they're always watching...

Transmigration 9

Pan-fandom, SciFi, and Screwed-Up

(no subject)
hunting outfit
The Sensorium's a pretty popular place for training.

Sonia still doesn't like it. Illusions have never sat well with her.

This is why she's training by running through the hallways instead, as well as bouncing like a pinball off of various room equipment. (Besides, who knows when another major threat's going to happen here? She needs to get to know the territory.)

(no subject)
Waterbending (Bending for myself)
Everyone else has been to the Sensorium a time or two by themselves, enjoying, taking a break from the horror (and general ick) of Stacy. And it certain't isn't that Katara doesn't want to. It's more that she has a job to do. She bitched and moaned and fought to get Dr. Jerkface to give her work and now she's gonna do it, damn it!

Even if it's boring.

Someone's welcome to come poke the girl on the obs deck couch, with a screen in her lap who is probably asleep by this time.

(no subject)
In the Sensorium is a quarry, and in the quarry is Toph. Her feet have worn two little depressions into the ground where she stands in the middle of a canyon, listening to all the things that the casual observer would never see - a dust-colored snake sliding through cracks in the strata, the tiny vibrations of crickets jumping from rock to rock, the distant padding of saber-toothed mooslion paws, which will hopefully pose an eventual challenge (Toph's never fought a crazy wild beast before, and no, the Big Bad Hippo certainly doesn't count as one).

There's got to be a limit to this Sensorium, and Toph's looking for it by standing still. Yet, no matter how long she listens, how deep she feels the vibrations go, they don't seem to stop. There's no bottom, no edge, no end. It feels real.

Real, but better. She doesn't have to hide it, here. Doesn't have to take it to the deep, secret places of Gaoling that no one wanted her to know about at all. Here, in this far-reaching room with its Earth that listens and feels real, Toph is free.

The casual observer wouldn't call this training, standing still and breathing deeply, no motion, not even a stance, but there is no more important part of Toph's particular brand of Earthbending than listening, and listening takes practice just like anything.

(no subject)
"Aww, c'mon... just one? Like a room blueprint or somethin'?"

Tails is standing in the Media Room, addressing the air.

"I won't do anything, I just wanna see..."

(no subject)
In mess hall, the only things you can usually find on the tables are slop, elbows, and assorted small portable items.

Now, Martine is not slop - though she does have elbows, and quite a few people could probably carry her around without too much trouble. Despite that, she's still not what you'd expect to find lying on top of one of the tables.

But there she is, half curled on her side with a hand under her head, doing...nothing.

That wouldn't be remarkable at all, if it weren't her, if she wasn't always doing something. That's why she's chosen here to do her nothing at all, since mess hall has been mostly deserted since news spread about the Sensorium. She doesn't want to be remarked upon.

Because there's nothing odd about a girl on a table, really, if you think about it.

(no subject)
Well, that's enough sightseeing, food tasting, concerts, and wrestling. Sokka's explored a great deal of the Sensorium's functions and enjoyed most, but what had Katara told him? "It's supposed to be for training"... so it's time to train.

There's a neat pile in the corner of the dojo: spear (a generic Southern Tribe warrior, looked a little like a younger Bato, kept distracting him so that his muscle memory could guide the spear without his mind overthinking it); machete (a generic Northern Tribesman, looked a little like an older Han, stern and uncompromising when Sokka missed a slash); hand wraps (the Boulderlike had hit just as hard as his Earth Rumble original, and Sokka had decided that maybe barehanded combat wasn't for him); and boomerang (a man who'd looked a little like an older Sokka and who Sokka refused to picture as a younger Hakoda, very understanding, always putting the lessons in just the right way)...

Even down to his ship-issued jumpsuit, his parka and robe discarded by his weapons, he's still soaked in sweat, a little bruised, and his wolftail's just on this side of falling apart. Sometimes, when Sokka trains, he trains very hard indeed.

There's only one weapon left, and Sokka had taken special care to make sure that neither Zuko, nor Aang, nor Katara, nor anyone else he knew was hiding in the Sensorium watching him before queueing up this Kyoshi Island dojo and a generic black-haired white-faced instructor.

She'd pushed him hard, and smacked him around a bit with her wooden sword, before Sokka had finally managed to get back in the flow. There's an element of grace in his moves now, much though he'd deny it (grace is girly), something more of an awareness of the flow of combat, a much stronger parry, and when he stabs out with a closed fan he hits surprisingly hard.

Now his drill instructor's given him a break, and he's looking around the deserted village. Kyoshi's a pretty place, really. And it's open to anyone, as long as they can cope with the new tessenjutsu master (well, journeyman (well, lame student)).

(no subject)
the last daughter of Krypton
Most of the surface of Mars is covered in iron oxide dust as fine as baby powder.

This is why, when Kara and Angelo finally touch down in the Grotto, they look less like two teenagers and more like two ghosts from an oddball B-movie.

"See?" Kara says, touching down "I told you that'd be fun."

(no subject)
Jubilee was the type to keep a journal, but here in this place, her journaling instead took the form of a letter to Logan.

See, because that meant some day she was going to be on the same planet to send it, and then go see him, because they were totally getting out of here

This was why she was sitting on one of the poofy couches in Obs Deck with a little gross pad thing, a stylus, and an expression on her face like thinking hurt her. It was very likely that people could read right over her shoulder without her noticing, and this was what she wrote:

Hey Wolvy,

So I'm just going to get right to the point and say it: Angelo, Jono, and I, and a whole lot of people from different dimensions, have been abducted by an alien spaceship. Nothing new there, right? Only apparently were were taken from different times, which is total weirdness, since I'm the most futuristy one out of the three of us apparently, and I have to keep stuff ultra hush-hush.

Anyway, I got abducted from a bus stop in Utah and right now I'm on this weird spaceship, like something right out of Aliens, only there's no Sigourney Weaver and no things bursting out of people's chests (yet).

There's also no aliens, because according to people who've been awake from the pod things we were in longer than I have, they all died somehow. The how's the big important part that nobody seems to know, but Angelo an' I did a Sherlock and Watson (I was Sherlock, duh: cooler hat) and used the ships version of a net connection and outer space yahoo to figure out a little bit. Apparently our ship is alive and forced to be programmed to do stuff, and it's a military ship. And the reason we were grabbed was for a war or something although we can't tell which side is the bad guy--these supposed 'World-eaters' or the ones that grabbed us that people are afraid to talk about.

Probably both, with the luck us X-folks usually have.

I'm just glad I missed this whole 'Silent Hill' thing that happened. Apparently, it involved zombies...

But it's going to definitely be okay. There are good people here, some of them from different worlds, and the way I figure it, so if we all stick our heads together, eventually we'll figure a way out of here--

Any of those good people from different worlds were perfectly free to talk to her, as she occasionally stopped to re-read what she wrote and doodle in the margins.

(no subject)
Angelo is training. Like most peoples' training spots, this one is pretty and nice and almost perfect for simply socializing, not just beating things up. The trees are thick but there are plenty of paths, and over there is a treehouse, up between the branches.

Angelo is further in, though, and while it won't be obvious that he was the one to ask for this setting, there is a flash of grey skin here and there as he darts through the trees, swinging on branches.

Occasionally, his power was really really fun.

(no subject)
There's only so much nagging a person can take. Case in point: Pat and Toxin.

After listening to Toxin poke, prod, and generally annoy him for days on end, Pat's finally had enough. "All right," he says as he makes his way through the hallway. "Two hours, just like before-no more, no less. And remember the new rules-no fighting, period."

Yeah, yeah. Cut me a little slack, will you? Red tendrils start to spring out of Pat's clothing-after being forced to lie (relatively) low for awhile, the symbiote is eager to get out again.

"I just want to make sure you're clear on that." More tendrils spring out, along with teeth and claws, forming what looks like some kind of goo before it settles down and forms something that looks more like a suit and less like a toothy version of the blob.

Toxin glances around, happy to be in control again for the moment, and then immediately sets off to see who-or what-he can find.


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