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Archive for the tag “WARNING: language”

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. Read more…

Red Vs. Blue fic: Rockets Red Glare

If you have a cracked sense of humor and you’ve never watched the webshow, Red Vs. Blue, you are missing out on some ridiculous laughs. Their episodes are on YouTube, but the six-minute episodes are combined into two-hour seasons on Netflix–thirteen of them. It starts out slow, but later seasons actually work around some major story arcs. For something that started so silly, this show actually made me cry. The animation–created from the Halo games–improves drastically over the course of the series, so don’t let that turn you off. Just be aware that the language and many of the jokes are crude. The show is hilarious, though. I’ve watched through it two or three times already.


The one where the DVD collection is a mess and Caboose thinks it’s the 4th of July.
WARNING: language
639 words | rating: R

“No, no. Those go there and these go here,” shouted Church.

“But I thought we were going to put these there,” said Tucker.

Church growled. “Now why the hell would we do that?”

“I don’t know it just makes sense.”

“In what world does putting these over there make sense?”

Tucker shrugged, stepping out of the way as Caboose ran through the room. “Because they’re all red. And those are blue. And these are green.”

“WHAT? You organized them by color?”

“Yeah, of course.” Tucker looked up at Church. “Why? How do you organize them?”

Church fought the urge to throttle Tucker. “Oh, I don’t know—how about in alphabetical order!”

“Geesh, calm down, man. It’s just a stupid DVD collection for Christ’s sake.”

Tucker started sorting the DVDs again as Caboose ran past in the other direction. Church watched over his shoulder to make sure he did it right this time.

“F comes before G, dipshit.”

“Whatever,” Tucker muttered, and when Church turned to watch Caboose skip through the room, he tossed the copy of Four Weddings and a Funeral into the trash. “There,” he said a minute later.

Church checked the shelves. “Do you even know what alphabetical means?”

“Hey, fuck you. You know how hard it is to do anything with you breathing down my neck.”

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” yelled Caboose as he bounded back through the room with a sparkler in each hand.

“And what the fuck is with Caboose?”

Church started rearranging the DVDs. “I don’t know. I find it easier to just ignore him.”

“Yeah, but that’s when he gets in the most trouble.”

Church glanced at Tucker for a moment. “Good point.”

The two followed the sound of Caboose’s laughter to the roof of the base. Caboose had sparklers taped to every surface while he wrote his name in the air with the ones in his hands.

“Caboose,” Church shouted. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the Fourth of July!”

“No, it’s not,” said Tucker. “Actually, I think it’s November.”

Caboose danced around them as the sparklers petered out. “Oh, yeah. If it’s not the Fourth of July, then how come the Reds are having a fireworks display? Huh?”

“What?” Church and Tucker said at the same time.

As if on cue, there was a bang from the Red base across the canyon. Sparks flew into the sky.

“See, fireworks. That means it’s the Fourth of July.”

“All that means,” said Tucker, “is that you’re an idiot. They could be shooting fireworks off for any reason.”

“Uh-” said Church.

“It could be someone’s birthday. It could be someone’s anniversary. It could be they had extra gunpowder lying around-”


“It could be they just like pretty, sparkly things like you, dumbass. Hell, it could mean the Cubs finally won the World Series after five hundred years. Who the fuck knows.”

Church backed away. “I don’t think those are fireworks.”

“What?” Tucker turned to look where Church was staring. “Oh shit, man. Run.”

Caboose squealed. “Look they’re shooting them our way so we can join in the fun. Happy Fourth of July to you too, Reds.”

“Caboose,” Church yelled, “those aren’t fireworks. They’re rockets.”

“And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there,” sang Caboose, hand against his forehead in a salute.


Tucker leaped from the base, running for cover. Church dove at Caboose, tackling him over the side just as the rocket hit the roof. Chunks of concrete and red sparks rained down on them.

“So pretty,” cooed Caboose.

Church rolled onto his back, gasping for air. The sky was lit by the fire now consuming their base. It made the air waver, distorting the stars above. He let his head fall back with a long sigh. “You’re right, Caboose. It is pretty.”

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