#ContemporaryFeatures

[pukicho]

I listened to your music on Spotify for the very first time today. It was "Spirited Away Away Away Away Away Away" followed immediately by "Wraiths," and if I'm to be entirely honest, I teared up a little? It was beautiful. I usually come to tumblr just to suffer so I appreciate a nice atmosphere to accompany my pain. Thank you Puki! Please keep it up! :)

Thanks for the support! new stuff comin soon

[starfleetimagines]

Data - "You must breathe.”

Requested by user Area_C-137 on Wattpad: Maybe you could write one where the reader is in a relationship with data and he see the reader having a panic attack and then they cuddle to make the reader feel happy Word count: 658 Warnings/notes: Reader has a panic attack. Please do not read if that will upset or trigger you in any way! Tag list: @just-a-teal-android, @andskysthelimit, @contemporaryfeatures, @schroedingershund, @dancingwith-thesunflowers, @sinschesters, @groovyfluxie - if you want to be added to or removed from a tag list, please let me know!

Your breathing was shallow and quick, making your head spin from lack of oxygen. Your chest felt like it was being crushed by a shuttlepod, which wasn’t helping your difficulty breathing. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them off with shaking hands. You didn’t remember what had triggered this attack, only that it happened. One minute you were fine, reading on your couch. The next, utter panic started to take over you and you felt your mind slowly lose control of your body.

You wanted it to stop. Hell, you’d do anything to make it stop. You tried to remember the breathing techniques that Doctor Crusher had told you about, but with your fuzzy mind it was hard to remember much.

“Y/N,” a voice said, sounding distance to your ringing ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped at your hair.

“Y/N, you must breathe,” the voice said, sounding closer now.

You shook your head and gasped for breath.

“You must breathe slowly. You are going to hyperventilate and pass out.”

You forced your eyes open and saw a pale-skinned figure in front of you with a yellow uniform on. Through your tears and blurred vision, you couldn’t make out who it was.

“Try to listen to my voice,” the person said, and you recognized it.

“Data?” you choked out.

“I am here, Y/N,” he replied. He gently took your hands in his and pulled them away from your head. “Please try to breathe slowly. In for five seconds, hold, and out for five seconds. Can you attempt that?”

You nodded, and as you breathed in Data started to count aloud. He only made it to three before you were exhaling sharply.

“Again,” he instructed.

You started to inhale and again, Data began to count. This time you made it to four seconds and were able to hold it for a brief moment before exhaling, slower than you had before.

“You were doing well,” Data said. “Continue.”

The two of you did this until your breathing was regulated and your head was no longer spinning. It felt heavy, though, and you leaned your forehead against Data’s chest. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. “You were experiencing a panic attack, something you cannot control. You need not be sorry.”

You nodded slightly. “Thank you for helping me.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Thank you.”

“I am pleased you are feeling better,” he said. “I was on my way to Ten Forward and thought you might wish to join me. When you did not answer, I had the computer locate you and found you here.”

“Well, thank God you did that. I don’t know how long it would have taken me to calm down if you hadn’t shown up.”

Data tilted his head. “God had nothing to do with my being here.”

You cracked a small smile. “It’s an expression, Data.”

“Ah. I see. Well, thank God you are all right.”

You looked up at him, your smile widening slightly. “Thank you.”

He nodded curtly. “Is there some activity you wish to do?”

You bit your lip slightly. “Could we just stay here and cuddle for a while? I… I need to be held.”

“That would be acceptable,” Data replied. “Couch or bed?”

“Bed,” you said.

Data led you to your bed and pulled the covers back. The two of you climbed in and he lay on his back. You curled up next to him, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“Would you like to speak or remain silent?” he asked.

“Can you tell me about your day?” you requested. “It’ll help me relax.”

As Data recalled the exact events of his day, you snuggled into his chest and sighed. You focused on his voice, the sound of it bringing peace to your thoughts.

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[starfleetimagines]

Data - Art Teacher

Pairing: Data x gender neutral reader Requested by an anon: Femreader is an artist and Data is struggling to get into/understand how to create art, so he comes to her to learn how. Word count: 652 Tag list: @sinschesters, @groovyfluxie, @space-helen, @deeppandanerdbatty, @anicamarei, @just-a-teal-android, @schroedingershund, @andskysthelimit, @contemporaryfeatures

The door to the turbolift opened, revealing Data waiting to get on.

You smiled as he stepped in. “Hey, Data.”

“Hello Y/N,” he replied. “Deck ten.”

“Are you going to Ten Forward?” you asked.

“I am. I am meeting Geordi for nineteen hundred hours, but I decided to go early and do what you all call people watching.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds fun. I was heading to Ten Forward, too. Mind if I join you?”

He nodded. “I do not mind. I have been meaning to ask you for some advice, anyway.”

“About what?” you asked, eyebrow raised in question.

The turbolift stopped at deck ten and you both stepped out.

“Art,” he replied.

Your brow furrowed momentarily. “What about art?”

“I understand that you enjoy painting in your free time,” Data said. “I would like to experiment with painting more, but I am uncertain how to add more emotion to my art when I in fact have none.”

You shook your head, a faint smile on your lips. “I wouldn’t say you have none. I think you have your own kind of emotions, Data.”

“While I believe that to be inaccurate, I appreciate the sentiment.”

You smiled. “As for painting, sometimes you just have to let the brush guide your hand and not the other way around.’

“I do not understand.” He looked at you, head tilted. “How does an inanimate object guide one’s hand?”

You reached Ten Forward and opened the door as you spoke, “It doesn’t literally. Just… don’t overthink the art. Don’t force it. You have to relax your mind and let the art develop on its own. Think of it as being its own entity—it’s trying to grow and you’re just coaxing it along.”

Data pulled a chair out for you at a table in the back of the room. “I see. But if I am to think about not overthinking, am I not actually making myself overthink?”

You laughed and sat down. “Well, yeah, sometimes. I guess I meant that if you’re too busy worrying about making your art perfect, you’ll void it of any uniqueness that comes from emotion and passion. Don’t worry about the technique being perfect, just enjoy the process and see what comes out of it.”

Data, who was now seated across from you, tilted his head to the side. “But do I not want to strive to perfect certain techniques?”

“Sure, but that can’t be the only thing you focus on,” you replied. “Art is about more than technique, Data. It’s about letting your imagination run wild. It’s about letting your emotions express themselves through patterns and colours. It’s about just getting lost in the moment and enjoying yourself.”

“I see.” Data mulled that over for a moment. “So you are saying that if I want to become a good painter, I must not focus on what makes a good painting?”

“Something like that.” You smiled and shook your head. “Good art isn’t all about the background being blended to perfection, or about keeping the lines straight, or making it as realistic as possible. Sometimes the best art is lacking in many areas, but that what makes it good. It’s what makes it unique.”

Data nodded. “I think I understand. Thank you, Y/N. You have been most helpful.”

“Glad I could help,” you said. “Maybe we could have a paint night sometime together.”

“A paint night?” he asked.

“Basically we just get together and paint. Sometimes we follow a tutorial, other times we don’t,” you explained.

“Ah. That would be acceptable.”

“It’s a date, then,” you said with a grin.

Data looked confused. “I must have missed some cue signalling that you were romantically interested in me. I apologize, but—”

“No, Data, it’s just an expression,” you said with a laugh. “It just means that it’s a plan.”

He blinked. “Ah. Then I look forward to our painting date.”

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