Motherfucking Pirates, Part 10

wirewalking's house has decided to try and rot out from under her.  She writes amazing stories and makes really tasty cookies and caramels, and she is offering books  and baked goods to help defray the costs of, well, her house breaking.  She is offering them here
She also wrote an awesome story about zombies.

Here's the link to her story: http://nicolekornherstace.com/stories/present/

Here's the link to her tip jar: http://wirewalking.livejournal.com/229970.html


shadesong is still trying to fund the bionic upgrades to her poor clumsy kitty  who broke her arm recently.  Halfway there, but a new round of auctions is bound to go up here.

shweta_narayan is sending people to WorldCon.  I want people to go to WorldCon, too, and if you'd like to help her send people to WorldCon, you should go here.

  “Qualm, I   need you.  She’s got him, and heaven knows what she’s going to do to him if we don’t.”

“Gem?”  Qualm scooched up to sit against the headboard of his bed, and Gem flowed onto the foot of it. 

“Yeah, it’s me.  Gem.”

“Who’s got him?”

“Red Hull.”

Qualm started to get up.  “We have to tell the authorities, get the constable…  We-”

Gem flowed again, it was the only way Qualm could really describe her movements, and she put one hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to the headboard.  She was really strong.  She pressed her cheek against his.

“It has to be us.  You and me.”  She pulled back away again and looked at him.  “And the authorities, Qualm, really?  The authorities have had what, twenty three years to deal with Red Hull, and they’ve not a lot to show for it.  A line of hanged cabin boys and foot soldiers they claim are her number two and number three top lieutenants; how many of those you think she has?  When authorities meet Red Hull, their throats get all closed up and their hands tremble and their…”  Gem wiggled her index finger and let it drop limp.  “Erm.  Anyway, I don’t think the authorities are going to be a lot of help, even if they listened to you, and they won’t.  Think about it.  You’ve already had a funeral for him.”

Qualm was certain there were some very good arguments he could use against Gem, if he had expected to see her again, if this was not the middle of the night.  He was also certain he couldn’t think of them at the moment, and so he put on some clothes, after asking Gem to look the other way, slipped out the window and went to sea.

Many, many years later, when Qualm, as all must, went forth to meet his Maker, they carved him a simple stone with a simple motto inscribed below the dates of his durance:

A Little too Agreeable for his own Good.