What is karma?

The Wheel keeps turning.

Now karma, the theory goes that it is supposed to keep the Wheel in balance. Keep things running smooth. I fancy things running smooth.

But I've noticed the Wheel got her own notion of smooth, one that means I got to be quick on my feet to not land face down in the mud.

At least, if I'm lucky it is mud.

Luck though, that would be part of karma.

Karma says good shi happens to people that do good shi and bad shi happens to people that do bad shi.

Don't explain how the Alliance won the war, does it?

Just that karma is gŏu pì.

There ain’t no balance in the verse. There's just them that have power and them that don't doing what it takes to get by.



shi=shit
gou pi=bullshit

Now see here-

You got a big head on your shoulders, pretty, but big. Some manner of pride there too. Both them and that notion of yours you is right? Are going to get you burned, and not like when your hands went all manner of places they shouldn't with Sally Mae's dress, Malcolm Reynolds.

Things don't always go the way they should, because someone is right, and someone is wrong.

It was right sweet you listened to your mom talking about right and wrong, but maybe you should have listened to her saying nothing in the 'verse is fair neither.

It ain't.

It's hard and cruel and just going to get worse, where you is going.

Not that that is going to stop you. Hard headed, stubborn, wang ba dan.

I might be proud of that. Maybe. The days it don't make me want to slam you against a wall.

But since I ain't here to warn you away? Pointless as that is. I suppose I should give you some hope, for after.

Hope is shiny. Literal like. Metal and clunky grace.

Just listen here: When there is talk about needing a new compression coil? Or catalyzer? Or anything involving the like?

You listen.

So very pretty.

---

FPK:

Mal didn't have no time for mirrors, between petty crime and not getting dead.

Not that he didn't know vanity, but he preferred to keep his vanity on a glib tongue. It just tasted so sweet there. He couldn't help himself.

Mirrors brought bad luck, and it weren't like Mal needed any help bringing on bad luck.

Weren't like he needed glass to see himself either.

Saw himself clear as day in Zoe's posture. Tolerating meant the day was going good. Her being all stiff and glaring? Meant he had something on his face and it weren't nothing pretty.

Mal didn't take that too personally. Pretty and Zoe, they only worked when slinky dresses were involved and it weren't like he was supposed to think about that.

No, weren't nothing pretty when either of them looked at each other.

It was just raw and real.

That weren't nothing no one ever saw in a mirror.

Lucky wang ba dan.

I don't find much more relaxing than the black.

Sometimes, it just so relaxing you ain't got much else to do but stare at your boots most of the day, though.

Least ways when folk ain't causing mischief or fei hua or the like.

Though I should welcome the distraction. There is only so many Captainy things to do in the black. Even ordering crew around tends to get stale after so many turns.

Relaxation is fine enough for an evenings drink or a dance, but when it gets too quiet, the mind can take to thinking.

I don't need no cracks about that. Thinking is a dangerous occupation. If's and But's and Maybe's.

They can swallow you whole in the black.

So people should thank me when I make them wash latrines.

But do I hear a xie xie? No. Not a one.

Mal Reynolds
Firefly

Most people wish that I got shot more, I reckon. In the manner that I wouldn't be here talking to you now. In the manner that I wouldn't be breathing. Or possibly bleeding through the grates again.

Personal like? I reckon I get shot enough. Possibly even more than enough.

Doc might even agree with me.

Boy must get tired of stitching me up.

Then again, in the black, things can get quiet.

Problem being? When things ain't quiet, they tend to be loud. For reasons other than gun fire, on occasion. Just want something simple but that ain't how things is.

Got yourself people in the Core that got themselves a fancy government that don't got no understanding of the Rim. Got yourself the Rim, that got itself no care for fancy government. Got yourself trade that got to happen no matter what people's political leanings or personal philosophy might be.

Business got to get done but profits tend to make people tetchy.

Tetchy people get tetchy trigger fingers.

That gets to be a pain, literal like.

Mal Reynolds
Firefly
178

[locked from the Alliance, Bounty Hunters, & Former Wives]


Brush with the mysterious?

Ain't you full of fancy Core talk.

Suppose mysterious is word enough for the gorram girl on my boat or maybe what was going through my head when I agreed to let her and her brother stay in the first place.

Suppose a thing about the mysterious is you ain't suppose to explain it though, ain't no way to explain it, like there ain't no way to hear bare feet creeping over grates or girl's becoming ships.

Not metal and plating. Wires and whatever the fei hua is that's leaking I suppose I should have Kaylee take a look at that smells something fierce.

But the heart and soul of things in the black when you ain't looking.

If there ain't no way to explain nothing, why waste you breath when there is work to be doing?

That don't make no lick of sense.

Dong ma?

Mal Reynolds,
Firefly
150

Betrayal was just a manner of business along the Rim. Part of the two step and a jig. A gratuity that got attached to parties bigger then. Say. One.

Mal took to it fine, even if he didn't lean that way himself.

Seeing fire fall from the sky? And no angels coming to carry him home? Was a betrayal bigger than nothing no wang ba dan in some fancy ten gallon hat could try. Particularly when with a smile and some words, Mal could talk his way in loop de loops around most of them.

No.

Mal's Momma might have had fits at the way Mal chose to go brand his buyers, but he had things a bit more volatile than a few heads of cattle he was worrying about wandering off and betrayal was the way of things.

He kept telling himself that. Even after the snow had melted. Even after the wet from it had dried. Even after St. Albans was long behind. But blue eyes wouldn't leave his mind.

Weren't no running from them. Nor crawling. Mal carried them.

Carried them long.

What is the one thing about yourself that you don't want anyone ever to know?

Captains Log:

Private.

Ain't that I mind getting shot at, it is the getting hit that is starting to wear on me. Doc says we is going to have to stock up on some more weaves and blood least we drain Wash dry, which admittedly might make it difficult for him to fly our girl which would make our trademark narrow escape somewhat more harrowing than I fancy fit for our merry crew. As it is, someone has to figure out how to get blood off the ceiling from when we went into 0 g doing some stunt I still ain't sure was possible but I pushed Wash, and Wash, he pushed Serenity.

Now there's red on the grating that ain't someplace easy to get to, not even for River who climbs the walls literal like.

She's a spider, like in the stories. All metaphor and meaning. She connects the past with the future. Creates possibilities.

Jayne looks at her and sees money. Jayne looks at most things and sees profit. Profit in cash. Profit in flesh. Profit in gluttony that ain't always about food.

I can't say I don't look at her without my own greed.

I see her, and it weren't all for nothing.

That there little girl, she is why we fought.

We lost, but we tried.

In our own way, we try.

Zoe and me? We didn't settle on a piece of dirt. Become good little ranchers. Make babies and pay our taxes. We fly.

And maybe someday we'll fight again.

Word Count: 255

Ain't this something.

I go on and about my business and the shen jing bing¹ lot of yous, you don't do nothing but click your keys these long months. Not much profit in that, I reckon. But if it keeps you happy.

Seems to keep my paperwork in order, I got to do some clicking myself. Gorram Feds like their paperwork.

We don't want them looking at this ship of ours too closely now, do we?

Speaking of which, seems the ship has taken upon itself an eerie quiet that just don't bode well for me.

Makes me think you all is up to something but that lady there, who got her own set of keys? She says I ain't allowed to RP for some time yet so I ain't able to find out what it is. Get to click away at the keys for prompts to get back into the feel of things. But she ain't sure about the RPing because of some RL things she's finally getting sorted out then some matter of something getting jossed.

What the gorram hells type of word is jossed? Sometimes I think she is making things up.

But I know who is Captain, and it ain't her, so you might see me around.


¹lunatic

The woman who sits there, behind the keys who does my typing? She is the one that is more for words then me. I is more for shooting and brawling. But she ain't much for words tonight. She already spent most of them writing all manner of letters to official type people telling them she ain't going to be writing for me no more. Saying something about us retiring?

Don't know what the gorram hells she's talking about.

I'm still flying.

But, apparently I ain't going to be flying here.

Seems life took a turn for her she weren't expecting, and she gots to make some sacrifices. Might know something about that. Me and ahmarwizard, we get the be the men down. She's taking my journal with her though so if another Mal Reynolds comes to this corner of the 'verse, he's going to have to make his own journal.

serenity_tm is still flying, going to get a new start under the helm of all you crew who is left and thems new crew who come on board. I know you will keep things running smooth. Wash, I know you keep our couse set. Kaylee? I expect you will keep things shiny.

We had some good times here. Ain't no power in the 'verse could make us want to go.

But unfortunately, there is powers in the 'verse that make us got to go.

The Wheel keeps turning; maybe we can see each other again.

Zai jain.

Suppose it would be my own.

Could afford to be a bit less stubborn about things, but don't let no one on this boat hear me say that. Would cause all sorts of derision and I ain't got time to deal with no fei hua. Got enough of it as it is.

I lost things in the war, things I ain't proud of losing.

Things like my faith, my sanity, my pride.

All right. Suppose I clung some to my pride. Might be what got me in some lick of trouble a while back. Or possibly yesterday. Maybe this morning in the mess with Zoe. And might not have had much sanity to start with. But I did lose anything that passed for faith. In anything. In God. In people. In myself.

I lost that. Faith. Belief in Right and Wrong. In things that came with Capitals Letters.

I told myself I did. Told myself that made it right to do the things I did in Serenity. In the Valley. In the days that followed. The months. The years. Made it right to be a petty thief. A crook. A smuggler. A man who weren't no white hat. Who weren't good.

Not that I didn't sometimes make choices that weren't based on some standards that might be based on some sort of skewed moral compass that weren't quite pointing due south. Not straight to hell. Not quite.

Might be a whole lot of black between here and there to get lost in.

Here's to hoping.

How do you think your muse would react if it were placed into Alice in Wonderland?

Now, I ain't sure I recall this story being it is a might bit fuzzy around the edges. Something about blood loss and pain medication and a bit of lead in my belly. Or lead out of my belly and a lot of nothing taking its place, though that dermal mender the Doc got? Nice and shiny, much better than stitches so I weren't no--

No. The Frankenstein monster belongs to another story. This one was about some young nui hai who falls down a rabbit hole.

I ain't knowing much about falling down rabbit holes. Know something about diving into foxholes but that ain't quite as quaint or fanciful. Got people yelling "Off with their heads," though. Got some Cheshire cat grins too, but on my face, no proper Cheshire cats. Unless there's something Momma never told me about Da. Got me nine lives. Think I'm on my thirteenth. Never could count well.

Was on seven or eight the day Inara told me that tale. Don't know what she was thinking, though I suppose a child's tale is better than none of her whoring stories. I hadn't heard it before but I wouldn't have passed down a cup with that Mad Hatter. Particularly if it maybe had a splash of--

Inara would have none ot that. Seemed to think that hole in my gut meant I couldn't have no cup of nothing.

Bet that Mad Hatter would feel otherwise.

Describe what your "happily ever after" would be like.

Happily ever after?

That is a thing for children's stories and I ain't nothing but a mean old man.

( FPK )

Might have beens? Might be's?

That ain't nothing but a waste of time.

I catch any of my crew woolgathering over this nonsense in need of a more productive use of their time? There is latrines needing to get scrubbed.

Now, ain't there whores to harass and people I got to be killing?

Gorram cortex distracting me.


Mal Reynolds,
Firefly

What's the furthest away you've ever been from the place you were born/created? How did you get there? Why did you go? Did you return or even want to come back to where you came from?

Public Log:

Gorram Core got to be the furthest I ever been from Shadow, what with their fancy dealings and fancy ways. All bright lights. Clean streets. Clean everything by the look of things, til you get real close, then you find they is all dirty and complicated in the way that matters most. Way down deep in their hearts. Ain't nothing there but nothing. except maybe nothing clean.

Got there same way you get anywhere, on my ship.

Got there on a job.

Maybe it was legal; maybe it weren't.

Course I left. Ain't going to stay in the Core, ain't no way.

Private: Captain's Log:

Ain't no where further from home than where I is now.

No dirt under my feet. No sky over my head. Nothing but black anywhere I look. It's home, this bucket of bolts.

Thought I was going to talk about the war. The death. The blood. I can smell it still. Ain't no time I can't. Or hear it. The screaming and the shooting and the dying. Sometimes when Zoe calls my name, ain't her voice now I hear. Sometimes when I call hers, ain't mine now I think she hears. But. Ain't then I mean when I say Serenity.

Is Serenity now. My girl. She is as far from home as I is ever going to get and I ain't ever going back.

She is where I is going to stay.

I saw her there, in the sunshine, and I knew she was home.

Took grease and guts and a lot of hollering to get her going.

I ain't ever going to want to see stop.

When she stops, I stop.

That is all there is to it.

Exact Opposite:

I suppose my opposite would be someone who would be a proper citizen. A manner of man who would pay his taxes, on time even, every credit counted. Practice that civil obedience thing I heard tell of. Follow them laws? Them of God and man. All pretty and proper, with a smile on his face. One that ain't even smug and spiteful.

That would be my opposite.

Or maybe an honest businessman. Doing right by his trade. A fine upstanding sort.

Or a father and husband.

Tian tang knows I ain't any of that.

Mal posts to the Cortex, words there then gone as he rises to get done what needs to be done.

There's a job they is on their way to; another they just had gotten through. They didn't get paid in credits or cash, but the mess is full of fresh baked things from people whose faces were bright and shiny. Might have caused a certain feeling in Mal's chest he won't name. Something glad. Something that too much of it would have been a sin. Though sinning? Sinning was a right proper thing so pride was all right. He could name that after all though he wouldn't say why nor meet the Preacher's eye. He passes River in the corridor, a scowl that might hide a smile. Not that she seems to pay no mind to either. A nod to Jayne. A word to Kaylee. A word and a hand on her shoulder. A squeeze. Words of assurance.

Things will get done, they always do.

And if people get dead in the process, hopefully they just won't be crew.

Mal Reynolds,
Firefly

Exact Opposite:

I suppose my opposite would be someone who would be a proper citizen. A manner of man who would pay his taxes, on time even, every credit counted. Practice that civil obedience thing I heard tell of. Follow them laws? Them of God and man. All pretty and proper, with a smile on his face. One that ain't even smug and spiteful.

That would be my opposite.

Or maybe an honest businessman. Doing right by his trade. A fine upstanding sort.

Or a father and husband.

Tian tang knows I ain't any of that.

Mal posts to the Cortex, words there then gone as he rises to get done what needs to be done.

There's a job they is on their way to; another they just had gotten through. They didn't get paid in credits or cash, but the mess is full of fresh baked things from people whose faces were bright and shiny. Might have caused a certain feeling in Mal's chest he won't name. Something glad. Something that too much of it would have been a sin. Though sinning? Sinning was a right proper thing so pride was all right. He could name that after all though he wouldn't say why nor meet the Preacher's eye. He passes River in the corridor, a scowl that might hide a smile. Not that she seems to pay no mind to either. A nod to Jayne. A word to Kaylee. A word and a hand on her shoulder. A squeeze. Words of assurance.

Things will get done, they always do.

And if people get dead in the process, hopefully they just won't be crew.

Mal Reynolds,
Firefly

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OOC: Most of his Rping is over at the serenity com so the numbers don't surprise us much. I wonder if there's a way to do this for a comm...

Hmmmm....what the gorram hells was our password?

We don't talk about it. The war. We catch each other's eye sometimes. Something dark there that matches despite the difference in color. Blue to brown. Brown to blue. Quiet like in a way that is deeper than silent. Something that is hollow like. An echo of an echo of an echo, echoed back. Something you can't catch in words.

We don't talk about it but we look at one another and we know.

We is there again. It that place. That dark. That dirt.

The type of dirt that don't come off. That is inside. That is.

We clean up on the outside. Her admittedly much better than me, even if we both shine up right pretty. She got her husband on her arm. That smile that spreads wide across her face.

But her gun is still holstered on her hip.

And no matter what might come, I know she got my back. I got hers.

Ain't no question of being a man or a woman. You go through something like that. What is between you is true. Truer than true.

And friendship might not even be a word strong enough for it.

What do you want for your birthday?

Ain't anything in particular I'd be wanting except maybe some gorram peace and quiet on this boat. Maybe some jobs that pay? That would be shiny.

Birthdays be days for celebrating and I ain't opposed to celebrating on general principle. We could use the excuse for some good cheer around these parts lately. Particularly cheer that don't come with no crazy making. Or bullets. Double crosses. That sort of thing. No wives neither. Just would rather like me to have something not complicating.

Something cheerful but quiet. Good food. Good company.

Mine hale and hearty.

That would be shiny indeed.



What are your religious beliefs?

God ain't welcome on my boat.

Me and him, we had ourselves words once upon a time. A good many of them. Good words. Most of them was words I was talking. Words I went saying to my men. Men and women, since we don't want me getting accused of nothing bigoted. Got enough sins my own self without adding people's presumptions to the list. Not that I care about other people. Now.

Then. Then, I said those words. I believed them. And God?

He apparently had other thoughts.

Thoughts I weren't privy to.

Some Plan I weren't partial to.

And God? He can keep his Plan. And his thoughts. And his Words.

And qin wode pigu.

He ain't welcome here no more.

kiss my ass

Mal Rynolds,
Firefly

I got me plenty to be thankful for.

I got the open sky. The black.

I got me a crew I is thankful for when they ain't giving me grief. Occasionally when they is.

I got my ship. She ain't shiny in the literal sense of the word but she is plenty shiny where it counts. Even if she got herself some rust and some parts that don't match. Even if she got herself some gorram flowers painted round her middle. She gives us a place to hang our guns and kick off our boots. She earns us the coin to keep food in our belly. She keeps us flying. She keeps us free.

I is plenty thankful for that.

Mal Reynolds,
Firefly