Just Another Blog

my random ramblings about crafts, writing, books and kids

Archive for the tag “genre: angst”

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. Read more…

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.” Read more…

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Wash Away the Pain

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.


Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away.
1,280 words | [PG-13]

Clarke staggers through the trees towards the rush of water she hears in the distance. Her right hand presses against a growing pain in her side. Her left hangs limply, knife dangling from her fingertips. The noise of the river drowns out the echoing screams of death in her head.

She falls to her knees on the bank, retching until the bile erases the bitter taste of copper that stings the back of her throat.

So much blood.

It’s everywhere—staining her clothes, caking her hair, dripping from her eyelashes. She stares at her hands—sticky with red—until they blur behind a curtain of tears. She thrusts her hands into the freezing water, scrubbing her skin raw, but the red isn’t going away.
Her chest seizes up as another sob wracks her.

It’s not my blood.


She’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified that it’s Bellamy that followed her. She goes back to scrubbing the blood from her hands. Bellamy squats next to her, pulling her hands from the water to hold between his. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and wipes a line of blood trickling from her temple.

“What do I do?” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

He looks down at her hands. “They’re clean, Clarke.” Read more…


[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Amongst the Dust

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.

“Carter’s eyes continued to move swiftly from his eyes to his lips, and he did everything in his power to not mimic the movement himself.”
523 words | [PG]

“Sure is dusty down here,” Daniel said with another echoing sneeze.

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s a basement, Daniel.”

Sam moved around the boxes to pat Daniel’s shoulder. “If your allergies are bothering you, why don’t you go upstairs?”

“I want to help-”

“Perhaps,” Teal’c interrupted, “we can procure some nourishment.”

“Good idea. Go get some food for us, Daniel. By the time you get back, me and Carter will be done.”

Daniel glanced at each of them then opened his mouth to answer but a sneeze overcame him. Jack just shook his head. He noticed Carter trying not to smile as Daniel left amid another bout of sneezing. Dust drifted in the sunlight filtering through the small windows dotting the exterior walls. It gave the entire room a slightly surreal feel.

“Let me help you with those, Carter.” Jack came up behind the major, his arms above his head to catch the teetering box she was attempting to shift onto a high shelf.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice sounding a little rough. Jack realized that might have something to do with him being practically wrapped around her still. In the dark basement. The dark, empty basement. He swallowed hard. Read more…

That 70s Show fic: It Was Only a Matter of Time (1/15)

This story is the first fanfic I ever wrote and posted online back in 2005. Until now, it’s only been available on my livejournaland AO3, but since it fits my February theme for reposting all my stuff, I’m finally bringing it to my journal.


When Jackie left for Chicago, Hyde knew he’d made a mistake, but going there to fix it made things even worse. Now his life is one long string of unwanted emotions–anger, hate, heartache, remorse, regret… love. Despite the pain, he knows he still loves her. But maybe that’s why it hurts so much.

Jackie screwed up. Steven was gone, and it was all her fault. She tries to go on with her life, but the ache in her chest just won’t go away. She knows she has to make things right; she’s just not sure Steven will want to hear her out. She knows she has to try, though, because she can’t live with herself knowing she hurt him so deeply.

18,809 words | [PG-13]

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight
nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen

Chapter One: There Are Always Two Sides

Hyde pulled into the Forman driveway well past one in the morning and sat listening to the ticks and pops of the cooling engine. The whole drive home from Chicago he had fumed. He thought of every way he could possibly hurt Kelso and of every way that Jackie had hurt him. The pain was unbelievable. Hyde never knew a person could feel this way. Why would anyone want to be in love if this kind of hurt could happen?

The rage he’d built on the ride home mellowed as he crossed over the Point Place city limits. The anger that normally kept his other emotions in check faded, leaving an empty ache in his chest. For the first time since Bud left when he was a kid, Hyde felt like crying. He choked back the welling tears and remembered his Zen.

He tiptoed across the kitchen, glad it was late and everyone was in bed. The last thing he needed now was to hear Mrs. Forman tell him how sorry she was or listen to Donna lament about how much she would miss Forman. Hyde was too tired to deal with his friends—no matter how well-meaning they were. He crept down to his room, and slumping onto his cot, buried his face in his hands. He sighed. Every inch of his body hurt from the tension winding him into a tight knot. Read more…

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Weather the Storm With You

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

100_weatherthestormwithyouBellamy gets more than he bargained for during a hail storm. Like a wet, angry, sobbing Clarke in his tent.
1,817 words | [PG]

The rain came out of nowhere—the kind that drowns out all other sound and pulverizes the ground into a muddy mess in seconds. And to think, Bellamy used to like the rain. Thought it was magical and refreshing that first night on the ground. Now he just feels wet. He throws open the flap to his tent, grumbling about rain and mud and anything else he can think to curse.

They’ve been on the ground less than two weeks and have already endured a hurricane and countless other storms. He’s tired of being cold and wet all of the time. His jacket catches on his arms when he tries to take it off. He slams it onto the ground in frustration when he finally gets unstuck then runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes with a sigh. He really, really hates being wet.

Peeling off his soaked t-shirt, he leaves it in the pile with his jacket. The tent flap suddenly catches in the wind, letting in a blast of freezing rain just as something plinks against the roof. The sound turns harder. Like a thrumming. Hail, he realizes. Terrific. He’s a foot from closing the flap when something slams into him. Something solid, wet, and with golden hair.

Bellamy looks down at Clarke plastered to his front. He’s not quite sure what to do about this. His body has a few ideas that he’s trying to ignore, though. He steps back.

Clarke’s gaze drifts up slowly, taking in his exposed abs and chest. She’s totally checking him out—her expression going from bewilderment to curiosity to mortification. He smirks when her eyes finally meet his. Her cheeks are scarlet. So are the tips of her ears that peek through the stringy wet mess of hair. She opens and closes her mouth like a little fish. It’s adorable. Read more…

Girl Genius fic: Sacrifices Better Left Undone

The machine is finished. It works just as Agatha predicted. But not everything goes according to plan. Now Gil has to make a difficult decision. Too bad Tarvek is thinking the same thing. Written for Day three of Girl Genius Week 2018.
1100 words | [PG]

Gil stumbled back as their creation came to life. It chugged and whistled while it gained momentum, gears spinning and parts clanking in a growing cacophony.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Tarvek shouted over the noise, his voice shriller than usual.

“I-” Gil joined Tarvek a few feet from the machine. “I have no idea.” The contraption vibrated violently, raining dust and debris from the ceiling as the tremors grew. Gil feared it might tear itself apart and take half the castle with it. What have we even done?

Tarvek said something Gil couldn’t hear—alarm etched all over his face. Gil shook his head in confusion.

Then it all stopped. The silence was deafening. They exchanged worrying looks before Gil inched forward.

“What are you doing?” Tarvek screeched, grabbing at Gil’s arm.


The rest of his statement was lost to the boom of an explosion. The blast threw them across the room. Gil skid along the rough, stone floor, landing in a heap with Tarvek. He groaned as they untangled battered limbs. Read more…

Girl Genius fic: The Distance Between Us

gg_thedistancebetweenusGil has spent the last three years of his life fighting to save his friends, and now it’s over. They won. It’s time to settle down and enjoy the victory. Except nothing is ever that easy for Gil. Just when he was finding peace, Tarvek and Agatha throw him a curve ball. And it hurts.
1003 words | [PG]

“I need space.”

Gil blinked at Agatha, not sure he heard her correctly. “Space? What does that mean?”

Agatha took a deep breath the way Gil’s father always did when he was coming to the end of his rope. “Gil, ever since we got back from England you’ve been-” She paused, apparently searching for the correct word. “Needy.”


“I was going to say ‘clingy.’” said Tarvek, “but ‘needy’ works, too.”

“You’re so intense all of the time. Like you’re dialed up to twelve and the knob has broken off.”

Gil frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just a lot sometimes.”

“A lot?” Gil was aware he was repeating everything, but it was taking all his resources to process what she was saying.

Tarvek joined Agatha in front of him, linking their hands together. A united front. “It can be overwhelming,” he added. Read more…

The 100 fic: Hope is a Four-Letter Word

Hope is a Four-Letter Word

Clarke had Bellamy once upon a time and took it for granted. Now she’s paying the price. Or she could listen to Madi (and Echo) and take a chance.
300 words | [PG]

Clarke watched Bellamy with Echo from across the room. There was an ease and familiarity to their touch. One she’d never had with him. One she never would. She looked away, vision blurring with unshed tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Never in the six years she talked endlessly to a silent radio did she consider he’d find someone else. Why Echo?

“You okay?” Madi asked, sitting down beside her.

Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

Madi glanced over at the happy couple. “I don’t believe you.”

“You never believe me.”

“That’s because you’re never fine.” She glanced back again. “You should tell him. About the radio.”

“No.” Clarke jumped up and slipped out the back door of the church, Madi on her heels.

“Clarke, he should know.”

“Why? What’s the point? It’ll just make things more awkward between us.” The words rushed out as panic crushed her chest.

“But you’re in love with him”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Madi shook her head. “It might to him. You won’t know unless you try.”

“No. You don’t get it. You’re too young. It’s over. I had my chance and took it for granted and now-” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s over.”

The door opened and shut. “You should talk to him.”

Clarke’s heart nearly stopped as Echo came down the stairs. “But-”

“Really, Clarke.” Echo ducked her head then walked away. What did that mean?

“Now’s your chance,” Madi said. “Don’t blow it again.”

Clarke stared hard at the door, willing her feet forward, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face him yet—her heart hurt too much. But maybe… She glanced over her shoulder as Echo disappeared into the trees. Maybe there was hope. Just a little.

Girl Genius fic: The Beginning of Again

Eight-year-old Gil Holzfäller has made a few mistakes in his short, miserable life but none as far-reaching as getting his best friend expelled from his life.
1021 words | [G]

“Where are we going?” Gil asked the Baron. His little legs struggled to keep pace with the giant of a man next to him. His father. The thought baffled and terrified him in equal parts.

The Baron remained silent for several long seconds before finally answering. He sounded tired. “Your new quarters.”

Gil clutched his bag—filled with his few worldly possessions—tighter to his chest and tried to look around without looking like he was looking around. He had no idea where they were, and that said a lot considering how much of Castle Wulfenbach he’d explored over the years. There were few doors in the empty corridor and those weren’t marked in any way. How did the Baron even know where they were going?

They took several more turns leaving Gil to wonder if he was purposefully being led in circles so he’d be lost. He wasn’t sure if that’s something the Baron would do. It was something the other boys in the school would do. It’s how Gil got to be so good at getting around the ship. Necessity is the mother of invention, von Pinn had told him. Or in this case, a good sense of direction. Read more…

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: