Just A Note To Say

I'll be honest, this isn't a real post. I just need to tell you some stuff quickly. First off, I have decided to name the readers of my blog Shipmates. Seeing as it's called "I am the Pirate Captain" and all that. Second, sorry I haven't updated for a while. You may not get any proper updates till next week. Sorry. I'm just y'know. Really busy. Luckily though, I have two rather meaty posts that I'm looking forward to writing (and hopefully you're looking forward to reading.) I just have a lot of stuff on, but with any luck, by the end of the month we'll have tackled democracy, drama, and menstrual cycles (I promise you it won't be as scary as it sounds. Please don't leave.)
I'm off to Berlin at the end of the month. If I don't have a couple of great stories to crack out at the end of that, I clearly need to rethink my future career.

Next, I FOUND THE FEMALE BRIAN COX. Long story short, I read a story about a mummified mammoth carcass, there was a quote from a scientist, I looked her up, etc. So I present to you Alice Roberts, a very clever and very pretty lady who knows a lot of stuff. She's written books and been on Coast, and is generally really great. We love Alice Roberts.

I was in a YouTube video! My friend Lauren is quite a talented film maker, and was recently in my house. She was filming a vlog, and I sort of ended up wandering into it. FJ, if you're reading this, the reason you're mentioned is because I was impressed that you had 'liked' something on my Facebook. That is all. Thus, here is me reading gay fan fiction aloud.

And finally I should probably say thanks to I Set The Sea On Fire, who I like to call my very good friends, and who promoted me on their Twitter feed. Thanks guys. Bellow is a photo from their album launch.
To wrap up, I'm sorry this post is awful, normal service will be resumed shortly. OH, and THANK YOU TO YOU, dear Shipmates. I genuinely never thought anyone would ever read this, so every time anyone tells me that they read this, or enjoy it, my brain just... stops. Thank you for the continued love and support. It's making me crave journalism more than ever. So you may or may not be digging your own graves. I love you.
And very quickly, I wrote a story about the misadventures of Brian Cox and Boris Johnson. I hope you like it. I may write more.

There's A Butterfly Amongst The Stars

An alternative ending for Merlin 5x13. Where Arthur lives, and everything is ok in the end.
For a second, Merlin thought about crying. They had come so close to Arthur dying, but now they were here, at the tower, and he was safe. Arthur would be healed. They would go home. And yes, he though, they had come so close to Arthur dying. Not Arthur alone, but both of them. A coin is nothing without it’s other half, after all.
Relationship: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: Gen
Words: 1,134
Tags: Cuddling, Fluff, Alternate Ending, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, 513

Read on AO3


They had made it. Just. Merlin watched as Arthur practically crawled up the steps into the tower, hands with bodies made invisible by darkness reaching down to haul him inside. Arthur looked back once to Merlin, before the door closed behind him, looking more scared than Merlin had seen him in any battle. 
For a second, Merlin thought about crying. They had come so close to Arthur dying, but now they were here, at the tower, and he was safe. Arthur would be healed. They would go home. And yes, he though, they had come so close to Arthur dying. Not Arthur alone, but both of them. A coin is nothing without it’s other half, after all.
Merlin thought about crying, but instead, he slept. He hauled their little boat up from the water, and propped it, upside down against the wall of the tower to shelter himself from the rain, and crawled underneath. He fell asleep to the sounds of the the lake moving against the shore, the rain clattering against the wood over his head, and a raven calling to it’s mate, as it circled above him. 

If Your Memory Serves You Well

Bond had never been sure which view he like more; the one from the night time, or the one from the morning after. The nights lent themselves to shadows slanting across stretches of smooth skin, hands tangling in sheets and half admitted names taken on broken breaths. The nights are sin, and glamour, and that singular beauty that connects every human being on this filthy, dirty planet.

No, Bond prefers the view from the morning after. When everything becomes clean again, and the make up and masks are washed away. When lies stay in dreams, and reality comes with waking up. Bond suspects that people are not unlike an etch-a-sketch. The lines build up over the day, and sleep shakes them free. Some people, of course, are more memorable than others. The ones that stand out are those who shed the lies like a old coat, too big, too hot.

I wrote Fanfiction again

I started a series about the Avengers secret skills - this is the fist part, Clint Barton; juggling master.

When Thor returned from Asgard, Tony got sent to do track him down from the middle of Nebraska, because Thor has bad aim when it comes teleportation. They only get drunk three times on the way back, and at least one of those was post-breakup-with-Pepper consolation drinking, so it doesn’t count.
When they get back, Agent Hill and Natasha march them into the board room, along with the other Avengers, like a terrifying pair of ninja lady twins with a high interest in organisation. Hill announces that the whole team is going to move into Avengers Tower together. Tony wines that he likes his tower. Hill announces that Stark Tower will be re-named Avengers tower. Tony screams, and runs for the door, where Natasha neatly rugby tackles him, and pins both arms behind his back with one finger. Tony sobs into the carpet. Bruce ruffles his hair on the way out.

Show Us what You Got, Circus Kid

Help, There's A Gun In My Yarn Stash

I started writing a new fan fic, crossing over my current two fave things; knitting and The Avengers; Have a snippet and a link. A xx



“Barton... are you... knitting?”

The other agent flicked his head backwards to peer at her, upside down. “Problem Tash?”

“No, I just didn’t take you for the granny sort...”

He attempted to shrug, but upside down, it came out as more of a wiggle. “One of the acrobats taught me in the circus. It kept me from doing target practice with the clowns hats.” He grinned, and looked back to the bundle of thin black yarn and needles in his hands. “You should try it some time; you might make a cute little spider web, or a vodka cosy, or whatever.”


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