Dite's Decadent Delights [Sunday]

[begmetwice.livejournal.com]

It wasn't Irene's usual day to go in to the shop, and in fact, Sundays were usually strictly reserved for leisure. But this morning, she'd woken up to a suitcase beside her bed that read DISLOYAL, and that had been...disarming.

On her walk into town, she'd nearly tripped over a (beautiful, leather) handbag emblazoned with NOT AS SMART AS SHE THINKS SHE IS.

And when she reached the shop, she'd decided she'd better open it, since she wasn't much in the mood to carry home an enormous trunk reading COWARD. She left it off to the side for now, instead posting a sign in the window.

BUY ONE, GET ONE FREE
For anyone with unwanted baggage today

When one found oneself in the midst of an annoying, inconvenient, embarrassing situation like this, one made lemonade. Or something.

The Causeway, Sunday Afternoon

[suitably_heroic]

The first thing to hit the island was an enormous trunk labeled, simply, WAR.

A second later, the individual who'd dropkicked it through the portal in the first place - one Atton Rand - followed it out.

And so did the rest of the travelers.

Welcome back to Fandom, all, where it is at least slightly warmer and there's actual electricity.

Atlas Gym, Sunday

[brainfreediet.livejournal.com]

If there was a silver lining to all of the forced self-introspection Flash had been through over the years, it was that he was dealing with the baggage surprisingly well. ALCOHOLIC? Of course he was, and he always would be. That's how that disease worked. BULLY? Flash tried to make up for his past every day. MADE YOUR MOM CRAZY was one of the main reasons Flash left New York. CRIPPLE. INSECURE. ALIEN MONSTER. Duh, duh, and duh.

When he returned to the desk after a break and found a new bag with SMELLS WEIRD, he knew the baggage was stretching.

The Beach - Sunday Night

[notasalad.livejournal.com]

After seeing the first bag appear Jayne decided to do something constructive with it.

Burn all the luggage.

So he was on the beach, in a beach chair drinking booze and tossing bag after bag into the fire and cackling like a mad man as they burned.

Hey. It's therapy. Kind of.