl to pick out her own personal transportation.

"Have you thought about a gerbil, maybe?"

[for she who is mentioned, although clearly open if you're getting a pet]

Graveyard [Tuesday, Evening]

[withasword.livejournal.com]

Kate was so damn over this week, last week, and by that count, the best part of the past month.

On any normal day, she might go hit something, but she was miraculously all out of untapped violence and kind of achy. Besides, she’d celebrated this particular day exactly like that last year and variety was the (slightly depressing) spice of life.

Her nice and believable Bruce-supplied fake ID had got her as far as a couple of bottles of Boone’s Farm hard lemonade, and there was a perfectly servicable gravestone to prop herself up against while she raised a small toast to Voron.

No, it wasn’t her father’s grave, but this was about as close to having a drink with him as she was going to get these days, without taking a long trip back to Savannah. It would have to do.

[[ open... graveyard, should anyone else be likely to wander there on an evening. ]]