It made sense in context 

I’ve mentioned a few times that this blog is inspired by and named for Felicia Day. Her book You’re Never Weird On The Internet (Almost) is a fantastic read.

In the chapter that talks about the writing process of The Guild (look it up on YouTube), she talks about struggling to actually write it, but then having an epiphany in the middle of the night and finally gaining the determination to get what she thought would originally be a TV pilot written.

I had something similar last night. In my case, it was a dream about Silva from the Bond films almost killing me until I said I was writing a book. No, really. It made sense at the time.

And I honestly have no idea why I posted this. But if it’s the kick up the backside I need to get this done, one nightmare is worth it.

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The Girl In Black


Luke knew Percy had a sister. He’d talked about her often enough. Merissa had mentioned meeting the girl and giving her the message. She’d also mentioned how Miss Monray had reacted on receiving it.

When he saw Merissa heading down the path, a girl in black walking beside her, he hurried to catch up with them. After hugging Merissa, he turned to introduce himself to the girl – Percy’s sister – and felt shock like he never had before.

He’d never forgotten her: the way she’d quickly covered for him that night, or the cool and arrogant way she’d looked at him before and after seeing the tattoo. She’d changed. They both had. But she looked at him as if she’d never seen him before, and couldn’t understand why he was staring at her like that.

Then, later on, she saw the tattoo again.

“You didn’t recognise me, did you?”

“No. You’ve…changed quite a bit.”

She blushed, but she met his eyes.


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It’s funny where inspiration comes from.


In one episode of BBC’s The Musketeers, Porthos is preparing to shoot a melon off Aramis’ head (don’t ask). Athos and d’Artagnan have the following exchange:

Athos: Don’t worry. He’s done this shot a hundred times.

d’Artagnan: He’s drunk.

Athos: He’s never made it sober.

Naturally, my mind asked, “Well, why’s he always drunk when he tries it?” Throw in a possible scenario from the previous episode and you have instant fanfiction.


The quote “With great power comes great responsibility” supposedly originates from the original Spiderman comics. But what if you were never supposed to have the power? What if you weren’t prepared for the responsibilities and had no idea how to handle them?

Enter Isabel Monray, a girl who’s carrying a lot of anger inside her when her story starts. She’s determined to be strong – and not to be afraid. She’s going to take control of both the power and the responsibility, because she’s the only one who can.


One night I dreamed that myself and someone else (I can’t remember her name in the dream) were hiding a girl in a café. She was concealed in a room that only women could enter (and no, it wasn’t the ladies’ toilets). Two or three men came into the café looking for her; they had no idea where she was, and they were on a time limit.

Then a woman came into the café and that was when things changed, because she could enter the room and find the girl. Luckily, she didn’t.

I’ve never been able to forget that dream, because it raised some very interesting questions. Why was the girl hiding? Why were we hiding her? Who were those people and why were they looking for her? Why was there a time limit?

Meet Marsella Layden, or Marsie as she likes to be called. She lives in a world where anyone from the ages of thirteen to seventeen is watched very closely for signs of illness. Illness could be a sign that you’re developing an ability that very few people want to have, because the ability is actually the result of a virus and anyone who tests positive for it – or who shows they have an ability – is taken away to a place called the College until they turn eighteen. Whether or not you actually want to go doesn’t matter. Eighteen-year-old Marsie is helping her older sister Maria run the family café – oh, and they also help fugitives from the College hide from their pursuers.

Then one day Marsie is offered the chance to have a real, paying job. At the College. This way, she can help more kids escape and see their families – and anyway, she’s not seventeen any more and doesn’t have to worry about catching the virus. It’s the perfect opportunity.

Nothing can go wrong.

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Speak Out

I feel ashamed that I don’t speak out more often, or say what’s really on my mind. There are times when the words just won’t come out, or I can’t find them. I can speak out on behalf of other people, but when it comes to myself or my own tongue, the words just don’t come out and then I feel angry with myself and with other people.

I am becoming more assertive, but it’s a work in progress. One which should have started years ago.

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Why I liked Toni Bevell at first

Conventional Wisdon

Warning: if you’re a fan of Supernatural, you might not want to read this.

In the series finale of Season Eleven of Supernatural, we were introduced to Lady Antonia Bevell, also known as Toni. She works for the British branch of the Men of Letters. She’s got quite a few things to say to one of our protagonists:

“We’ve been watching you, Sam. What you’ve done, the damage you’ve caused – archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness, and now, well – the old men have decided enough’s enough. I mean, let’s face it, Sam. You’re just a jumped up hunter playing with things you don’t understand and causing more harm than good.”

She is hated by the fandom, and I can see why. However, there is one teensy-weensy but ever so crucial little tiny problem.

She’s absolutely right.

Sam and Dean Winchester have gallons of innocent blood on their hands, deliberately shed and otherwise. They have literally gotten away with murder when it comes to possessed people and they just shrug it off as if they’ve thrown away an empty beer can instead of a person’s life.

And they have caused serious damage. Starting the Apocalypse was accidental, yes, but leaving the gates of Hell open and unleashing the Darkness were NOT. They are a serious threat to the world’s safety and wanting to stop them is a legitimate move.

Unfortunately, that went straight out of the window with the Season Twelve opening. But hey. It was good while it lasted.

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Winchester Lights

It’s Not This Time of Year Without…

My family has several traditions at Advent, Christmas and New Year. Mum does Christmas fudge, my aunt makes and decorates the cake, I make mince pies with stars for the topping, we have a brunch on Boxing Day…There are so many. Recently, we’ve started to create some new traditions.

One of these is going to Winchester to see the Christmas lights. We lived in Winchester for ten years, and seeing the lights still makes this time of year feel special.

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They had been warned things might go wrong. But they hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Is he all right?” Toria asked, peering down at the prone figure on the floor. He looked surprisingly innocent with his eyes closed in unconsciousness.

Kella checked his pulse. “He’s alive, but his head’s bleeding.” She untied her silk scarf and pressed it to the small wound on the stranger’s temple. “What do we do? We can’t just leave him like this.”

“No, but we can’t stay with him either. If they find us here, they’ll want to know what we’re doing in this area.”

“Have you got the key?”

Toria nodded.

“Go and get Tessen out; I’ll stay here with him. Just don’t be too long.”

“Well, look at you, taking charge like that. Aidan’s going to be impressed.” Toria grinned and hurried off, clutching the small golden key in her right hand.


“That could have gone a lot worse,” Cas remarked, passing Toria a cup of warm chocolate.

Kella had to agree. Nobody had interrupted them, but the stranger’s eyelids had just begun to flutter while Kella was kneeling beside him. As he moaned, she got up and followed Toria, hoping against hope he wouldn’t open his eyes until she had gone.

They’d had to make use of the second exit.

She watched the flames dance in the hearth. Tessan had been so relieved to be out of the mansion, he had hugged both Toria and Kella enthusiastically. His long hair had tickled her skin and…

Kella’s hand flew to her throat.

Her scarf. It was gone.

She’d left it with him.

Part One

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