taxonomites | Entries tagged with { winifred burkle

gotcouplings.livejournal.com

A year. It's been over a year since Kaylee first arrived in Taxon, over a year since she's been landlocked. A year where she's watched people come and go, where she's made new friends, lost them, and made some more. A year in which she's experienced everything from exciting eras on Earth-That-Was to complete system failures.

If it's a year to be celebrated, she can't tell. Hell, she can't even tell if it's a year she's completely hated. Either way, she's somehow found herself in a bar, parts for the inner-workings of the Doctor's drill in her hands and a cup of ale next to her on the counter. It seems to be another case of the tablets switching themselves on, with how concentrated on her work she is. A year, and others have been here longer, and they still haven't found a way out.

The drill might not do it. It won't, 99.999% positive it won't. But it doesn't hurt to try, and that small, insignificant little .001% might be all they need. Lord knows the crew of Serenity has skimmed by on less than that before.

She sighs, somewhat triumphantly, and places the wired-up parts on the counter. A smile down at her tablet--seems she did know it was on, look at that--and she raises her glass.

"Xiàwǔ hǎo, Taxon. Anybody care for a drink?"

[[ Translation: Xiàwǔ hǎo = Good afternoon ]]

smecker.livejournal.com

"Goooood morning, fellow inmates."

Paul tap-taps the little screen, exhales cigarette smoke towards it. He thinks he's got the right settings for 'city-wide broadcast' but only experimenting will tell.

"There's still, what, a fucking foot of snow on some of the sidewalks? Just the right conditions to go shopping."

The view of his face vanishes as he reaches for the tablet, hand briefly covering the screen until he shifts his grip and pans the device to show off the shop some people may still know as Theta's. There are many shelves, all of them full of clockworks.

"You'd better, because this is a commercial. Once upon a time a woman named Theta hired me to cook and clean, and then vanished, leaving her shop and merchandise behind. It's all still here pretty much, as you can see.

"I don't want it. In fact, I could use the space for other things. Also, the little fuckers are a pain to dust. So here's the deal: if you can get yourself off your asses and out into the snow, I'll be giving these charming little examples of weird science away at severe discounts. Seriously, bring me a cup of coffee that doesn't taste of recycled snot and you might get one for free.

"Anybody needing directions, you take the green line north into Speares, fourth stop, the one with the town-square style clock visible from the tram. I'm the appliance repair building right next to said clock. Come on down. Maybe there will be donuts. Everyone likes donuts. Except communists. Paul Smecker out."

slayersidekick

The camera's not aimed at Willow when it turns on. It's aimed at a cute little kitten on the bed. The kitten's playing around with string she found and seems to be having a grand old time. Willow's behind the camera, reading a book. Yes, that book, the one full of big spells that the aliens gave her for Christmas, and that she's been hiding ever since. Well, today the hiding thing is up. She's throwing caution to the wind and furiously studying it. She might even have tried a couple of the memory-oriented ones for Angel's sake. So far, she can't tell if anything's worked or not, so there's only one thing to do: Ask the tablets.

"Hey, Angel?" She's still not actually on screen. There's just the kitten. "How are you feeling?" What? It can't hurt, right?

"So, uh... anyone know of a good name for a kitten? The last one Tara and I had was Little Miss Kitty Fantastico, but I don't think I can name a different cat the same thing."

The kitten promptly pounces the string at the edge of the bed and topples off.

"Ah!" Willow dives over the edge to fetch her, bringing the kitten back up looking no worse for her tumble. In fact, she goes right back to pouncing the string. Willow laughs.

There's a bit of dead air for a while, where Willow doesn't say anything. The kitten's still on the bed and she's still reading her book. Every now and then there's the sound of a page turning but that's it until she remembers something else.

"Oh, and aliens? I know you're listening and I want you to know that I'm really tired of your crap. Thanks for the kitten, but stop with everything else, okay?"

Yeah, that's certainly the way to do it, Willow. Piss them off right after Christmas and the new year. That'll end well. Really, she means the people coming and going and the glitching memories. She has no idea that the cheeseburger she just had for lunch was glitched, too. Honest. Anyone who enters her room, knocks on the door, or responds to her tablet post will probably be privy to a much more jumpy Willow. In more ways than one! She's still got the book on her lap and several others are spread around her, many looking similar to ones from Tamper and Trick. There is one busy witch in the castle currently!

[ooc: conflict is more than welcome for any who are prone to doing such or are worried about how dodgy she's been acting lately.]

Current Music: 宇多田ヒカル - Passion -after the battle- | Powered by Last.fm

iminmynightie.livejournal.com

Stirring her tea with a spoon, Amy idly listened to the sound of the metal hitting the ceramic sides of her cup. She was thinking.

The Doctor had been gone... well, she didn't know how long, but it seemed to her she'd just become aware of it. When had she last spoken to him? Or even seen him? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled brushing aside ideas of calling out to him from the living room, or knocking on his bedroom door. But why? What had held her back?

She stopped stirring and left the spoon in her cup as she picked her tablet off the kitchen table and turned it on. She searched the map for him again, and again it told her he wasn't there. The Doctor was clever though, so very, very clever, so if he had reason to, he could easily hide himself from the tablet's map. But for what reason? And why wouldn't he tell her before he rushed off to do whatever it was that he was secretly doing?

A little voice in her head said that the reason he wasn't on the map was because he was taken out of Taxon. The feeling of tears started behind her eyes, but she held them back and grew angry instead. The Doctor wouldn't abandon her. Not again. Not after twelve years of waiting the first time, then two more years after that.

Of course, that wretched little voice said, the Doctor wouldn't have a choice. The hamsters would take him away against his will.

"Shut it, you," she grumbled, then pressed a hand to her forehead because she was talking to herself.

Straightening up and clearing her throat, she turned the tablet over to the voice section and tried to sound like she wasn't upset at all.

"Hello, fellow Taxon residents! Anybody seen the Doctor 'round recently? He seems to be playing a very intricate game of hide and seek."

[ooc: Amy was glitched by the hamsters to not notice the Doctor's disappearance until after Christmas, so she could enjoy it and not be mopey. But now he's gone and it's time to feel abandoned. ;_;]

imperial-long.livejournal.com

The Hyperion Hotel was not the most impressive hotel he had ever been in, although it did have a certain ambiance he could not help but approve of. It looked as though it had been originally built in perhaps the 1930s, the height of the Art Nouveau movement, which made it a very endearingly young building and, of course, meant that by American standards it was a positive antique.

Long was moving through the hotel because the little unusual device in his hand, and the map with the device, indicated it to be the site of a bright dot that lit and flashed and blinked the closer he came to it. He was standing in the lobby, now, and as near as he could tell he was directly standing on/inside the glowing dot, and yet... He looked around him, a slight man in a good suit, his eyes alert, but aside from a reasonably charming fountain in the lobby he found little to merit a frantically blinking dot.

Well. Perhaps on one of the floors above. The map, after all, was two-dimensional, while reality was not.

Unaware that the device was broadcasting a visual of his wanderings around the hotel, he moved for the elevators, seized with a sudden thought. His own rooms, perhaps? But from the street this building had appeared to be only six stories...

[ooc: a bit bendy-timed to be in the days immediately after Long's arrival- open to anyone but especially Fred or Angel if they are curious why some dude is wandering about their hotel]

tothelibrary.livejournal.com

Taxon goes through phases, Dawn knows that. Other than Kirk, Faith, River, and technically-- if you base it on entrance date instead of longevity-- Dean, she's the person who's been around the longest, so she really knows. Person A goes, Person B enters. Person A comes back, with or without memories. Eventually, Person B leaves too. There's not so much a pattern-- at least, not an obvious one based on anything even resembling time-- but the fact that there are cycles are obvious, once you figure everything out.

It's December again, and last year that meant-- things, things she's not dealing with right now (or ever) thanks very much. This year it means Dawn's unsettled, uncertain. And with so many of the new people actually... doing things, like grown-up police tv things about law and order and trying to figure things out, not just rebelling by stealing your clothes because you're really annoyed with everything. Maybe Dawn is getting complacent. Maybe that's part of the plan around here, grind the people who will just settle in and live down until Taxon becomes normal. Routine.

Well, from now on the hamsters picked the wrong person on that score. Kirk was talking about that guide and welcoming committee, and that Sam guy asked for names... if they can step up, Dawn might as well deal with her emo and restlessness by doing what she does best.

Which means a trip to the nearest hatch to grab new pens and four packs of brightly colored index cards, and on a whim a collection of neon topped push-pins. Time to take a page from Andrew's playbook and make a Board. The kind of board that houses Very Important Information.

When her tablet turns on, Dawn's been hard at work for a couple hours and the sky outside her window is getting dark. The board is mostly covered, index cards with things like "Glitches", "Dates", "Returning Players Part One (With Memories)", "Returning Players Part Two (Without Memories)", and "Hamsters????" written in clear, large letters, the cards crowding in and overlapping each other, Dawn's neat handwriting tidy and small beneath each larger title. One card in the middle only has four names, in numbered order one to four: James Kirk, River Tam, Faith Lehane, Dawn Summers. There's smaller writing off to the side, but it's too small to read from anywhere but up close. Something quiet and recognizably indie pop plays softly in the background and Dawn takes a step back to look at the board with no small amount of satisfaction.

"Okay. It's not translating stupidly rigid ancient prophecies, but whatever. Take that, hamsters." Turning back to her desk to grab a sip of soda, she spots the recording light on her tablet and rolls her eyes, bringing a hand up to shove at the hair falling in her face. "Oh my God, really? Ugh." She takes a long sip of Coke, then offers the tablet a half-hearted wave. "Hi, people randomly catching this broadcast. Sorry about the whole... reality tv slash Pay-Per-View of boring research things, don't mind me. No seriously, don't. I'm in the gathering stage, it's uber-nerdy and boring. Also, I kind of have this feeling the hamsters watch-- anyway. Sorry for being geeky all over you guys, have a nice day." Glancing at the window, she amends, "Night, I mean."

She presses the button to end the feed, shaking her head and already turning back to stare at the board.

[ ooc | in and out due to christmas stuff, but i needed to get this up sob! still backtagging faith and damon i swear. ]

fathertaxmas.livejournal.com

It's Christmas Eve, and for the most part the night is quiet. The city is covered in a blanket of snow, and the festive lights shine on silently in the dark.

Some might hear the gentle murmur of reindeer shaking off the cold, even sleigh bells and footsteps, while others sleep through. They might even get up to investigate; Taxon isn't always the safest place, and strange noises usually bring about a certain level of curiosity. It's understandable, really.

One by one, be it house or spaceship or 'other,' Santa is making his way down his special Taxon list and leaving presents under trees and on nightstands.

A few will get to be delivered personally, and while that contact is generally Against the Rules, this is quite the special case.

[ ooc: HEY GUYS IT'S SANTA!

We're still doing gifts over here, so go ahead and comment with what you'd like your character to get there if you haven't already. This is open to all characters, even ones just arrived, so don't be shy.

How this will work is: tag in and put the name of the residence in the subject line (ex: 'hyperion hotel,' 'frye ranch,' etc.). One of your mods will play Santa for you and anyone else with a character in the same house that wants to participate. So go forth and comment away! ]

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer Reid had been so scarce over the past few days that if one wasn't looking for him (or observing his dot on the tablet tracking device) one might have thought he had gone home. In fact, he had been busy putting the finishing touches on his latest project.

He had spent the first few days reorganizing the library how he wanted it. Thanks to a group of helpful Extras, it had gone much more quickly then he thought he would. Spencer used all of the previous day to go through the shelves and memorize the catalog. He was going to put it to paper eventually in case he ever got any help, but for now his memory would be sufficient.

And now he stood in front of his tablet, grinning like Taxon had probably never seen him grin before. Behind him, one could see the huge shelves of books rising out of the marble floor. Between the marble columns and the mahogany study tables, it looked like something out of Rome itself, or at least an Ivy League college.

"So, uh.. the library is open. We currently have 20,868 books. Hopefully you'll stop by and find something to read.. I can help you if you're looking for something specific."

With that, he offered Taxon one last closed-lipped smile and shut off the visual component to his tablet. He surveyed the library proudly for a moment, then went to work on some paperwork behind the desk.

[OOC - Yes the mod-approved library is open! Hope this all looks Kosher. It's located in Central. Come visit and check out some books! OR if your character would like to work at the library that'd be cool too. Spencer may be a genius with an eidetic memory but he can't do it alone. XD]

Current Mood: accomplished

supercompacted.livejournal.com

There's been an awful lot of departures lately, haven't there? It seems like something's going on. Although there always is something going on, I guess. Well, we're missing one more. For those of you who knew him, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce has left Taxon again. His apartment's gone, and as far as I know we all remember it, so I suspect he won't be back. At least not for awhile. And I'm going for a long walk. Lorne, expect to see me tonight?

---

After contemplating it for a moment or two, she decided not to mask her location. There was no reason to, really. And if anyone wanted to find her, that was fine. It wasn't as if everyone was gone, after all. She shoved the tablet back on her wrist a little more forcefully than necessary and walked down the street, hands in her pockets. She paid less attention to the decorations than the aliens probably would've liked, but it did all catch her eye (and remind her of how her father would overdo it occasionally, back home).

Despite what it looked like, her mind was on the data she'd gone over with Spencer a few days prior, trying to find some sort of pattern that would at least explain the departures. If she could just know why, this whole thing wouldn't be so hard to take. She was trying not to think too hard about what it was she was trying to adjust to, at the moment.

She approached a bell-ringer out of habit, then frowned. She didn't have any real money to give him, and that brought her back to the reality of the situation. She was in an alien city, not LA or San Antonio or someplace that would be much warmer than here. Nothing here really tracked with the real world. But the Extra looked hopeful and she let out a sigh. "Is there even a way to give you credits?"

[ooc: She'll be walking down toward the south end of Taxon, eventually stopping off at Wolfram and Hart and then likely Caritas. Feel free to see her wandering!]

undoing.livejournal.com

Angel wonders if he's the first person to notice a certain bleach blonde vampire's absence from Taxon. A quick sweep of the network tells him that yes, he is. Just like Spike to take off (whether it was of his own doing or not, given the aliens pulling their strings and not giving them a choice in matters) and leave him to deal with informing everyone. If this were a year or so ago, he would've scoffed and not said a word, but the progression of time makes for a more civil outlook.

"For those who knew him," he says to the tablet screen, lips pressed into a thin line (and anyone who knows him will be able to tell this is a clear sign of Angel not wanting to do something), "Spike's been sent home."

That done, he turns the tablet off and leaves the hotel to go wander around other parts of Speares. Aimlessly? A bit. He still doesn't like crowds and the holidays have never been something he was very into, but the Extras are dull enough that they leave him alo--

Or. They usually do.

With a huff of irritation, Angel steps around one singing Christmas carols. "Like you even know what a chestnut is."

[ ooc | for tablet trolling / mistletoe shenanigans / snowball fights / general pestering / idk everything but the kitchen sink. ]

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer stood in the office that Brennan had allowed him at the Jeffersonian, staring at a white board covered in writing. On the right side were the names of the most recent newcomers: Paul Smecker, Michael Westen, Sam Axe, Sookie Stackhouse, Buffy Summers (with an asterisk next to both of those names), Katherine Pierce, Elisa Maza. On the left, recent departures: Kara Zor-El, Mal Reynolds, Harold Saxon, Andrew Wells, Charles Gunn, Piper Halliwell, Cordelia Chase, Tony Stark, Illyria. The names were written in blue marker, to stand out. Everything else was in red and it truly looked like some form of foreign language. There were lines drawn connecting various names and any number of equations and notes written in the margins such as "answering the phone" or "disappeared overnight".

The tablet zeroed in on Spencer from behind as he stared at this massive mess of numbers and figures and words. He muttered to himself - somehow it made sense to him. He wrote another few things in the margins, then stood back again. Spencer rubbed his temples with a sigh. Hours of staring at this board and still no discernible pattern.

He could only imagine what a Herculean task this would have been if he had tried to do it in his apartment. Here he could spread out his paperwork and leave it wherever he pleased. The board would not be accidentally erased or have something spilled on it. Although, Spencer had to admit that his original reason for wanting an office was because he found his room mate distracting. Now Kate distracted him in an entirely different way. They'd already consummated their relationship (three times!), though he still had trouble defining what they were. A little voice told him that it wasn't important, that he should just enjoy it, but Spencer was a man who classified things, who analyzed things. He had no other way to experience his emotions but to think about them and to organize them.

But that was not what was important right now. Instead he chose to focus on the myriad of writing in front of him. He picked up the marker again and went back to work.

supercompacted.livejournal.com

This transmission is really rather short. It shows Fred, still in her pajamas in the afternoon. She's frowning at the camera- well, at the tablet really, and appears to be concentrating hard enough that she hasn't notice the record function has kicked in.

Her eyes widen, and she lets out a small disbelieving grunt. "I've been gone how long?!"

spikedwatcher.livejournal.com

Wesley slowly awakes with the faintly disconcerting taste of cigarette ash in his mouth, but he doesn't rouse immediately because there's a lovely warm naked body pressed next to his and he's presuming that he's coming out of a particularly nice dream. He snuggles closer for a moment, indulging himself until he realises that the woman he's holding feels very very real in his arms. And the scent of her is distinctly...

"Buffy?"

Wesley's eyelids flicker open and he freezes, seeing the blonde hair and distinct features of the Slayer. He hastily releases her and scoots backwards, to climb out of the bed. This isn't his bed. This isn't his room. How did he--?

Looking down he realizes that he is in fact sans clothes. Without a bloody stitch on. Overcome with embarrassment and confusion he lunges forward to grab the end of the bed sheet to try and get it free to cover himself with. Which has the unfortunate side effect of revealing more of his sleeping companion.

It's at this point when Wesley also realises that his body doesn't feel or look like his own (from what he can see of it). He certainly doesn't normally have abs rippling quite so distinctly down his torso. Instinctively he turns to check himself in the mirror and to his dismay, there is absolutely no reflection.

"Oh my god, no!" He exclaims with mortification and horror.

[ooc: Meant to happen pretty much simultaneously with Spike's post, for maximum WTF LOLZ]

notabluemeanie.livejournal.com

The first thing that Casey notices when he wakes up is that he's sprawled on the carpet of some office he's never seen before.

What the hell?

Then he notices that he's got long hair hanging down over his face, long girly hair and it's tinted a weird shade of blue. He quickly brushes it back, clambers to his feet and looks down at himself. He's in some kind of red leather cat suit or something and he's got...

...woman parts. He's a goddamn woman, and he's much shorter than he used to be.

No way, this can't be happening to him. He'd heard about the glitches, even helped out others when they'd glitched, but he'd never prepared himself for it happening to him. Not like this. The truth glitch was a blip of inconvenience in comparison to this.

He starts to snarl, the feeling of violation and seething anger at being trapped in a body not his bursting forth. Casey doesn't realize that the tablet is on when he speaks.

"I swear as soon as I found out who did this, I'm gonna rip them apart and wear their entrails for a hat."

exvampire.livejournal.com

Wesley is wearing a lot more black than usual. That's because it isn't Wesley, it's Spike. And he looks grumpy. Waking up in someone else's body will do that to you.

"Right, so, there seems to be some bodyswapping going on. If all the screaming and waking up as someone else didn't tip you off."

He pushes his glasses up and rubs his eyes. It's been a long time since he had anything but better than perfect vision. Now all of his senses are muted and human, and he feels weak and his head hurts. Plus, Wesley's body is disconcertingly different from his.

"So, uh, probably best to be careful what you tell who and who you sleep with. Things could get messy." He pauses. "Oh, and this is Spike. Wesley, are you in my body? And who and where is Buffy?"

hamsterbait.livejournal.com

She could feel her heart beating.

The blood pulsed through her veins to a rhythm that, once upon a time, Drusilla would have danced along to. But she wasn't dancing today. Because it was her heart. A heart that had been silenced for centuries.

Her eyes snapped open.

No. Not her eyes. She'd fallen asleep as a vampire, safe in the forest and with Miss Edith in her arms. She'd woken up as a human. And not just any human. Somehow, she'd slipped into the skin of the Vision Girl.

For a long time, there was nothing but silence. It shattered with a scream and, for an even longer amount of time, Drusilla didn't realise that it was coming from her lips.

She screamed and she screamed and then, because there was nothing else she could do, she laughed.

The Vision Girl's heart kept on beating.

noheatnikki.livejournal.com

Kate has been flipping through Reid's books and pacing the spare room in Reid's apartment for several hours before she remembers the tablet thing, which has been on since she had tried to see if it had Solitaire on it earlier. She drums her fingers on the table for a moment, debating what she wants to do, before clearing her throat and looking into the screen.

"So...what do people do around here? Work? Drink? I'm going stir-crazy here."

slayersidekick

Willow has no idea why this birthday might be bittersweet for Tara, so, fortunately or unfortunately, she's going all out. Sitting in the Sunnydale Library before her talk with Tara, she's gearing up for something fun. Shenanigans, as it were.

First step: make a post locked to specific people: Buffy, Dawn, Anya, DG, Piper, Ax, Angel, Fred, Wes, (Spike, too, whoops), plus anyone else Tara or Willow are friends with. If uncertain, feel free to ask, assume, or party crash!

"Hey, guys! It's Willow. Today's Tara's birthday, so I thought we could do a surprise party for her. What do you guys think? I-I think it'd be, y'know, fun. So, I'm gonna hold something like that in the Sunnydale Library. If you're free tonight o-or feel like coming, I'll be there! And Tara, too, of course." Hopefully. "Friends of friends are totally invited. No RSVP necessary."

Of course, the problem with a party at all was noise. There was always the possibility of having the party crashed by any number of people, but Willow wasn't really worried. She was there to enjoy the night and hopefully to make it fun for Tara, too.

((ooc: Pretty much anyone is welcome. I'm totally horrible at remembering who knows who, so if you're not listed, you're still welcome! Feel free to use this post as the party thread, too, and mingle or whatever you feel like. There's popcorn, candy, and all sorts of other snack-type foods and drinks. And Willow's waiting for people to arrive. Tara's welcome at any time, before or after people start to arrive. Any questions, feel free to ask!))

Current Music: 植松伸夫 - Warping to a Different Dimen.. | Powered by Last.fm

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His normally crisp tie was loose and his shirt a bit rumpled. He rubbed his temples before he spoke.

"It would be most convenient if this device worked more like a cell phone and I could call a specific person. Perhaps there is such a way to do that and I haven't yet discovered it. Be that as it may... Fred Burkle, if you're out there, I'd like to ask you about a computer..."

He placed the tablet down in front of him and went back to the papers on his desk. Barely audible in the background came the faint sound of a woman humming. Spencer furrowed his brow and massaged his temples again as soon as the noise started.

"I never took into account that a drawback to gathering research in this manner could be attachment. I wish that she would at least try to find a place of her own. The humming is driving me mad."

He mumbled, speaking more to himself than to anyone out in Taxon. It was almost as though he had forgotten the tablet was still on.

[OOC - Aftermath of this.]

Current Mood: frustrated

supercompacted.livejournal.com

We're still looking for significant patterns and all of that here, but I wanted to give you the preliminary results of the survey, since I figured everyone would like to know. If you want to see general results anytime in the future, please let me know and I'll get them to you. I want to thank everyone for being so helpful and patient. I know this isn't exactly the most official thing in the world, but it's giving me a good look at a lot of what's going on. I think we're going to continue taking information from people as they arrive- Dr. Reid, in particular, is helping out with that.

Now, if there's anyone who'd still like to take the survey and missed it last time, please let me know! I'll put it up here for you privately. And my baking promise still stands, because I had a lot of fun with that. I'll give you cookies and/or brownies if you fill this out.

And here it is- ( Survey Results )

Now, I tried to put together some graphs to show trends between things one would think would trend upward, but only a few obvious things did, such as Glitches vs. Time spent in Taxon. But even those didn't tend to trend upwards as much as I'd expected. Like myself, some people have been here almost a year without getting glitched. There's definitely a trend toward the random here, but we'll be doing our best to decipher it. From what I can see, people do tend to like it better here when there are more people they already knew from home. However, other things I would've assumed aren't true- there's no correlation between the rating on the city and glitches, for example. Like I said, we haven't found any really significant patterns to share with you guys yet, but I'll let you know when we do!

[ ooc: Pretty much all of this comes from the lovely

gogogidget, who took all the data down and put it all together! Thanks so much, Gidget. <3

Also, assume this results post showed up at a time that's not way after the survey? >_>; I've been trying to get my graphing program to...graph correctly, and it keeps not doing it right and I keep yelling at it, but I figure this'd waited long enough. :P Fred'll give out handwaved graphs on request! ]