Notes: I warn for violence, consent issues, and character death where applicable (you can view or skip warnings, as you choose.) Stories set in and around specific episodes should be understood to contain major spoilers for canon events within those episodes. Stories marked with an * were originally written under my previous pseudonym.

Major Fandoms: Stargate: Atlantis | OZ | Due South

Yuletide Stories: The Lost Boys | The Wire (2) | Hard Core Logo



Keep Your Friends Close
McKay/Sheppard | PG-13 | 5,100 words | Posted: August, 2007
The Genii, killer bugs, and an inconvenient crush—just another day in the life of Rodney McKay. Written for scarletts-awry in the 2007 Back to Basics story exchange.

Sheppard leaned against the console, expression thoughtful. "You've worked with Ladon Radim some, scientist to scientist. How smart is he?"

Rodney folded his arms across his chest as he considered the question. "Well, he's no me."

"There's only one you, Rodney," Sheppard said with what sounded like a fond laugh, and Rodney found himself fighting a flush all over again.

Standard Deviations
McKay/Sheppard | NC-17 | 13,000 words | Posted: June, 2007
He's always John Sheppard. That's not the problem.
Highlight to view warnings: Character death in an Alternate Universe (not the main story universe.)

As he was being led away, Sheppard's eyes met Rodney's for a moment. He looked miserable, like a cat stuffed in a crate for a trip to the vet. Rodney started to open his mouth to say something, but shut it when he realized he was acting out of habit. He'd grown so used to being able to fix any problem Sheppard couldn't shoot his way out of, that his brain was already beginning to rev in preparation, fingers practically twitching for a keyboard.

But he couldn't fix this. So he just watched silently, feeling oddly helpless as the curtain closed.

The Pegasus Galaxy's Greatest Hits
McKay/Sheppard (pre-slash) | PG | 2,200 words | Posted: May, 2006
John. Rodney. Stars. Written for thegrrrl2002 in the 2006 Back to Basics story exchange.

Sheppard nodded, tipping his head back to take in the vaulted ceiling. “I suddenly feel like I haven’t done the reading.”

“Isn’t that your natural state?” Rodney snorted, circling around to the back of the lectern-like structure in the center of the dais where Lorne had reported finding the control panel.

“In this galaxy?” Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much, yeah.”


McShep Match Peace Drabbles | Posted: June, 2009
My entries representing Team Peace for the warm-up drabble challenge in McShep Match 2009. (Drabbles are stories of exactly 100 words.)



General warning: OZ is a rough show about life inside a maximum security prison. Stuff happens. People who are triggered by violence, character death, and issues of consent might want to tread carefully here (and elsewhere in the fandom.)


NC-17 | Length: 7,500 words| Completed: January, 2007
Beecher/Keller. Cracktastic AU. College senior Tobias Beecher gets drunk in the wrong neighborhood and meets a fresh-out-of-Lardner Chris Keller. Hijinks ensue.

Toby knew he was staring at the money, knew it probably wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't seem to stop.

"Rolled a drunk for it," Chris said, glancing up. Toby felt his face burn as Chris laughed. "A different drunk, I swear."

Good to Be King
R | Length: 1,100 words| Posted: January, 2007
Adebisi/O'Reily. Takes place during S1. Written for tick_tick in the 2006 Oz Magi gift exchange.
Highlight to view warnings: Short-duration, fantasized violent non-con

Adebisi blocks the view with his body as O'Reily digs a fresh tit from his pocket. Adebisi watches him go through the ritual, tapping out a line on his closed fist, bending his head, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Adebisi always lets O'Reily go first. He's so thin, his metabolism so fast, Adebisi can watch the high filtering through his body. Watch his limbs loosening, mouth slackening into a hazy smile. He's pliant when he's high, playful, easy to touch.


As the Lights Go Out
NC-17| Length: 2,300 words| Posted: January, 2007
Alvarez/Torquemada. Miguel succumbs to Destiny. Spoilers for "Junkyard Dawgs." Written for faelinn in the 2006 Oz Magi gift exchange.
Highlight to view warnings: Could be read as dubious/coerced sexual consent - if you're triggered, tread carefully.

There's a painting of one of the lady saints in St. Ignatius where Abuela used to take Miguel as a kid. When Mass got boring, Miguel would sneak out of their pew and wander around the side chapels off the main sanctuary. He always stopped and looked at this painting because the lady was pretty and she'd been burned alive or had her
head chopped off or something freaky and cool like that. She stared out from the painting with her pale skin and blue eyes and blonde hair that fell around her shoulders in fine, wavy lines.


R | Length: 1,500 words| Posted: January, 2006
Murphy/McManus. Written for gin200168 in the 2005 Oz Magi gift exchange.

One after-work beer had turned into seven. He hadn’t really intended to drink that much, but it seemed to happen pretty regularly these days. He hadn’t really intended to show up at Sean’s place after midnight, either. But that was the address he wound up slurring out to the cabbie after a long pause when asked, “where to?”


January 1
NC-17 | File Size: 13k | Posted: May, 2005
Beecher/Keller. Lockdown. Doubts. Neurosis. Smut. Written for the "Cuff 'Em, Vamp 'Em, Or Just Make 'Em Come Already Kink & Cliche Multi-Fandom Challenge" on LiveJournal.

But waking in the sobering glare of Em City's flourescent daylight, with morning wood and unaccustomed aches in muscles he'd forgotten he had, left him feeling strangely vulnerable. And even though it had faded for the most part through a day of just being with Chris--playing chess, and speculating pointlessly on the state of the lockdown, and staring blankly into space--as evening approached and the promise of another encounter grew near, the uncertainty had crept back into his mind.


The Company You Keep
PG | Length: 6,300 words| Posted: March, 2005
Beecher, Said (gen) with side orders of Beecher/Keller and Said/Tricia Ross. Originally written for the print zine Ad Seg. Picks up after Said moves into Beecher's pod at the end of Cruel and Unusual Punishments. I've taken a few fictional liberties with canon here, but no major events have been changed.

Obviously, the Muslims didn't have all the answers. Judging by Said's ouster, they were just as subject to bickering, jealousy, and politics as everyone else. But Said... Said had been willing to take a chance on him, even at the risk of angering the others. Sure he had his faults, but Said did believe in something. And maybe that was what Beecher wanted more than anything, what he hoped Said could teach him. The ability to believe in something again.


NC-17 | File Size: 10k | Posted: March, 2005
Beecher/Browne. A "missing scene" from "A Word To The Wise". Written for the Hardtime100 FlashFiction Challenge #13 Under Cover of the Night.
Highlight to view warnings: Could be read as dubious/coerced sexual consent - if you're triggered, tread carefully.

The kiss is unexpected, and you pull back, off-balance. Mondo's eyes are closed, darting movement like REM-sleep flickering under his lids. Fantasizing? Maybe he really is trying to pretend he's with a woman. Which might be interesting, except that it's not. You don't care about Mondo's pathology, only your own.

PG | File Size: 14k | Posted: February, 2005
Beecher/Keller. A visit to Death Row. Written for the Valentine's Day challenge on Oz Wishing Well.

And there he waited, as always, with the sleeves of his dark blue prison work shirt rolled up and his forearms looped through the bars in a way that might have looked casual to anyone who wasn't finely tuned in to the tension that radiated from his body. That coiled tightness was always there in Chris now, it never dissipated.


Charmed Life
PG | File Size: 10k | Posted: December, 2004
Jason Cramer is just a lucky kinda guy. Written for Maggie in the 2004 OZ Magi gift exchange.

So maybe it turns out that Lady Luck was really just some sweet tranny bitch that owed him a favor, Jason Cramer thought, listening to the clank and roll of the gate shutting behind him. Because suddenly he was standing outside the walls of Oswald State Correctional Facility.

Helping Hand
NC-17 | File Size: 16k | Posted: December, 2004
Hill/Dobbins. Written for TBoy in the 2004 OZ Magi gift exchange.

That was one of the coolest and most refreshing things about Dobbins -- he didn't seem to feel the need to bluster through all the bullshit macho posturing that would have gone on with most of the guys in this place. It made Augustus feel strangely close to him, right at the moment.

The Keeper*
PG | File size: 14k | Posted: November, 2004
McManus might need a vacation. Written for the HardTime100 FlashFiction Challenge #9 Nightmare On OZ Street (which was supposed to be suitable for Halloween.)
Spoilers for S6 Ep.3, "Sonata Da Oz".
Highlight to view warnings: Character death.

"I'm sorry." McManus could feel beads of perspiration begin to prickle at his skin, and he suppressed an urge to wipe his upper lip. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. You'll please let me know if there's anything I can do?"

PG | File size: 10k | Posted: October, 2004
The fall of Augustus Hill. Originally written for the second secret_ids challenge on LiveJournal. Spoilers for S5 Ep.8, "Impotence".
Highlight to view warnings: Character death.

He tries to will the dream to bend the course of history — fucking Annabella without the door busting open, without the blue uniforms pouring in, without the... rest. But the two events are inextricably connected in his mind. Sometimes he thinks it's just another measure of the conspiracy to deny him even an ounce of satisfaction.

PG | File size: 15k | Posted: August, 2004
Beecher/Keller. Beecher reflects, pre-lockdown during the S3 finale, "Out of Time". Originally written for the OZ Lyric Wheel.

The familiar prickle of awareness across his skin under the weight of that penetrating gaze no longer felt unsettling. Well... no, actually it still did, but Toby had come to welcome the sensation -- a good kind of unsettling. He was feeling something again.

R | File size: 14k | Posted: April, 2004
Beecher/Keller (with a side order of Ronnie Barlog.) A "missing scene" set directly following the S4.2 episode "Revenge Is Sweet." Originally written for the OZ Lyric Wheel.

But then Toby flashes on an image of Ronnie, on his knees under the stairwell, wiping a glistening smear of spit and Toby's come from his chin with a backhand swipe as he looked up puppyishly, waiting for counsel and... Yeah, Toby thinks sickly, all things considered... maybe he was capable of just about anything too.

NC-17 | File size: 31k | Posted: September, 2003
Beecher/Keller. Smut, fluff, and farfetched nonsense. And, uh, do I have to warn for blasphemy? Or is that kind of a given in OZ-fic? *g*

"Chris, cut it out. We're gonna get busted." But Toby knew his voice lacked conviction. He couldn't seem to help rocking his hips forward into that maddeningly good pressure, or from breathing deep the heady scent of a physical workday on Chris's skin.

PG-13 | File size: 23k | Posted: July, 2003
Beecher/Keller. Can you ever really go home again? AU where Beecher gets parole his first time up at the end of S4.2. Originally written for the OZ Lyric Wheel.

Almost the moment he stepped past the front door, Toby felt the oddly disquieting sensation of the universe expanding around him, stretching off to infinite distances. He walked quickly to the all night convenience store on the avenue, breathing deeply with relief once safely inside. He wandered the aisles aimlessly before finding himself staring into the bank of sliding glass-doored drink refrigerators, two units of which were entirely devoted to case upon case of frosty cool oblivion. Imported. Domestic. So easy.

NC-17 | File size: 16k | Posted: January, 2003
Beecher/Keller. A stolen night. Smut.

The lack of touch is probably the cruelest punishment in this place. Cut off from comfort, it seems sometimes like the only reminders of humanity we get in Oz, the proof, is what pours out in pools of blood. It makes me glad, in this respect at least, that Chris has never been bothered much by rules. That he dares -- that he dares me -- to steal what we want out of the night.

NC-17 | File size: 100k | Posted: December, 2002
Schillinger/Keller. Vern meets 17-year-old Chris at Lardner, 1978. Originally written for the Oz webzine Institutionalized.
Highlight to view warnings: Major, messed up consent issues between an adult and a minor (meant to be read as ambiguous, but presented as non-con) If you're triggered, please tread very carefully here!

"Control. Discipline. Order. These are the foundations of..." Vern's lecture voice trailed off as his eye was drawn, distracted by the sight of Keller lounging back further into his bunk and digging unselfconsciously at the waistband of his jeans. He watched, involuntarily rapt, every movement of those strong-fingered hands -- following their progress as they dipped below denim to yank free the tucked-in hem of one of those too-small-by-a-size-now t-shirts. Too small by at least a size, the knee-jerk proper sector of Vern's brain clucked in correction.


Fast Lane* | PG | File size: 7k | Posted: September, 2004
Beecher feels a twinge of envy. Written for the HardTime100 FlashFiction Challenge #7 Lit Up (which had to involve alcohol or drugs in some way.)

Only The Heart Knows*
G | File size: 11k | Posted: July, 2004
Murphy has some surprising news for McManus. Completely ridiculous. Written for the HardTime100 FlashFiction Challenge #6 Pulling A Fontana.

Draw* | PG | File size: 4k | Posted: May, 2004
Unadulterated silliness: Hill, O'Reily, Beecher, and Keller play poker. Originally written for the secret_ids challenge on LiveJournal.

Hard Time:100 Word Sentence Drabbles | Posted: Ongoing
My entries for the weekly drabble/flashfiction challenge LiveJournal community Hard Time100. (Drabbles are stories of exactly 100 words.)


My first "real" fandom. Also, my first attempts at fanfic writing—and that's all I'm gonna say about that. *g*



Shell Game 1: The Switcheroo*
PG-13 | 167k | Posted: February, 2001
A change of scene, a change of luck.

Benton Fraser is like an anvil dropping out of the sky in one of those Warner Brothers cartoons. I studied Vecchio's case files up, down, left and right, and there's still no way I would have been prepared for him. Welsh, Huey, they tried, but I cannot believe this guy is for real. The jacket, the hat, the sincerity, the wolf. Impossible.

Shell Game 2: Misdirection*
NC-17 | 145k | Posted: October, 2001
Why can't it ever just be easy?

It's funny how things change. I used to think that first kiss I laid on Stella when we were thirteen was pretty nervy, but it seems kind of obvious now, a no-brainer next to this. And maybe I really have lost my mind. Because even though I know I've only caught him off guard and he's going to come to his senses any second, kissing Fraser is… the most romantic fucking thing I've ever done in my life. And no matter what the consequences, I just can't feel sorry about that. So I let my weight sink against the arm of the sofa, lean into the kiss, and the whole world fades into sweetness.

Shell Game 2.75: Distraction*
NC-17 | 68k | Posted: February, 2002

Then he smiles and holds up a brown paper bag that smells like dinner, and now my dick is just about strangling in my jeans. Because we didn't talk on the phone today, didn't make any plans. But twelve hours after he left here this morning, Benton Fraser is at my door with Thai food and a shy smile, and I know I'm getting laid again tonight.

Shell Game 3: The Reveal*
NC-17 | 50k | Posted: August, 2003
Time to show what you've got.

The sound of his voice washes over me, and when I close my eyes I can put pictures to his words. I see the boy from that photo he got at Christmas, growing up beautiful and strange in those wild, empty spaces. I can hear the ache creep into his voice when he talks about his home, his family, and I wish there was more I could do for him than this. Just then, Fraser turns his head to look at me, and his eyes are filled with...something, that makes me shiver and go hot. He smiles a little, softly, sadly, and he takes my other hand and brings it to his chest. He presses his own hand against mine, over his heart, like between the two of us maybe the pressure can stop the bleeding.


Does A Body Good*
PG-13 | 7k | Posted: August, 2000
Because I totally get off on a certain habit of Fraser's, and in my world, Ray does too.

Ray takes in the damp curl starting at his partner's temples, the heated flush painting the sculpted ridge of those perfect cheekbones—and not for the first time, he considers the tantalizing notion that Fraser needs that uniform. Needs the starch and grooming, the scratchy wool and straps as a constant reminder that he has to act civilized—but if you could ever get beneath the surface...

NC-17 | 74k | Posted: April, 2000
Ray helps Fraser move to a new place.

These moments were happening more and more frequently. Moments where time seemed to draw briefly still, held like a snapshot Fraser could study and store carefully away in his memory. What was funny, or perhaps ironic, was how the events triggering these small, conscious flares would probably appear to be utterly mundane to most people. In his life, however, they were rare, few, and jealously treasured. And then he wished, with a longing that surprised him, that his experience of happiness would not forever be so fleeting as a shared joke and a pizza dinner. That it could last. That Ray might never leave at all.


Not Like the Movies* | 456 words | Posted: September, 2003
Little Frannie. Originally written for ds_flashfiction LJ community.

Masturbation Challenge entry* | NC-17 | 234 words | Posted: May, 2003
Fraser, unrequited. Originally written for ds_flashfiction LJ community.

The Absolute Best*| 638 words | Posted: May, 2003
Kowalski and Fraser: then and now. Originally written for ds_flashfiction LJ community.

32 Down* (an orphaned snippetina) | Posted, October, 2002
Stella visits. Originally posted in my LiveJournal.



Blood Brothers | R | File Size: 9k | Posted: December, 2007
Michael/the lost boys. If things had gone differently that first night. Written for kristiinthedark in the 2007 Yuletide Treasure obscure fandom holiday challenge.

Michael doesn't usually think of himself as shy, but he hesitates before asking, "Why me?"

David rolls back up to sitting, brushing sand from the sleeves of his shabby, vintage coat. "I like you, Michael." He smiles then, as long shadows move across them. Michael glances up to see Paul, Dwayne, and Marco grinning down at him. "
We like you."


Five Ways Omar Remembers Brandon | NC-17 | File Size: 9k | Posted: December, 2008
This one he'd keep for a good long while. Written for Supercaptains182 in the 2008 Yuletide Treasure obscure fandom holiday challenge. Spoilers for S1-S3.
Highlight to view warnings: Character death

Brandon let out a whoop and scooped up the bag with the cash, carrying it to Omar with a triumphant smile. He'd been pretty down on himself after slipping up on the Barksdale job, but now after two easy Eastside rips where everything went according to plan, he was starting to get his confidence back.

"Yeah, yeah," Omar said, giving into a grin at last. He roughed up Brandon's hair, then pulled him in for a kiss. "You did good."

Us: Four Moments in Time | PG | File Size: 9k | Posted: December, 2006
Stringer and Avon, for better or worse. Written for Robin N. in the 2006 Yuletide Treasure obscure fandom holiday challenge. Spoilers for S1-S3.
Highlight to view warnings: Character death.

"I'm just saying, it's time we started getting a little more Godfather, and a little less Scarface around here," Stringer says, hiding a smile.

"Don't even!" Avon half jumps out of his seat and jabs his finger toward Stringer's chest the same way he has since 1983 when this argument started. "You know Tony Montana was the shit."

"Montana was careless," Stringer corrects, jabbing back. "Michael Corleone? Fucking smart. That's how you do the gangster shit, right there."


Notes: Hard Core Logo is an amazing little Canadian indie film about the disastrous reunion tour of a fictional punk rock band.

Piss Off* | PG | File Size: 9k | Posted: December, 2004
New York, 1991. Written for Aline in the 2004 Yuletide Treasure obscure fandom holiday challenge.

New fucking York. The big time, their big shot. Big shot, right -- Seymour Stein, head of Sire records sitting front and center with a whole big-shot entourage of flunkies and notetakers and wannabes. This was it, all right. Billy took a satisfied swig of beer and peered out into the dimly lit club -- a sea of heads, loud already, buzzing with anticipation. The first two nights here, their shows had been nearly perfect; Billy couldn't remember them ever sounding so tight. And now, for the last show, Seymour Stein, the guy who'd signed The Ramones, was here to see them.