The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures [3/?]


[part 1] [part 2]

3. Abandonment Issues

Hours passed. Then days. And Church had to come to terms with it.

“She’s not coming back.”

Tex was stretched out in the grass, staring at the sky. “Church-”

“No. She’s just not. What if something happened to her? I’m supposed to run her equipment. Keep her safe. What if she went on with the mission without me and got hurt? Oh god.” He felt sick.

“Carolina’s a big girl. She can take care of herself, and she’s been running her equipment on her own since she got it. She’ll be fine.”

He looked away. “Right. She doesn’t need me.”

Tex rolled over then crawled to where he was sitting. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s true.”

Then she slapped him. He fell back, cheek stinging. “What the fuck, Tex? What was that for?”

“Would you snap out of it. You sound like an emo sixteen-year-old whose boyfriend broke up with her. I’m just waiting for the depressing music to start.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be Church. I want you to stop crying and get angry and curse and being fucking annoying.”

They stared at each other for a long time. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t explain the way he was feeling.

“You miss her.”

He bit his lip then pressed his hands into his eyes. “I love her,” he mumbled. Continue reading “The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures [3/?]”


The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures [2/?]


[part 1]

2. In Which Mistakes Are Made

A hum built around Church then a POP. Carolina was suddenly staring at him, head cocked. “Where’s your armor?”

It took him a split-second to register her confused words. He glanced down at his clothes and shrugged. “It’s not like it matters what I look like. I’m a frickin computer program. I’m non-corporeal. I don’t need armor if I can’t be shot.”

She laughed.


“I didn’t think you knew what non-corporeal meant.”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m not an idiot. I have a Ph.D. in like five things. Uh- computer science, and uh-” He rubbed his forehead. “Engineering.”

Carolina kept laughing. “For someone that’s made entirely of memories, you sure forget a lot.”

“Not enough,” he muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his shoes again. That right lace was still untied. Stupid shoelace.

Her laughter tapered off. “Church, what’s wrong?”

“Epsilon. My name is Epsilon.” He couldn’t take it anymore. He blinked out, cocooning himself in the little corner of Carolina’s brain that he’d claimed for himself. He could go back into the memory chip in her armor, but, yeah, that wasn’t fun last time. Carolina’s thoughts tickled the back of his mind. He burrowed under the covers. “Go away.”

“Jesus, Church, do you ever clean up after yourself?”

He tossed the blanket off to find Tex looking around, lips curled in disgust. She picked up an empty pizza box then dropped it, wiping her hands on her pants.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out.”

“I thought we established that you’re stuck with me.”

“Well go find your own place to live.” Continue reading “The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures [2/?]”


Red vs Blue fic: The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures of a Part-Time Blue and Full-Time Smartass [1/?]


So, I wrote this story back in 2018 as something I never planned to publish. I was in the mood for something super angsty and melodramatic and had no idea how the AI actually worked in the show/HALO setting. I just wanted tons of dramatic interactions between Church and the people he pretended not to care about.

Because of this, there’s probably a lot of inconsistencies with canon. 

The way I have the AI working in this story is their program is kept on a memory chip normally implanted in a soldier’s armor. The Freelancers all have neural links that allow the chips to be directly connected to the user. Epsilon is special in that he has the capability to connect with (and take control if need be) a human host without a full neural link.

Even without the full neural link, Epsilon is still able to hear the thoughts/feelings of the person he’s “riding” with (so to speak) via something like a wifi link. I’m pretty sure they say at some point in the show that all Freelancer personnel (including the sim troopers) have an implant of some sort which is how Omega and Alpha can hop around). So I’m going with the idea that they can use this sort of wifi connection with the person in the armor they’re installed in only, but for the Freelancers, there’s the option of installing the chip directly into their neck which will fully merge their brains with the AI.

In the story, Carolina’s neural implants were damaged when the Meta forcibly removed Eta and Iota so she can never be fully integrated with Epsilon even if she wanted while Wash refuses that kind of connection and barely tolerates Epsilon being installed in his armor and giving him even a tiny fraction of access to Wash’s brain.

I wrote this for the unadulterated angst that started with Church and Tex then moved to Church and Wash (with a bit of Carolina drama thrown in there). Don’t overthink it. 

Also, the story isn’t finished and really has no plot (at the moment), I just wanted to share this goofiness with other people because I’ve been super depressed during lockdown and haven’t written anything in months.

I did warn you about the angst.

1. Forgot to Forget


The wind whispered through the trees. A whooshing sound that raised the imaginary hairs on the back of Church’s imaginary neck. It was almost like the forest was speaking to him. Which was stupid because trees couldn’t talk. And Church was just a computer program, but he still felt those hairs raise all the same.

“Epsilon? Epsilon are you listening to me?”

Church shook his head, forcing his focus back to Carolina. “Huh?”

She sighed. “Where were you?”

“When?” His eyes drifted back to the trees.

whoosh shoosh wshhh

“Just now. You were somewhere else.”

He blinked at Carolina. “No I wasn’t.”

“Well, you sure weren’t listening to me,” she said as she started walking again. Church could feel her frustration even if he couldn’t see it on her face. Continue reading “Red vs Blue fic: The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures of a Part-Time Blue and Full-Time Smartass [1/?]”


[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Fishing is Good

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.


Jack and Sam enjoy a leisurely mission along a lake. I’m sure there has to be some fish in that water.
570 words | [PG]

“I could stay here forever,” Sam murmured. The heat of the mid-day sun warmed her exposed skin, sending a pleasing shiver down her spine. She spread her limbs out letting the soft grass glide against her body. The ground felt cool and solid under her, and the smell of pine and freshwater saturated the air.

Next to her, the colonel rolled onto his stomach so he could see her face. His cheeks were slightly sunburned and his hair, now freed from his cap, was sticking up in impossible directions. She fought every urge to reach out and run her fingers through it. “It’s not bad,” he said, pulling up a long blade of grass to play with.

“It’s perfect.”

“The view’s good.” He squinted up at the horizon where three white-peaked mountains rose over the treeline. Like a royal family lording over their empire.

Sam let her head fall to the side, the bill of her hat guarding her eyes. He was staring down at his hands now as they twisted and pulled apart blade after blade of grass. “I bet the lake as fish.” She bit her lip and waited for his response.

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sam pressed her teeth deeper into her lip to keep her own grin hidden. “You think?” he asked, his voice sounding pleased.

“We could find out.” Continue reading “[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Fishing is Good”


[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Playing the Game: Rules Are Meant To Be Broken

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.


Jack visits Sam on Atlantis after she takes command. (With the premise that they didn’t get together after Threads.)
1,524 words | [PG]

“So what do you think, sir?” Sam watched his expression as she guided him through the labyrinth-like corridors of Atlantis. She’d been the expedition commander for six months now, and this was his first visit while she was in charge. She felt a nervous flutter of her stomach and wondered why. She’d felt less anxious going up for her first promotion review. This was General O’Neill after all.

After a moment, he turned to her, hands clasped behind his back. “Looks good, Colonel. Any problems since you’ve taken over.”

Relief swelled in her, and she shook away the cobwebs of doubt that invaded her head. “Not really. Just your typical disgruntled personnel.”

“There’s always a few that don’t adapt well to a regime change.”

She snorted. “I’d hardly call it a regime change, sir.”

“Going from a civilian command to military is a lot to take. Especially with a science expedition like this.”

“It hasn’t been that bad. And I think things have smoothed out rather nicely.”

He must have noticed her defensiveness because his expression softened with a smile. “I’m sure it has, Carter. I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise. I just know it’s… hard. Being in charge.”

She regarded him for several beats but found his words sincere. He knew from experience. She nodded in agreement. “It’s different here, though. We’re so far from home that we rely on each other a great amount so we’re all kind of like-”


She smiled up at him. “Yeah, family.”

“That’s good, Carter. You deserve to have family close.” Continue reading “[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Playing the Game: Rules Are Meant To Be Broken”


[REPOST] Firefly fic: Teardrops

This story is being reposted from 2008 as part of this endeavor.


100 words | [PG]

The tear dropped onto Mal’s cheek.

“You stupid, stupid man,” Inara said. “Why do you have to be so noble all the time?”

She carefully wiped the tear and blood from his face, softly kissing the clean skin beneath. She was well aware the doctor was still in the room, but no longer cared.

“I didn’t even get to tell you how I really feel,” she murmured, her lips brushing his.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Uh, he’s not dead. He’s not even unconscious.”


“How ‘xactly you feel ’bout me?” Mal asked, a devilish grin spreading across his face.


The 100 fic: Trust in Your Heart

Although this is a newly posted story, I’m including it in my February/March “repost” because it fits the theme of LOVE. Enjoy.


Canon-divergent with the Ark never coming down, leaving the 100 on their own through the winter. Bellamy is on a mission, and Clarke isn’t totally sure she can trust his motives. But she knows she can trust him with her life so that has to be enough. At least, that’s what her heart is telling her. Originally written for my Camp NaNo 2017 project, prompt: trust.
3,834 words | [PG-13]

Clarke digs her fingers through the newly upturned earth, picking out rocks and other debris. They have onions and potatoes to plant. Across from her, Finn smiles, but then his expression darkens as a shadow passes over her.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, “I need your help with something.”

“Help with what?” she asks without so much as a glance at him.

“I found what looks like a cache of medical supplies. But I’m not sure if any of it is worth bringing back.”

That gets her attention. She cocks her head, the sun behind him, blinding her. “The stuff would be well over a hundred years old.”

He shrugs. “It was sealed up pretty tight.”

Clarke pushes a strand of hair off of her face. If the cache was sealed like the Art Supply bunker, the stuff inside could still be good. And even if the meds have gone bad, there might be other salvageable items or equipment. The hair falls back into her face, and she tries to blow it away. Unsuccessfully.

“How far away is it?”

“It’s a bit of a walk. We probably won’t get back until after dark.”

She stands up, wiping her hands on her dirty pants. “You think it’s worth it?”

He nods. “We barely made it through winter. We need all the help we can get.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s pretty much what they argued about all day yesterday—she wanted more help with planting; he wanted more help securing the fence. “Okay,” she says, wiping the strand of hair away again. “I’ll grab my bag.”

She’s filling bottles of water when Finn finds her a moment later. “You can’t seriously be going with him?”

“Why not?”

“Because yesterday he was talking about burying you with the potatoes.” Continue reading “The 100 fic: Trust in Your Heart”


[REPOST] The 100 fic: At the Center of the Night

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.


Sleepless nights send Bellamy and Clarke on a crash course to finally fixing their friendship. Post season 3.
2,054 words | [R for language]

I’m not even sure why I’m here. I was on my way back to my quarters but took a wrong turn. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do. The hall is dark—the power low to reflect the late hour—and it’s quiet. Everyone went to bed hours ago. I think about turning around. I think about going through with it. I think about running for my life because I’m sure this might be the biggest fucking mistake I could ever make.

All of this runs through my head in the matter of seconds. While my brain is trying to sort it out, my feet get a mind of their own. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Clarke’s quarters.

This is okay, isn’t it? We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through, it’s perfectly normal for one friend to call on another. I ignore the fact that it’s three in the morning. She said we needed each other. That had to mean something, right? And right now I need her. I need to talk to her. She always gets me like no one else can, not even Octavia. I need to talk to her. I need to see her face. To assure myself that she’s still here. That she isn’t some cruel prank my brain is playing on me. That she’s real, and she stayed this time.

She needed me.

And now I need her.

I hover in front of her door, rooted by indecision. On one hand, Lexa just died. It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me—I just want to talk. To spend time with her. We’re friends. On the other hand, the world is probably going to end in another month. There aren’t going to be many more somedays. I pull my hand back to knock, but then I hear footsteps.

My heart leaps into my throat as someone rounds the corner, but it’s just one of the guards. Probably heading home from the late shift just like me. He barely gives me a nod as he passes, his heavy steps scuffing the floor. I let out a breath. This is ridiculous. If I’m jumping like a startled school kid caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar then I know this is wrong.

I spin on my heel and force myself to walk away. Without looking back. This never happened. I won’t even think about how close I came to making a fool out of myself. I’ll go home, take a hot shower, pretend I can sleep in my soft bed, and when I get up, she’ll have breakfast with me and our friends. She’s real. She’s here. She wants to be here.

Because she has nowhere else to go. Read more…


[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Simplifying

Jack tries to talk Sam into taking over as head of the SGC but Sam has other ideas.
995 words | [PG-13]

“You know, Carter,” Jack said as they rounded the corner heading for the bank of elevators, “you could just come back to the SGC.”

She walked next to him, hands clasped behind her back but looking completely casual. He marveled at her. “I suppose.”

Their heels clicked on the polished stone floor of the Pentagon. Jack nodded at several startled servicemen as they exited an office to his right. They eagerly got out of his way. Rank did have some privileges he thought with a smirk.

“You don’t seem too enthused at the thought.”

She shrugged.

“And that means?”

That got a bit of a smile out of her. “I hadn’t really thought about it, sir. After Atlantis and the Hammond-” She trailed off, her gaze getting glossy. She shook her head slightly before continuing. “I’m not sure I want to go back to the field.”

They arrived at the elevators, and Jack slammed his thumb into the up arrow. “Carter,” he said, keeping his voice low, “you have to realize you are on the shortlist to take over for Landry when he retires. A very short list.”

She shrugged again, her eyes never quite meeting his. Jack frowned. At her, at the elevator, at the situation. She seemed to notice his agitation because she gestured with her head at the stairs. Jack shoved the door open with a little more force than necessary.

“You want out, don’t you?” he accused. Continue reading “[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Simplifying”

fanfiction, random

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Don’t Drink the Wine

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

It’s cliché but so much fun when “aliens made them do it.” Daniel and Vala get caught after participating in a wedding ceremony on an alien planet. He really should know better by now.
834 words | [PG-13]

“Up and at ‘em, Jackson.”

A boot connected with Daniel’s side. He groaned and rolled away, snuggling deeper into his sleeping bag. His head was killing him—felt like a full marching band playing the 1812 Overture in there, complete with canons. The boot nudged him again, a little more insistent this time.

“Go ‘way,” Daniel mumbled. He was vaguely aware of other voices around him but had neither the will nor want to get up or even to try and understand what they were saying. After a short discussion, the foot ground into his back and shook violently.

“Get up.” Daniel recognized Mitchell’s voice, but he sounded like he was speaking from a great distance. And through cotton. His brain fought to catch up to his senses while the treads of his commander’s boot dug into his tender flesh. Daniel frowned into the soft fabric of his bag. Flesh? Something wasn’t right.

He reached a tentative hand over his body and let it drift over his back and around the boot still planted there. Where the hell was his shirt? The foot moved, and then he felt someone squat down next to his head. When Mitchell spoke again it was softer and closer to his ear.

“That’s right, Daniel, wakey-wakey. Time to get up and face the music.”

What was that supposed to mean? And why the hell was he naked? The realization that not only was his shirt missing, but his pants as well finally broke through the dense fog in his head. He pushed up on one arm and looked around—his vision still fuzzy from sleep. Continue reading “[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Don’t Drink the Wine”