Well, I did say I’d post fanfiction to celebrate new writing milestones (and for fun!). So for the release of Slightly Off the Mark here’s an unusual crossover for you; I almost titled it “The Two Ricks”. One universe, as you’ll see, is in prequel territory.


Title: Speed Trap
Author: ozma914
Castle's road trip from Atlanta to New York gets sidetracked when Deputy Rick Grimes takes a bite out of crime. Luckily, Castle has an unlikely fan.

Rating: PG
Length: 1,075 words









I had intended for “Snape Takes a Holiday” to be a standalone story, but people kept asking me how Snape survived … and I also promised to write fanfiction to celebrate my original writing advances, like the book contract with Arcadia Publishing. So here, several months later, is chapter two. And since you’ve probably already forgotten chapter one, you can find it here:




Chapter two is below, and also here:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10441980/2/Snape-Takes-A-Holiday






“So, how did you survive--?”

Hermione looked annoyed when the waiter approached. Snape might have smiled, if he was inclined to do such things. She’d been quiet since the moment she emerged from the changing room, wearing a colorful sundress that was slightly less revealing than the bikini she’d worn on the beach. Apparently she was rebelling against the drab, conservative dress of Hogwarts.

Equally revealing was his former student’s silence. Only one topic of conversation could shut Granger’s mouth for their entire walk to the restaurant … the same topic that kept him silent as he tried to figure out a way to avoid it.

There was no good way to talk about death, especially one’s own.

Hermione ordered in passable French, while the waiter looked down the neckline of her dress. Sitting even straighter than usual, Snape put on his best glare and aimed it with laser precision at the man. The waiter faltered, glanced up, then straightened himself. Eyes wide, he stammered something in English.

“I will also have the Coquilles Saint-Jacques. With Chablis, and buche for desert. You will keep your gaze from them.”

With a start, Hermione looked up from the menu.

Snape continued, without looking away from the now trembling waiter. “So much as a glance will result in severe … consequences.”

With a quick nod, the waiter scurried away.

“What was that all about?” Hermione demanded. “How in the world is he to serve our food if he doesn’t look at it?”

Snape gestured—ever so briefly—at the point just above where the swell of her breasts emerged from the sundress. “You were asking about my death.”

“But—oh!” Her hand fluttered to her chest, and a blush spread all the way down her neck.

“If you don’t mind my saying, Miss Granger …”

“Yes, your ....” She looked away. “I wanted to get as far from possible from my life, you see. Location, activities … style of dress …”

“I assume you’re going to burn the contents of your suitcase before returning to Hogwarts in the fall.”

“I’m thinking about burning them right now.”

The waiter appeared beside them again, clutching the Chablis and two glasses. “Madam, I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior.”

Snape’s head jerked up. The waiter’s voice was suddenly higher, rougher, as if it was someone else trying to imitate the man. Yet he looked exactly the same.

“Apology accepted,” Hermione told him, a little uncertainly, as the waiter poured their drinks with horrible technique.

“Here in this world, there is nothing wrong with your style of dress.” Snape made no attempt to sound reassuring, especially since his words were not, strictly speaking, meant for her. “There is no sign of our world here.” He looked at the waiter. “None whatsoever.”

The waiter spilled a little and, apologizing profusely, wiped it up.

“Therefore,” Snape continued, “No one has any reason to complain about you wearing summer clothing in the south of France, during summer.”

As the waiter moved away, Hermione gave her dinner companion an odd look. “Thank you. I’m trying to decide if this topic of conversation is meant to divert me from the other topic of conversation.”

“I would prefer a third topic, something less volatile. Politics. Religion. My former associates.”

She took a huge gulp from the glass, then wrinkled her nose in a way that would be almost cute if not for the accompanying gagging sound. “Perhaps discussing your former associates covers all three of those.”

He’d never thought of it that way before, and now inclined his head in agreement. To delay the inevitable, he took a drink. Considering they were in France, the Chablis was, of course, superb. “Sip it, Miss Granger. It’s not butterbeer.”

“Harry says he saw you die.” Hermione fidgeted in her seat.

“Potter is not nearly as observant as he imagines.”

She started to argue, then took a sip as instructed. “It’s good. I think. It tastes … like steel. And it smells like it just rained.”

Hermione looked into her glass, and Snape used the moment to impulsively kick out to the side, where the waiter had been. His boot caught something, and he heard the smallest of cries and a gentle waft of moving material. “Potter, in addition to not being observant, is slow on the uptake and on connecting the proverbial dots. You, on the other hand, are both intelligent and observant, so you tell me: How did I manage to stay alive?”

“Well, you were—did you just compliment me?”

“I’m told there is a blue moon over France tonight.”

“Did you just make another joke? That’s two in one day.” She sipped her drink again, holding it in her mouth for a contemplative moment.

“I’ll chance the injury to my reputation.”

“All right, fine. You were bitten by a giant, highly poisonous snake. Obviously, the venom …” Hermione trailed off. “You knew you might get bitten by Nagini, someday.”

“Of course.”

“So you made a potion that vaccinated you against the venom!” Looking triumphant, Hermione forgot her previous instructions and took a swallow of the Chablis.

“Obviously there was a chance Nagini might be used against me, so over time I was able to build up an immunity to the snake’s venom.” Snape almost smirked at the idea of cheating death, but then he shook his head. “It still affected me to some degree—and I did not take into account the probability of blood loss. Naturally, I would not have given my memories over to Potter if I hadn’t thought …”

“You did believe you were dying.” Sympathy shone in her eyes, or pity. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

 “But I did recover, eventually, and when someone finally came for my body they found me to be more or less alive. To many, that will come as something of a surprise this autumn, but by then the wizarding world should be more stabilized.”

“I think I’ve learned more about you today than all the time we’ve known each other.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Some part of Snape’s mind admitted to liking this opportunity, to talk about himself a little. The rest of his mind slapped that part down. “And now, Miss Granger, we will speak no more of my death, or my life, or your choice of clothing. There surely must be more pleasant—“

“I’ll be right back.” Hermione clutched the edge of the table and jerked to her feet.

Trying to hide his concern, Snape also rose. “Do you require--?”

“No, no … I just need to powder my nose.” She hurried away, in the general direction of the loo.

“Alcohol will have that effect on people,” Snape murmured, retaking his seat. Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The same waiter was beside him in a flash. “Potter, what the devil do you think you’re doing?”

The waiter frowned. “How did you—“

“It was either you or Weasley, and he has his hands full elsewhere. It can be assumed you also had assistance, considering your complete incompetence at making Polyjuice Potion. You just can’t seem to keep from spying on people.”

“I’m not spying!”

“Then what were you doing?”

“I was …” The waiter faltered. “Looking out for my friend.”

“In other words, spying. I promised you and the Weasleys that I would look after Miss Granger, in case you’ve forgotten. Also—in case you’ve forgotten—I keep my promises.”

“I—I know. I’m sorry, Professor.”

“If our randy server hadn’t offended your delicate sensibilities, you might have gotten away with skulking in the cloak.” He almost admired Potter’s clearly inherited ability at stealth. “I assume the real waiter is unharmed?”

Harry shrugged. “He might wake up with a crick in his neck. He deserves worse for looking down Hermione’s blouse.”

“Agreed. However, Miss Granger is quite able to look after herself, and if circumstances dictate, I’m capable of providing the required assistance.”

The waiter with Potter’s voice hesitated. Against his better judgment, Snape softened his voice. “Miss Weasley and her simpering brother need you …go back to them. I’ll look after the situation here.”

After a moment, Harry nodded. “But you will burn that bathing suit, won’t you?”

Perhaps the unfortunate loss of Miss Granger’s suitcase was covered under “required assistance”. “Count on it.”




I was tagged on Facebook by Lorelei Bell to reveal seven things about my writing life. I’m not going to tag anyone (‘cause I don’t do that), but I think I can come up with seven little known, if not terribly interesting, things:


            I was diagnosed as a kid as being dyslexic—and never knew it. My mother apparently assumed I remembered, and dropped that bombshell on me in an off the cuff remark just a few weeks ago. It must have been a mild case, and the teachers worked me through it; but I do occasionally transpose numbers and letters, something I’d just assumed were normal mistakes.


I wasn’t yet old enough to write when I composed my first story, a fanfiction about my trip to Oz. My mother typed it out for me until I lost interest, and never completed it.


My first completed story was a few years later, when I wrote down a dream I had about being taken into the sky on a UFO made of books (!) My brother refused to believe I’d dreamed that. Like my conscious mind could have thought it up!


In 2003 I sent a manuscript (Radio Red, as I recall) to a publisher, and after not hearing from them for a year I learned that they’d gone out of business. I sent a follow-up query to be sure, and got a phone call from the former publisher—who’d decided to try being an agent, and offered to take me on as a client. I had an agent! Yay!

Three years later, after a few bites here and there, he decided to quit the business.


To add insult to injury, in 2009 Mark Hunter signed a contract to get his new novel published … Mark Hunter of Great Britain. Even Mark Hunter was having more publishing success than Mark Hunter.


In June, 2010, my grandson was rushed to the emergency room, and my car was totaled when a hit and run driver crashed into my daughter. I’d been up 24 hours and was physically and emotionally exhausted when I checked my e-mail and found an acceptance letter from Whiskey Creek Press, for Storm Chaser—my first book contract. I printed it out and went to sleep. It was all very anticlimactic.


 My wife and I met on a writer’s website (Well, she wasn’t my wife then). She thought, based on my writing style, that I was female.

 I've been writing crossovers between various fandoms and the main character of my new novel, "The Notorious Ian Grant", and I couldn’t leave out the Four Friends—characters from my earlier “Buffy The Vampire Slayer” fanfics who came together with no planning on my part for a series of stories.

The Four Friends are Tara, a witch/ghost who’s a bit more alive than most people realize; Buffybot, a robot copy of Buffy Summers; Dana, a psychologically scarred Slayer from an episode of “Angel”; and Kara, an original character from my first fanfic.

Title: A Wrong Turn At Albuquerque
Author: ozma914
Summary: Ian thinks he’s still headed toward Indiana, in a misguided--figuratively and in this case literally--attempt to get back in his family's good graces. Along the way he meets a very different, mystical sort of family.

Rating: PG
Length: 2,500 words




The latest of my stories featuring the main character from "The Notorious Ian Grant" as he begins a cross country trip toward the events of the novel. My next might be delayed for about a week and a half due to a wedding and a book contract (!); I have one more fanfiction crossover done (everyone's welcome to suggest another one), and also an all original short story we'll be giving away later on my website.

 Title: A Poor Choice of Alias
Determined to drive to Indiana and make up with his family, B-list celebrity Ian Grant is barely out of L.A. when he runs into two cops in a diner--and, as is his nature, decides to mess with them. Which might not have been so bad, but this time around the Winchester Brothers chose a very unfortunate pair of fake names.

 Rating: PG
1,600 words

 A Poor Choice Of Alias

            Could he call it a road trip yet, when he hadn’t even made it out of the city?

            Ian Grant pressed his back against the outside of a diner door, desperately signing autographs, if signing autographs was something one could do desperately. He’d managed to gas up the Mustang and pee before the paparazzi found him—the pee part, especially, was a relief. Now, somewhere on the outskirts of L.A. just off the freeway, he’d been found by half a dozen bored photographers and what were probably the only dozen Ian Grant “greatest fans” on this side of the city.

            “Yes, thanks, here—love the Mohawk. Who’s it for? How do you spell … ah, Krysanthemum with a K, your mother must be very proud.”

            His new adventure had not started off well. He’d had to stop and pick up some toiletries—no way was he going back to face Bethani in that hotel room. The pop star was probably still throwing furniture around to protest the very idea that anyone would dare break up with her before she did it first.

            Nobody recognized him at the dollar store. When he realized the Mustang was down to a quarter of a tank, which would certainly not get him to Indiana, he made another stop and was again not recognized. A guy’s luck had to run out, sooner or later.

            “Gotta go, sorry—thanks!” Ian managed to squeeze through the door and, much to his surprise, no one followed. The fans were apparently content after he signed napkins, breasts, and the side of one head. The photographers were apparently disappointed that he wasn’t drunk and drag racing Justin Bieber, the cheating little bastard.



            As I mentioned earlier, I’m going to post a new story every week or so about Ian Grant’s journey to Indiana, where the events of The Notorious Ian Grant take place. The first one I posted some time ago, and it records the moment he made that life-changing decision:




            This one actually takes place a short time before that. Ian, in keeping to his reputation, crashes a party—but not just anyone’s party. It may be he’s there for more than living it up … but either way, he’s about to meet his match in Tony Stark.


Title: Party Crasher
Author: ozma914
Summary: Tony Stark's parties often attract characters. Sometimes they're not invited ... and sometimes they don't even know why they came.
Rating: PG
Length: 1,900 words







            “Sir, someone is climbing the cliff below the house.”



Over the years – especially the last few – Tony Stark had seen so much that he often thought he'd seen it all. Just as often, he was proven wrong. “Climbing—the cliff? This cliff?” He gestured toward the overhang railing, which almost made his martini spill. He stilled his hand just in time, preventing that tragedy. )


I promised myself that with every major writing milestone I'd have some fanfiction fun as a reward, so this is to celebrate the release of my novel, "The Notorious Ian Grant".


It's also, of course, a nice way to mark the first TV appearance of the 12th Doctor--even though what I'm giving you is the 10th, for reasons that will become obvious.





The fun part is looking, and while looking Luna Lovegood discovers a strange blue box in Hogwarts - and an even stranger man inside, with a simple request: "take me to your leader". 






            Luna Lovegood wandered through the halls of Hogwarts, looking.


            She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she always found something. Looking was the fun part.


            Sure enough, she found a new something in a dead end corridor, empty except for tall windows and a stone Gargoyle: a tall blue wooden box in the shadows, perhaps big enough for a few people to stuff themselves into, with the words “Police public call Box” along the top. She paused, her head tilting as she studied it.



Between now and its October release, I’m posting a series of short stories featuring the title character of my novel, The Notorious Ian Grant. Since the book starts just as he finishes a road trip from California to Indiana, I thought I’d tell some fun tales about whom and what he encounters along the way.


My idea to do something similar before the release of Storm Chaser led instead to my publisher collecting the tales as Storm Chaser Shorts. But this time they’ll be free, and I had a different idea: Suppose I had Ian encounter characters from other fandoms along the way? (Most of you know I’ve written fanfiction under the name Ozma914.)


I’m thinking especially of characters from shows, movies, and such that take place in the areas Ian travels through, or who might come through in their own travels. What do you think? And who would you like to see him encounter? I hope you all like the idea, because I’m already working on them!

I took some time off from my writing to write … don't judge me, it's what writers do. So if any of you are interested in the Harry Potter universe, I wrote a little fanfiction in which Professor Snape travels to a world of beautiful people, fun in the sun, and constant good times … whether he wants to or not.




He hated wasting an intimidating pose.”

            I’ve missed writing fanfiction, which has the fun of writing without the stress of selling and promoting. So I came up with an idea: To write a new fanfic whenever I reach a major milestone in my writing career, such as selling or publishing a new work. What do you think? A good idea for relaxing a bit?


            This one’s to celebrate the contract with Whiskey Creek Press to publish my Storm Chaser sequel, The Notorious Ian Grant. And, while we’re at it, why not celebrate finally getting another season of The Walking Dead?



Title: Things Go Better
Author: ozma914
Summary: A new weapon is found in the battle against zombies. A very strange weapon.
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words






            Daryl Dixon stared down at the bubbling brown lumps on the concrete floor before him. “What the hell was that?”


            He slowly lowered his crossbow, still unsure of what he’d just seen. A moment before, they’d faced a horde of walkers … how many walkers in a horde? At least three dozen, far too many for the four of them to have handled. And almost all, curiously, dressed the same.


            “I don’t know …” Rick holstered his pistol and slowly approached the pool of brown liquid, which spread slowly as molasses. It smelled sweet and acidic, with only an underlay of rotting undead. “Guess I never thought about what hazardous materials might have been left behind.”


            “This ain’t supposed to be hazardous materials.” Daryl looked up at the huge silver tanks, one of them now split open. “Rick, that .44 packs quite a punch.”


            Rick, supposedly one of the best trained of their group when it comes to weapons, looked away. “Yeah, well … I got startled.”


            They turned at a noise behind them, but it was Michonne and Herschel, returning from the water spigot the old man had found still working near one end of the factory floor. Michonne kept staring at her sword, specifically at the brownish stain that hadn’t rinsed off and the almost invisible pitting near the tip. She looked close to tears.


            “Maybe you can get another one,” Daryl suggested. He took a step back at the glare she sent in return.


            The liquid mass began to thin out, leaving the concrete scoured and a little pockmarked.


            “I don’t get it.” Shaking his head, Rick skirted the edge of the spill and examined the closest tank. “Well, maybe over time it … changed. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky.”


            “Yeah.” Daryl grinned. It felt strange. “We should just have … a smile.” Those poor souls must have been trapped all along. Then his friends entered, the tank split from an accidental shot, and the starved walkers just kept walking right into the spray. Weird.


            “We were fortunate,” Herschel agreed. “Imagine what that stuff does to your stomach.”


            They turned to look through the big windows along one wall, at the red and white logo outside. Daryl had actually been hoping for a little refreshment during their supply run to Atlanta, but now that didn’t seem like such a good idea. Still, they’d found a new weapon, which he was already thinking of as The Real Thing.


            They looked at each other. Then they smiled, all of them, even Michonne. “Guess we’ve got some trench digging to do,” she said. “This could be a safe place, for awhile.”


            “Well, not right by the tanks,” Daryl told her. Then he grinned again. “I’m thirsty. Think they got any Pepsi here?”

Title: Shoot the Groundhog

Author: Ozma914

Summary: A slayer team discovers the environment can be more challenging than the bad guy … especially during “spring”.

Characters: Buffybot, Tara, Dana, OC slayer Kara Philips

Rating: PG

Length: 2,055 words

Warnings: Wear a parka; you’ll catch your death

(This takes place in my Post-Chosen universe, where Tara and the Buffybot have been brought back to life [kind of] and the slayer Dana has more or less regained her sanity, all as a result of magical interference.)


Dedicated to my facebook/livejournal/twitter friend [personal profile] nuchtchas , who said she missed my fanfics, and to all my friends from the Great White North.


Shoot The Groundhog


Title: The 13th b’ak’tun
Author: ozma914
Characters: The 11th doctor, and a surprise guest
Rated: PG
Warnings:  The world could end. Or maybe not.
Disclaimer: All characters who aren’t mine don’t belong to me.
Summary: Only one person could prevent the Mayan Apocalypse … despite the plans of a time traveler from a different universe.



The 13th b’ak’tun


            K’iche froze, hammer still in the air, poised to make the last mark in a stone inscription he’d been working on for so many years. The noise from the courtyard outside, a weird, pulsing, roar that pierced the humid air, made his hair stand on end.

            He rose partially to his feet, enough to give him a view through the window of the stone temple, and saw the morning sun eclipsed by the Blue Box.

            Of course.

            Willing his pulse to slow enough for him to keep his aim steady, K’iche sat back down and carefully made the last mark in the circular stone, exactly where the astronomers had instructed it should go. Then he carefully laid the hammer down and dropped to his knees, head bowed.

            “Oh, hello!” The strangely garbed man strode in as if he owed the place – which he did, in a way – and unhesitatingly grabbed K’iche’s arm to help him up. “K’iche, yes? I’m the Doctor.”

            “On behalf of all my people I am honored, god Doctor.” He refused to meet his guest’s eyes, instead gazing at an outfit of brown trousers, strange footwear and unknown materials.

            “Yes, well …” The Doctor glanced behind him, and K’iche noticed a young woman, also dressed oddly, in the doorway. She nodded at the Doctor, giving him an encouraging – and pointed – look.

            “Ah, yes – fantastic.” Producing a strange silver device, the Doctor waved it over the finished inscription. K’iche stumbled back when the little stick glowed and emitted a whine. “Just as I thought. Don’t worry, K’iche, this isn’t dangerous to you at all, much. As a, um, god, I need you to start a new inscription for me.”

            Oh. Five more years bent over a stone tablet, carving out symbols. “It shall be as you wish, god Doctor. Your coming was prophesized by the great goddess of the River, but your purpose was not.” K’iche gestured up toward the inner wall of the temple, above the doorway. The others turned to see the carved outline of the Blue Box and proof of the god’s identity, the badge of honor he wore beneath his chin. “She told my great-grandfather that your tie of bow would bring coolness.”

            “The goddess River –? Well, of course.” The Doctor put his magic stick away and again glanced back at the girl, who shrugged. And grinned. “Right. Well, what I need you to do is extend your calendar for another, oh, five thousand years or so.”

            K’iche froze. Suddenly his moment of joy turned to terror. “I … wish to obey, god Doctor, but  …”


            Encouraged by the god’s mild tone, K’iche took a breath. “We were instructed to extend our long count calendar to the 13th b'ak'tun only – Instructed by the god Itzamna himself.” He chanced a look at the Doctor’s angular face, and saw the god raise an eyebrow.

            “Itzamna? Orange robe, weird hat, tall, skinny, insufferable?”

            A pretty good description, actually. “Ah … very tall, orange robe, yes.” Considering the way Itzamna responded to a doubter among K’iche’s people by freezing the man solid – in the middle of summer – repeating any insults seemed unwise.

            The girl gave the Doctor a questioning look. “One of you?”

            “Not exactly.” The Doctor waved her off. “You let me worry about Itzamna. He won’t harm you, and he won’t destroy the calendar. But you have to understand, what you’d doing here, it’s a cause and effect thing. You’re at a crux point – if you don’t extend the end date, it really could bring terrible events beyond having to print up more calendars.”

K’iche didn’t really understand, but he got the point. “It shall be as you wish, god Doctor.”

“Just make sure you have the next thirteen b’ak’tun done by … well, there really isn’t much of a rush, is there? Before the first one runs out.”

            The Doctor turned and swept through the door, followed by the girl. Frozen for a moment, K’iche had to hurry to catch up. He saw startled priests enter the courtyard, catch site of the Box and its occupants, and prostrate themselves. At least there would be witnesses. “But god Doctor –!”

            “Take your time, do it right. Oh, and stop with the ritual sacrifices, would you? Those aren’t cool.” With a wave, the Doctor followed his companion through the wooden door with the strange markings.

            The Blue Box wheezed and faded, leaving K’iche to explain his conversation with a god to people who, fortunately, could testify that he hadn’t been drinking too much fermented juice. Although a night of drinking might be a nice break before he started the new project.


            Itzamna the god watched the chattering group of priests and astronomers go into the temple. They couldn’t see him, so he didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. Insurable Time Lord! For all the power his people wielded, the one unyielding rule they had was to never cross the Time Lords, especially this one. His plan to enjoy planetary fireworks in a few millennia had come to nothing.

            Still … while he couldn’t destroy the new calendar, or stop the Mayans from making it, nothing said he couldn’t store it in a safe place once it was finished. Maybe … beneath the Antarctic ice cap? Then he’d still get his fun, when people of another era found the original calendar and realized it would end. After that maybe, rather than destroying humanity, he’d let them stick around and see how entertaining they could be, in what they thought of as the distant future. It might be best to wait until they achieved space flight before putting them on trial.

            Yes. He was getting bored being Itzamna anyway – instead, it was time for him to do what he did best: Mess with people. What was the point of belonging to the Q Continuum if you couldn’t have some fun?

The use (and misuse) of Mary Sues and self-inserts is the subject of my blog tour post today . Thanks to author Jana Denardo, who’s hosting me over at LiveJournal:




“I became a writer at an unfortunately young age, and like many kids it was all about me.”.

Some of my newer friends might not know that I used to write fanfiction regularly under the username ozma914, and I'm happy to say it led to over a dozen fanfic writing awards. I've been busy with original fiction, but I miss the stress-relieving fun of working hard on a story I don't have to worry about getting published (because that would be illegal, ya' know).

One of the great fanfiction traditions is crossovers, so to mark the publication of ​Storm Chaser Shorts​ I  crossed my most common fandom, ​Buffy the Vampire Slayer​ , with a character from my own original universe. It's also kind of a crossover with two other fandoms, since once character appeared only in an episode of ​Angel​, and there's mention of another TV show that will be fun for those who watch it.

I had a blast writing this, so if you like the idea of throwing my ​Storm Chaser​ characters into other universes ... I'm open to suggestions!


A/N: This story is set in my post-“Chosen” universe in which the Buffybot and Tara have both been brought back to life – more or less – through magical means. Some of the same magic restored a semblance of sanity to the imbalanced slayer Dana, from the Angel episode “Damages”. Kara Philips is an original character who's been around since my very first fanfic, and those four appear in a series of stories called "Four Friends". This tale, which takes place before the events of Storm Chaser​ or ​Storm Chaser Shorts, first appeared last week on fanfiction.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8353053/1/License_and_Registration_Please

Title: License and Registration, Please
Author: Mark R Hunter (ozma914)
Characters: Buffybot, Tara, Dana, Officer Chance Hamlin of ​Storm Chaser​, OC slayer Kara
Rated: PG
Warnings: A little silliness.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss and co, except for the ones who belong to me.
Summary: Post Chosen: A slayer mission is jeopardized by the Buffybot's driving, and by a traffic cop who's just a bit too shrewd.  2,200 words




Midwesterners have a way of just dealing with it when disaster strikes. Even in a zombie apocalypse:




I’ve mentioned that I wanted to do some crossover fanfiction involving the Storm Chaser universe, to mark the release of my short story collection. Although I do have a rough draft of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer story done, my wife Emily beat me to the punch with an alternate universe story crossing some characters from Storm Chaser Shorts with The Walking Dead universe. At least, I hope it’s AU! No spoilers.


Here’s the link on my website:



It's been awhile since I had time to write fanfiction, but I've received an award nomination for a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic I wrote earlier. She Would be Thirteen is a Xander-centric story, set about a year after the end of the TV series, and you can find it here:


Thanks so much to whoever nominated me in the "That Old Gang Of Mine" category, over at the Wicked Awards! On their LiveJournal site you can read lots of other excellent stories, in various fandoms, that were also nominated:


A few years ago, while striving hard to write and sell fiction, I promised myself an award for every big step forward: I would treat myself by writing a fanfic whenever I finished a step in a project. I used to be fairly well known for my fanfiction, and the advantage of writing it is that it’s strictly for fun – you can’t sell work based on someone else’s characters (unless they’re in public domain), after all.

But I got extra busy, and other than one Fringe story haven’t produced any fanfic for some time. I finished my YA mystery, got a request for the full manuscript from an agent, sold Storm Chaser, wrote a bunch of short stories, and had some good news in other areas that will be announced shortly. Now I’m hip deep in preparing to publicize and sell Storm Chaser, which as I’ve shouted far and wide is scheduled to come out in June.

So how can I treat myself to some fanfiction while also continuing to get word out about my new novel?

Emily and I did some brainstorming, and came up with a way to combine the two: a fic challenge that we’re calling – wait for it – TwisterPalooza.

Here’s the idea: For the month of April, we’re putting up a challenge for writers to post stories that, in some way, are impacted by the weather. It could have tornadoes in it, as Storm Chaser does; or it could involve any other weather phenomenon such as floods, lightning, drought, or hurricanes. We’ll even accept something directly affected by weather conditions, such as wildfires, as well as earthquakes. (Under the circumstances use a little sensitivity if dealing with tsunamis, but understand that writing about mother nature causing harm is no different than writing about, say, gun battles – it’s just a story.)

It can be fanfiction – I know a lot of great fanfic writers – but it can also be original fiction, and we’ll accept any fandom whether it be movies, TV shows, books, or whatever. Want to see Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer deal with a blizzard? Curious about how the cast of Supernatural would react to an earthquake that didn’t have a supernatural origin? Want to have a lightsaber duel interrupted by a flash flood? Always wanted to have Edward Cullen carried to Oz by a twister and magically turned into a marble statue? Well, who doesn’t want that?

Any length will be acceptable, from drabble to a chapter fic, and the winners will get a great banner made by my webmaster, Emily. Your fic can be posted anywhere – all we ask for is a working link that doesn’t require a login, and that you put the link on comments to this post. (If you want to be in on it just for fun without being in the voting, leave a note to that effect.) After about three weeks, we’ll put the poll up on a separate post and everyone can vote – if you have a longer fic that’s not finished, everyone can vote on what you have.

TwisterPalooza Challenge rules:

1) Can be any length original fiction, fanfiction, or poetry.

2) Must involve characters reacting to a natural disaster (bonus points for tornadoes, storms, or storm chasing, although of course that won’t count toward the winner.)

3) Must post a link to the story here:   http://ozma914.livejournal.com/439157.html


Be gentle with me -- this is the first time I've ever created a challenge of my own. I’m going to post a little ficlet shortly myself, just as an example. (But I’m not eligible for the voting, of course.) Everybody have fun!

Title: Brain Food
Author: Ozma914
characters: Astrid, Walter, Gene the Cow

Summary: Some days, as she watches over a mad scientist, Agent Farnsworth feels an overwhelming urge to transfer. Then her insatiable curiosity takes over ...

Rating: PG
Warnings: Brain.
Length: 1,100 words
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but will gladly take anything given to me.

A/N: Now's the time to give a shout-out to my favorite friendship on one of the best shows that haven't been canceled -- yet.



Astrid – after pulling on a second set of gloves – passed the organ across the dissection table. “Here’s the brain. Walter, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some sausage and a stack of pancreas?”  )
ozma914: (Dorothy and the Wizard)
( Nov. 21st, 2010 02:20 am)

It's been a busy month and it's getting busier, so I almost missed this: I won a fanfic writing award for my Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic, "She Would Be Thirteen":


Yay, and thanks!  "She Would be Thirteen" has already won other writing awards; I get the feeling people like it.  Meanwhile, SAD has started hitting me, so the pick-me-up was very appreciated.  The award site is here:

And the original story can be found here:
My good LiveJournal friend [personal profile] jaded_jamie introduced me to the wonder that is Doctor Who, and he's also a great guy who I felt he should be rewarded with one of the things he wants most: A chance to meet the Doctor and Jamie's favorite companion, Donna Noble. Also, I've missed writing fanfiction! So here's the Doctor's newest adversary ... who I believe many of you will recognize.

Title: Doctor Who and the Toddler of Terror
Author: Ozma914

Summary: The Doctor and Donna take on an ally in their fight against a tiny terror with a diabolic plan and a cute laser gun.

Rating: PG
Warnings: Extreme silliness, cartoon violence.
Length: 2,750 words
Disclaimer: The characters belong to who they belong to, and Jamie belongs to himself.

Characters: The 10th Doctor, Donna Noble, and a few surprises.

Doctor Who and the Toddler of Terror )


ozma914: new novel cover art by Kelly Martin (Default)


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