#mytimingisdigital

[mythictold]

"---data, i was hoping to catch you." beverly holds a steaming cup of green tea and a plate of snacks; it's late, far later than her normal shift hours, and she's only just emerged from her lab down in medbay long enough to grab food and a drink before she's determined to go back to it. seeing @my-timing-is-digital at another table in ten forward this late is a coincidence she won't look over - she's desperate to pick his brain about a new idea against the borg. at the same time, it's been too long since they've chatted outside a senior staff meeting that it feels criminal.

"mind if i join you?"

[quantumstarpaths]

@my-timing-is-digital said: 🎁

↣ SEND 1-100 97 FOR A LYRIC BASED STARTER FROM MY SPOTIFY WRAPPED GOOGLE RECAP, OR 🎁 FOR A RANDOM SONG. ↣ take on me by a-ha

"I don't know what I'm to say." And he doesn't like that. He hates not knowing what to do, or what to say. He hates being stumped, but right now he feels that he is. "What..." he pauses, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips in anxiety, "what do you want me to say?"

[lastsurvivor-a]

@my-timing-is-digital liked for a starter!

Ellen cannot help but smile, watching the cat with admiration. “Cute cat. You said its name was Spot?” She inquires, looking up at Data to confirm. “I had one once. His name was Jonesy,” she shares, nostalgic, “may I pet it?”

She missed Jonesy to bits, but maybe if she got to see this cat often, it’d help soften the sadness of having to leave him behind. Data seemed friendly enough to let her see it from time to time, anyways. “I wish I knew we could’ve had cats on board, I would’ve brought him.”

[doctordonovan]

❝ in our next action, we can risk neither miscalculation nor error. ❞

there's no margin for error:  not that there ever seems to be with her work,  with any of their work.  it's all about careful precision   -   wound tightly enough for people's fates to tightrope walk across it without any kind of net.   lives have rested in her hands before,  it comes with the territory,   there can be no mystery so far out without things at risk.  maeve has never been the kind to relish such power.  never craving it,   never seeking it out,   unfortunate enough that it is simply in her nature to want to help.

but they're running out of time.  and,   worse even than that,  the crew is down to barely a skeleton number not already sick.

❝ I know,  @my-timing-is-digital.  please trust that I'm fully aware of that detail. ❞   there has to be a reason the few not infect remain,  something different in their blood.  ❝ I'm trying to get the balance between careful and fast right. ❞

[dimensionalspades]

. He wanted to throw something. Any bravado or confidence he'd had was sapped, and how silly he felt now. They were simply drones, wandering the hallways to their own objectives. Julian was panicking over nothing, and he drew in a breath, rubbing his face. In his hunched posture and with his focus so collected on the fabric of his knees, Julian couldn't see or hear Data approach.

. He looked up, meeting Data's eyes for a moment.

. "I'm- thank you, I'm fine. I really wish I was of use to you, here," Julian replied tersely, his agitation not directed at Data but at the Cube itself. "I've no experience. The Borg have always been a far off threat. This is my first real encounter with them."

. The sudden offer of information almost seemed to help, Julian's shoulders relaxing. Even more, he felt an idiot for being so terse, but the look of his surroundings only created a claustrophobic sensation, making his skin itch.

. "I played violin for years," he replied after a moment. He sighed. His tutor would probably roll his eyes and huffed if he knew it'd been a year and a half at least since he'd picked up a violin. "But I didn't know that. I was more interested in how to play or what made my fingers hurt less." He paused, inhaling as he stood to his full height. "I'm sorry, Data. I don't mean to be dead weight. Is there anything I can do to help us get off this thing?"

. He was intensely grateful, if embarrassed. Data had more than enough to do without managing him as well. His eyes roved around, then tentatively back into the hallway. The vent they'd come out of was still open, but there seemed little reason to try to go back there at the moment. The only options were deeper into the Cube. He wondered how everyone outside was managing in the attack. It all seemed so eerily quiet and calm here.

The android was computing his next move with immaculate precision; one infinitesimal miscalculation and they could be dangling precariously from the point of of no return — there was no margin for error. Erroneous decisions would eventuate in assimilation, a procedure Data desperately wished to circumvent. Evocations of the Borg Queen and her execrable experiments wreathed around him like a constrictor, and despite his determination to decimate the recollections, he could only partially erase them; he reduced the mnemonic feedback loop to an opaque veil of history that unobtrusively suppurated in the remote chasms of his consciousness.

    Similarly to Julian, the Commander had temporarily suspended all systems that animated him — even his blink subroutine had been disabled. He was nailed to the ground. His optical units were trained on the Borg, wondering whose voice it was that was presently intoxicating their inculcated minds, whispering orders in their ears, moving the Collective like a well-conducted orchestra, like one humongous contraption of death…

    And as promptly as they had appeared they pivoted around and left. Abandoning the Starfleet officers, either because they possessed foreknowledge regarding their pending predicament, or because the Borg Queen — or whoever was in charge — had modified their objectives. Either way, their brand new assignment bore more importance than terminating the safety hazard the two Starfleet officers posed to the ship’s integrity. Perhaps he could ascertain the nature of the telepathically issued commands by rummaging through their collective matrix.

    However, that undertaking would have to be postponed for several minutes; his gaze swept to Bashir, who, until today, had never been confronted by the cybernetic species that had massacred and depredated other species’ individuality for centuries. Swiftly, and without so much as a hint of a footfall, the android altered his itinerary and subsequently squatted down beside the Doctor within less than a second. His words were nonsensical, irrelevant, possibly initiated by the much dreaded encounter — an emotional coping mechanism to deflect his blood-curdling experience with the Borg. Data canted his head in an attempt to align his eyes with Julian’s, a solicitous frown agitated his brow.

    ‘No, I did not,’ he whispered softly. ‘Are you all right, Julian?’

    He deliberately dropped the title denoting his vocation — etiquette would not aid them aboard a vessel that was virtually droning, saturating with Borg. Furthermore, he inferred that the last thing Bashir required was the support of a seemingly insouciant machine devoid of emotions and sympathy…

    ‘Did you know that the modern violin has been around for approximately 800 years. It was said to have been designed in the 1500s by Andrea Amati,’ he reciprocated the gesture of distributing irrelevant information with the intention to pacify Julian’s trepidation. ‘Did you also know that playing the violin burns approximately 170 calories per hour, and that the word violin is derived from the Medieval Latin word vitula, meaning stringed instrument?’

[iamselfmade]

“If there is one thing I know about pie… it is that it does not look like this.” ⸺ Data’s attempt at constructive feedback (keyword being attempt; boi has literally no idea what he’s doing).

Hugh looked back down at the atrocity he had created. Despite being put in the oven in a round tin, it came out lumpy and vaguely fish shaped. The temperature of the oven had been far too high- the top crust was seared beyond recognition but the bottom crust was raw. It had, at one point in time, been an apple pie. Now, who knew? The apples had long since gone to hell.

A playful smile tugged at his lips. He looked back up at Data. "Do you think I could convince Commander Riker to try some?"

[neomacaught]

@my-timing-is-digital​ gets a thing!

   “Hey, don’t worry.” 

   Neoma’s voice had the easy quality it always did — a relaxed lilt, an unhurried tone, expression placid and calm as an untouched lake. She lifted a bit of shrapnel, moved it from their path as though it were nothing at all, and smiled back at him, following her. 

   “I’ve got your back. No need to be all stiff.” 

[lehmccoy]

@scottyland​ If you tell another joke around @my-timing-is-digital​ I'm gonna hypo your ass.

[softeranimals]

@my-timing-is-digital​ sent: “ [ instruct ] ( your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do. ) ” ( ‘ non-sexual acts of dominance ’ )

sox, being an android himself, has quite enjoyed his time with data, getting to know him in between moments of work, both from  a scientific standpoint, being able compare how they were both built, the things they can both do, and from a social one as well, sox genuinely just enjoying the man’s company.

they’re together now, sox in a vent that his much smaller size makes him the perfect man ( or the perfect cat ) for, awaiting data’s instructions. “i’m in, mister data! what now?”

[dimensionalspades]

Send me ➵ and I will bold all that applies to your muse — For Julian! :3

- all that applies || accepting -

Bold for always, italics for sometimes/interested

I would hurt you or use you. | you unsettle me. | I dislike you or you annoy me. | I would like to get to know you better. | I pity you. | you confuse me. | I feel indifferent towards you. | I would be friends with you. | I would fight by your side. | I would hug you or hold your hand. | I would kiss you. | I would sleep with you. | I would lie for you. | I would protect you. | I would fall in love with you. | I would kill for you | I respect you. | you are my family. | I don’t know you.

[mythictold]

@my-timing-is-digital sent: ‘My apologies for the delay, Doctor. It had not been my intention to succumb to tardiness, but Spot reached a... functional impasse ⸺ for some inexplicable reason she managed to get herself entangled in the ball of yarn I frequently utilise for her entertainment. I had to release her from her self-induced confines before I could accompany you on the holodeck,’ Data said apologetically, his ocular sensors absorbing the familiar room comprised of the wooden floor, tall windows, and abundance of mirrors mounted to the walls. ‘I am available now and eager to continue where we left off.’

beverly smiles as she listens to data's retellings of spot; she's fond of the creature herself, and it doesn't surprise her at all what she's been up to. "it's not a problem, data. i've only just warmed up so you're right on time - i would hate to encroach on your bonding with spot." in a quiet little selfish truth, beverly is happy data has shown interest in continuing his dancing pursuits; there aren't others on the ship she can share the interest with. she ties her hair out of her face at the nape of her neck, and appraises data fondly. "do you want to try something new in tap, or should we continue with ballroom standards? i came prepared for both."

[quantumstarpaths]

@my-timing-is-digital said: ☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity!!!!

AAAHHH THANK YOU!!!!!! thank you SOOO much. i know this is just a silly inbox game but like. i feel abandoned on this blog a little so im really grateful! i love you too!!!! you're really good at data!!!

i dont really send these things out much, but i want everyone to know that if youre seeing this you are one of my favorite blogs. i love you so much. i love you.

[doctordonovan]

 STRANDED :   for one muse to help the other who’s stranded on the road a random planet.

 this is certainly not her idea of fun   -    and,    despite everything logic dictates,    anxiety screams beneath her skin.    it is a messy situation...     yet it is one she can,    and will,    surely handle.    emergencies never truly effect her as they should:    calm despite a thousand things that could destroy her.    (   so why is this so much more difficult?   being around someone that sees so much more than the average person?   who cannot be redirected with the same ease she can use when people start being a little too interested in the things maeve doesn't say?   )    data is fascinating,    but his presence is less comforting than it should be.

                 get a grip,  donovan.

 hair is messily pulled up,    pointed ears unusually obvious as she continues scanning surroundings.      ❝   as great as your presence is @my-timing-is-digital​,    and truly,    it's reassuring to not be the smartest person working on the problem...    please tell me any of your equipment is working.    I can't tell if it was the shuttle crash or something in the atmosphere driving all of mine insane.   ❞

[empathicstars]

She was quiet, for a while. The silence was no fault of his, for Aella was always silent — it was the speaking that was unusual, and difficult, and hard to entirely form.

But, in a way, she understood him. She understood what it was to desperately wish to be something you were not. She knew what it was to work for an ideal that others would find too ambitious or impossible. Cadet Data, unlike her, did not have shame. She had never told anyone it was her goal to be Vulcan — but she lived their life, silently subservient to the Kir’Shara, despite the fact that it had never been written for her.

“I am not other humanoids,” she murmured, in response. “I cannot give you responses that are not mine. But... if your programming does not include the wish to grow beyond it... would you not already have grown beyond it, with just the wish?”

The kaleidoscopic range of emotions that momentarily manifested in Aella’s countenance were impossible for the android the interpret. Had he said something offensive? Or had his aspiration simply rendered her confused?

    ‘I do not want to be nothing but a sophisticated machine in human form,’ Data replied promptly, his yellow eyes focusing on the library building that was located at a distance of 25.3 meters. 24.6 meters. 23.9 meters… ‘I want to become more than just a collection of circuits and subprocessors. I want to grow beyond my programming. Therefore, I have decided to believe that I am a person, because if I were simply a machine, I could be nothing else, and I find that difficult to accept.’

    The android averted his gaze from the library building and observed the Betazoid, wondering what emotions she was experiencing. Did his ambition to evolve frighten her? He knew that many people were already afraid of his superiority, and he could imagine that his resolution to evolve would elicit a disquieting sensation in them.

    ‘Do you think my goal might be too… ambitious, Cadet Moore?’ he asked softly. ‘I have never been granted the opportunity to share this particular version of my aspiration with anyone, until now. So, I cannot extrapolate the precise response this revelation will have on other humanoids.’

[iamselfmade]

Spot was graced with the impulse to ingest my pilea mollis, hence why she is presently wearing her time-out paper bag as a penalty for her erroneous behaviour. This does, however, not deter her from consuming one of my other plants in the near future. Unfortunately...

"Shame! Shame bag for Spot! A terrible cat! I am going to kiss her little paws."

[dimensionalspades]

🐝  *  ―  send 🖋 or ( ‘PLOTS’ ) for me to tell you a couple potential plot ideas i have for our muses, whether it just be certain types of dynamics or general storylines i’d like to explore. — For Julian, of course! :3

- plots! || accepting -

Julian and Data are stranded on a planet that hates most technology and must attempt to pass Data off as human until the Defiant comes to rescue them

An experiment on the Enterprise leaves Julian and Data in a temporal pocket wherein they must save their frozen colleagues from an incoming attack by Jem'Hadar

Julian and Data are mandated to take a break, and Julian tries to teach Data how to relax on a vacation planet.