The transition was a jolting one, even for him. One minute he was in the training room, going through his usual routine (left-kick-right-shin-spin-front-behind-shove-front-catch-over, a constant mantra repeated endlessly, all a flurry of movement and smoke almost too fast to follow), and the next he was...

Kurt skidded to a stop (or tried to) as ( Read more... )

It's around five o'clock in the morning when the citizens of Taxon find themselves inexplicably transported into rooms within the Sanctuary. Doors are left open and beds unmade, food abandoned and lights left on, still shining brightly for those who were awake and are no longer present. The Extras don't seem to notice the captive population's ( Read more... )

Witness, the Gargoyle in "flight", gliding across the Taxon sky.  The tablet, set on a table on the rooftop, broadcasting the event from where it had been left open.  This was not true flight, but rather a form of gliding, made most evident by the fact that her wings, spread wide, rarely flapped, but instead only adjusted their position ever so ( Read more... )

Somewhere in Wilde there is a flower shop. Every day at noon an Extra man enters this shop, picks up a bouquet of red roses and has the following conversation with the Extra clerk ( Read more... )

Okay. So this didn’t make any sense.

Anita frowned to herself as she surveyed the room she’d found herself in. Definitely not where she’d gone to sleep, and if this was someone else’s idea of a good time, namely someone named Jean-Claude, she was definitely not amused. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen fit to interrupt her sleep with ( Read more... )

Kurt's departure from McKinley's New Directions club had been bittersweet at best. He spent the car ride home in silence as he attempted to digest the news of his transfer to Dalton. McKinley had been his home away from home, and although that was not longer the case and circumstances had changed, it still gave him that sinking trapdoor feeling and ( Read more... )

For a moment the transmission shows a room in the clutter of moving, boxes packed and half-packed, bookshelves emptied and looking sad and forlorn. Then Long manages to get the camera pointed accurately, and offers Taxon a smile and a dip of his head. He's holding a notebook with pages of writing, passages scribbled out, corrected, a few crumpled- ( Read more... )

( cut because OMG HUGE TEXT )

 The room is large, and empty, and overwhelmingly clinical and sterile, and Wikus' immediate thought is that they have caught up with him again. The last thing he remembers is going to sleep, finding shelter in one of the abandoned hovels in the camp and wrapping himself in whatever ragged, filthy blankets he could find against the chill and ( Read more... )

( Paul Smecker maintains a list of scents he doesn't wish to smell ever again... (all my usual teal deer) )