[identity profile] clockwork-son.livejournal.com
Gabriel.

Onna farm.

Sitting out by the bunker.

Moping.

He has a pillow with him, yoinked from the living room.
[identity profile] clockwork-son.livejournal.com
Gabriel is grumpy.

Grump, grump.

He fed Spots, had a bit of a cuddle, and then wandered off to the living room.

Where he now is.

Grumping.
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
The general population of the farm might have been shocked and amazed to find itself getting a good night's sleep recently. The narration will here make the excuse that when you're letting unimportant things like food and sleep take a backseat to building things and inventing other things and training to be Jedi things, you find yourself somewhat lacking in the energy required for nocturnal acrobatics.

It might also be disappointed that tonight, it more sort of didn't.

Steve and Gabriel aren't disappointed, though. Quite the antithesis, in fact!
[identity profile] broodingbacchus.livejournal.com
Imriel is sitting by the kraken pond, feeding Spots bits of pineapple.

He doesn't have his sword (though the daggers are present at his belt and his boot), and he looks entirely too self-satisfied.

Young love. Isn't it adorable?
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
...yeah, it just occurred to Stephen that he counts as a flier. You know, seeing as he owns an antigravitational device and is reaching the final leg of jet construction.

Go team him?

Anyway, he's now having a look around for Nathan Petrelli (the real one, please and thanks), for whom he also has some news on the making-holes-in-reality front. Not terribly exciting news, but a plan, at least. (He's also keeping an eye out for Thrust, for the purposes of getting blueprints. Yes, he's building a fighter jet and a kind of cross-reality teleport and a bit of alien robot tech in the same lifetime. It's possible that he's overbooked himself.) Plus: he's totally botherable by anyone with a hankering to chat.

Catch him anywhere, twirling a well-used spanner between his fingers and humming to himself as he walks.

[ooc: slowtimes will be the order of the day, I am afraid.]
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
Stephen Bell has taken over much of the Cooper living room, and is buried in blueprints and choice pieces of salvage metal which are starting to take the shape of complicated switchboards and ridiculously powerful engines. Tremble in your robot boots, Jetstorm, because Vader II is rising Frankenstein's monster-like from the wreckage.

Gabriel Gray is outside again, reading again, under a tree again. Got to make the most of the weather now it's warming up for spring.

Intuition is necking in the tall grass continuing in her quest to explore the farm and its various residents.

Hibym a Jona is, shockingly, in the kitchen; today she is exploring the possibilities offered by that delicacy known as Welsh Rarebit In Huge Quantities.

Bayami is floating about in the stratosphere, waiting for the weather to change.

And a strange and unusual and really quite hungry-looking plant has found its way down to the kraken pond, where it sits in its pot and ponders the water. If it was (a) sentient and (b) on a strict diet of human bits (both of which suggestions are of course ridiculous), one might almost think that it's looking for a kindred spirit. Alas, it has not discovered ham.

The mun asks only that you mention who you're tagging. Have at!
[identity profile] shockinglycute.livejournal.com
OK, bunker. That is, the mysterious hill-sort-of-thing. The human with magical food-creation powers said something about it being a good place to hang out. (Or something like that; the yellow beastie's memory is not particularly clear on this point.)

Anyway, if nothing else, it is something to Investigate. This investigation currently involves the beastie standing on the threshold, sniffing at the walls.
[identity profile] runaway-bandit.livejournal.com
Toph didn't go into the pizza party. Partly because she doesn't know what a pizza is, partly because the linoleum on the kitchen floor makes everything annoyingly out of focus, but mostly because she wanted to be on her own. It seems she wants to do that a lot these days.

She surveyed the bunker: fixed some structural damage, reinforced it, expanded a little. But then she ends up crouched on the edge, toes curling against the rock, head bowed.

She could be accused of staring into space, except she doesn't really stare anywhere.
alwaysroomforhope: (c'mon it'll be fun -- promise!)
[personal profile] alwaysroomforhope
THERE IS PIZZA.

Steph is really pleased with the results of her baking and cooking. And it's been about a ZILLION YEARS since she had pizza.

So now, there is lots of pizza. And there's streamers and a handful of balloons, and plenty of glitter, and in every room (almost) of the farmhouse there are arrows pointing towards the kitchen with PIZZA PARTY!!! written on them.

There's a table of snacks -- chips and cake and sweet things -- and one of many plastic cups and bottles of soft drink. (The hard drink is in the cupboards, out of sight but totally present. What is a party without vodka?)

Angelo even let her borrow his stereo. So there's music, too.

PIZZA PARTY TIEM. Your host is one S. Brown, clad for the occasion in her Smallville Bar shirt-skirt-and-apron combination, beaming widely at anyone who enters the kitchen.

If your pup is at the farm or out the back, they should totes turn up here. Threadhopping and jumping and skipping is a-okay. Do stuff! I said to!
[identity profile] vehicon-thrust.livejournal.com
So, Thrust thinks, this is a farm. Well, it's flat.

It's actually not impossible to keep a low profile if you're a big pink robot motorcycle, it's just tricky. It's particularly difficult when you're working on getting your refuelling station set up semi-permanently (Oliver had helped him move it somewhere out of the way, but Thrust is doing fiddly work, now, that he wouldn't trust to anyone else) and reliably running the way you want it to.

Really, being somewhere out of the way on the Cooper farm (at least Thrust hopes it's still the Cooper farm; he doesn't know where the territory ends) is only a marginal help. He is, after all, seven or eight feet of brightly-colored robot fiddling with a machine made out of part of a light pole with four rather small solar power panels, a pressure cooker, a toaster oven, and many other less recognizable small appliances securely welded to it. Further welded sections of light pole make up a sturdy square base. There are symbols carefully painted onto the pressure cooker-- one is pretty self-explanatory, even without the dialogue, but the other is a little more unusual. (Hey, it's technically a Vehicon refuelling station, even if it's a refuelling station in the same way a vending machine is a restaurant.)

Thrust fiddles with tubing and wiring and connections, now and then tossing a manipulatory-appendage full of organic matter (mostly grass, although with the occasional dirt clod) into the pressure cooker, then peering at the toaster oven before continuing to make adjustments.

He really wants just a vending machine, see, not a still.

The whole thing might look a little bit odd, to a passing human.
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
Stephen in the house!

On the hunt for Val, or Marley, or the girl who owns the -- Lucy, that's it.

Or, well, anyone who might be interested in the farm's recent acquisition of a superpowered serial killer.

(Surprisingly, and quite possibly to Val's disappointment, he doesn't intend to suggest the kicking of said arrival's ass.

...tempting as it is.)
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
It's a proven scientific fact: jetpacks with windshields look dumb. So in the interests of not actually being crushed by the air resistance, or choking on any unsuspecting bugs, Steve programmed a top speed into his fairly early on in its trial runs. Thus it is that he does not enter the airspace of the Cooper household at a thousand miles an hour; nor does he leave a smoking man-shaped crater on impact. He does, however, speed in at a fair old clip, and land with a thud and an ungainly skid through the soil.

He didn't feel safe, you see, until he was actually standing on the solid earth of the farm.

...He still doesn't, if we're honest. Witness the hunted look and the way he's staring into the sky, though of course if he's been followed this far then there's absolutely nothing he can do.
[identity profile] npwa.livejournal.com
Lenore has been out back by the kraken pond for some time, now.

Sitting. Watching.

Smoking.

Mostly thinking, though.
[identity profile] a-humanitarian.livejournal.com
The Cooper farm has a wood shed.

(This is not likely to be news to anyone who's had a chance to wander it.)

What is new (and strange! and interesting!) is the odd little plant now sitting in a pot on the windowsill. The pot is perfectly ordinary, and so the narration will not deign to describe it (beyond it being brown and plastic) when it could instead be devoting adjectives to the plant itself. It's small, and adorable, and a very slightly less vivid green than it was yesterday. It has a bulbous pod in place of a flower, currently safely shut. (The word "safely" seems to be appropriate here, taking into consideration what appear to be the needle-thin teeth fringing the pod.)

The plant is bored and thirsty.

(If you offer to get it some water, it will pop a cap in yo' ass.)
[identity profile] clockwork-son.livejournal.com
Gabriel is trotting back and forth between the kitchen and the kraken pond, feeding Spots delicious ham.

Catch him at either end.

(The trotting is partly because he hopes to encounter Steve on the way. Shhhh.)
littlestcooper: (devastation)
[personal profile] littlestcooper
Have the World's Most Epic Multi-Pup Post.

Lucy Cooper is sitting on the balcony of her room, swinging her feet and peering idly down at the yard.

Gabriel Gray is by the kraken pond, feeding Spots bacon and humming to himself with a rare little smile on his face.

Katara is wandering the streets of Metropolis, having been separated from her brother for a very short time (just about long enough for him to figure out how to use the bathrooms in a closed and looted grocery store, in fact).

Marie-Antoinette Beauchamp is flickering between Metropolis, Smallville, and the Cooper place, looking for something (or someone) to do. Catch her while she's standing still for a bit at one of the three.

Iris Valentine is in the Cooper kitchen with a watermelon and a little bowl to spit seeds into, eating and giggling to herself, because someone has to act like a child when Shay's not around.

Anna Reeve is going for a walk in Metropolis with a small ice cream cone, singing. Probably Supertramp.

Intuition is sitting on a lawnchair outside the Cooper place, drinking lemonade and beaming. She doesn't need a reason to beam. She's Inty, okay? Reason enough.

Subject 46 is going for a jog at superspeed and would be happy to bump into your pup absolutely anywhere in Kansas; just specify.

Valerie Bell is flying in the skies somewhere above Smallville, grinning to herself and doing loop-the-loops and barrel rolls. The showoff.

Johriel Ashedoi is within fifty feet of Jono Starsmore at all times, but can probably be enticed to talk regardless.

Please, for the love of God, mention who you're tagging.
[identity profile] eureka-bell.livejournal.com
Long and meaningful discussions have taken place on the subject of ham.

Yes, ham. Ham and its place in the diet of a growing krakenbaby.

Fortunately, there was plenty of ham in the farmhouse kitchen. But in a post-apocolyptic world, who's to say how long the ham will last? There are the number of pigs to think about, as well as whether a sustainable population can be re-established, and storage (a fridge here, but who's to say whether electricity has survived elsewhere?), and a host of other things.

Well, this is the point... one of the points... one of the many points at which Stephen's motto is: experiment!

A sausage is being dangled curiously into the murky water.
[identity profile] carefulwishes.livejournal.com
Eden is looking pretty. Her sunburn is gone, she has makeup on, and is wearing a form-fitting copper dress with a silver belt. Her feet are bare - she'd rather go bare-foot than wear her sneakers or flip-flops. Eden has committed many crimes, but fashion crimes aren't one of them.

She's looking for an owner of a certain car who's not Gabriel, because no, okay?. Is he by the pool? Is he in the bunker? Is he on the boat? Is he in the house? Eden will look.

Who does she find?
[identity profile] apocalypsebaby.livejournal.com
The pool out the back remains murky, and occasionally bubbly. It seems to have acquired a patina of grease.

After some time, the baby kraken hauls itself out, tentacles suctioning on to dry Kansas grass and dirt, and flops, exhausted by the effort, to snooze in the sun by its pool.

His skin is a little less slimy than usual, and his colour has faded somewhat. Those listening might hear the occasional sad whimper of "Mama?"
[identity profile] raisednofool.livejournal.com
Most people were not exactly pleased to find themselves plucked from home and dropped into a new, strange, and dangerous world. Those who were pretty pleased had one thing in common: in one manner or another, they were getting laid.

Needless to say, Angelo is quite pleased with Kansas at the moment.

It doesn't mean he likes the country, though. He's a city boy through and through and Snow Valley had been bad enough, with the nearest Metropolis a few hours drive. Kansas? Post-apocalyptic Kansas? Not so much with the good or fun or interesting.

But there is a boat. And a giant rock bunker. And also a big hole in the ground. None of which are quite as good as, say, a mall or a movie theater or a club, but still something to wander around outside the Cooper house and look at.

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