(no subject)

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph went into Smallville this morning (she has a project.)

She came home with not only several bags of groceries but also streamers, a handful of candles and -- after some consideration -- alcohol. Oh -- and a job. Smallville's been a lot busier since the apocalypse, with all the new folk arriving in Kansas, and Steph promptly and happily signed up to spend several days a week behind the bar, for several reasons: they can't rely on Lucy and Shay for food forever; next time they travel, money's probably gonna be useful; it's always good to get to know the people in town, especially if they're mostly kind of wary of the Cooper farm and its occasionally bizarre inhabitants; she can't train all day and they're running out of things to do; and also, importantly, Steph thinks she totally looks cute in an apron and skirt.

Now, mid-afternoon, she's in the kitchen, and the smell of baking bread is spreading through the house. There's a pot of tomato sauce simmering on the stove and a spread of chopped ingredients sprawling over the benches. Pizza night tonight!

(no subject)

[shockinglycute.livejournal.com]

There is something entirely different about the area. It is still grassy, but it is the wrong grass. In the wrong places. Also, the sky is different, the trees are wrong, and the air has a different smell to it.

Like mystery creatures that the little yellow thing does not know. It does not smell of any clefairy, jigglypuff, caterpie, ekans, or anything familiar.

The yellow thing takes a few moments to look around for any immediate danger, then to wait and see if the weirdness will fix itself.

It doesn't.

So, it is time to do the obvious thing, which is to wander around and see if anything here is edible.

(no subject)

[pragmatistical.livejournal.com]

The first thing that filters through Methos' addled brain after the thunderclap-and-smoke routine is that this is very definitely not the middle of Manhattan. He rolls to his feet, automatically checking for the gun, the Ivanhoe and his stiletto.

Check, check and check. All hidden underneath his trenchcoat.

The second thought is figure out where the hell he is. The third? Is spoken out loud in a somewhat British accent.

"Whose idea was it to put miles of grass and nothing else in the middle of New York state."

(no subject)

[vehicon-thrust.livejournal.com]

Thrust has been poking around, just sort of trying to see what he can see around the farm, and rather surprised he hasn't run into more humans.

Although really, when he considers the size of the farm, the height of the grass that's grown up in most of the fields, and the fact that humans don't have what he considers to be detectable energy signatures, maybe that's why more of them haven't come up and gone what the heck, big pink motorcycle! After all, humans seem to rely on video and audio stimulus almost exclusively, from what Thrust can tell.

So he wanders back towards the original structure-- hey, if they need a visual, he'll give them something visual.

Big pink riderless motorcycle, rolling along in plain sight, right there. Probably not the freakiest thing anybody's seen, but possibly the most brightly-colored.