shatterverse | Recent Entries

notanoptimist.livejournal.com

There is a small group huddled over by the bunker, obviously deeply involved in serious work. In this case, the serious work is also known as 'art class.'

"Done!" Loo announces suddenly.

Sokka looks up, setting his pen down. "Lemme see."

Pleased, Loo shoves a piece of paper in his face. When he takes it to examine the drawings, she decides to chew on her crayons a bit.

Sokka grabs it out of her mouth and, in the same motion, tucks her up against his side. "This is beautiful," he informs her, grinning. "Who's this?"

"Mom!"

"And this one?"

"S'eph!"

The introductions continue. The remaining art student stays devoted to her work, obviously far more dedicated than her uncle and sister.

neraiutsu.livejournal.com

Neil is sitting on the roof of the bunker, wearing a brown sweater with white stripes, eating a pear.

It's a nice day out: clear skies, no snow, chill but not too cold. That explains why he's not in the warm cosy kitchen.

eureka-bell.livejournal.com

In an encyclopeda, the axolotl is defined as a Mexican neotenic mole salamanders belonging to the Tiger Salamander complex. In practice, it is something like a cross between Kirby and a Wooper.

At twilight, one reddish-coloured specimen creeps a few centimetres onto the pond's bank. Its splayed-out gills quiver a little in the cool air, then stick together as the axolotl's mouth opens and it hoovers up a couple of hapless ants.

...Steve isn't sure how he's come to this point in his life, to be honest.

iluitu.livejournal.com

There is what should be a familiar flash of light and echoing bang that resonates for a moment before dropping out completely. The product of this being a young woman who is, more or less, about as frightened and confused as anyone in her position possibly could be.

"H-Hello?" She calls out, looking around from where she is sitting on the ground, "Hello...? Ly... Anyone...?"

littlestcooper

There are three places you might find Lucy today:

1. Flying away from the Cooper farm, carrying an empty sack, glossy black wings flapping industriously as she heads directly for the nearest source of pears.

2. Flying toward the Cooper farm, carrying a sack of pears, paying more attention to the ground and her surroundings and flying a little slower now that her mission is complete.

3. Sitting in the kitchen of the Cooper farmhouse, human-shaped, munching on a tasty fresh pear with the rest piled high in a very large bowl on the table in front of her.

theresnodoor

Rachel. Finally. Healed.

And almost the exact moment she realized that the wound on her chest had lightened and faded into a permanent scar, she was out the door of the now-spotless apartment, on the street, around the corner, up the ladder, onto the roof and morphing.

Sweet, sweet, powerful, wonderful, unimaginable morphing.

The eagle. Oh, the eagle and it's incredible eyesight, the warm thermals off the blacktop sending huge clouds of hot air billowing up under her wings, sending her straight up into the air, one hundred, two hundred, five hundred feet straight up off the ground. The lake she saw miles away, counting blades of grass on the shore twenty minutes before she got there, then diving screaming straight down, talons flared and wonderful screeching predator cry. Scraping a fish with the talons and letting it go, wings flared and almost ricocheting back up into the air, so fast and sharp.

Landing in the nearby woods and demorphing, then just as quickly, morphed again. Huge and powerful, oh yes, the bear, her bear, her grizzly. Thick coarse brown fur and horrible beady nearsighted eyes, thick corded muscle, nothing in the world could stop her. Rearing up on her back legs to a great height of eight feet, cute little fuzzy ears brushing the leaves as she swung a paw as big as a frying pan and cracked a thick branch so hard that it split and fell from the tree with an almighty crunch that shot through the forest like a gun. Dropping to all fours and barreling through the forest at breakneck speed (for a bear), feeling brambles and thorns tear at her coat and do absolutely no damage through the thickness of it.

Demorphing when she reaches the lake, wading in, morphing again. And joy of wondrous joys, the dolphin. Her body, seven feet long and sleek shiny gray, rubbery and thick. But the joy, unadulterated in childlike innocence. Diving and leaping, clicking her song to everyone, play with me, come play! Chasing fish she has no intention of catching, diving deep to let the plants tickle her belly, shooting up out into the air, feeling it warm her wet skin, then burying herself deep into the water and clicking off more squealing sounds of utter happiness.

Demorphing. Back to eagle. Pumping her wings hard to get up off the ground and riding thermals for what must have been close to two hours before she finally forced herself to return home. Demorphing on the rooftop, climbing down the ladder, around the corner, up the street, through the door, and without word or explanation, collapsing on her mattress and sleeping for ten hours. Dreamless, sweet sleep of the utterly exhausted.

It's one of the best days she's had since arriving in this world.

ihavettk.livejournal.com

"Agh, what the sprock?" Flash bang. One minute, he and Superman were getting ready to head back from the 30th century so that Kon could finally rejoin his friends and family after being dead of all things, and now he's... somewhere? He flies up to get a better view. Hawaii, apparently. Though it doesn't look like it did last time he was here. And Kal's nowhere in sight.

"How long was I dead?" he wonders aloud, looking around. "Uh, Superman?" He isn't quite shouting. But even a quick look around with a combination of x-ray and telescopic vision shows no bright red cape. "Kal? HELLO? ANYBODY?"

This is definitely Earth. Definitely Hawaii.

He isn't quite sure what to do now. So he starts flying towards Metropolis. Maybe Kal's there. Or someone at least.

mark-of-samael.livejournal.com

Alessa is often in two places.

Sometimes, she is awake, and then she is in one place. Right now, that place is the hospital on the farm, where she's gradually healing from third-degree burns on most of her body (and complications thereof). She's been supplied with a small array of entertaining items, including paper and crayons and a few books. She's also got a window, which is nice. It's been a long time since she's been able to truly see the outside.

Sometimes, however, she's not awake, and then she's outside of the hospital, outside of her body, and walking, not burned. And trying to puzzle out what's going on with this new place. Everything is Different! But not in an entirely terrifying way!

In both cases, she can be called upon to interact somewhat. If you're into that sort of thing.

95-tan.livejournal.com

Are you living on the farm? Are you passingly familiar to Windows 95?

THEN YOU ARE GETTING A SWEATER. NO, YOU DO NOT GET A SAY IN THIS. The pikachu and the crobat have somehow gotten wrangled into one each, and are trying to get used to this new thing a small distance away from the porch, where 95 is sitting and knitting, with a growing pile of knitted goods.

To redeem your sweater, please speak with any available representative. Which would be 95.

bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com

Title: Geography: Without Polaris, part II
Character/s: Renne
Location: London, England, ShatterEarth
Rating: G
Status: Open

He didn't know where the Lucy being had gone.

All he knew was that this quiet, ghostly ruin of a city was both fascinating and frightening all at once. He'd resolved to explore it, accept it with its curiosities and its dangers.
It was time to press on.

Chirping quietly, the creature bumbles over a broken road, past the skeletons of buildings and eventually, down a once-proud and thriving thoroughfare. That thoroughfare is not proud and thriving anymore except with the remnants of civilisation and the creeping plants perhaps destined to take the city back to nature. He keeps on going, despite the increasing number of bumps, scrapes and scratches accumulating -- that always comes with the territory of true-blindness and having neither the ability to walk upright nor the knowledge of cane training. Still, all that is minor compared to what he finally finds himself facing.

He doesn't know what Westminster Abbey is. Or was. He doesn't know the place's significance. He understands large buildings from the acoustics inside them and such size is immediately understood. His chirps echo through once-hallowed halls.
His feet and almost pawlike hands patter on the dull marble floor.

Renne chirps at a broken pew that has the audacity to be an obstacle and thunk him in the face.

Current Mood: curious
Current Location: Westminster Abbey, London, England, ShatterEarth
Current Music: "Pyramix" ~ Kheops

not-scully.livejournal.com

So Sam hasn't seen Leah in a while. He does that a lot - disappears, doesn't see people for a long time. Always has (exception: Stanford) but it's only been recently that he feels bad for it. It isn't hunts keeping him away, it's other things.

Like trips to Lawrence and strange conversations with Jo.

Which is why he made his most recent trip to Metropolis, otherwise known as Operation: Go To The Farm To Retrieve Fruit As A Gift For Your Friend So She Doesn't Glare At You (How Does She Do That?).

The Porsche pulls to a stop outside Leah's apartment and Sam gets out a grocery bag in his arms. Leah gets a lot of favors from all kinds of people. He's hoping no one's brought her peaches, apples, and pineapple in a while.

littlegal-lost.livejournal.com

Jordan has three traveling companions. One of them is an excitable young man, easily and also currently excited (and has been excited for several months). One of them is also excited, but much better at hiding it - and also pregnant. The last one is hungry.

Journey whines softly beside her feet. Jordan shifts a foot to quiet her, not wanting to put her gun down. She could hear the geese coming from nearly a mile away and has been waiting for them to clear the trees.

And then they'll all have dinner.

damf-ingenieur.livejournal.com

Something is wrong here. Wilhelm knows this, because he did not wake up in his workshop this morning, but in the middle of rubble somewhere he didn't exactly recognize. Perhaps it was New York City, but it looked different from pictures in books that he had read as a child. Everything was broken and Wrong.

He checked his pockets for his derringer and a heavy wrench, because nothing seemed safe about this place and he needed some form of defense. Nodding and adjusting his cap, he set out.

Current Location: New York (?)

littlestcooper

Somewhere in New York, there is a gravestone. A five-foot-tall boulder, roughly square and about three feet wide on every side, but lumpy and uneven. The word RENEE is gouged into the flattest side.

Today, there is a girl sitting on top of it with her knees drawn up to her chest and a canvas bag perched beside her. Every so often, she takes an apple out of the bag, eats it, and tosses the core onto the rubble-covered ground.

tobeclosetohim

Jo's feeling more like herself. Right now, that means she's restless.

As much as she's missed feeling restless, it's such a restless feeling. She's pacing, flipping the smaller dagger in her right hand back and forth, over and through her fingers, in a motion she's not even paying attention to. She knows this feeling. She knows where it's heading.

And she's just masochistic enough (again .. finally) to be debating between drawing it out, holding it off, waiting out the game of the thunder waking up in her veins more each day, until she snaps or going out and finding a fight now.

slayer_fray

There are three people sitting out on the grass by the farm house.

Three people and a cake.

Three people and a cake, and some presents.

Three people, a cake, some presents and party equipment.

One of the paper blowers is already on fire.

Say this about the Frays: They can throw a party.

twiceahero.livejournal.com

Barbara Gordon can't really 'go for a walk', but even she sometimes needs fresh air. She really misses her car from back home. They haven't had time to modify any of the recovered vehicles here for use by a woman with no working legs, and that means she can't actually go too far from the farm. Still, she goes as far as she can. It's not far but it gives her at least the illusion of distance. Of solitude.

At least if she ignores the laptop tucked under her seat which will give her a signal if any7 of a dozen of her algorithmic alarms go off.

victoryisboring.livejournal.com

The shock of actually finding the source of all that light had been enough for Mai to actually show an expression. Because cities weren't supposed to be that big. Buildings couldn't be built at that scale. She hadn't said anything, and it was a good thing for Zheng that he didn't say anything because she would probably have bit his head off.

She had urged caution, of course, and that had resulted in them bedding down in an alleyway. The city had set her even more on edge, so she hadn't slept well. Which was why she was awake during Zheng's watch when the group of would-be muggers showed up and were promptly bruised and bloodied. And then again a few hours later when a pitiful child had wandered into their alley begging for help.

Mai had suggested that the child should find help elsewhere, but Zheng was... well, unsurprisingly he wanted to provide assistance despite the fact that they had almost no supplies. So Mai had told him he was free to do what he wanted and waved him off.

Then she'd followed them at a distance. She knew he was liable to get himself into trouble and need to extract himself. Not that she cared much about his survival in general, but she needed someone she trusted (as much as she trusted anyone) to share watch with during the nights.

All of which explains why she is now standing on a fire escape outside a room with its windows busted out listening to the idiots inside taunting Zheng for being so gullible. Oh, the child had needed help, of course, but that's because some morons with guns had shot his mother in the leg and forced him to draw out the man who had beat up their friends earlier.

Mai pinches the bridge of her nose and suppresses a sigh as she angles one of her blades slightly past the edge of the window frame in order to see into the room. A half-dozen scraggly men with guns, a woman on the floor still bleeding, the boy who had come into the alleyway, and relatively attractive girl of about seventeen with yellow hair, and Zheng.

Zheng, who she knows can take out all six of the idiots without getting shot himself, but who is hesitating because there might be collateral damage. Sometimes his naivete is really aggravating.

"Not feeling so tough now, are you?" one of the men with the guns taunted, aiming a kick at Zheng's ribs.

bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com

Character/s: Renne
Time Period: Post-Apocalyptic / Cross-Time
Location: England, London outskirts
Relative Date: A few days after Renne's arrival
Rating: G (so far)
Status: In Progress

He'd always wanted to explore England, the land of one of his heroes.

What he didn't expect however, was that strange creature to have suddenly disappeared. Renne had pondered on that while he continued to wander across the strange ground and had come up with his only working theory: The creature called Ricky was either a slave and wanted to remain one or, was not a slave. Not a slave and had a job, perhaps like a sailor on a ship with a Captain and all. Or was he a student with a teacher?

Ponderous questions but the waning day bade him to think about more pressing things like food and shelter.

Some days had by now passed and Renne finds himself on the outskirts of an eerily silent place. By the acoustics, he can tell it's something similar to a city, or what once was a city. The eerie silence and how his chirps echo off of the tall, skeletal things that used to be functioning buildings sends a chill down his back. Yet he presses on, crawling carefully onto what he recognises as a semblance of a paved street.
Having not a clue where he is except that he's on a planet that isn't the place he used to be, the blue-skinned beastie clutches a plushie against himself and bumbles down the thoroughfare.

He'd found food and had sufficient shelter for when he'd slept. Now, his goal is to find out just where he is. And maybe, find out if he's not entirely alone. Logically, if that strange Ricky fellow had been present, others might be as well. Renne had doen the solitude thing before and after a time, the silence had gotten to him.

And besides, exploring isn't quite as exciting when you do it on your own.

----------------

(( OOC: ::peer:: Ello? ))

Current Mood: puzzled
Current Location: England, ShatterEarth
Current Music: "Halls of Montezuma" ~ Cusco

shatter-brought.livejournal.com

Do you know why this world is hateful?

It's not just because of the complete lack of the Dark Lord. It's not because there are far too many muggles around.

I's not even that her wand was broken.

It's that her wand was broken by muggles and then she was put in a box that flew and then she was left in the middle of a really hot, dry nowhere without her wand. And all she did was a little unforgiveable curse.

But what's most hateful about this world is that two men have just taken her prisoner and have tied her up and now they're bickering. With each other.

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Page generated Jul. 8th, 2025 11:59 pm

Shatterverse Panfandom RP

Recent Entries

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a little ways from the safe zone's border...

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Intro type thing

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Farmhouse: Joint 95/Crobat/Pikachu

Without Polaris II

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Metropolis

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Geography 101: Without Polaris

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