Story - "Hello, My Name Is..." PG-13 2/2
Here's the rest of my odd musing. Enjoy!
Disclamer: Um, Joss is my Master now, the BBC owns the Doctor, George Lucas is owned by George Lucas (he also owns Indiana Jones and Han Solo), and Cain belongs to DG. Nowhere am I saying that I own any of them, I just think about them all way too much (well, I really don't think about George Lucas at all)
“I got bits falling off my ship, I got a crew ain't been paid... and, oh, yeah, a powerful need to eat sometime this month. But can I have five minutes to do me some crime?” The man walked over to the lectern and set a handful of papers down, “Nooooo. Got come do this gorram talk. All 'cus the fan-writes can't keep to them selves, they gotta go and make everything all... bendy.” He looked up at the room and the three other men in it.
“Well, sit down. I don't got all day!”
Cain and Indy slipped into the closest chairs they could while the Doctor grabbed a few more cookies before he took a seat.
"Here's how it is: The Earth got used up, so we terraformed a whole new galaxy of Earths, some rich and flush with new technologies, some not so much. The Central Planets, them was formed the Alliance, waged war to bring everyone under their rule; a few idiots tried to fight it, among them myself. I'm Malcolm Reynolds, captain of the Serenity.” Mal paused and looked at the men.
“This is the part where you tell me just who you lot are.”
Indy stood up first. “Professor Henry Jones, you can call me Indy.”
“Indy,” Mal said looking at his notes. “Archaeologist, treasure hunter, whip?”
“Comes in handy. But send a big sword swing goon at me and the gun will come out.”
“Ya' shoot first?” Mal asked.
“Always.” Indy replied with a smirk as he sat down.
The Doctor hopped to his feet, “Hello, I'm the Doctor!” he said with bright toothy grin.
“Doctor, doctor... You the one with the companion?”
“Well,” The Doctor itched his head, “I've had dozens of traveling companions over the years.”
“Ever had any of the female persuasion that seem to nothing but fight with you?”
“Yes.” The Doctor said slowly.
“You wanna watch out for them.”
“I find it more the ones who do whatever you say without question that really need an eye.”
“Can't say that I've ever been in that sort of a situation....” Mal trailed off. “Well, Saffron.”
Cain stayed in his chair as he said, “Wyatt Cain.”
“Ah yes!” Mal looked at his notes, “Stick around after. I've got a few things to go over with you.”
Cain nodded his head curtly.
“Now that we know each other and are just such a happy little group.” Mal held up a remote and the lights in the room dimmed.
“As I said, I fought with the Interdependent army, we were know as “Browncoats”. That term has grown to include the fan of the source material. Now the Browncoats are a far flung, diverse, group who's other interest range from science fiction, to action/adventure, to westerns, and more.” Mal squinted at the paper he was reading from. “Browncoat fan fiction writers are a very special sub-group. And one must realize that not only are these authors who write about my canon, but they are fans of my canon who write about other things.” Mal stopped for a second, “What the hell? Not only write about my canon, but... Who in blazes wrote that? It's crap!” Mal balled up the paper and tossed onto the floor.
“Forget the talk, Main point, Browncoats are everywhere. Now let's just do the slides.” Mal fiddled with the remote for a few seconds before a bright light shot from the back of the room and illuminated the wall behind Mal with the words, “So Your Author is a Browncoat!”
“Let's just flip through these so we can get out of here.” Mal said. “Slide one.”
The light blinked for a second then showed a picture of Mal in a long dark brown duster.
“That's my coat. It's brown. Slide two.”
This time there were several pictures of different men all wearing brown coats, some long, some short, but all in shades of brown.
“Oh, that's me!” said the Doctor.
“Exactly.” Replied Mal. “Other guys wear brown coats as well. Because of this the Browncoat fans try to make comparisons.”
“Excuse me, sir.” Cain's hand shot up disrupting the beam of light. “But my coat isn't brown.”
“Some comparisons work better then others. Slide three.”
The heading appeared “It's Not You, It's Your Author.”
“If you ever find yourself doing or saying something that seems a little odd, it's probably your author making a Browncoat reference. Some examples.” A list showed up on the wall.
You tend to call the people closest to you “your crew”
“Shiny”
One of your friends is taken captive and is about to be burned at the stake for be a witch
“You see us fight?” “No. but...” “Trap.”
You're a simple man, your love interest is from a higher social circle, neither of you can admit your feelings to the other. This leads to you saying things like “You fog things up. You always have. You spin me about.” Or her seeing you come out of another womans room, that you've been in all night.
“On a side note,” Mal said, “If she seems happy that you just... Well, chances are that she will find the first corner and cry herself horse. Just saying.”
Meeting up with old war buddy's who tell you that “We never would have done X in the war.” You respond with “Maybe that's why we lost.”
This went on for about five more minutes, before Mal let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze!” All the men winced as the lights in the room came back on to their full florescent glow.
“You all get the idea. And I'm sure you have better things to do then seat here all day.” Mal said. “And if you don't, I sure as hell do. So this has been the Browncoat talk, if you have any questions, I really don't gave a FAY-FAY duh PEE-yen.”
Mal started to gathered up the papers and other things he had brought with him, leaving the other three on their own. “Well,” said the Doctor with a bounce, “It's been a pleasure meeting you all, but Gettysburg is calling.” He quickly shook Cain and Indy's hands then stepped into his blue box.
“Take care of your hat, Cain.” Indy said and made his way out the door just as the loud “oooh, oooh, oooh.” started as the Doctor's box fazed away.
Cain looked over to Mal. “You said you needed to talk with me after?”
“Oh yeah.” Mal said around a mouthful of cookies. He swallowed a few time then said, “Your pants.”
“My pants?” Echoed Cain.
“Yeah,” Said Mal. “Your kinda stuck with 'em.”
“I don't understand.”
“For one of the jobs I had to pull I was meeting a contact at this fancifid party. Had to wear some spiffy get up. Now the pants that I was given, well... They were cut to emphasize the...” Mal made sweeping motion over his rear end, “You know.”
A cold chill stole up Cain's spine. “Yes.”
“My mechanic, Kaylee, she called me 'Cap. Tightpants', even when I'm not wearing those pant I still...”
“Dear god.” Cain said in a low tone of voice.
“The notes I was give on you made mention of 'The Holy Pants of Tightness' and an ass shot in the source material.”
“Awe, crap!”
“That it is.” Said Mal. “That it is.” Mal took a gulp of coffee. “Just try to hang in there and we can bitch to each other at the next meeting.”
“Next meeting?” Cain asked. “I thought you said that there really wasn't anything else we needed to know about the Browncoats.”
“Not me. Next meeting Solo is talking. It's really more to do with simple rouge hero and the high class women who love them.”
“High class women...”
“Yeah, mines a member of the companions guild. And yours?”
Cain pressed his knuckles into the bridge of his nose. “A princess.”
“Princess! Yeah Solo'll be able to help you there. Just don't listen to his ideas about 'waiting to shoot'.”
So there it is. I blame credit a rash of Firefly refrences in the "Tin Man" fic's I've been reading this last week, and to the Browncoat over at serenitymovie.org who made a banner with several TV/Movie guys in brown coats.
Edit: Due to a comment, I made a vid mix for this story.
Disclamer: Um, Joss is my Master now, the BBC owns the Doctor, George Lucas is owned by George Lucas (he also owns Indiana Jones and Han Solo), and Cain belongs to DG. Nowhere am I saying that I own any of them, I just think about them all way too much (well, I really don't think about George Lucas at all)
“I got bits falling off my ship, I got a crew ain't been paid... and, oh, yeah, a powerful need to eat sometime this month. But can I have five minutes to do me some crime?” The man walked over to the lectern and set a handful of papers down, “Nooooo. Got come do this gorram talk. All 'cus the fan-writes can't keep to them selves, they gotta go and make everything all... bendy.” He looked up at the room and the three other men in it.
“Well, sit down. I don't got all day!”
Cain and Indy slipped into the closest chairs they could while the Doctor grabbed a few more cookies before he took a seat.
"Here's how it is: The Earth got used up, so we terraformed a whole new galaxy of Earths, some rich and flush with new technologies, some not so much. The Central Planets, them was formed the Alliance, waged war to bring everyone under their rule; a few idiots tried to fight it, among them myself. I'm Malcolm Reynolds, captain of the Serenity.” Mal paused and looked at the men.
“This is the part where you tell me just who you lot are.”
Indy stood up first. “Professor Henry Jones, you can call me Indy.”
“Indy,” Mal said looking at his notes. “Archaeologist, treasure hunter, whip?”
“Comes in handy. But send a big sword swing goon at me and the gun will come out.”
“Ya' shoot first?” Mal asked.
“Always.” Indy replied with a smirk as he sat down.
The Doctor hopped to his feet, “Hello, I'm the Doctor!” he said with bright toothy grin.
“Doctor, doctor... You the one with the companion?”
“Well,” The Doctor itched his head, “I've had dozens of traveling companions over the years.”
“Ever had any of the female persuasion that seem to nothing but fight with you?”
“Yes.” The Doctor said slowly.
“You wanna watch out for them.”
“I find it more the ones who do whatever you say without question that really need an eye.”
“Can't say that I've ever been in that sort of a situation....” Mal trailed off. “Well, Saffron.”
Cain stayed in his chair as he said, “Wyatt Cain.”
“Ah yes!” Mal looked at his notes, “Stick around after. I've got a few things to go over with you.”
Cain nodded his head curtly.
“Now that we know each other and are just such a happy little group.” Mal held up a remote and the lights in the room dimmed.
“As I said, I fought with the Interdependent army, we were know as “Browncoats”. That term has grown to include the fan of the source material. Now the Browncoats are a far flung, diverse, group who's other interest range from science fiction, to action/adventure, to westerns, and more.” Mal squinted at the paper he was reading from. “Browncoat fan fiction writers are a very special sub-group. And one must realize that not only are these authors who write about my canon, but they are fans of my canon who write about other things.” Mal stopped for a second, “What the hell? Not only write about my canon, but... Who in blazes wrote that? It's crap!” Mal balled up the paper and tossed onto the floor.
“Forget the talk, Main point, Browncoats are everywhere. Now let's just do the slides.” Mal fiddled with the remote for a few seconds before a bright light shot from the back of the room and illuminated the wall behind Mal with the words, “So Your Author is a Browncoat!”
“Let's just flip through these so we can get out of here.” Mal said. “Slide one.”
The light blinked for a second then showed a picture of Mal in a long dark brown duster.
“That's my coat. It's brown. Slide two.”
This time there were several pictures of different men all wearing brown coats, some long, some short, but all in shades of brown.
“Oh, that's me!” said the Doctor.
“Exactly.” Replied Mal. “Other guys wear brown coats as well. Because of this the Browncoat fans try to make comparisons.”
“Excuse me, sir.” Cain's hand shot up disrupting the beam of light. “But my coat isn't brown.”
“Some comparisons work better then others. Slide three.”
The heading appeared “It's Not You, It's Your Author.”
“If you ever find yourself doing or saying something that seems a little odd, it's probably your author making a Browncoat reference. Some examples.” A list showed up on the wall.
You tend to call the people closest to you “your crew”
“Shiny”
One of your friends is taken captive and is about to be burned at the stake for be a witch
“You see us fight?” “No. but...” “Trap.”
You're a simple man, your love interest is from a higher social circle, neither of you can admit your feelings to the other. This leads to you saying things like “You fog things up. You always have. You spin me about.” Or her seeing you come out of another womans room, that you've been in all night.
“On a side note,” Mal said, “If she seems happy that you just... Well, chances are that she will find the first corner and cry herself horse. Just saying.”
Meeting up with old war buddy's who tell you that “We never would have done X in the war.” You respond with “Maybe that's why we lost.”
This went on for about five more minutes, before Mal let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze!” All the men winced as the lights in the room came back on to their full florescent glow.
“You all get the idea. And I'm sure you have better things to do then seat here all day.” Mal said. “And if you don't, I sure as hell do. So this has been the Browncoat talk, if you have any questions, I really don't gave a FAY-FAY duh PEE-yen.”
Mal started to gathered up the papers and other things he had brought with him, leaving the other three on their own. “Well,” said the Doctor with a bounce, “It's been a pleasure meeting you all, but Gettysburg is calling.” He quickly shook Cain and Indy's hands then stepped into his blue box.
“Take care of your hat, Cain.” Indy said and made his way out the door just as the loud “oooh, oooh, oooh.” started as the Doctor's box fazed away.
Cain looked over to Mal. “You said you needed to talk with me after?”
“Oh yeah.” Mal said around a mouthful of cookies. He swallowed a few time then said, “Your pants.”
“My pants?” Echoed Cain.
“Yeah,” Said Mal. “Your kinda stuck with 'em.”
“I don't understand.”
“For one of the jobs I had to pull I was meeting a contact at this fancifid party. Had to wear some spiffy get up. Now the pants that I was given, well... They were cut to emphasize the...” Mal made sweeping motion over his rear end, “You know.”
A cold chill stole up Cain's spine. “Yes.”
“My mechanic, Kaylee, she called me 'Cap. Tightpants', even when I'm not wearing those pant I still...”
“Dear god.” Cain said in a low tone of voice.
“The notes I was give on you made mention of 'The Holy Pants of Tightness' and an ass shot in the source material.”
“Awe, crap!”
“That it is.” Said Mal. “That it is.” Mal took a gulp of coffee. “Just try to hang in there and we can bitch to each other at the next meeting.”
“Next meeting?” Cain asked. “I thought you said that there really wasn't anything else we needed to know about the Browncoats.”
“Not me. Next meeting Solo is talking. It's really more to do with simple rouge hero and the high class women who love them.”
“High class women...”
“Yeah, mines a member of the companions guild. And yours?”
Cain pressed his knuckles into the bridge of his nose. “A princess.”
“Princess! Yeah Solo'll be able to help you there. Just don't listen to his ideas about 'waiting to shoot'.”
So there it is. I blame credit a rash of Firefly refrences in the "Tin Man" fic's I've been reading this last week, and to the Browncoat over at serenitymovie.org who made a banner with several TV/Movie guys in brown coats.
Edit: Due to a comment, I made a vid mix for this story.