Goodvalor's Little Bivoli, Sunday

[godgavemecable.livejournal.com]

It was a new semester, and as Goodvalor's only currently-on-island employee, Toby was taking advantage of that to pick another day to come in for his shift.

He could swear the droids were giving him funny looks for his changing up of the routine. Yes, despite the fact that they really only had facial features in the loosest sense of the word. Toby just knew.

TODAY'S SPECIAL:
BLUEBERRY PIE A LA MODE

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Sunday

[firstnameagent.livejournal.com]

It was kind of a change of pace for Coulson to be back at his original Fandom job after working at MCA for several days, but he didn't mind it. It felt good to once again be surrounded by enough weapons for him to single-handedly turn back some forms of invasion. To commemorate this, Coulson was going to clean some of the display models since, you know, they mostly just sat there, locked up and unused by anyone or else. There was no sense in letting them get dusty.

The Devil's Nest- Sunday

[solo_sword]

While Jaina found herself missing home quite a bit after being back here almost a week, it was nice to get back to the things that had been routine, like work here, and class tomorrow.

It was not nice, however, to come back to the DJ thinking he was cute, and slipping Gangnam Style into the rotation every second or third song. Apparently we weren't letting that song die along with 2012.

Caritas, Sunday

[shagthis.livejournal.com]

It had taken some fast-talking, but Jake had managed to make a convincing argument to whatsisface (Guy, Jake. His name was Guy.) regarding trading days, so here he was.

In all his obnoxiously cheerful glory, given certain hockey-related news from earlier today.

Hmmm. Maybe he could come up with a drink to represent each team in the league? It'd keep him from getting bored, anyway. And keep him from attempting to ask the zombie band why they kept playing the wedding march.

The Perk [Sunday morning]

[professor-lyman.livejournal.com]

It was Sunday morning, which meant that Josh was out at a coffee shop (the Perk, rather than his usual DC neighborhood one) with a giant mug of black coffee in one hand and a copy of the Sunday New York Times in the other.

And the Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, and the Chicago Tribune, the Times of London and Le Monde (though he didn't speak French) in a pile on the table in front of him.

Shut up. He didn't have a problem. He was just trying to be informed.

And also he had a problem.

[Open!]