#nelwynp

[caffeineivore]

Vancouver Sangria: A drink recipe

For @adriannasharp @nelwynp @ellorgast and @galaxylily

1 bottle white Portuguese wine

1 20 oz bottle of mango soda, from 7-11

1/3 cup mint leaves, coarsely shredded

3 ripe peaches, pitted and sliced

A dozen lychees, pitted

2 ripe kiwi's, peeled and sliced

***

In a pitcher, combine wine and fruits, muddle slightly with a spoon to crush the fruit slightly. Add mint, muddle some more. Pour in mango soda and stir. Serve chilled.

[sensitiveseedling]

Music challenge thingy 🎶

rules: Spell out your URL using songs! I was tagged by @softdudebro. If you listen to any of the songs i picked and like them let me know  👀 (its the rules)

S: Swim Until You Can’t See Land by Frightened Rabbit

E: Every Man Has A Molly by Say Anything

N: No Children by The Mountain Goats

S: Someone New by Hozier

I: I Am Not a Robot by MARINA

T: The Dirty Glass by Dropkick Murphys

I: I Don’t Feel Like Dancing by Scissor Sisters

V: Verbatim by Mother Mother

E: Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles

S: Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood

E: Every Breath You Take by The Police

E: Everything to Everyone by Everclear

D: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

L: Learning to Fly by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

I: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

N: No Glory in the West by Orville Peck

G: Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA

Tagging: @potatophantom74 @ianvs @nelwynp ???

[antivanruffles]

Terminator 3 is a good movie.

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

I’m 95% sure I’ve seen T3.... but it’s been so long I don’t remember it well enough to say one way or the other. 

Send me unpopular opinions and I’ll say whether I agree or disagree.

[mochibuni]

Sailor Villains - The Terminator

I struggled a bit deciding on the pose and colors for the outfit. I try to use more dynamic poses and varied color schemes, but stream chat was correct that this is just how the Terminator is. Special shout out to @nelwynp

♥ Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Facebook

♥ Patreon | Ko-Fi | Commissions | Twitch

[smokingbomber]

ooo what’s Red Shoe and How I Became a Table?

yeeee!! (future ref: list post) @nelwynp wanted red shoe too. :D

ok so-- this is a supernatural police procedural set in London (where I have never been, so you can immediately see where my 'overdo the research' mind bit off more than it could chew) and centering on the absolutely fantastic magic cop partners Sailor Mercury (DC Aneira Morgan) and Kunzite (DC Kundan Badhiyar), and their favorite social worker Sailor Pluto (Sumaya Mahat) as they try to find a young psychic child (Mamoru Chiba) who vanished from his foster father's house, leaving only a traumatized psychic roommate child (Hotaru Tomoe), some magical residue from probably teleportation, and a single red tennis shoe. It's... way too complicated to write but i'm keeping the notes because it's neat and has a cast of thousands as usual.

HOW I BECAME A TABLE... is Unreliable Narrator Jadeite explaining, from the beginning (the beginning being early childhood) how he ended up on his hands and knees with a chessboard on his back and cookies not being shared with him at all. >_> What there is of it is here.

[nelwynp]

It was posting this week for my partner @nimiane04 and my collaboration for this year’s @ssminibang!

@nimiane04 had the totally fun idea to have the team play D&D, and since I both love playing ttrpg and designing rpg characters, it was (in my opinion) a most perfect mashup! Check out what she’s written so far:

Roll for Initiative (7917 words) by NelwynP, nimiane04 Chapters: 2/11 Fandom: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kino Makoto/Nephrite, Hino Rei/Jadeite, Senshi/Shitennou Characters: Tsukino Usagi, Kino Makoto, Hino Rei, Jadeite (Sailor Moon), Nephrite (Sailor Moon), Kunzite (Sailor Moon) Additional Tags: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Roleplay, Banter, Elves, Half-Elves, Half-orc, Gnomes, Tieflings, Magic, Friendship, Flirting, Fanart, SSMB, AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary:

Five adventurers in a world ruled by magic must complete a quest and by the end hopefully earn more than just a trove of treasure. Six friends gather to weave tales of high adventure as they banter, flirt and share stories while pretending to be fantasy heroes. Basically, what would happen if the characters from Sailor Moon were to play D&D!

[chibiranmaruchan]

Here is my gift for @nelwynp! @teamvanessacloud helped out a lot with the concept, since she was already drawing a MakoNeph food based piece and suggested I do the same and build upon the Nephrite sexily and messily eating a pizza from a while ago. We decided that Nephrite would be totally unaware of how he looks, but it doesn't stop others from gawking in approval.

[lyrhia-art]

Gift for @nelwynp​  : Diana and Deimos having fun!

Coloured pencils and watercolour on sketch paper (I should know better than doing that...)

[ssminibang]

SSREVMB 2019 Masterpost

Hello everyone!!!

We want to thank everyone who took part in the 2019 Senshi & Shitennou Reverse Mini Bang! We had an incredible year and we are so happy with the final results! Hopefully you all had fun too!

Under the read more you will have beautiful art and amazing fics. We invite everyone to leave a review and support the talented people who took part this year!

However we have some awesome news! This year we will have a zine where you will able to view all the wonderful art created this year. If everything goes as planned, it will be done by the end of November, so keep an eye for the updates!

Now, here is the amazing work! Please enjoy!!!!

A Curious Specimen by Lizlee 

Fic by Cluckster

Berenice by versailles-fairytale

Fic written by serpentinred

Curious Mermaid by chibiranmaruchan

Fic written by AdriannaSharp

Devour by smokingbomber 

Fic written by Starling_Sinclair

Drowned Road to Legend by smokingbomber

Fic written by Beej88

Falling into the Cold Sea by teamvanessacloud

Fic written by Kazekaitou 

Far From Shore by Covenmouse

Fic written by ellorgast

Going Down by i1976blunotte

Fic written by Sororityprincess

Homecoming by i1976blunotte

Fic written by caffeineivore

 It's too small by smokingbomber

Fic written by Elmund9

 Jadeite and The Dragon by einahpets

Fic written by FadesInTheSun

 Long Distance by smokingbomber

Fic written by Ggunsailor

Low tide by elianthos

Fic written by apsaraqueen

 Magari by elianthos

Fic written by caffeineivore

Part-Time Mermaid by Passionrice

Fic written by NelwynP

 Queen of the Sea by SCGdoeswhat

Fic written by ElvisVF101

Rescue by Covenmouse

Fic written by warriorofice

  Ship Happens by smokingbomber

Fic written by caffeineivore

 The Night by JupiterLor

Fic written by LadyDGn

 The Rocks on the beach by mochibuni

Fic written by chuplayswithfire

 The sea god by SCGdoeswhat

Fic written by CopperCrane2

  The Sultan and the Princess by Lyrhia

Fic written by AdriannaSharp

They Keep Coming With The Tide by elianthos

Fic written by CopperCrane2

 Troubled Water by FadesInTheSun and smokingbomber

Fic written by kanadka

Until the End of Time by Artimas

Fic written by Ascella_Star

 Until the Sun Rises: The Path to Valhalla by Artimas

Fic written by VenusUnchained

Venus From Her Shell by mochibuni

Fic written by Vchanny

You're 'piking' my curiosity by Lyrhia

Fic written by LovelyLytton

And here is the direct link to our collection: AO3

Please enjoy!!

[caffeineivore]

Commission #2

For @nelwynp. Based off a very very old ficverse from wayyyyyyy back in the day called “Freckles” which may or may not be found on LJ. Makoto/Nephrite.

Commissions are still open!! Check out the details here or all the other commissions currently available here!

Long distance relationships are statistically known to suck, and honestly, I wouldn’t have considered myself the rose-coloured glasses type. The real world doesn’t care that you’ve probably, maybe, already gotten your share of crap thrown at you, starting from the death of your parents, and think maybe it should cut you a break. I knew the chances of Nick and myself making it were slim. He would be busy, surrounded by strangers a whole two states away. Sure, we’d known each other since we were kids, and maybe by now, he had become the one constant in my life-- my North Star, perhaps-- that forever friend who’d seen me at my worst and didn’t care in the least. And maybe--- maybe, finally, I’d finally told him those three words that had been nagging at the back of my subconscious for the last year of our acquaintance. He’d said them back, and it was only then that I realized how much I’d needed to hear and say them.

Still, I saw him off on that cloudy morning with dry eyes and homemade eggs Benedict-- that is to say, that I fed him and double-checked to make sure that he had not misplaced anything important. The apartment that he’d been living in was stripped bare, and all of his worldly goods were in the trailer of the U-haul which would take him to his new home. I was plugging his phone into the car charger in the front console when his arms wrapped around me from behind, and turned me to face him. 

Nick has always been a good-looking guy, in that sort of rugged, All-American way, with broad shoulders and a great smile, and I’d learned at some point in our long acquaintance that he gave the best hugs-- the type that lifts you slightly off your feet and makes you feel like some type of dainty damsel even when you’re six feet tall in heeled boots. It’s no different now, and maybe I hung on for a moment too long, myself. He’s not much of a cologne guy, but his sweatshirt smells like laundry soap and I’m pretty sure he’d used my shampoo that morning again, because his hair’s super soft-- and the flowery scent is not nearly as girly on him as it is on me. 

“Call me when you get there.” I hope to Hell, of course, that the fact that my voice is muffled against his neck disguises the unsteadiness.

“I’ll call you every day.”

I wouldn’t hold him to it, of course, but I didn’t say anything to that effect, and I watched as he drove off, and then headed off to the gym for a punishing three-mile run on the treadmill followed by a full hour of kickboxing to a playlist of angry girl rock, and if I cried in the shower afterwards, no one needed to know that.

He did call that night, though. And the night after. And the night after that. And soon, it had become a routine, and maybe I should have given him more credit the whole time. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and he flew down for a long holiday weekend, and after we’d christened three separate rooms in my apartment, we got caught up in person. I’d heard so much about his new place and the people he’d met at his new school that I probably could’ve picked his favourite and least favourite professors out of a crowd. 

This became a thing, and so for two years, we did the long distance thing. He heard about the awful day when the stand mixer went rogue and how I was still picking bits of cake batter out of my hair two hours later. I heard so much about one particularly persnickety city inspector on a project he worked on that I learned to hate the guy as much as Nick did. Our reunions were sporadic, rapturous and never long enough, though half the time we eschewed actual dates in favour of staying in and just being ourselves together-- watching movies, working out, buying groceries and cooking meals, falling asleep so close together that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began. 

We spent that first Thanksgiving at my place-- Friendsgiving, really, cooking a huge meal in a too-small kitchen, inviting all of our old friends. I shooed Nick and James out of my kitchen and chatted with Raye as she snapped a bowl of green beans for me and sounds of the football game filtered in through the living room. She was a ball of nerves-- James would be meeting her very formidable, very rich, very conservative father when he went over to her home for Christmas. Said father would not be amused to find his only daughter not only dating, but actually fully living in sin with a mouthy city boy-- when Nick had moved out, James and Raye had gotten an apartment together. Amy and Zach had arrived a bit later, because he’d had to pick her up from the hospital where her shift had run over. Kevin and Mina, on the other hand, were at her parents’ house out of state. She’d texted me all types of sad face emojis about how the cranberry sauce had come out of a can and the mashed potatoes had come out of a box, but I had no sympathy. She had parents who cooked for her for Thanksgiving, didn’t she? Besides, if she really cared about food over time spent with them and Kevin, she would have told them that she had Ebola and came over to my place instead.

At any rate, against all the odds, we somehow managed to make it work, and two years, three months and six days after that first time that I told him I loved him, he was on his way down to visit again. I’d gone up to see him get his Master’s degree two months ago and he’d taken me out around the town to celebrate with his friends and classmates. Some of them had met me before, but to those who hadn’t, he introduced me as his girlfriend, and from the easy acceptance, I knew that everyone present had some idea of our history. It had been a wonderful weekend, but I was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. Something had come up, very recently, and I wasn’t sure how he would take it.

At first, I had thought nothing of the symptoms. Fatigue and a bit of nausea doesn’t tend to alarm anyone right off the get-go. Everyone knows restaurant hours are brutal, and as an apprentice chef, any task, no matter how mundane or unpleasant, might get assigned to me on any given day. Certainly, I might get to spend one day arranging delicate edible flowers and a compote of ripe berries around and on top of fancy panna cottas, but the very next, I might be doing nothing but washing dishes and running out garbage. The kitchen I work in specializes in a rotating seasonal menu, and at the time, calamari was in season. Certainly it is delicious deep-fried with casino butter and lemon wedges, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper, but it’s definitely not as appealing raw, slimy and fishy-smelling. It’s enough to make anyone lose their appetite doing prep early in the morning. But then I was late. And not to work, if you know what I mean. One week stretched into two, then three. The nausea didn’t go away, even when my day consisted of making large quantities of bourbon vanilla buttercream frosting for strawberry white chocolate cakes. It was a week ago that I picked up two different pregnancy tests from Walgreen’s. Both results had come back to tell me what I kind of already knew, deep down, and I was honestly terrified down to the bone.

I had always wanted to have that maybe-stereotypical home and family someday-- the cute house with gingerbread trim and the white picket fence and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, a husband who loved me and our children and went to baseball games and dance recitals with equal enthusiasm. I wanted to be able to be the mom who baked cupcakes for the bake sale and cookies for the big jar on the kitchen counter, and volunteered to chaperone field trips to the science museum. That had been my own mother, from those distant reaches of old memories, and though I’d lost her, I knew that it was in me to keep her legacy alive. 

But I had not intended to do so when I had just started my career, unmarried and still living in a tiny college-campus apartment, with a boyfriend who lives two states away, who might not even want kids. God! That was a discussion we’d never even had. 

The door swings open, though, before I could think about it any more. Nick has a key to my place, of course, as I do to his. Sometimes he calls, but sometimes he just arrives, like today, a little ahead of schedule. I’m caught up in one of those long, tight hugs, a warm and familiar hand cupping the back of my neck, and maybe he feels a hint of desperation in my kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, but full of concern. “Everything okay, Freckles?”

“Ugh. Can you not call me that? We’ve talked about that.” Oh, Gods... A baby with his brown hair and my green eyes. His dimples and my freckles. I can almost picture a little girl, toddling on chubby legs, riding on his shoulders, picking dandelions in the yard and blowing the fluff away in the wind. I’d teach her to bake chocolate chip cookies and read her stories where the princess saved herself and buy her pretty dresses for picture day and sturdy jeans for playing outside in. I loved her already, but she wasn’t supposed to even exist. 

“Habit. And you scrunch your nose up when you’re mad, and I shouldn’t like it, but I do.” Nick presses another, shorter kiss to my mouth, then tips up my face. “But you seem a bit out of sorts. What’s wrong?”

“How could you tell if I’m out of sorts or not when you literally just walked in two minutes ago?” It’s an evasion, and I’m sure he can and will spot the bullshit and call me out on it. 

“Because I’ve known you since we were kids, and you don’t have to say or do anything for me to know when you’re out of sorts.” Nick pulls me gently over to the love seat, and sits me down, keeping one of my hands in his as though he expects me to bolt at any moment. “Everything’s okay, right? You didn’t have anything particularly horrible at work this week that I recall from our conversations.”

No, this week hadn’t been bad. Breaking down chickens is fairly mindless work once you get the hang of it. And the resulting bone broth is wonderful for someone who finds it difficult to keep food down some days. Nick deserves the truth, of course, and maybe the ripping-off-the-bandaid approach is best. I shut my eyes to his all-too-perceptive, all-too-loving gaze, and set my teeth.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand tightens on mine and his next inhaled breath is sharp, but I plow on. “I know it’s not expected, and I know we were careful, but… it is what it is. You don’t have to worry, though. I’m not some delicate little miss who’s afraid of raising a child. The executive chef at work loves me, as he should, and I’m sure they’ll work with me when the time comes for maternity leave. And in this day and age, it’s not a big deal to be a single mom. I’m keeping this baby and she’s going to get the best life that I can give her, growing up.” I don’t know why I was so certain I was having a little girl. But she already existed, to me, and at that moment in time, she was probably only the size of my pinkie nail. “She will never doubt, for a moment, that she’s loved.”

“Of course not.” Nick finally speaks, and his voice is an awed, slightly choked-up whisper. I sense him moving, then one big, warm hand rests on my still-flat stomach, followed by the press of his lips. “We’re having a baby. Wow. Okay, so I guess I should get on with what I’d already planned to do, even though I’d planned for this to be a lot more romantic.” Belatedly, I realize that not only has he moved, but he is down on his knees in front of me, one hand on my stomach, the other one digging into a pocket, and then he pulls out a small black velvet box, flicks open the catch.

I’m not much of a jewelry type of girl-- I wear the same earrings, every single day, but working in a kitchen greatly limits the practicality of going around with bracelets and rings and do-dabs. Still, stereotypical though it might be, I’d always wanted that classic diamond solitaire engagement ring from my husband-to-be, and now, when it’s staring me in the face-- princess-cut and set in platinum, I find myself speechless. 

“Lita Oakley, love of my life, will you marry me?”

Of course he doesn’t mince words. In a lot of ways, I guess we’re past that point. But I draw my hand back a moment before he can slide that ring on. 

“I don’t want you to propose to me because I’m pregnant and you feel obligated. You’d end up regretting it, and that would kill me.” We didn’t live together now, but if we did someday, and then it all went south, and I had to walk into an empty house bereft of his presence and his things and even the way he’d always kick his shoes off any which way by the door rather than make sure they’re put up where no one can trip over them, I knew it would break me in a way that hadn’t been possible since my parents’ deaths.

Nick rolls his eyes, though, and huffs out a breath before digging deeper into that little velvet box, all the way underneath the white satin. He takes out a crinkled paper receipt, and unfolds it, and drops it on my lap. “You are so stubborn. Do you know that? Take a look at that receipt, will you? Just… humour me.”

I do. It’s from some jeweler in his state, and the price of the ring of course makes me wince a little. It’s definitely not cheap. But then I read it a little closer, and see the time stamp on the top. It was purchased at 4:26 PM on the sixth of December, two whole years ago. Perhaps six months after he’d moved away.

“I got it as soon as I could afford it, and I’d been saving up for a while. Probably not very well-thought-out of me, when everything was so up in the air. But I’d always known that we’d be here together, someday, and I’d be asking you to marry me. Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re pregnant and everything to do with the fact that I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and there’s no one else in the world for me, and it’s too late to return this ring, anyway.” He pulls it out of the box, and I see something shining, trailing from it. “I know you can’t really wear rings, working in a kitchen. So I also got a necklace that you can wear this on, if you’ll just say yes. Please say yes.”

“How are we going to do this?” I blurt out, as that other infamous symptom of pregnancy-- emotional hormonal tears-- makes its appearance. I blink and try to sniffle them away, but Nick simply puts the ring on my finger, silvery necklace dangling from it, and gets up to his feet, pulls me gently to mine. “You live so freaking far away.”

“Not anymore I don’t.” He tugs me close, and kisses me again. “My lease is up in a month. I figure I can get another U-haul, and con the guys into helping out. I’m pretty sure that the people can put a good word in for me to get hired in somewhere local-- dumb jock notwithstanding, I worked my ass off these last few years and have the credentials and grades to prove it. Since my lease is up in a month anyway, might as well look for a new place to live. Some place that can be baby-proofed, and definitely not a top floor apartment with a janky elevator like here. Can’t have my pregnant fiancee struggling up five flights of stairs every day.”

He makes it seem so simple, really, as he pulls me in for what promised to be an extended cuddle session. 

But maybe-- maybe it would be. 

[sensitiveseedling]

@nelwynp grade level standards with common core are the same for 9 and 10 with common core. There's just a level of coddling at 10 that I don't do with 9. It's probably no big deal, but I find it grating. Common agreements mean I should be teaching the same things, but my awareness of what my students did last year means I need to revise and pull away some scaffolding. It's a bit of an uncomfortable dynamic, but I think I just need to live with it.

[antivanruffles]

nelwynp replied to your post: So hey. How’s everyone doing? Y’all got any fun...

We just moved to a new house and my neurotic semi-feral kitty that usually favors my husband has been sticking to me like glue. I know it’s because she’s panicked about the new environment, but I love her attention whenever she deigns to bestow it

But it means she trusts you! You’re the safe human! 

[smokingbomber]

Ok, I have to know about "How I Became a Table."

😂😂 that one got asked juuuust before you, answer is here: https://blog.smokingbomber.com/post/679299668608483328/ooo-whats-red-shoe-and-how-i-became-a-table

[caffeineivore]

M/N fic for Wils!

For @nelwynp aka The Ebil Enabler. I actually wrote this longhand on a notebook as is my habit during long plane rides and so on. Recently got back from a two week vacation to Spain and Portugal so... there was a lot of plane time. Also chilling time post-evening sangria. I managed to write a few ficlets during this trip, and will tag them all under “travel ficscribble”.

Set in a ficverse not yet really published, but the same as the last few things I posted. Will eventually compile everything after the main fic is published for the @ssrevminibang.

Prompt: M/N, “Buffoon”, “I hope you’re miserable”

**

“You great buffoon! Why in the names of all the saints would you attempt to keep up with me Uncle Murphy, then? It’s tea and dry toast for you this morning, and possibly into this afternoon, too.”

There’s an army of mad leprechauns doing an Irish step dance in the space in his skull where his brain used to reside before it was pickled to death by a gallon of Guinness last night. His mouth tastes like the Sonoran Desert, scorpions and lizards and all, and Noah is pretty sure that if he attempts to move his limbs, they might fall off. Had it been any other person than Mary Kathleen talking to him and breaking the silence of the room, he might have cussed them out. Or at least made plans to do so sometime in the near future once the room stopped spinning. 

“Your Uncle Murphy was the one who kept refilling my cup! I wasn’t trying to start anything with him! Does he hate Americans or something? I mean, we are kind of a bunch of assholes, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t personally do anything to him.”

Mary Kathleen tsks at him, but sets down the tray of toast and tea on the nightstand by his bed. Noah is not above admiring the glimpse down her shirt as she bends over. He might be suffering the Hangover From Hell, but the day he couldn’t find the wherewithal to appreciate Mary Kathleen’s incredibly fabulous boobs, he’d have to be blind, dying or both.

Not that he thought of her in some sort of sleazy, disrespectful, sexual object type of way. And certainly not anything he’d admit to, aloud. Mary Kathleen was a friend-- they’d kept in touch since meeting each other at her graduation two years ago-- and besides, he wasn’t going to discount the fact that she could quite possibly kick his ass. Or at least make his life a complete living hell. Nor was he about to make things awkward, particularly on her home turf.

It’s his first time in Ireland and certainly it’s a pretty big departure from America. Mary Kathleen’s family comes from a tiny village that looks like something out of a postcard, and just the other day, they were stuck behind the local idea of a traffic jam-- a flock of sheep taking their sweet time to cross the road. The land is a bit hilly, but lush and green, with a great deal more rain than he was accustomed to. But he could hardly complain. Not when it never came close to the downright dangerous temperatures of a sweltering Arizona summer, and especially not to Mary Kathleen’s exceptionally friendly family.

She’d told him, perhaps a year ago, that she’d lost both parents in her teens to a plane crash, and that she’d been taken in by an aunt and uncle afterwards, who’d lived in London at the time. They’d since moved back to Ireland after Uncle Murphy had retired, and though the sleepy little village of her youth certainly offered less by way of employment opportunities, there was no other place she’d rather be in the summers between school terms.

And so, as her friend, and as Zack’s unofficial babysitter, here he was. At least, that is to say, he got Zack safely into the UK and dropped him off into the competent hands of Amy, then embarked upon this little detour. And though he hadn’t exactly done anything super exciting thus far, it was worth it just to see this side of Mary Kathleen’s life, in her natural habitat, as it were.

He was never going to spend an evening at the pub with Uncle Murphy again, however. Everything that people said about the Irish and their alcohol tolerance was true.

About two hours later, Noah is roughly human again, after about four slices of dry toast, three cups of tea and two cat naps. He blearily makes his way towards the direction of the bathroom, which is tiny and adorable and had lace curtains on the windows, but also a shower about the size of a shoebox. The water pressure leaves something to be desired, but at least it does get good and hot. He sweats out the last little bit of alcohol left in his system, gets dressed, and wanders outside in search of his elusive hostess.

He finds her-- or at least a pair of very long and shapely legs that definitely look like hers-- sticking out from underneath a rusted, ancient jalopy of a car in a shade of brown-green usually associated with bird droppings or guacamole past its prime. The car is parked in a neighbour’s yard, and the neighbour in question seems to be a fairly ancient man wearing a sweater and a cap, who calls out when he sees Noah approaching.

“Yer Yank’s here, Mary Kathleen, and sure and he’s looking a lot more lively now than last night.”

“Me Yank’s a great buffoon who can’t handle his drink, but at least he conducts himself well enough when he’s half-pissed. I remember the time when Fergus McLean ran bare-arsed through the village singing ‘Whiskey In The Jar’, and if he wasn’t a walking advert for the evils of over-indulgence, I’m sure I can’t think of a one who’d suit it better.” Mary Kathleen, butt wiggling in her well-worn jeans, shimmies out from underneath the fugly car, a streak of black grease on one cheek, and grins up at him from her prone position on the ground. “I’m changing the oil of Flynn Malone’s car for him. He’ll be giving me some fresh eggs and a loaf of his wife’s soda bread for tomorrow’s breakfast, and perhaps if he’s feeling particularly generous and kindly, a pot of fresh butter as well, for none make better bread and sweeter butter than our Bridget Malone, aye?”

“‘Tis why I married her, to be sure,” Flynn Malone says agreeably, even as he gives Noah an unmistakable side-eye. “Now, my Bridget’s Da was fit to string me up by the bollocks, he was, when he caught me singing for her at her window in the moonlight before we were married. Our Mary Kathleen’s quite the prize herself, and I’d be happy to stand in for her Da if a lad comes sniffling after her and doesn’t do right by her.”

“I’m pretty sure if I did anything untoward in her presence, let alone directed at her, Mary Kathleen’s completely capable of kicking my ass herself,” Noah remarks in as polite a tone as he can muster, considering the conversation topic. “Therefore, I’m not going to try anything funny. I want to live.”

“Oy, yer smarter than ye look,” Flynn Malone guffaws as Mary Kathleen ducks back under the car to finish up. “We had our doubts. A body who makes a living getting pictures taken of his naked chest doesn’t always have a great deal going on upstairs.”

“The Yank’s working on his post-graduate in Physics at his Uni, and I’d thank you to be nice to my company, Flynn Malone.” Mary Kathleen reappears out from underneath that car. “Don’t be troubling him too much, or I’ll be tying a knot in your fuel line.”

Mary Kathleen wipes her hands and face clean with a damp towel, and Flynn Malone hands her a covered wicker basket full of the agreed-upon bread and eggs and butter, and after bidding her neighbour farewell, she and Noah head back to the house of her Uncle and Aunt.

“So, you never answered my question.” Noah carefully steers clear of any implications of his intentions towards Mary Kathleen. Not that they’re dishonourable, per se, but why bring a beautiful friendship into an awkward and potentially disastrous direction? Mary Kathleen, he knew, would never consider getting on a plane to even visit the United States, let alone move over there. “Do people here hate Americans, or do they just enjoy messing with me? I mean, I’m not mad. Just kind of curious.”

“Oh, you’re not from around here, and moreover you’re a male non-relative visiting my home. This part of Ireland is still quite traditional with things, so me neighbours probably want to make sure you’re not here to shag me and whistle off on your merry way, leaving me pregnant and unwed.” Noah’s eyes go wide at the last part of her explanation, and to his chagrin, Mary Kathleen blithely misinterprets his expression. “Not to fret, lad. I know you’ve no interest in such a matter. You’re quite safe from the parson’s trap. In the day and age of Flynn Malone, a man and a woman could scarce smile at each other without threats of the Banns being read, but I’m expecting naught from you of that sort.”

“Sure. I’m safe with you. Just not with any other number of people who’d like to see me miserable. Sounds good.”

“Maybe you should improve your constitution before we visit the pub again.” Mary Kathleen smirks up at him. “At least you no longer look like you’re fit to go to the Devil. You’re not quite to shirtless kilt standards, yet, but perhaps a nice walk in the fresh air will help you.”

“As long as I don’t step in any more cow shit.”

“I make no promises. You should have been more careful and watched your step.”

Noah says nothing about the fact that he’d been distracted staring at the freckles on her nose, and the glint of gold in her green eyes, and the way her t-shirt clung to her in a way white cotton had no business doing to anyone at any time, and follows her down the lane. He’d perhaps die in Ireland, but at least he’d die happy.

[antivanruffles]

nelwynp replied to your post: Favourite Disney or Dreamworks film?

Some of us remember Black Cauldron but actively try to ignore it for the complete and utter disservice it did to the book. ��

I never read the book. HA! 

I mostly just remember Hen Wen truthfully 

[antivanruffles]

nelwynp replied to your post: I still hate myself for shipping it and yet….. I...

You are not alone in this hell, I walk that path too 😘

AT LEAST I’M IN GOOD COMPANY! <3 <3 <3