Yeah, I know, I haven't posted for months.
I gave up on the theatrical_muse prompts as a way of thinking up stuff to post a while back because they were either not exactly relevant to my life as a space-going thief of unusual talent, or just plain boring. (And don't say that matches me well, Avon, because I'm not doing anything boring, no matter how much I am.) Besides, they throw you out if you don't post for a month and it's been a lot of those.
Maybe I should do some more memes? Anyone still reading this journal thingy, let me know about the sort of thing you'd like to see.
From theatrical_muse: Do you have any pets? Would you like some (more)? Why/why not?
I don't, and no. Not that I don't like animals and go as soft as the next person (unless it's Avon) over a furry little kitten or puppy, but I worry enough about myself in space battles without having a trusting little animal around who'd expect me to keep it safe.
I've had pets though. I had a rat when I was a nipper. I found him as a baby (not sure what you call young rats--pups?). I named him Ratty. Yes, not very original, but I'd just read Wind in the Willows. I had him for a couple of years too, even though he gave my mum the creeps. Intelligent creatures, rats, and quite affectionate too. I've kept others since then, mostly in prison. Much prefer them to the two-legged sort you get in places like that.
I wouldn't be surprised if there're rats on the ship, and frankly I don't want to know. You get fond of them, see, and that's not a good thing for a rebel wanted in all the wrong ways.
I see it's Tarrant's birthday. Any excuse for a celebration is what I say, so I've opened one of Avon's bottles of Lindor brandy in honour of the occasion. There's also ice cream with chocolate sauce, nuts (apart from the crew), and various other nibbles and snacky-dos.
See you on the flight deck, mate!
From theatrical_muse: Thirteen
Some people think thirteen's an unlucky number, not sure why. Because it's one more than a nice round dozen? Not that I know why a dozen should be round, but for some reason buns and muffins seem to come in dozens. Or sixes. Easier to pack, I suppose. Or maybe it's because it's a prime number? But then, so's seven, and lot's of people seem to think that one's lucky.
Anyway I've never been superstitious. I don't see how putting on a pair of lucky socks or carrying a die (yes, Avon, I do know the singular for dice) around in your pocket should change anything. Maybe having a gun or wearing an armoured vest would, but I'd hardly say that was lucky. Just being careful.
That said, I do think I've had more than my share of bad luck, but that's just the way things go in a random universe full of bastards and the Federation (with a fair lot of overlap there).
From theatrical_muse: Start something
Start something? Look, I'd prefer not to. I like a peaceful life, thank you very much. I've always left that sort of thing up to others, like Blake.
So, what sort of something do you suggest? A conversation? I do that fairly often, but people around here tend not to take me up on it. Pity, that. I like a good chat with a friend, but then again I'm usually with crew mates and that's often not the same thing at all.
A business? Well, I thought of going into security (the legal side of it for once) but the thought of taxes and paying employees and all the boring stuff that goes with it put me right off.
Tell you what, I'll start the cryptic crossword. That'll make Avon come over and try to finish it before I can, and I bet I can get a bit of a conversation out of him. Even if it largely consists of "fool" and "idiot". Still, I can't be that much of one or he wouldn't bother.
From theatrical_muse: Lines
They talk about us holding the line, you know, back when the Andromedans invaded. Odd expression, that. I mean, it should really be "holding the plane" in space, but I suppose it dates back to before people left Earth, when soldiers used to line up and throw things at each other. Course, we couldn't have held a big plane, not with just one ship. but it was a pretty small gap old Travis opened in the minefield for them. Me, I always wondered why the jellies never gave up and just went round the whole shebang, but I suppose they thought one ship should be easy to get past.
Tell you what, by the time the Federation showed up, my firing finger had gone numb. It was me who was on weapons, you see, which you might think makes me a hero. I didn't have any choice though. I mean, if it'd been up to me, I'd've run, but the others stayed for the sake of the galaxy and all that, and it was the right decision. Just wasn't mine.
So that's why I didn't want a medal when President Avalon handed them out last year. It wasn't modesty, just knowing who I really am.
From theatrical_muse: Which words would you like to see added to/removed from common use?
Not that I have any say (as usual), but here's a list of words and phrases I'd like to see go.
- grade, delta, bond slave, and anything to do with ranking people
- readjustment, brain-washing, and reprogramming unless you're doing it to a computer
- human resources - we're not resources, we're people if you haven't noticed. And that means you too, Blake
- with all due respect - this is always a lie
- folk - not the music (werl, not really) but using it for people. It sounds, I dunno, folksy and that's almost never right. Not in my galaxy anyway.
- fool - that'd improve Avon's repertoire of insults
Added? That's a lot harder.
- vilafication for unwarranted attacks on my intelligence
- blaked for when something's been blown up or sabotaged or just generally stuffed
- acquisition engineer - my preferred professional designation
So, vila_restal, your LiveJournal reveals...
You are... 2% unique (blame, for example, your interest in necklaces not of teeth) and 16% herdlike (partly because you, like everyone else, enjoy writing). When it comes to friends you are popular. In terms of the way you relate to people, you are wary of trusting strangers. Your writing style (based on a recent public entry) is intellectual.
Your overall weirdness is: 41
(The average level of weirdness is: 29.
You are weirder than 80% of other LJers.)
Find out what your weirdness level is!
From theatrical_muse: How would you go about scaring someone?
Depends on who it is, doesn't it?
With Avon, I'd break into his room and move things about subtly, leave his probes on the flight deck or in his sock drawer, and talk about things he hadn't done as if he had, and he'd forgotten. Losing his mind would probably frighten him the most.
I wouldn't do that to Blake though, because he has, and I know what that's like too, not that it ever took with me. Course, Avon'd say I didn't have a brain to wash. Nah, with Blake, I'd teleport a dog onto the ship. He doesn't like 'em. Animals make him nervous because he can't control them; at least that's my guess. Or he got bitten when he was little (hard to imagine as that is).
Tarrant would be easy: I'd blacken a couple of teeth and leave a fake one or two in his bed so he'd think they'd come loose in the night. He's the sort who'd be terrified of losing his teeth (and I think people have nightmares about that cos of it being all metaphorical and all, teeth standing for weapons and power and that) and besides, he's got such a dazzling set.
I'm not sure how I'd scare the girls. I doubt it's possible.
From theatrical_muse: What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done while sober?
That lets me out of a lot! In fact, that's a hard one to answer.
I think I'll go for the stupid clowning around I did with Dayna and Soolin during that Malodar mess. I was technically sober since I hadn't been drinking, but like Avon, I was pretty high on the whole idea of getting an unbeatable super weapon from that creep Egrorian, and I let it go to my head. I mean, it was bad enough that I went on to Avon, of all people, about having a palace with a diamond floor (bloody hard on the feet, and not that flattering lighting either, a reflective floor) and my Royal Mountie guard in red fur, but then I had to try and make Dayna and Soolin laugh. Well, they did, but they were laughing at me, and it still makes me cringe to remember it. Thing is, they actually believed I thought I was an expert on theoretical physics and was helping poor old Avon into the shallow water from out of his depth. I did realise pretty quickly that they were taking the whole act at face value, but my stupid pride kicked in, and I just kept laying it on even thicker in the hopes they'd get it was a joke.
And what that said about what they though of me hurt almost as much as Avon trying to space me.