taxonomites | Entries tagged with { simon tam

adpartesdolent.livejournal.com

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a workaholic codependent derp of a doctor in possession of a crazy little sister and a wicked insomnia habit must be up at all hours reorganizing his infirmary. And as such, Simon's reentry into Taxon's general population could be nothing else.

The loss of Mal and Wash still weigh heavily on him. Wash is easier to like -- easier to miss-- than the Captain, but they're both important parts of the little life he's carved out of the black. (Not to mention, this leaves himself, River, Kaylee, and Jayne. God have mercy on them all.) If it was only him, it would be unfortunate but disappointing; River's future responses make him worry. She's not ready to lose people-- she shouldn't have to. It's unfair and unfortunate and potentially disastrous. It's also enough to keep him awake tonight, worried and a little angry. And because he cannot just take the advice he would give anyone else and try to sleep, any citizen looking at their tablet will catch this entry as it opens on Simon in the med bay.

He's intent on reorganizing the drawers and muttering under his breath all the while; a steady flow of words, under his breath but still audible. The names of pills, the diseases and pains they treat, of known side effects and drug interactions. Call it counting sheep for the more than somewhat OCD and a little driven/disturbed. It's fairly obvious he's been at this for a while, as his normally neatly combed hair is mussed from sleep and running his fingers through it, and a cooling cup of coffee sits just in the edge of the tablet's view.

Because it wouldn't do to have any physical armor from the embarrassment, he's clad in worn sleep pants and a soft sweater. So if anyone wants to note the barefoot Fridays look and make comment, now would be the time. Before Simon realizes his tablet is on and recording.

[ ooc: HERE WE GO if this post looks slightly familiar, it's because it is. And because I have a ridiculous sense of humor. TROLL AWAY.

Also: click this it is not horrors, and this time I am telling the truth.

eta: THIS HAPPENS AT SOME POINT DURING THE DANCE look, he shuns this socializing you speak of. ]

chase-evolution.livejournal.com

The video clearly showed Mohinder lying on the floor of his room in Dr. Magnus' Sanctuary. He was wrapped up in fabric- at first it looked like it may be a blanket, but the material was far too coarse, and the buckles gave it away. A straight jacket. The paper-thin blue hospital pants and cheap white keds completed the outfit.

He rolled onto his back, and then over to face the camera on the tablet, although it was clear he didn't see it. His eyes were unfocused and dull, and his murmuring became louder and louder. "I'm Mohinder Suresh....Mohinder Suresh. Have to- you must believe me, I'm....Suresh," he said, speech slurring. He couldn't tell anyone how long he'd been saying those words, but if his memories were ever sorted out, there'd be about three weeks worth in there. The orderlies at the asylum quickly realized that they needed to drug him approximately as much as an elephant to have enough effect- as such, this was the closest he's been to lucid since he found himself in that horrible place.

"Hiro...you bastard," he murmured, before taking a long, shallow breath and trying again. "My name is...Mohinder Suresh. I don't...don't belong here...please..."

levilup.livejournal.com

When Levi wakes up in the morning, he's starving.

It's not like he's never been this hungry before, but it is surprising, considering he hasn't exactly been limiting himself on how much he's been eating lately. It's the good thing about being a vampire, not having to worry about weight issues. But regardless of that, Levi had eaten before he went to bed, so he shouldn't be this hungry upon waking up. The only time he can remember feeling like this was when he'd first been turned.

With a small groan, Levi rolls out of bed and rubs his head sleepily, ignoring the weird thumping noise he can hear vaguely in the background, and glances over his shoulder to make sure Shane is still there. That's about the point that the tablet turns on and starts recording, Levi unaware of it. A little smile crosses his face as he sees Shane, and then he gets up, heading out to the kitchen.

It takes a while for Levi to wake up completely, so he doesn't realize that, despite being as hungry as he is, his fangs haven't extended, and his eyes are their normal blue. He doesn't think twice about the blood he's pulling out of the fridge and how it smells unappealing. Instead, he leans against the counter, wondering vaguely where that thumping noises is coming from, and doesn't really pay attention to much else until the microwave beeps and he takes a sip of the blood. That wakes him up, because it tastes disgusting, and he spits it out in his surprise.

It doesn't-- what is that thumping noise? Levi pauses, and lifts a hand to his neck.

Oh, crap.

[ooc: Annnnd Levi's human glitch begins~! Information here. Don't be afraid to ask any questions if you have them. 8D]

myveryownriot.livejournal.com

"OW! Bèn tiānshēng de yìduī ròu. Ain't met a doctor yet didn't get into it for th' pain-causin' part." Jayne's grumbling's precedes his entrance into view, shoved along by an exasperated looking Simon. He'd head for that stupid chair where the doc does all his torturing, but...it looks to have disappeared. "Wha...?"

"Trust me, Jayne, there isn't a single thing that involves you I can take pleasure in." If it weren't for the fact that Simon's not entirely sure his patient's t shirt might actually carry new and exotic strains of bacteria, he'd physically propel him into the infirmary. "And if you'd rather I just leave you to it, gangrene is only highly possible. Not inevitable."

Jayne's not listening anymore, Simon, so you can prattle on about your green gangs all you want, there's more interesting things than you here. (Not like that's different from every other day, though.)

"Where- I knew it! I told 'em, but don't no one listen to Jayne Cobb, he ain't smart 'nough to know Alliance when he sees 'em standin' 'round with their shiny rooms an' their fancy doctor manners."

Simon has to measure his words carefully, here. "You betrayed us to the Alliance, in case you've forgotten. And was the reward for myself and River a clever ruse to gain the trust of a few smugglers we weren't even likely to meet?"

However, the sincere lack of anything resembling Serenity is disturbing. "Where are we?"

"Aw, zāogāo- ain't nobody ever gonna forget that." Though Jayne can't rightly promise he wouldn't do it again. Which he sure as hell would, 'cause look where they are now!

And ain't that a first, him noticing things before old Smarty-Britches. "I reckon you can answer that, seein' as you're the one brought me here! P'robly gonna...cut out my insides an' study 'em or somethin', watch we twitch...how come my arm ain't hurtin' no more?"

"One does tend to remember betrayal on that scale, yes." This whole situation has moved beyond ludicrous and into unbelievable. "I didn't bring you anywhere, Jayne. And I-- it's not? Let me see it."

Jayne jerks his arm away and back up from Simon and...well any other strange-looking thing that might be nearby. Something's weird, in that seen-it-before-but-ain't way things sometimes get, and he hates that feeling. It ain't normal.

"Maybe I'm dreamin'..." Nightmare, more like. What with Simon being in it and all. Only thing that'd make it worse is that addle-brained sister of his.

[ooc: Simon and Jayne have arrived together, yes. Be prepared to be answered by either one (or both) of them. :)]

adpartesdolent.livejournal.com

Because all good insomniac doctors cannot take their own advice and sleep, anyone looking will catch this entry as it opens on Simon in the Med Bay, reorganizing drawers and muttering under his breath. Names of pills, of what they treat, of known side effects and drug interactions. It's like counting sheep for the somewhat OCD and a little driven/disturbed. He's obviously been at this for a while; his normally neatly combed hair is mussed from sleep and running his fingers through it, and a cooling cup of coffee sits just in the edge of the tablet's view.

He's clad in just sleep pants and a soft sweater, so if anyone wants to note the barefoot Fridays look, now would be the time. Before he realizes his tablet is on and recording.

aregulargirl.livejournal.com

Max knew it was probably ridiculous to be this pissed off about something mentioned in a gossip column that wasn't even true, but she'd had enough accusations about her fidelity lately. So after attempting to smooth things over with Kirk and Buffy via the tablets (though the smoothing over didn't seem to be as necessary as she'd thought it would be), she was looking for something to take her aggravation out on.

There was always her bike, but she was more in the mood to fight something than she was to drive around aimlessly. She checked out the tablet's map and found a gym that wasn't too far away from the Sanctuary, and working out seemed like the perfect way to blow off some steam. After a quick trip to one of the hatches to get herself some workout gear, she jumped on her bike and headed to it. And now she was standing in front of a punching bag, pummeling it with her fists and feet.

Truth be told, it wasn't just Gossip Girl's blast that had her pissed - it had just been what set her off. Once she'd gotten over the initial irritation, she found herself thinking about something she hadn't let herself since arriving - the situation with Logan. What he'd accused her of, what she'd admitted to - and lied about - to keep him away.

It hurt. It hurt that he'd thought she could do that to him. It hurt that he'd accepted her answer without challenging it, without demanding an explanation he'd have been able to see right through. He'd just let her walk out the door.

Didn't he know her better than that? Had the trust they'd built up over the past two years meant nothing?

After a long while of relentlessly pounding the bag, she stopped, turning to the wall and bracing her hands against it, trying to catch her breath. On one hand, it was a relief to figure out what was really bothering her. On the other, it sucked that she couldn't do anything about it. And if she really wanted him to stay safe, she couldn't even if she found a way to get back home.

Whatever. She was used to dealing with things on her own.

gotaplan.livejournal.com

[Sounds like somebody's just woken up from a not-so-good dream.]

... no. No, no, no.

It can't be.

[ ooc: we're bumpin' up to 5x03. ]

myveryownriot.livejournal.com

"'Carry this heavy-ass box, Jayne, go walk a gorram mile an' fetch us our supplies we ain't got sense enough to be rememberin' t' pack, Jayne, don't be shootin' or fightin' or havin' no damn fun first chance we got to put our feet on somethin' ain't movin', Jayne..."

Sun at his back and the dark of Serenity's cargo bay in front of him mean Jayne can't much see where it is he's walking. Which is fine and all, he's done it a million times before (a million's probably too many, but he's not gonna try and figure it out, he's not got leanings in a mathematical direction). Even so, he maybe should've been clued that something's not right by the change in how his boots sound on the metal floor, but it's the wall all of a sudden being where a wall has no business that does the job.

"Ta ma de! What ruttin' son of a whore put this-"

Well hell, even with his eyes sun-befuddled Jayne can tell that whatever this place is, it being Serenity can be crossed off the list straight off. He lets Vera drop from where he'd been carrying her propped over his shoulder into his hands, and slowly turns in a circle. "Mal? Zoe? Ha ha, let's all play a big joke on the dumb guy. I ain't laughin', so git your bu lang bu you asses out here!"

His words don't echo about the way they ought, and it's too quite. Too clean. The place looks Alliance, and though technically speaking he's not dead set against Alliance, in general he likes to avoid getting locked up in silent glowy places that weren't there last he checked. No answering cussing or laughter means he's alone here, though, and ain't that just the shiny ribbon to wrap up his shit day?

tothelibrary.livejournal.com

Seeing as Dawn and River obviously do not cause enough trouble when left to their devices, they have joined forces. After the dance at the Hyperion-- and discovering they both used to dance-- they've been quickly becoming fast friends. And when Dawn decided they both needed to start dancing again, she dragged River out to a small studio she found.

At some point, Dawn's tablet clicked on (it looks like a laptop today) and so the Network is treated to the sounds of whatever music Dawn is blaring at the moment, and the sight of two tiny trolls re-introducing themselves to the art of ballet.

...And whatever they feel like doing.

[ooc: All replies will likely be trolled by both the tiny ones. Assume they come during a water break when Dawn notices she's been broadcasting.]

skyfrome.livejournal.com

One Captain Malcolm Reynolds is currently bored and frustrated and all of those other good sentiments, and is therefore pacing around Sanctuary Square, for lack of anything constructive to do. Serenity is docked not far away, but even he is getting a little sick of its interior- and that ship is the love of his life. Well, one of two, anyway. On an impulse, he pulls out the tablet and addresses the good citizens of Taxon directly.

"Y'know what's just plain unnatural about this place? Other than the all of it, I mean. The sad lack of crime. Is anybody lookin' to indulge in any of that? It don't even necessarily have to be the entertaining armed robbery kind. Hell, at this point I'd settle for some minimal vandalism."

Good plan Mal. Yep, really swell plan there.

notsawbones.livejournal.com

Leonard H. McCoy had very specific reason to loathe transporters. One wrong misplaced circuit or trigger-happy technician could have devastating consequences on the person being beamed down to wherever the hell Starfleet had ordered them to go. He really did not approve of atoms being forcibly ripped apart before being intertwined together again somewhere completely different. It was mind-boggling.

His argument about this was that he was a human being, not some patchwork quilt. The doctor would have felt safer taking a shuttlecraft. And that. That was saying a lot for him; his philosophy that was man was not meant to take to the skies ever. If they had been, they would have been cursed to have wings grafted into their backs in the womb. But alas, he had lost the argument to take one of the crafts to their destination despite his numerous gripes and stepped onto the pad reluctantly. But mostly it had been a slap around his shoulder and a quip of 'buckle up' and an arched eyebrow from their green-blooded Commander of the Enterprise that had propelled him forward.

McCoy was a pessimistic man, but it was not death awaiting him on this supposed transporter malfunction today. He could later take comfort that his fate was to arrive in Taxon and not become fused together into an indescribable matter with that nameless red shirt that had stepped on the pad with him.

Particles of light seamlessly intertwined back together before they dispersed and simulated a man standing at roughly six foot on the pad. A new player had arrived, but the player in question was oblivious to his actions being broadcasted from an innocent looking tablet somewhere across the room.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his expression was grim and his lips were pursued together in a thin line before he noticed the process had ended. And for some curious reason not related to transporter, beads of sweat rested on his brow as he opened his eyes and soaked up his surroundings.

He was not pleased by the sight.

With a less than amused expression flickering across his features at the sight awaiting him, his eyes glanced around the cylinder room with thinly veiled suspicion as he went about absent-mindedly smoothing down his blue Federation uniform – not making sure he was indeed put back in the right order – before walking down the steps all too aware of his own footfalls being the only sound penetrating the eerie silence.

"Buckle up, he had said. Nothing to worry about transporters! They are much safer than a shuttle craft, he had insisted." He murmured quietly to himself as he took another step. "Goddamn it! I knew this would happen one day..."

His voice sounded incredulous with underlining annoyance as he craned his head and looked back at the offending transporter that had brought him here. It remained delightfully inoperative despite his dilemma and he did not know whether to be relieved or frustrated by these turn events.

"Right... where the hell am I?" even as he uttered this candid question that he did not expect an answer to in the vacant room sans himself, he reached for the communicator before further grumbling about landing coordinates and the technician involved in this supposed mishap, "McCoy to Enterprise. Do you read me?"

Needless to report, there was no one to answer that query of his as of yet. Not even someone there to mockingly tell him to eat static.

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

Helen watched the ceiling of the elevator. Her fingers drummed on the daily roster in her hands as she waited for her destined floor. Things had certainly taken a turn for the worst as of late. Having clinically died and returned thanks to Will's brilliant plan in the submarine was something she never wanted to relive. Now she understood what had happened to those poor merfolk. Ripped to shreds by each other by a parasite that made them aggressive and territorial. How many times had she almost killed Will because of it?

But now wasn't the time for that. Her eyes turned down towards the roster. Many patients required their daily check ups and regiments. Will being the psychiatric help of Sanctuary certainly eased her burden but did not change the amount of work. Some still refused to see him, having grown to trust her. She could understand. Not everyone would want someone to psychoanalyze them.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped forward... but it wasn't the floor she was looking for. Instead it was a cylinder room. Quickly she turned on her heels to find that the elevator door was gone as well. Suddenly Helen wished she had her handgun on her. She began to back out of the room, casting glances to the sides cautiously. Several of her patients had mind telepathy but she doubt they would do something of this measure.

As she turned, there was something that caught her eye. Her fingers flexed as she raised her arm to look at the metallic bracelet. "That was hardly there a moment ago." she breathed and made full revolution before realizing the small device on the table. Cautiously she walked over to it, running her fingers over the cool metallic on her wrist.

"Not the wisest choice, leaving your phone out for someone to steal." Helen delicately picked it up before looking around again. Could John have transported her here? No. He couldn't have gotten through the EM shield even with his teleportation abilities. And after their run in at Rome, he wouldn't have attempted to break into the Sanctuary again.

"Where the bloody hell am I?"

glowingseer.livejournal.com

Party time!

Cordelia, clad in her chosen outfit for the night, made final rounds inside the hotel to make sure everything was perfect. The decorations were subdued and classy - thanks to both Dawn and Fred, and even the garden was opened so that those who wished to step out and inhale the fake Taxon air could do so. There were tons of wine, beer, scotch, vodka - and if Doyle's selections weren't enough, there's a hatch conveniently behind the refreshments table.

The hotel lobby was cleared of all the furniture, so that the mingling and the dancing could take place more comfortably. If people wanted to take a tour of the hotel, they were welcomed to do so save for three rooms: Fred's, Angel's, and Wesley's office. For not-so-obvious-but-quite-sentimental reasons.

[OOC: This party takes place after the Liar Liar glitch took effect. Mingle! Threadjack! Interrupt! Have fun!]

glowingseer.livejournal.com

Okay. This place really needed a pick-me-up. Like right now. With the glitches and the creepy thoughtless creeps and the weird god-like creatures running around and beating people up...

Cordelia remembered her conversation with Charlotte, and with this in mind she picked up her tablet and addressed everyone.

"So I was thinking." Clearly not a good thing, but, whatever. "What do you guys think of a night out of town, with the party and the fun? And by 'night out of town' I mean in the hotel right here in Taxon, and by 'party and the fun' I mean the gown-and-tuxedos-wearing kind?"

Formal party? Yay? Nay?

biverbam.livejournal.com

River is currently laying on the floor in the far corner of the cargo bay. As far away she can get from anyone without leaving the ship, without leaving Simon. It's important that they not be separated, but yelling and frustration is loud, and Inara's shuttle on that side of the ship still stinks of fire and brimstone. Calmly, she drops a ball to the side of her and watches at it bounces.

Or, at least it was bouncing. She's still watching it even as it slows and appears to stop.

"It's invariant... Kinetic."

She's very obviously medicated, and everything about her seems distracted. Every word pushed through a thick fog, bouncing off against guardrails before sheer momentum drives it to the surface. There was sleep, earlier in the infirmary when they first got back, the kind of sleep that's induced but thankfully quiet all the same, though the bags under her eyes are only just diminished and not gone completely, and River is rested if still sluggish. Alert, if... Slow.

"Motion transfers from storage and it doesn't really stop when you think it does. Movement continues until friction dictates it's cessation, but the subtlety can't be seen by the naked eye." It looks like she can see it, or at least thinks she can, eyes wide and staring at the ball, taking in the minute vibrations that exist between particles of rubber.

After another few moments, she moves a hand to squish the ball against the floor, forcing friction to dictate the cessation of movement herself.

Then, lazily, she pulls the tablet around and sits up just enough to scribble something down (it takes a few minutes, and the holo is still on as she writes) and push the button that will give it out to all of Taxon.

When she's done, River rolls over to lay on her back. "It could be relevant."

ETA: [ooc: lklsdjfsl solution for the link is "unless an idiot dies he cannot be cured." I'm sorry for the fail handwriting and wacky future radio.]

adpartesdolent.livejournal.com

As soon as River allowed him to leave their hideaway, Simon lost no time reinstalling himself in Serenity's medbay, organizing and categorizing and poking and prodding at River until he's fairly sure she's going to be hiding in the engine room with Kaylee (or some other hidden away corner of the ship) for the rest of the evening. Or at least until he puts the needles away.

Which is fine; he's done all he can for the moment, and it's time to look at River's scans again for the millionth time and curse Malcolm Reynolds under his breath. He slammed them down on the table, forcing himself to breathe easily. "Wángbadàn de biăozi," he mutters bitterly, hanging his head. River had been making so much progress. Obviously things were-- were hard, but he had been making headway. And now? He'll have to recalibrate doses, essentially start all over again. All her pills are right here. Nearly all the doses are labeled, in the name of all that's holy. How they could all have been so irresponsible--

But never mind that. A beep from his tablet reminds Simon that he has other business to tend to today. Taking a deep breath and pasting on a professionally detached expression, he sets the tablet to record.

"Hopefully I'm doing this right. Hello, I'm Dr. Tam. Simon. I'd heard Taxon has a hospital, and I was wondering if someone could direct me to the man who runs it. A..." He peers at his tablet. "Dr. House?"

He pauses for a moment, then, "Cassie. A moment, when you get one?"

[ooc: Open to location for anyone who might be logically on Serenity; tablet for anyone else. MARY I NEED TO POKE YOU ABOUT BACKTAGGING V. HAMMER OUT OOC for Cassie and Simon I'm sorry for my tag!fail. :(((( ]

hearts-of-gold.livejournal.com

Inara wakes up gradually, and as she becomes more conscious a few things become obvious more or less right away.

First, she is not in her shuttle. She's in a fairly featureless room, sitting in--

Make that confined in a large chair of some kind.

Secondly, she is sore. She feels as though she has been through a very vigorous fight, and was not exactly on the winning side.

Third, her clothes are...odd. She's in some sort of clingy black outfit and her hair is up.

"Hello?" She calls out, and her voice is hoarse. As if she'd done a lot of shouting recently. She tugs at the restraints that are holding her in the chair and they prove to be quite firmly secured, but after some wriggling she feels her tablet in her pocket. She shifts and wriggles some more until buttons are pressed more or less at random by the arm of the chair, and is now broadcasting a visual feed. Even if the only visual supplied is the black fabric of her pocket it should still pick up her voice, though.

"Hello?" She tries again. "This is Inara Serra of Serenity's crew...I seem to be...captured? Is anyone there?"

[OOC: There we go, glitch end! Huzzah! You may all go about your business now >D Unless you want to get in on the big last confrontation with Adria which is still being planned out, in which case go here!]

slasher-slayer.livejournal.com

[Well, that was a bad fucking idea cherry to top the sundae of bad fucking ideas. Cassie'd stumbled across that Adria bitch and had actually picked a fight with that...fucking superpower-handed bitch. And Cassie got, maybe, two lucky hits in. The rest of the time she was getting her ass handed to her. She'd just managed to get away and fucking ached all over. She was lightheaded and wanted to pass the fuck out.

Can't.

Not far enough away.

Leaving her van where it was, parked a block or two away from where Adria had been preaching, Cassie made her way down an alley until she was sure that Adria wasn't following. At some point, when she was making her way down the alley, her tablet - which was attached to her wrist - turned on, activating the voice mode. She slumped to the ground, crying out quietly at the pain that lanced through her.]

Fuck me running.....

adpartesdolent.livejournal.com

Simon is dragged into Taxon mid-eyebrow raise. "Yes, of course, captain." There's no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone. "And would you like me to--"

He breaks off, looking around. It only takes a moment for his expression to shift from barely contained irritation and impatience to worry. "River?"

That worry is slowly ratcheting up into panic. "Mei mei, answer me."

When no answer is forthcoming, Simon sags just a little, his face going grey. They can't have captured them. There had to have been a warning of some kind; it's not as if the Alliance can simply... take them, without anyone realizing. He has to push away the thoughts of what they did to River, the havoc they wreaked on her mind; if anyone could do it, it would be the Alliance. But he can't have failed her again.

"Tiānsà de èmó," he mutters, panic hardening into anger and resolve. If the gŏushĭ bùrú Alliance is behind this, he'll find a way to get her out, again. He'll do anything to keep River safe.

Glancing around, he sees the tablet, and slips it in his pocket before heading down the steps and towards the door.