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Quarrelsome Mountain Lion

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Quarrelsome Mountain Lion last won the day on June 6 2019

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    I'd prefer fade to black unless I know you well! Violence and language are okay, but no violence for violence's sake.

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  1. Title: Dark Matter Author: Michelle Paver Recommended? Yes! About/review: From Goodreads: Spooky period pieces in a wintery setting is basically my aesthetic. Also, isolation stories. This one's about a small, English expedition to a remote, Arctic island. It's a pretty quick read and presented largely in the format of the protagonist's journal. I really enjoyed this! It pretty much hit every aesthetic point, but it was a lot more emotional than - say - anything by Lovecraft.
  2. I actually do like Spam. XD The canned stuff, that is.
  3. Hi! I'm slowly dying of a cold (literally dying, obviously) so don't have the brainpower for ideas BUT. I just wanted to say hello and welcome and that this thread has made me giggle multiple times.
  4. He wished again for his ship. For the tidy and well-stocked med bay. For the crew's small and more mundane injuries. He didn't recognize the way he felt just then, finding it overwhelming and unpleasant. It curled his hands into fists and made them shake. All of it, he hid, hands hidden away in the bag of tools, counting slowly and willing it to pass. It didn't, but he looked steady when he turned with a trayful of tools designed to hurt a body in service of - eventually - helping it. "You'll feel a slight pinch," he murmured. Swabbing the man's wrist with disinfectant, he inserted the sharp probe of a diagnostic tool and taped it down. Gentle, hands steady. The machine attached to the side of the table, whispering to itself as it powered on. It projected a holographic screen, monitoring the man's vitals. A space-grade field medicine tool. "I will sedate him. Do you know how to read one of these?" He gestured at the screen. Like the probe, he announced the hypo full of drugs. They were dearly expensive and leftover from the ship - fewer and fewer cybernetics surgeries required such drastic measures: at least when they came properly-installed.
  5. I have started playing Subnautica and it's super fun, but the stuff of nightmares.
  6. He noted that Weaver didn’t like the broad surgical term alter and would prefer spay and neuter. On the ship, he logged such preferences in a databank. Disconnected from all of his helpful companion systems, he'd simply have to remember. "Yes. Some of the crew had optics installed. I functioned as an auxillary medic, but I'm familiar with how to repair them. Humans generally prefer to be tended by one of their own." Setting his bag down, he began the process of excavating what tools he'd brought, laying them out on a counter for later organization. Their empty surgery didn’t feel much different than the last empty surgery. "If you have the schematics, that would be helpful." He frowned at the tools, strangely troubled by the task of sorting them. Indecision was unlike him.
  7. Cats liked a gentle approach. Fingers outstretched to sniff and averted eyes. This one came to him immediately, arching under his hand when he knelt to pet it. "Hello, Alfie," he murmured, softly effusive. Cats reminded him of ships, the comfort of living somewhere with a proper function. But he also liked cats for some reason he couldn't describe, the same way humans liked cats. An impulse that they didn't quash: treating animals gently was desirable behavior. "I can help alter the cats. I haven't done it before, but I can learn." He glanced up at Petal, absently scratching the cat's ears and chin. If this surgery was meant to be his new home, maybe the cats would sometimes visit. The prospect looked better with that thought.
  8. He wondered if the surgery was to be his new home, set up like a scalpel-wielding houseplant. He glanced up at Petal and down again, nodding. "Okay." It was easier to watch his feet as he followed them, removing the temptation of examining a mural or the faces of the humans they passed. Better to focus on the path ahead, the one leading to the surgery. As they went, he took stock of questions he might later ask. How many residents? How many among them with special medical needs? What care was common and what wasn't? What supplies did they struggle to keep in stock and who would he be working with or for? A cat flung itself down dramatically at their feet. Regretful, he stepped carefully over it.
  9. He met her eyes, nodding. "No. That's a better use of my capabilities. I can install cybernetics as well, or repair them." Impassive again. The more he felt the less he felt willing to show. "It could be helpful to your group."
  10. His eyes skirted away, bands of light flickering across his face. Headlights of cars that whipped past as glowing eyes in the darkness. Pools of shadow between the streetlights overhead. "I remember her. I'm sorry." The both of them looking their separate ways. Words didn't heal human hurts, only time. He'd learned that fact long ago. "Forcibly removing cybernetics from people is counterintuitive to the functions I was designed for." A request, if a circuitously worded one.
  11. He righted his clothes quickly, turning to sit forward in the seat. His forehead creased, searching for meaning in the name and finding none. They never gave him names, and most often the patients struggled. He anesthetized them without a chance at conversation, operating under supervision. "I was issued to the Halcyon five years ago. She's a C-class freighter. I'm a systems operations model and the requirements of me range from operating the ship while the captain and crew are in stasis, and supporting them as mechanic or medic while they're awake. Or whatever they require of me. She has a full human crew, but I'm designed to interface with the ship's systems and help fill personnel gaps." And - for the first time - he hesitated. "I wasn't given the names of anyone brought to me for component removal. What did Sparrow look like?" He'd learned the habit of biting his lip from Georg, the navigator. Georg had been particularly fond of their Steward.
  12. He held still for the procedure, seemingly accustomed to such handling. And with the pain inhibitor, he felt little more than a pinch, harmless tugging. The odd sensation of blood dripping down his back. "I do. I'll need to reach into my bag." From it, he pulled two wrapped packages, an antiseptic swab and a sealant patch. Half-turning, he passed them back. "I'm not prone to infection, but it will heal best if cleaned." In the rearview mirror, he could see traffic moving around them.
  13. He nodded dutifully, suddenly reminded of QA and their constant questions. The earliest part of his life spent in bright rooms, sprouting wires like roots into the chamber around him. How do you feel today? Do you know what this is? Do you know why you're here? "I feel it, but barely. I feel where the skin outside of the device is pulled inward." His skin felt very like a human's, but always overwarm, like he ran a fever. "Any pain will be temporary, and my body will repair itself. I'm designed to withstand a substantial amount of damage before losing functionality."
  14. Taking it from her, he examined it. "This will likely work. My nervous system resembles a human's, and I can repair any damage it does." And he passed it back, offering it to her on an open palm. "Thank you." More concern than the Golden Hand surgeon showed putting it in him.
  15. "I feel pain," he answered simply, outwardly dispassionate. "But it's ultimately better for me if you remove it. I'll sit as still as I can." So saying, he braced himself against the door, back tense. "I'm ready." Instead of watching her expression reflected in the darkened window, he closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell, ribcage a dramatic thing.
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