dwgm | Two Written For Me ( ! ), Recs, and One Of My Own (Reply)

I'm off for a two week break. And loving every second, I might add. We have no plans to go anywhere, but the weather is perfect, the pool beckons, and I have four chapters of Harry & the Pirate IV to finish, and a stack of books I want to read. Assorted movies and museums, and a day trip to visit friends down south may be thrown into the mix, but for the most part I'm content to be staying home.

Speaking of reading, two friends have favored me with Pirate!fic, per my requests to them:

scribbling_elf wrote me 'More Rum' (J/E, with laughter) in her writing journal,

pandaimonia; and

the_dala wrote me 'Negotiations' (J/E with a beautiful sword). Both stories are fabulous!

hereswith was complaining of writer's block, or some such nonsense, and then comes up with this superb bit of J/E on the island, 'Truth Be Told'. She is amazing.

jenthegypsy, who is such an encouraging, supportive fanfic reader, has obviously been hiding her light under a bushel. She has the most marvelous way with words, and has taken to writing wonderful drabbles for the challenges at Black Pearl Sails. But one of her best, and longest, efforts to date is a ficlet she wrote with

jackfan2 in mind (which should tell you what pairing this is): Games of Chance. Don't miss it.

For the BP Sails drabble challenges, crewmember

felaine has been favoring us with entries from The Personal Log of Lieutenent Andrew Gillette, and they have made us see him in a whole new, and much more favorable, light. They are posted in her new journal here at LJ.

kahva, who has a deep and abiding love for a certain handsome blacksmith, has finished a piece of thoughtful backstory, written from said blacksmith's POV, Restoration.

And speaking of the Turner POV, here's my answer to the current drabble challenge at Black Pearl Sails:

~ Scherzo ~
The third movement in a symphony; from the Italian, meaning “joke”.

He’d become accustomed to being alone, insulated amid close heat, smells, strenuous but calming exertion, and the deep satisfaction of making useful things, and, sometimes, of creating beauty. For a long time, his brief forays outside had seemed like dreams: enjoyable, for the most part, but alien.

Now, his perception had altered. Considerably.

Odd that a pirate should be the one to drag him from the quiet dream of the forge into wildly shifting light, into the arms of the sea, and now to this place of riotous, raucous, cacophonous reality.

Jack was babbling something about the ‘sweet, proliferous bouquet’ of the place, and demanding to know what he thought.

What he thought! What could he think?

“It’ll linger,” he finally managed, and knew it for the truth as the words left his lips.

For good or ill, it would linger.

~.~