Thursday, 6 December 2012


So, yes, if you read this blog, ideas will come
100 points for anyone who can get where I got that from.
A zombie apocalypse story, inspired by the Walking Dead game. A must play/watch let's play.
A vampire story. Traditional vampires, hunters and a few original ideas of my own to add into the mix. Inspired by Hellsing Ultimate Abridged, because I've never watched the original.
An unknown idea, but it's going to be inspired by many anime I haven't watched yet, but have been studying up on.
Okay, I think there's only one left.
Twilight of the West, by some German dude. Try not to look it up, because the images don't do justice to the real thing. Go to Canberra, into the National Art Gallery, and look at it. Some of the finest art I've ever seen. I saw a Picasso at the same time, and it was nothing compared to this. The pure destruction shown in this is brilliant. So yes, this has inspired me to make another War story, but this one will be epic.

I think that's it for now. See ya!

Monday, 19 November 2012

Matthew Tenacious

Well, you three people who commented said that you'd like your own Tenacious story
I tried...
But it ended up as the same setting Heroes of a Super Variety is going to be, and I found that Tenacious ened up working in the background, which is what he does, but I wanted to show him working in the background
It always hurts to scrap an idea.
So either back to the drawing board, which is currently being stubbornly blank, or the fanfic. This is not to ask your opinion, I'm simply keeping you updated
Peace out

Monday, 12 November 2012


One of the best characters I've made, in my opinion. Now I need your opinion on a matter
Should I continue to write Tenacious as a SP fan-fic, with Skul and Val appearing quite often, and other characters I've made that I like appearing (none you've seen, I think) or should I make it it's own story?
I could make it's own story. Personally, I think it could be better as a fan-fic, but not being completely sure I'd like to hear your tale on the situation. If you give a few reasons for your opinion also, that would be great.

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

A Strange Killer: Chapter 3 - Partners and Anger

Not exactly what I wanted for this chapter, but maybe it worked. Either way, the next chapter should be better

Partners were one of those things that came in all shapes and sizes. They could be weak, by the book. Or a tough, stupid in your face kind of person. A control freak. A risky idiot.

An insane, angry murderer.

Zathract sighed. He had already broken something, which had come in the form of a criminal’s face. So he wasn’t angry anymore. Just… annoyed. He did not need a partner, any more than he wanted one.

He thought about the closest thing he had to a partner recently. Ah, there was the anger again.

Nixion Strange.

Zathract had saved his life, and together they had saved not only Australia, but the world. True, maybe Nix had repaid the debt, but if Zathract had saved his life just as many times and Nix had saved his, did that make them even? Was that the only reason Nix had stayed all those years? Because he felt he owed Zathract?

No, that wasn’t it. There must have been times when they were even, maybe Nix even saved him more than Zathract had once or twice before he left. No, something else must have changed…

 He sighed. His thoughts were mixed, jumbled, hardly making any sense. He had put off going to the Sanctuary for too long now. He strode out the door and got on his motorbike. He remembered once it had crashed and Nix and fixed it. Good as new, though Nix had scowled like it was a horrible inconvenience.

As he rode, he struggled against the tide of memories threatening to wash him away. This was not the time for reminiscing.

The Sanctuary, as per usual the last few weeks, was busy. Everything looked like a mess, with offices having paper all over the floor, sorcerers running from door to door, and the general feel of panic in the air.

Zathract walked down the corridors, looking calm and collected compared to his fellow workers. There were times when Zathract wished he wasn’t so Sanctuary based. Of course, he used to do his own thing a lot more. But things change, and more to the point, people change.

Zathract and Nix were perfect examples of that.

“Detective Mist,” the Grand Mage said and Zathract walked into the chamber. None of the other elders were there. Only Zathract, the Grand Mage, and a boy that was probably the temp partner. Zathract gave him a quick glance.

He couldn’t be older than seventeen, but possibly younger. He had dirty blonde hair, and his skin was tanned. His grin was cocky, and his eyes a piercing green. Like Zathract’s had been. He wore fairly simple clothes, regular blue jeans and a green T-shirt under a black coat. His cowboy style boots were scuffed. He had a lollypop in his mouth.

“Grand Mage,” Zathract said, looking away from the boy. “How are things?”

“Same as yesterday,” the Grand Mage said, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed his pen and started writing. After a few awkward seconds, he gestured to the boy without looking up.

“This is your partner for this case, Jamie Vaunting.”

Jamie took a step forward, his hand outstretched. “Nice ta meet ya.”

Zathract looked at him from a second before shaking the hand. He couldn’t quite place the accent. It sounded faintly African, although the boy was white.

“I trust that the two of you can co-operate for this case. I’ve heard good things from you Vaunting.” The Grand Mage still didn’t look up from his writing.

The boy grinned. “I’m guessin’ right alongside with the bad ones.”

Zathract turned around and walked out. Jamie quickly followed him, not letting the sudden exit take him by surprise. Zathract walked into his office, and sat down. Vaunting sat down in the other, putting his feet up on the desk.

“So, what’s this case about then?”

Zathract looked at him until the feet were off the desk. “Nixion Strange has been behind the murder of seven Sanctuary agents, and we need to track him down.”

Vaunting raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to kill ‘im?”

“You couldn’t if you tried.” Zathract leaned back in his chair, looking at the boy. “How old are you?”

The cocky grin was back. “Seventeen in a few months.”

“So sixteen then,” Zathract said. Normally, when he met new agents, he would get a file on them. He knew absolutely nothing about this boy. “Where are you from?”

“Zimbabwe originally. But I go all over Africa.” The boy put his hands behind his head. “I occasionally help the Sanctuary. My father worked there. But I mostly do my own thing.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, but you’ll learn it over time.” Vaunting grinned and took the lollypop out of his mouth.

Zathract stood. This was not going to end well.

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

Camp of the Damned: Prologue

“Never mistake silence for weakness. No one plans a murder out loud”


Sometimes, things just happen. Sometimes, people crash a car. Sometimes, people fall over. Sometimes, people go insane. Sometimes, people decide to kill others.

Trust me when I say sometimes, when things happen, it’s something you don’t want.

I didn’t want this. No one wanted this. No one who heard about it wanted this, but the people involved especially never wanted this. Except for one.

Dear god I wish this had never happened. The camp was the worst thing that could possibly come to anyone’s mind. This camp was hell- No, worse than hell.

This camp cost lives. This camp cost everything

This was the camp of the damned.

So yeah, that was the begining of my horror/thriller. The spirit of Halloween told me to write this. I don't even celebrate Halloween in the slightest.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the start, hopefully more to come with some actual things happening

Friday, 19 October 2012

Stolen: Chapter 2

Took a long time, am I right? I had about 570 words of chapter 2 straight after I finished chapter 1, and was stuck. And tonight, it just came to me. Now I have 1,264 words

This is where it used to be. I'm taking down anything I might consider getting published. 

Monday, 15 October 2012

Heroes of a Super Variety: Chapter 2

This is where it used to be. I'm taking down anything I might consider getting published. 

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

A Strange Killer: Chapter 2- Detectives Detecting


Zathract Mist knocked at the desk, getting the attention of the man in front of him.

The man was sitting, reading a magazine. He looked up at Zathract.

“William Schrienger,” Zathract said.

“Next victim?” the man asked.

“Latest,” Zathract said simply. “Pull up all the details on him. Everything.”

The man didn’t reply. Instead he stood and walked off. Zathract walked back to his office, through the Sanctuary. He was now nineteen years of age. He was actually very close to hitting the surge. But until then, he still could use both his elemental powers and Necromancy. He would be sad when he would have to choose. The choice was clear to him, but still, it was more efficient to have both.

Zathract was tall. He still dressed in black, but they weren’t the same clothes he wore when he was young. He let his hair grown longer, but only slightly. He still wore his black gloves, which kept his Necromancy power. It was his eyes that had changed most of all. The piercing green was now clouded, as if he wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t really. He had far too much on his mind.

When he got back into his office, he found the Sensitive waiting.

“You didn’t see this one coming,” Zathract remarked.

The Sensitive, Jay Feiling, nodded. He looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was short and curly brown. His black eyes gave one the feeling of falling down a hole with now end. He was someone who had helped stop more than one attempted murder by seeing the death before it happened. But with this case, he was having trouble.

“His actions are unpredictable. He goes on a whim.”

“We know it’s not a full whim,” Zathract said. He sat on his chair, and looked at Feiling. “He’s picking of Sanctuary staff. First the two cleavers. Then the three detectives. A junior administrator. Now a Repository sorter.”

“True,” said Feiling. “But he doesn’t plan it out. He’s got a list of Sanctuary workers, and if he finds someone on that list, he kills them. It’s almost impossible to say who he’ll kill next.”

Zathract didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked at the folder of the killer. Nixion Strange.

“What was the crime scene like? Feiling asked after a minute.

Zathract looked up. “Three dead mortals, killed by having their ribs cave in on their organs. One dead sorcerer. Skull caved in. It’s just like the others. The target’s head caved in, and the collateral damage have their ribs caved in. It’s his way of telling us who was the objective, and who wasn’t.”

Feiling nodded. “He’s not very precise, is he? He’s going by luck almost. He has no plan.”

“True, but that means we can’t predict his actions any more than he can.”

The man walked into Zathract’s office without knocking, and gave him a folder. It was the details on Schrienger.

“Anything we should know about him,” Feiling asked after a few minutes of Zathract reading over the folder.

“No. It’s as we thought. It’s just random.”

What Zathract didn’t tell Feiling was that he knew Nix was doing this for Zathract. He had no idea why, but it was for him, he knew it.

There was a knock at the door, and a boy opened it. “The Elder Council would like to see you, detective.”

Zathract nodded and stood. Normally the administrator would come deliver the message, but after seven deaths of Sanctuary staff, people were panicking. No one could find the killer, and people were afraid. People were deciding to leave, and everyone left were working hard to keep this under control.

He followed the boy to the Elders. If they had made time to see him, they must have something good to say. When he got there, he noticed one of the Elders were gone. Only the Grand Mage and another Elder were there.

“You asked to see me,” Zathract said calmly.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” the Grand Mage said. “Sorry about the boy, our administrator is busy making an arrest.”

Zathract blinked. “He’s arresting someone?”

“Yes. We’re a little short-handed at the moment.”

“But has he ever made an arrest before?”

“No. I’m sure he can handle it though.”

Zathract shook his head, not bothering to argue. “Any reason you called me here?”

“Yes.” The Grand Mage grew serious. “Have you got any leads on Strange?”

“None so far,” Zathract admitted.

“How can he be doing this? He’s an amateur killer.” The Elder spoke up, his voice indignant.

“He’s erratic, and unpredictable. He’s also smarter than he was when he was a child.”

“The thing is, Detective Mist, we’re afraid your judgment on this case may be a little… clouded.”

“My judgment is fine, thank you.” Zathract didn’t show any offense to this on the outside. A few years ago he would have narrowed his eyes and turned this into an argument. But he had to keep his calm.

“Never the less, we are putting another detective on this case with you.”

“I don’t need any help,” Zathract said, letting his fist clench a little.

“I have to insist, I’m afraid. You’ll meet your new temporary partner tomorrow.”

Zathract just walked away. Later on, yes, he would break something. But not now. Now, he just had to keep his calm.


The Grand Mage sighed as his prime detective walked away. He knew he had made the right decision. But he couldn’t help wonder if maybe Detective Mist wouldn’t be able to handle this case, considering his history with the killer.

Monday, 1 October 2012

A Strange Killer: Chapter 1- Bloody Murder

I wrote this in about an hour, with no prior planing or thought what so ever. Impressed? You should be

Nixion Strange stood on the rooftop, looking out into the city. The lights were so pretty at night. The blood on his hands was dried and the murderer in him was calling out for more blood. Nixion let himself smile. Then he jumped off the rooftop.

It was about 40 stories down. Nixion rushed past floor after floor, the ground quickly approaching. He let himself fall, making no effort to slow is dissent. Then, with only 13 stories to the ground, he acted.

He flicked out a cable from under his wrist, which tied itself around a balcony. The device it came from immediately started reeling in. Nixion swung up slightly, and crashed through a window.

He stood. The glass had cut him in some places, but nothing serious. Nixion flicked is wrist back and the cable untied itself and flew back into the device. A recent addition, and Nixion was still working out the fundamentals of using it, but it was astoundingly helpful. Magic usually was.

He looked around the apartment he had swung into. Empty. A shame, it would have made a good warm up kill.

Nixion dusted himself off. He still wore a leather jacket, though his old one was much too small for him now. His hair was longer, and he looked to be in his late teens. Nixion no longer carried a machete. He outgrew the comfort he felt when using it, instead preferring to use his magic to fight. But instead of the glare the used to always occupy his face, he now wore a smirk. Nixion had changed.


The man was walking. That was all there was to it. He was walking. He didn’t enter any of the shops, nor did he seem to be going anywhere. He appeared to be walking, just for the sake of walking. Most peculiar.

He was middle aged, with grey hair and a brown coat. He looked like he was important. His brown eyes were calm. He carried a coffee as he walked down the city street.

This man was a mage. A sorcerer who worked for the Sanctuary. Nothing exceedingly important, but enough to be known by people outside the Sanctuary. Enough to be killed.

The man had no idea that he was being watched. A killer was stalking him, waiting for a moment to strike. But there was no moment. The man hadn’t stopped walking, and in a city like this the streets had people, even at this time of night. The killed was patient, but even so, this was getting annoying.

Finally, the man walked into an apartment block. Nixion Strange, the killer, waited a minute, then walked up to the door. The lock was broken. Nixion grinned. This was all too easy. He walked inside and got into the elevator. He inspected the buttons. The thing about old elevators like this was that you can tell what the last button pressed was. Nixion pressed it again.

When he got to the third floor, for that was what floor the man was on, he got out. This was the hard bit. Nixion looked at the floor. It had been raining earlier that day, and the man surely had wet feet from walking. But so did everyone else who had been outside. There were twelve doors on this floor. Three could be counted out, because there were no wet footprints leading to them. Nixion walked to each of the remaining nine doors and put his ear to them. Only five doors had any sound inside. Two more doors could be knocked out, because Nixion could hear a TV. The mage didn’t believe in modern conveniences like television. Three doors left. In one was a shower running. The man could be showering, but for what reason? In another were people arguing quietly. Nixion had no idea if the man lived alone. In the last door was the sound of a kettle. The man had just drank a coffee, would he need another one? Never the less, Nixion chose that door first. He didn’t want to have to kill two people for no reason, especially if they were mortals. They tended to scream. And Nixion had no wish to walk in on the man showering, if he did live there. He would choose that door last.

Nixion tried the handle. The door was unlocked. Mages tended to be paranoid and he doubted he would leave his door unlocked. It was too late to stop now, so Nixion walked inside. A young woman was there, pouring a cup of tea at the other side of the room. She looked up as Nixion walked in. She opened her mouth, but quicker than a fox, Nixion flicked his wrist and the cable tied around her throat. She managed a strangled scream before Nixion got to her and killer her by caving her ribs in. He checked the rest of the rooms, but no one was there.

Next Nixion got to the door with the people arguing. They were still talking in a low volume to one another, but Nixion could tell when people were angry. He used to be angry all the time. He tried the handle, but it was locked. The voices fell silent. Nixion tapped the back of his hand, and a symbol he had got someone to put there pulsed. Nixion put his hand to the door, and it unlocked. He burst in silently, immediately aiming for the two people. Neither of them were the man he was looking for. One of the people, a young man, opened his eyes wide and stepped towards Nixion. He sidestepped him and reached for the woman, tapping her and also caving her ribs in. He turned back to the first man just in time to see him aim a punch. Nixion blocked up and stepped closer to the man. The man opened his mouth to scream, and Nixion killed him, the same way he did with the last two.

Nixion walked back into the corridor. He wasn’t being very lucky. He started towards the third door when he heard someone cough from the door next to the dead arguing couple’s apartment. This was one of the doors which there were no footprints to. On an instinct, Nixion put his ear to the door. He could hear the sound of someone writing with a pen. It was one of those people who pressed too hard and made a lot of noise. Than the man inside coughed again.

Nixion frowned. When he was following the man before, he heard him cough. This cough amazingly similar. Then it hit him.

The mage could be an elemental. He could have kept the water of his shoes when outside, or dried himself when he got inside at any time, from the entrance to the elevator. Nixion cursed himself for his stupidity. Three mortals dead because Nixion didn’t think. Not that Nixion cared, it was just it was a needless waste of time. Nixion tried the handle on this door. Locked. He tapped his symbol and pressed his hand to the door. It unlocked.

Nixion walked inside, where the mage was standing from his desk.

“Don’t bother screaming,” Nixion said.

“I wasn’t going to,” the mage said, frowning. “Who are you?”

“Your killer.”

The mage said nothing. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak. Nixion stood there for a moment, then calmly walked towards the sorcerer. He was only a couple of meters away when the man pushed the air and sent Nixion staggering back. Nixion got his balance and rushed the man, knocking his hands away and grabbing his throat. He shoved the man into the centre of the room. For a moment the man was gasping, on his hands and knees and looking at the floor. Then he jumped up and clicked his fingers, summoning two flames. But Nixion had moved to behind the mage and grabbed the back of his neck, causing the man to lose the flame and fall to his knees again.

Nixion grinned. He put his other hand to the man’s head, and imploded his skull.

Leaving the man as he was, Nixion walked back to the elevator. Three dead mortals were the price of the mage’s death, he reckoned.

He couldn’t wait until Mist saw this one.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

After Death: Chapter 1

Yes. After all the ideas I've said to you, I got a few more, and just had to do chapter one of this one. Heroes of the Super Variety will be soon, I promise
The man scratched something on the piece of parchment in front of him. The lone candle cast a flickering light. The man, his brown hair long and shaggy, had his head dipped over his parchment. He was writing furiously, with the dedication only the truly desperate can muster. He was a man who was on the brink of discovery, on knowing it all. He was also on the brink of losing it all.

He was so absorbed in his writing that he didn’t notice the boy at his door, watching him. But after almost a full minute, the boy started coughing painfully. The man raised his head. He was slender, with a thin face and sharp features. His eyes were a plain brown. He had to beard, but several days’ worth of an unkempt, unshaven face.

The man immediately rose from his seat and walked to the boy. The boy was weak and pale. His bright green eyes were full of pain. His light brown hair was immensely similar to the man’s, brown and shaggy. His small body was trembling. He was dying.

“Daniel,” the man said, bending down and picking the boy up in his arms. “What are you doing up?”

The boy took a moment to get his breath. “I couldn’t sleep father,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Can I please drink something?”

The boy’s father, for this was who he was, brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes and spoke softly. “I will bring something up to you, shall I? But you must try and sleep Daniel. The doctor will be here tomorrow morn.”

Daniel nodded. His father carried him up the stairs and into his bed, where he tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead. “Try to rest Daniel. I’ll bring you some water when you wake.”

Daniel nodded drowsily. “Goodnight father,” he said, his eyes drooping.

“Goodnight, my son. You will be fine, I promise you,” the boy’s father said. But Daniel was already asleep.

The man walked back down the stairs and into his study. He didn’t know what was wrong with his son, but he did know the root of it. He couldn’t let his son die. His son was his whole world.

No matter the cost, he would save his son.

Thursday, 20 September 2012

One last idea post

After this I'll put up some actual writing, I promise
Just a couple more ideas

The War-
This is either going to be good, or crash and burn completely. I'm going to try and write what I think happened in the war in SP, from start to finish, using the limited infomation from the books. I can either start now, or wait until SP is finished and get more infomation. We do get more and more info ever book.

The usual SP fanfic. Young mage is a fighter, and does stuff. Plot details to be worked out later

Camp of the Damned-
My horror/thriller idea I mentioned before. I got an idea
Kids go to camp. Normal, right? Except strange things are happening, and campers are being picked of one by one. I hope it turns out well.

The Protectors-
The Angels are the protectors of the world. Unknown and hidden, they keep humanity safe from the evil that plauges it. This is the story of a young angel, destinied to either be a great protector... or die

And finally

(Name to be chosen)
I'm going for the old fashioned, rarely used by me, childish story. Children going on a adventure sort of stuff. I never really liked this sort of stuff, it was slightly unrealalistic to me, but I'll give it a go.

Up next- Heroes of the Super Variety chapter 2

Sunday, 16 September 2012

Let's add a couple of more ideas to the mix

From here on in, I'll be informing you of all the new ideas I get
Also, read the post before this one

The Stories of Camp Half Blood
The stories of campers who don't go on quests and stuff. I'd like to write this, it really goes into the their personal lives.

Old Magic
The story of two young magicians who are very talented, but fairly stupid. They go on a quest and stuff. Based in medieval sort of times. I'll try and make it funny

The Other Half of It
Every person is born with their Another. Their Another can be their friend, lifelong companion, or their servant. They have total control over their Another, or so they thought. But what if it was possible for an Another to kill their master.
I dunno how this idea'll go.

The Best and Brightest
SP based. The Sanctuary decides to collect the best and brightest mages of a young age, and teach them. I just came up with the idea today, so it'll need some changing.

The Secret
After a unfortunate school bus accident where no one survived, and no bodies were even found, Johnny had lost his best friend. But when one of the children from the school bus knock on Johnny's door, things aren't as they seem. Johnny learns that trust is a virtue long gone, and if he wants to survive, he has to learn what happened.

The Scream
Thriller sort of writing. Haven't got the details worked out yet.

Without a Pause
Time travel stuff. Details to be worked out later

More ideas to come

Wednesday, 12 September 2012

Unstoppable Chapter 1: Comics and Grammer

This was it. The big fight. The big fight. This fight was big. On a scale of big, it was very big.

I looked at the man. The muscular man, who looked like he could crush a car with one hand easily. Seriously, was this guy the hulk? Or just on steroids? Maybe he was Thor? Or Captain America on steroids? If there was one thing he learned from Captain America, it was to let people use experimental stuff on you when you suffer from a number of diseases that will probably mess up the experiment and kill you. Yep, a great life lesson.

This was the big fight with the big man.

“I’m gonna crush you,” he big man grumbled.

“I’m sorry, gonna? Do you mean going? Because, honestly, I at least expect you to use a little bit of grammar.”
“You so dead.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’ll kill you right now.”
“That’s a little better,” I said nodding. “But maybe you should consider longer sentences?”

The big man growled

“Horses growl, people kick,” I tutted. “Learn your manners.”

A vein pulsed on his temple.
“I don’t think that’s healthy,” I pointed out. “You should see a doctor about that. Which is good, because after I kick your teeth in, you’ll be going to see a doctor anyway.”

The big man with an unhealthy temple grinned. “I’d like to see that.”
“Oh, trust me, you wouldn’t. But you’re going to anyway.”

“Then bring it on, you son of a-”

I moved forward in pushed him in the chest. He flew back and hit the wall, which happened to be made of concrete.
“Watch your language,” I tutted. I don’t think he was conscious at that point. I walked over to him and tapped his shoulder.

“Anyone home?” When there was no response, I shrugged and searched him for the thing I was looking for. I didn’t find it, but I found his wallet, opened it and looked at the name.
“Oh.” I said. Then I looked down at him, the big man with a broken rib cage and internal bleeding. “Wrong guy. Sorry.”

You know, looking back, maybe I should have called the ambulance. I should have done a lot of things. But I didn’t. Oh well, the big man probably made it. Maybe. Possible. Nah, who am I kidding, he’s as dead as a crayon.
Oh well.

Friday, 7 September 2012

Ideas are Taking Over

So, yeah, I know some of you may want to read specific things, like Stolen, Operation Take Over Ireland or my SP fan-fic. But I'm just going to get down most of my ideas that I'm planning to write and give you an idea of what to come

Heroes of the Super Variety- Oh, this is my favourite. I love writing this. I'm halfway through chapter 2, and let me tell you the ideas I have for this story... I'm planning to get this published, hopefully, and despite the fact I've finished the story in my head (which normally puts me off writing it) I'm always excited to write it. As you may have guessed from the title, it's a sort of super hero theme.

Stolen- This idea has been in my head for about a year now. Not wanting to give anything away, it's pretty dark, and I always pictured it has a dark super hero theme. I do like this idea, but getting it beyond the introduction of what's going on is always hard for me, so it may be a little while. However, once I've got past it, it'll be awesome. I've managed to keep myself interested in this by not coming up with an ending yet. I've got everything planned out, but the ending. Oh, and sorry to give away a small spoiler, but this is a series. Whoop!

My SP fan-fic- Honestly, I have no idea what to do with this. It's got werewolves, but beyond that I'm stuck. So it may never be finished. Sorry about that.

Operation Ireland Take Over Now- You should all know the basic gist of it. Most of my ideas come from what happened on the blog, but the second chapter isn't co-operating, so this may take some time.

Screams of Magic- Oh, let me tell you, Tenacious may be the best character I've come up with. I'm going to tell you something. It's not about Sam. Despite Sam being the main character of Screams of Magic, he's simply there to introduce you to Tenacious. I know it's not original of my to name two of my characters the same name, but when I wrote this I thought, and still think, I'm not going to continue the werewolves SP. This is a long story. I'm going to tell the story of maybe the most powerful man in all of the SP universe, not in terms of magic, but in his cunning, malice and greed. Sam is the main character of Screams of Magic, but it's simply one part in a big story.

HG fan-fic- I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this. To be honest, I got the feeling only a few people liked it. I want all of you who read my blog to comment on every story, and tell my whether you like it or not. Because when you say you don't like it, it helps me a lot. I get to narrow down what to write. So please, don't be afraid that it may hurt my feelings, I need that criticism. So, back to HG. I kinda got to the end of this story in my head, so now I'm bored. It may or may not continue

HP fan-fic- I'm just going to talk about my favourite story in terms of HP. I know that some of you voted for another HP story, but I can't be bothered. So Morgan. The most powerful wizard that ever lived. Back to destroy the world. Let me tell you, I'd love to write this, but again, only two people commented on this story, so I'm not sure if people liked it.

War- This isn't going to continue. I wrote it on the spot, and I don't have any other plans for it, so no more War

Elements- Ah, this one. Now, I've gone off this. The original story (spoilers ahead) was that Simon was going to discover he was an Elemental, and not only an Elemental, but one of the rare ones that can control all four elements. But he's afraid of fire, and instead of learning that, he runs, and gets involved in a elemental gang war. This was a good idea at the time, and I did love how after this I was going to use plot twists and stuff, but now I'm bored of it. The character's too powerful, and too predictable. So instead, I want to propose a rewrite. Here is my new idea
The main character finds he is a fire elemental, one of a dying race. The elementals are rare, and few in numbers. The main character is one of the four last fire elementals. He, along with a intelligent earth elemental, a show off air elemental and a tough water elemental, must discover what happened to their race, and why they are almost extinct.

I believe we are now into the realms of the unwritten. Have fun reading my ideas

Avatar Fan-fic- Based on the Avatar after Korra. The Erath Kingdom has tried to expand it's land. The Avatar, now an Earth Bender, has been raised to believe that the Earth Kingdom is right in what it is doing. What will happen? Read to find out

Dreams- Some people are born with the power to enter other people's dreams, and even rarer, people who can also use this power to switch bodies with someone. The main character is being used by his father to switch bodies with people who want to be young for a day. It can get pretty dark, if things go as I think they will. Also, I might change the plot idea

The Next Death Bringer- a story about an accomplished Necromancer who is believed to be the next Death Bringer. Unfortunately for him, Vile's armour still has some life left in it, and it leaves without Skulduggery knowing, to kill the next Death Bringer

Rick Riordan idea based fan-fic- A demigod goes to a camp of other demigods, and goes on a quest. Plot twists and more original idea than it seems, trust me

Immortality- A young genius, going to make his mark on the world. But is it a mark, or a scar? Kind of a young Sherlock Holmes, if he was evil

Necromancy- Not SP related. You know, the sort of raising the dead Necromancy. I wanted to go back to the original death magic

Shapeshifter (name to be changed later)- The stories of people who have to incredible power to shapeshift into an animal. The main story is about a shapeshifter who grew up as a wolf instead of a boy, and learns of his human roots.

Smoke- A short story (few chapters long) about a boy who uses his power to turn into smoke to break into a vault. This actually leads to something else (spoiler) Nix and Mist maybe

Unstoppable- I love this idea. It's about the Last God, the only survivor, almost completely unstoppable, protecting humanity. He's also funny as hell, in my opinion (it may not translate into writing, but I'll try)

The Hunted- Now this, my dear friends, is my best idea. I'm 9000 words in, and I'm loving it. This was my first idea (besides another which doesn't even deserved to be called an idea). I came up with it years ago, but only started writing it last year. It's awesome. And you're not getting anything of it. Not a peak. Not anything until it's published (because this is the only idea I will never stop trying to get published). It's a series, and let me tell you, when it all comes together, BAM! It's just so brilliant. You're going to just have to wait until it's on the bookshelves to get any of it.

I've mentioned all the ideas that I'm planning to write. Anything not mentioned will not be written. Except Welcome to Blogland.
I know most of you really liked this idea, but I don't to be honest. I'll try, but it's very likely it'll never happen.
Please leave a comment below on your favourite ideas, any suggestions on how to improve or ideas you'd like me to write. I need to know your favourites, and not favourites, and I need a lot of ideas, so please share this around and tell everyone. Putting it on your blog would be so great, and I'd thank you so much for it. Not many people read my blog, so I'd like it if more people would. Most of the time two of three people comment on it, but I seriously need more. Many of the ideas that aren't fan-fics I would like to get published if I have to chance, and to get a good idea of what people want I need criticism. Don't just comment you liked it if you didn't, I need the truth.
Thank you for reading this long post, and please comment.

Monday, 3 September 2012

Heroes of the Super Variety: Chapter 1

This is where it used to be. I'm taking down anything I might consider getting published. 

Saturday, 18 August 2012

Heroes of the Super Variety: Prologue

This is where it used to be. I'm taking down anything I might consider getting published. 

Monday, 30 July 2012

Screams of Magic

Sam tapped his feet against the ground nervously. He was not comfortable with this. This was not his style at all. He liked to stay out of things, and run if necessary. He did not like to be involved.
He looked at the others sitting to his left. There were a few there. Including Sam, there were four sitting, and one man standing. They were sitting at a desk, in a big room. The four of them had their backs to the door, which drove Sam into full paranoia mode. The one man was standing at the other side of the desk. He had close cropped hair. He was wearing a trench coat. He was tall and muscular. Sam defiantly wanted to run from him. His smile was slightly sadistic.
The man right next to Sam was short, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He had a grin that said he thought he was smarter than anyone else. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a jacket and jeans. This man was cocky, confident and, Sam could tell, rude. Sam hated rude people.
The one after him was someone of medium height. He was pale. His red hair made him stand out, but that was really the only thing about him. He looked so ordinary Sam just decided to ignore him and move on to the next person.
This one was different. While short and cocky was mostly acting, and the red haired mundane was making no effort to hide anything about him, the man on the end was mysterious. He had brown hair and brown eyes. He was just taller than the red hair, but Sam wouldn’t call him tall. There were only two things Sam could get to him. One was he looked paranoid. He was doing a good job at hiding it, but he kept looking at the window, the corners of the room, the man standing, and he would stiffen and every sound, like he was preparing to attack. The other thing was every once in a while, his eyes would go glassy like he was looking at something not there.
“It’s been ages,” the blonde complained. “When’s he planning on turning up?”
The man standing grinned but didn’t say anything. A second later the doors behind them opened and everyone turned around in their seats to look at the new arrival. Sam wondered if that was by design.
The man who just entered was different to everyone else. While mysterious was, you know, mysterious, the man who entered was just confusing. Sam couldn’t tell if was hiding something, or an open book. Sam, his father being a psychologist, was very good at reading people. But this man was something else. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. He walked with an air of someone with control. A had short black hair. He was wearing a very fine suit, and oddly enough, sunglasses that didn’t seem to go with the image of this man. He was tall, but not really thin. He had some amount of muscle beneath his suit, but not enough to be counted as strong. He had a smile, but Sam thought he saw something fake about it. Or was it just sadistic?
“Hello gentlemen. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The man sounded very amused.
No one said a word. This man was intimidating without needing a weapon, or muscles. He was just powerful, Sam could feel it.
The man smirked and sat down at the other side of the desk. “So, we all know why we are here?”
The mysterious man at the end nodded curtly, while the rude blue eyed man mumbled something and the red hair looked terrified. Sam did nothing.
The man nodded like everyone had given an answer and took off his sunglasses to wipe them. “Good,” he said. Sam could see why he wore sunglasses now. His eyes, the palest blue, looked so cold that any it was obvious that any smile he had given before was fake. He looked incapable of looking happy. His icy blue eyes showed his malice, his intelligence.  Sam looked at those eyes and felt fear. This man wouldn’t hesitate about anything. He would have no qualms about killing all of them.
“Okay then, so let’s get started with the introductions,” he said, putting his sunglasses back on.
He nodded at the mysterious man. “This fellow is called Phillip Hazard. He’s a controller of animals, a Feramancer, and his control includes all animals on the property, excluding maybe the bugs. He’s worked for me for a few years now.”
Hazard nodded curtly again.
The man looked at the red haired nobody. “This man’s name is Trent Magnanimous. He’s an illusionist, being able to create moving illusions they looked real, sound real and smell real. Unfortunately, he’s still working on the feeling real.”
Magnanimous shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“I’ll introduce you to Darren Sagacity. This is his third time working for me, and after this, he’ll join my empire permanently. He’s a Techomancer, a controller of technology and mechanics. It’s him who came up with this idea, and it’s him who’s the most important to this plan.”
Sagacity sarcastically tapped two fingers against his forehead in a mock salute.
“And lastly, Samuel Bedlam. He’s an Audiomancer, a controller of soundwaves. Young, but a natural, and the only one in all of Ireland.”
Sam didn’t give any reaction. He was wearing scruffy jeans and a shirt. His jacket was stolen from him yesterday. He had black hair. He wasn’t quite thin, but wasn’t anything near fat either. He was sturdily built. He was once getting near fat, but after a few years of little food, it was pretty much impossible to be fat.
“I am Matthew Tenacious. I control the biggest criminal empire in all of Great Brittan, running both magic and mortal. I’m well known for bringing down the German Sanctuary. Of course, after I left there, they rebuilt, but I left a scar on that land that will never be healed. Ireland will be the same.”
He smiled, and for the first time, Sam was sure it was real. It was cruel and it showed what this man really was. Insane.
“The plan is simple. In the building known as the Fort, there is a computer mainframe that contains enough information to bring the Sanctuary to its knees. It’s a collection of all electronic mortal information from Great Britain, and a fair bit of the magical. And, in theory, with this information, we could control nearly all technology.”
The others nodded like it was no big deal, but Sam raised an eyebrow. This one reaction was enough to bring Tenacious’ attention to him. “Yes?” he asked. “Anything wrong?”
Sam didn’t answer for a moment. “I’m not sure I want to do this,” he said slowly, considering every word. “I don’t like the sound of it.”
“Nonsense,” Tenacious said. “I’m paying you enough to make you rich, you don’t have to do any fighting, just a lookout, and nobody will find out about your little secret.” Tenacious looked at him though those sunglasses, and suddenly Sam felt very nervous. He couldn’t hide anything from him. He was a mind reader for crying out loud.
“You’ll be staying in a room here for tonight. Tomorrow we sought out the plans, and tomorrow night, you go and complete the job.”
A few people said some things, but Sam just stood and walked out the door. Everyone ignored him. After a few minutes of walking nowhere in particular, a voice in his head said Go up another floor, and left. Three down from there. Good night.
Sam gave no sign that he heard, but he did as it said. The voice was Tenacious. That scared him, that he could enter a person’s mind at any time. Sam found his room, and lay in a bed for the first time in years. After listening to people talking in the mansion like house for a few minutes, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Wednesday, 25 July 2012


Okay, so I’ve got a few HP fan-fics in my mind. I have way to much too write, so can you pick one, and I’ll do them in order

One- About Morgan, it's already started (look for the prologue). It's about a dark sorcerer from the middle ages coming back a few years after Voldemort. This is insane, trust me.

Two- An attack on Hogwarts. Like the battle of Hogwarts in HP, but way different. I’ll give you a clue- our furry friends want a snack.

Three- Everyday life of a student. My character will live out the everyday life a Hogwarts student will go through. Meh.

Four- A new character in the HP series. I'll be writing things he did in book 7. This will differ from the book a fair amount. This guy is one of my fav characters, and I made him up.

Five- Scenes in all the books when Harry wasn't there (or wasn't mentioned) and how I think they went. This will take ages.

Six- Okay, never mind, I need to sort out the details for this
So please, comment the number. Also, vote on my poll on the side. All these go under Harry Potter Fan-Fic. So, if the HP fan-fic gets enough votes, I’ll then tally up this vote, and pick one of these.
Oh, and if you want to know my favourite, it’s One

Monday, 2 July 2012

Operation Take Over Ireland Now: Chapter One

Do you like my title? Subtle, no?

Zafira Kerias walked forwards, following the Sanctuary agent in front of her. It was the dead of the night, and the normal people were safe in bed. The only ones out were the people with no lives, the people who were too drunk to have the sense to go home… and the people who weren’t all that human.
Zaf was a Necromancer, from the East Coast Temple. Not the West Coast, never the West Coast. She was in Ireland at the moment, following a Sanctuary agent. She knew almost nothing about the agent, only that she was key to the plans. The plans to take over Ireland.

Emerald Melody was walking down the street, late at night in Dublin. She had just left an important meeting with someone. Normally, these meetings would be at Roarhaven, but it wasn’t everyone’s favourite place. So, sometimes, the meetings would be somewhere else. She had to admit, it made travel easier, considering she lived in Dublin.
She was an important Sanctuary agent. Not an Elder, but in a few years, she could be well on the way to becoming one.  Of course, she was more than an important agent. She was the Sanctuary’s secret. Hardly anyone but the Elders knew. She was the last of her kind.
She heard something behind her, but thought nothing of it. The quiet made anything sound sinister. She kept walking, but after going down a small street and hearing a noise behind her again, she got suspicious. At this time of night? Not many people were out walking, and this was hardly a street most people used. She turned around and saw the empty street. Her sharp eyes scanned everything. Then she saw it. A faint shape in the shadows. It was like the shadows were gathered to hide something, making it almost invisible. Almost.
Emerald smirked. Necromancer. She pretended she didn’t notice, and walked on. There was no noise behind her anymore. The necromancer was wary now. Emerald rounded a corner, out of sight from her stalker, and waited. Then Zafira turned the corner and saw Emerald waiting there. Everything pretty much went down from that point.
Zaf gathered shadows to her right fist, making it into a glove sort of thing, and levelled it at Emerald. “Stop,” she said confidently.
Emerald raised an eyebrow. “No,” she said, and took a step towards the necromancer.
“Don’t you know who I am?” Zaf sneered. “I’m a necromancer of extreme power, and of the highest order.”
“You just sound American to me,” Emerald noted. “And you have no idea who I am.”
The shadows grew sharp, and Zafira prepared to let them lose. “A Sanctuary agent way out of her league?”
“No,” Emerald smiled. “The last werewolf.”
Then she began to change into a monster that would be willing to kill everything it sight. Things are going to get messy…

Friday, 22 June 2012


You know, I changed my mind
I'm going to finish my thing

Thursday, 21 June 2012


You've all probably read the first chapter of Kingdom of the Wicked by now. If you haven't, go read it. It's on the Skulduggery Pleasant website. Strangely, I couldn't find it, and only read it because someone gave me a direct link to the pdf. Anyway, read it first before reading this post
Derek's got werewolves. Yes, I'm over the moon (ha ha ha...). But I'm also pretty disappointed.
My story has lost all meaning. Derek has a lot of similarities with mine, but the differences are just to great for mine to continue. I had such plans for it, but knowing this, I just can't continue.
After weeks of thinking, planning, writing and re-writing, that was all I had. I doubt I'll be able to think up another SP fan-fic... I'm hugely disappointed. I guess that's it then.

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

The Elements- Prologue and Chapter One

The man crawled away, gasping. Fire was raging all around him, burning through the building. He had been in it far too long; he was choking on the smoke. He struggled to his feet. A part of the ceiling narrowly missed him as it fell. He coughed as he staggered towards the exit.
Then something blew up to his right. The man was taken off his feet, and the raging fire was everywhere. He moaned and tried to get up. Then he saw him.
A person standing there, not bothered at the least by the flames. In fact, the flames seemed to focus on the person. With the burning fire behind them, the man couldn’t see who it was, or even what gender. Then he caught a glimpse of the face
“No,” he whispered. “No. Have mercy, please.”
All he got was a sadistic grin in return for his pleas. Then the person raised their fist. Fire swirled around it, waiting to be unleashed. The fist was brought down, and fire flew at the man, ready to burn everything in its path.  

Chapter One- Dreams of Flame
Simon Leanings wasn’t quite normal. He lived with his mother; and had no idea what happened to his father, though he suspected he left them a long time ago. He had no siblings. His mothers work made them move constantly, so he never spent more than a few months in one place. He had no friends, he had to hobbies. He was sick of moving, though he would never tell his mother that. She would be shattered. They only had each other, and she thought he liked the moving.
“So what do you think of the new place?” His mother asked. They always rented, they didn’t have a place of their own.
“It’s good,” he admitted. It actually was pretty good, two stories and it looked very expensive. This wasn’t a good thing though. Simon could tell how long they would stay somewhere by the house which they would live in. If it was expensive, like this one, it wouldn’t be long. If it was cheap, then it would be a while. Simon preferred the cheap houses. If it meant there was a chance or some normality, then he would live in a one room apartment.
Simon was thirteen years old, but he felt older. He was tall, which sandy blonde hair. Because he moved around so much, he once spent a good part of his summer at a beach, and he picked up a talent for surfing. But he hadn’t surfed in over a year. He didn’t have any friends worth keeping contact with. Having only a few weeks normally to get to know someone made it a little hard to get to know them enough. So, after a while, he just stopped trying to make friends.
He walked inside, not taking in any of the grand rooms. He walked upstairs, picked a room and dumped all his stuff in it. He didn’t really care about houses. Tomorrow he would be going to a new school, and that was always brutal. He never got any time to settle in. The amount of time they spent moving, if he took time to settle in each move, then his education will be seriously lacking.
Although it really was now. All the schools had different ways of teaching, and were at different parts. So sometimes he was ahead of the rest of his class, but most of the time he was behind.
He sighed. Although it was only about half past eight, he decided to get some sleep. He laid down in his new bed, and closed his eyes.

Simon was at his new school. He was walking down a corridor, but there was no one around. No one was there, the school was empty. His footsteps echoed, the only sound that could be heard. No, there was something else. The hint of a sort of crackling sound. Just the vaguest hint. And the smell of something. Smoke. It made Simon’s eyes water.
Simon rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was surrounded by fire. Burning, hurtful fire was everywhere. Smoke was in the air, and Simon was choking on it. Simon staggered back, but the fire was all around him. Then he saw the person.
The fire swarmed around whoever it was, as if the flames were living. The person was cast in shadow, impossible to make out. Then the person turned around, and looked straight at Simon.
He couldn’t move. For a moment nothing happened, but then the person nodded, and thrust out their hand. The fire flared, and flew towards Simon as if they were hungry animals. Simon screamed.
Simon sat up, panting. For a moment he was convinced he was still surrounded by fire, then reality got a hold of him.
“Just a dream,” he muttered.
He was terrified of fire. One of his earliest memories was of fire, though he had no idea what happened. Whenever he asked his mother, she refused to say anything.
Simon looked down at his left arm. There was a burn there, in the shape of a hand, like some sort of creature made of fire had gripped him. The hand was smallish, like whatever had done it had little hands. It was near his elbow, so as long as he wore long clothes, no one would see it. He always wondered how he got it, but all his mother would say was it was an accident.
Worried about so many things, Simon found it hard to fall asleep after that. But, after a few hours, he drifted off into dreams made of fire, and the occasional person, cast in shadow.