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PSA: I am moving!

// ooc ;; Hey everyone! I am going to move B’s account to a sideblog. 

He’s over here now at b–4.tumblr.com !

I’m going to reevaluate some of the threads I have, so give me a shout over there if you and I have a thread going and you are still interested in continuing!

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PSA: I am moving!

// ooc ;; Hey everyone! I am going to move B’s account to a sideblog. 

He’s over here now at b--4.tumblr.com !

I’m going to reevaluate some of the threads I have, so give me a shout over there if you and I have a thread going and you are still interested in continuing!

[b----4archived]

Doctor Soong made me perfect in his first attempt

                                                                 the colonists became envious of me.

 they petitioned Soong to make a more comfortable,  less perfect android.

 In other words, 

                                                                                                                   you.

@more–perfect - independent Lore blog || click for all-in-one || played by Fool || follows from @strings-have-been-cut || OC friendly || private/selective

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@inadxquacy​ // Laura ;; 

Maybe he was using some section number or something as identification from the facility. She rarely interacted with many employees, there were those interacting with test subjects and those who did their job and went home after their workday. What even made her more sure of it was the coat, it wasn’t that classic long white ones the doctors and nurses wore but it did help with the chilliness nevertheless. “A technician?” Maybe something went wrong for real then, after all the pods were quite new technology and they were tweaking them always before the new cycles. 

Sitting up felt heavy, like her head was going to drop backwards and off her shoulders like a bowling ball but the stiffness was something she was used to. It could take a few days easily before feeling like you haven’t run a marathon in poor condition. His question made her head run on auto, asking about their memory, name, sometimes even family details was how they made sure their heads hadn’t frozen and turned to porridge. “Laura Ainsley. We went in end of July, the 29th I think. Before that we had that party for one of the nurses and that’s about it. Standard procedures and whatnot.”  

Looking around more better now none of it seemed familiar except maybe the layout but it was a mess. The pods looked a little different as well. Her mind was racing with ideas, not the best kinds, but then again the group doing the tests had a vivid imagination of all the things that could happen when they were under. Waking up in Mars, a war and they missed it entirely, and whatnot. “Did something happen? This doesn’t look like the Virginia facility.” And they hadn’t mentioned any transport tests happening just jet but given the work involved they couldn’t always wake them up just to give them a heads up. “Are others awake yet?”

July the 29th? B-4 recognized the archaic dating system as one from Earth circa 20th and 21st centuries. When he realized the implication of this, one expression came to mind. Oh boy.

“I think it would be safe to say something happened,” he said, realizing his tone was not the gentlest. “If I were to estimate given the available information, I would say that you have been in stasis for several hundred years.” He looked over his shoulder at the broken pods and the remains of her comrades and turned back with a sympathetic look. “I don’t believe the others are going to wake up.” 

He did his best to continue supporting her, trying to anticipate the worst reaction she might have. “Please know that I mean no harm. I am part of a group of rescuers. We are here to provide medical attention and take you somewhere safe.”

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@inadxquacy​ // Laura ;;

“Did something happen?” It certainly wasn’t a standard wake up, usually they were just left as is until the were able to sit up themselves or they’d been resting so long they began to poke them out of their pods. Even sitting up could take an hour or three even. It was also colder then usually. Maybe something happened to the building considering the stuffy air. She wasn’t alarmed but to be told not to be didn’t exactly help. 

“Bee who?” She frowned a little and reached to rub her eyes a little but slowly as her muscles were stiff, especially her left arm and shoulder. Her hand was all dusty and so was the floor which was something she noticed even with a blurred vision but she didn’t think much of it, maybe just a malfunction. It did make her a little anxious, her breathing had already been a little heavy but it became a little quicker since nothing seemed to be going according to routine. Usually they were there to wake them up, telling them the time, duration of sleep, and some witty comment about current events. 

Taking a quick look at the man he didn’t seem familiar, maybe he looked a little odd too but she could barely gather a coherent thought so maybe she was imaging things. “Where’s the doctor? Did we make it through the normal cycle?” What was it with the dust, the place was covered with it. Did the air conditioning malfunction and mess with pod functions? “It’s really cold in here.”

She was clearly disoriented. B glanced around the room, expecting to find something to help her understand what was happening, but of course, there was nothing. The station was long abandoned. He was supposed to bring her up to speed, which caused the nauseating creep of anxiety to work its way up his chest. “B-4,” he repeated, although with less confidence this time. He was a Starfleet officer. He knew his training, but in a situation like this it started to ebb away. 

When she mentioned she was cold, B-4 placed the tricorder on the ground, removed his combadge, and began unzipping his uniform jacket. He shrugged it off his shoulders and placed it over her. “The doctor is not here,” he told her, assuming she was speaking of the aforementioned ‘Dr. Manning’. “I am a medical technician. I will help you.” Repeating himself made him feel like an automaton. He attempted to access information on bedside manner in times of crisis, but the topic was too specific. Pressured to work quickly, he could not complete the search. Silently, he cringed at his failure. 

“You’re safe,” he told her. “Here...can you sit up?” He placed a careful hand behind her head - the other on her upper arm. “Can you tell me your name? Tell me what you remember?”

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Reblog if your muse is Panromantic/-sexual

Other pride-flag bubbles for your muses: [LGTBQA+] [Ace] [Aro] [Bisexual] [Grey-Asexual] [Demi-Asexual] [Gay] [Lesbian] [Transgender] [Intersex] [Agender] [Genderfluid] [Nonbinary]

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Starter call!

like or comment for a starter!

or send me a meme and I'll make a starter out of that!!

oooor hit me up on Discord for some plots!

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// ooc;; Power is going to be out until 7pm tomorrow! Got a generator and I'm secretly using all the mobile data so...hit me up on Discord if you wanna talk or plot or anything!

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A quick and easy plotting guide

Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!

My muse(s):

Do I know your muse(s):  yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other 

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!

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// ooc;; craaaaazy storm just hit. power out everywhere. no traffic lights. sirens. trees all over. nuts. that being said, I'm here on mobile!

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;;   I’ve got it all —— most

                                                              ;;    I’ve got it all almost all figured out

❝ TELL YOUR GODS I WANT TO SPEAK TO THEIR FATHERS ❞

–

@svec-ferat-tlar - independent Star Trek OC blog || click for all-in-one || played by Fool || follows from @intellect-without-discipline || private/semi-selective

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//ooc;; I have put some of my stuff onto ao3! Most of my account is Spones...but there’s some B-4 on there now as well! 

greenbloodedcomputer @ ao3

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writing inspiration

send ‘subject’ and i’ll write a thing using this generator!

send ‘mini scenario’ and i’ll write a thing using this generator!

send ‘word’ and i’ll write a thing using this generator!

send ‘question’ and i’ll write a thing using this generator!

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//ooc;; I believe I am all caught up on threads! If I still owe you one, please please let me know. I’ve been trying really hard to make sure I’m on top of them, but I have definitely lost some before…

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B-4 wondered if the comment about organics was meant to appeal to him. Although there was not an excess of synthetic lifeforms in the world, he knew that there was a feeling of comradery and sometimes elitism between the ones that existed. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her comment as he was not one to dislike biological lifeforms. 

Calcite. Now they were properly introduced. How B-4 felt about that, he wasn’t entirely sure. His initial reaction was displeasure - the way she spoke to him was patronizing. “’Too complicated’?” he echoed. Gold eyes surveyed the panel behind her. It would be possible to recall what she had been doing once she left, but he decided to keep that information to himself. Anger flared up in his chest. “Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to you that I, like everyone at the Academy, have taken Engineering courses?” His words snapped and he closed his eyes for a moment to pause. 

“I am sorry,” he said slowly. “I tend to...express myself very blatantly...” Reign in the emotions. He opened his eyes and settled his gaze on her once more. “Now that you are finished working your magic,” he continued through gritted teeth. “Do you plan on spending the night in sickbay?”

It’s Not How It Looks

@smugxscientific​‌:

Oh she knew that look he was getting. It was the same on that Data would get when he was accessing information that he didn’t normally use. Now he would naturally know exactly who she was, or at least the parts related to her position on the Enterprise and not her mostly classified past.

Silt. Calcite had not even considered that he might query the computer on if anyone had come through the sickbay doors and had not thought to falsify some records in the event that he had. Still there was a chance that he wouldn’t want to cause trouble.

Her eyebrow raised at the rather emotional outburst from the android though now she was curious as to who the other individual could have been. Was it someone who had gotten the same ideas as she had? These were questions for later as she had more pressing matters to deal with presently, especially if he intended on actually calling to any senior officer, be it an engineering or even a medical one.

“Okay so I might have gone with out approval, but that was because I just thought I could fix the problem without bothering the senior officer who is currently on duty. I mean sure this is the slow shift, but there’s no reason he should be concerned with a terminal, especially when the problem could be fixed before he ever found out about it.”

Her smug demeanor was faltering a little though it was not entirely gone, even as she paled slightly. Calcite simply couldn’t admit she had done anything wrong or the trouble she would get herself in would surely see her with another mark on her name, putting her ever closer to losing her position as a Starfleet engineer.

@b—-4

Was it possible that this was just an overzealous ensign? B couldn’t make that determination on his own. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and listened to her explanation. She did look a little less complacent than a moment ago, so B-4 sighed. “Well…for future reference, try using the door.” He walked over and reached around her to turn off the console screen. “And ask your superior officer before leaving your posting.” 

Up close, B-4 could see she was not familiar to him. He didn’t spend a lot of time in Engineering, but he had thought himself familiar with most of the crew. “I’m B-4,” he told her, although he couldn’t find it in him to muster a smile. “What anomaly did you see here? Maybe I could help you find the problem?”

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Everything Happens to Me playing from another room

Frank Sinatra

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Or perhaps a memory of a time B felt safe and relaxed 🎈please

“Why do you insist upon archaic forms of musical recordings? You know you could probably get this from the ship’s computer?” 

B-4 sat on the edge of his bed watching the record spin. Most people aboard would not know what a turntable was let alone how to use one. This did nothing to quell his fascination with the machine.

“Sentimental value, I guess.” The record player had been a gift from his brother who had received it as a gift himself. The replicator had easily made several records, all of which Data had shared with him. 

Before Data’s revival, he and Bruce had listened to ancient music. He had called it ‘jazz’. He said it had only ever been fleeting in its popularity - thriving in the mid-twentieth century and existing as a stepping stone in the evolution of music. B-4 swore that the frequency of which they listened to the albums engrained some permanence in his memory engrams. He often found those songs ‘stuck in his head’.

They had listened to music often when he was first activated. Data thought learning to spin records would help with motor skills early on. He remembered taking great care in lifting the arm, making sure the needle didn’t drop onto the record in a way that was damaging. Frank Sinatra, Perry Como...these were the names he associated with his ‘childhood’. Family. Home. 

“You like ancient Earth music,” he reminded his roommate. 

Morag scoffed. “Yea, like The Beatles,” she said. “The Rolling Stones. The Who. Nae this insanity.” She gestured wildly to the turntable and shook her head. “Yeh even look at the thing the wrong way and it’s broken.”

“That’s why you aren’t allowed near it when it’s running,” B reminded her. The music crooned from the speakers with a crackle that drove Morag up a wall but that B-4 adored for reasons unclear to him. It added value to the audio that he could only attribute to emotional attachment. ‘Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I can't remember when. It's been a long, long time.’ 

He couldn’t sing like Data. The familiarity of his brother’s voice had always served to dampen the effects of his emotion chip enough to focus and reset when he felt overwhelmed. He did hum to himself on occasion, or sing poorly under his breath when he was working on a menial task. 

“I’m leaving,” Morag said as the door to their quarters swung open. 

“Alright,” B answered too late to an empty room. 

The song changed and B-4 leaned back until he was flat on the bed, feet on the floor, face toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes and attempted to shut down all simultaneous functions until all that was left running were his auditory processors. Bing Crosby’s voice filled his head and subsequently memories of The Daystrom Insititute followed. It was amazing to him that music could bring about such a peaceful place of comfort - even for a biological lifeform. A slight smile crept up onto his face. He continued replaying the song in his head long after the record came to a crackling stop.