Music: Interpol
Summary: I can't reach you.
Notes: Stream (Blip) | Download (Mediafire, ~55mb, .avi).

Matching shots from different shows.

Alexis Castle is a small redheaded thing; you wouldn’t believe that’s the woman who’s been running the New York Resistance cell for the last two years.

“You’re not at all what I imagined,” John tells her and she smiles wryly, her light blue eyes looking him over, still cold with some degree of suspicion. “You know, the intel that’s been coming in,” he adds and it doesn’t help much, but the corner of her mouth rises slightly. John sighs. “I thought you’d be taller,” he says finally.

Music: Judy Garland//The Wizard of Oz OS
Summary: Sarah daydreams.
STREAM (Bam) | DOWNLOAD (4shared, .avi 33MB) | Alternative download link (Mediafire)

There's a battery-powered lamp about ten feet in from the doorway, sitting on the floor. It casts a net of light about knee-high, in which a handful of shadows are moving. It takes Harper a second to realize that they are actually ankles, the ankles of two people as they walk across the floor- slowly, oddly, and now backwards, and then forward and back again. It takes Harper another second to recognize that they are dancing.

The people in law enforcement who aren't vaguely paranoid are the scary ones. You have to be a narcissist or a sociopath or a thrill-seeker not to get that reflexive twinge: you investigate the world and the world might return the favor someday. James Ellison has turned in his hours listening to RICO wiretaps and loitering in nondescript Fords. He knows his paranoia well.

Artist: TV on the Radio
Warnings: spoilers for entire two seasons, violence, disturbing imagery and themes
Description: We are the Resistance. (ensemble)
Download: direct download (79MB), or small version (37MB); streaming at YouTube or imeem

17 The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 10 Lost, 8 Star Trek, 5 Fringe, 5 Doctor Who, 5 Parks and Recreation, 2 Alien, 1 Conan O'Brien, 1 Chiwetel Ejiofor, 1 Lord of the Rings

Savannah Weaver was sixteen years old when she first dared to broach, even tangentially, the subject with her mother. It happened over breakfast on a Sunday morning. Savannah, still wearing her pajama bottoms and tank top, was eating an omelet with broccoli and tomatoes. Catherine Weaver was immaculately dressed. It had been years since Savannah had seen her mother any other way.

“In the beginning,” his mother once had said, “there was man.”

The machine winds a strand of hair loosely around its finger, seated still across the room. The spine is held rigid, shoulders back, breasts small and pert and he swallows.

Sometimes he chokes on bile.

Other times he chokes on her.

John turns over suddenly and switches on his lamp. He pushes himself up on his elbows and glares at Cameron.

“What?” he says, irritably.

“You should be sleeping.”

“Did you think that maybe the creepily staring machine at my bedroom door might be putting me off?”

Cameron has been standing in the doorway for 11.73 minutes and John has been lying awake in bed for 1.42 hours.

“No,” Cameron replies.

Cameron is sitting at the kitchen table, head bent over the math homework he’s brought back for her. Her hair has fallen forward over her left shoulder, and from where he’s standing, leaning up against the sink, he can see the back of her neck, the arch of her coltan spine beneath the torn skin on the right side of her throat. He can’t make himself look anywhere else.

Tony hovers in the dark, a hundred feet off the ground, watching a girl stand in the wreckage of the arc reactor. She doesn't move; after a while, tired of the view of the back of her head, he twitches his left palm and drifts slowly to a position that gi

“Cameron?” “Yes.” “Does it hurt?” She looks up, and John flinches at what he sees in her eyes. “The data is complex.”