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saundraswriting · 3 years

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Need Some TLC Chapter 8: Reminiscing.

SUMMARY: You're forced to sleep, during which Bucky clean your apartment and thinks back through your friendship.

WARNING: possible trigger for SH via overworking.

NOTES: Sorry it has been so long. This chapter has been a draft since September. Available on Ao3 here as well.

Masterlist // Ao3 // Previous

Bucky returned to the game and his friends. He knew he had a goofy smile on his face, but did nothing to squash it. You were safe and asleep in his bed, his friends were near and relaxing. No one was in danger or hurt. He was able to breathe a little easier.

"She's down for the count. I'm glad she's off. She needs a break." Bucky told Steve, who nodded in agreement.

You are so whipped; carrying her like a blushing bride, tucking your girl in." Sam teased.

"Nope. You won't get to me. I am quite aware of how I act around her." Bucky turned his his nose up at Sam's teasing causing the others to chuckle.

"Let's finish our game and leave. Bucky's got a sick girlfriend to care for." Clint said, the others agreed.

They wrapped up the game of Trivial Pursuit and cleared the last of lunch. As they left, Natasha and Sam passed along their praise to Bucky for taking proper care of you.

Steve and Bucky cleaned up their mess from their friends. Bucky gathered your things and looked at Steve on the couch. "I'm going to unpack her stuff and clean up the apartment. Maybe do some laundry. She needs to rest and she won't do that if her place is messy." Bucky told him. Steve only waved settling deeper into the couch. Bucky knew that even though it seemed like Steve was resting, he was as alert as ever. "Thanks, Steve. I should be back soon." Bucky left, and using your keys entered your apartment.

You place was a disaster. There was a sink full of dirty dishes, the counter had some and the top of the stove housed some dirty pans. Your trash obviously hadn't been taken out in a few days judging by the smell. Your bathroom floor was overran by dirty scrubs that were so filthy, they could have stood up and walked away. The was a handful of towels mixed in. Your living room had a smattering of empty food wrappers and meal replacement shake bottles. You couch had become a blanket breeding ground and seemed to have become your temporary base of operations. You apartment normally very tidy reflected your lack of time to clean and your recent days spent at the hospital.

Bucky had known since you walked through his door, he was coming over to clean your apartment. You worked 60-70 hour work weeks and when he could he would come over and make you dinner. He either kept you company or supplied a extra set of hands for the days you were really tired or busy. He originally helped you as a way to repay you for all the thing you knowingly and unknowingly helped him with but over time it changed from he should help you to he wanted to help you. He wanted to help you anyway he could, to make you smile, to keep you healthy and happy.

He first decided a load of laundry was the start point. He grabbed your scrubs and threw them all in, adding your extra laundry sanitizer to help with germs and the softener the way you like it. He peeked into your room and saw the perfectly made bed. 'How many times has she come home and collapsed on the couch to get up a few hours later and do it all again?' He kept cleaning, scrubbing the bathroom until it gleamed. He moved on to sweeping and mopping while some of the dishes soaked. He stayed on top of the laundry, he hung your scrubs and replaced the throws that littered your furniture. He was washing the dishes when one of your novelty mugs caught his attention. The was a crack in the handle and the sight of it made him smile.

Steve and Bucky were on their to the compound, the first floor of their building practically empty, talking to themselves. When they saw you it was too late, you were carrying boxes and definitely weren't able to see them. In the aftermath of the crash, Bucky helped you to your feet while Steve fixed your boxes. Nothing was broken except the mug, the handle cracked clean off.

" Ma'am! Are you alright? Anything hurt? Are you dizzy?" Bucky questioned. You shook your head, shrinking in on yourself a bit.

"Ma'am, all you belongings are fine. Nothing broke pardon your mug. I will gladly repair it for you."

You didn't answer him, looking at the ground. Steve and Bucky shared a glance and looked back at you. You seemed to be frozen then you looked up thawing instantly. "Captain Rogers? Sargent Barnes?" You gasped. "I am so sorry. Are you injured?" You lurched forward, hands millimeters from their bodies, wanting to assess for injuries.

They laughed and shook their heads. They tried to be unintimidating, seeing as how nervous you were. "Ma'am, a slight run in like this didn't even phase us. You were the one who ended up on the ground." Steve said.

"I am fine. A little sad my favorite mug is broken." You sighed, handling the pieces affectionately. "Oh, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am moving into apartment 5B." You stuck out your hand. Steve and Bucky shared a look. That was there floor. The building had two or three apartments per floor.

"Welcome to the building. I'm Bucky Barnes. This is Steve Rogers."

"Nice to properly meet you both. I am a general care nurse at Mercy Hospital. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to knock." You grinned up at the two Avengers before gathering your boxes.

"Please let us help. Can't let you do this all on your own." Steve offered. You shook your head moving to the elevator.

"First, I am strong independent woman. Second, you were obviously o your way to somewhere. Third, 'can't let me? You should know by now, Captain, that is not how you speak to a woman. Fourth I refuse to allow Captain America and The Winter Solider carry my boxes, that is a little too degrading for me." You were just about to step into the elevator. Thanks anyways, boys. Have a good day." You tossed over your shoulder. Steve and Bucky stared at your back before sharing another glance.

Steve blocked the elevator doors with his arm. He darted forward and took the boxes from you. Bucky flashed a grin, turning towards the door leading to the parking garage. "Ma'am, I'm Captain America, yes. And I wasn't really asking."

"Oh? Does the rest of the world know how much of a punk you are?" You asked.

The memory pulled a laugh out of Bucky at you sink. The was the first of many moments the three of you shared.

The day had continued. The three of you had gotten everything out of the moving van. Once done you shoved them out the door telling them to go to work, you had to return the van. When Steve and Bucky got home, they could hear muffled shouting and swearing, you hadn't waited for them to come back before moving furniture.

"Y/N, open the door please." Steve said with a sigh. He knew now he would have to keep an eye on his new neighbor seeing as she was impatient. You wretched the door open, hair sticking to your face and neck, face red with exertion and a plate of brownies in your hands.

Brownies that you thrust at Steve. "Here is payment for helping me today. I am sure the extra calories will be burned off quickly." You shut the door right in their faces.

Bucky and Steve were stunned silent outside your door. They could hear you yelling at yourself quieter than before. "No, they won't join you for dinner, you dumbass. Anyone else would have helped you move in." You were pacing, almost stomping. You threw the door open and took the plate of brownies back. "You can't have these until after dinner. Dinner I would like you ta have with me. In return for all your help." You had a smile on your face even though your hands were shaking.

In one sentence you had caught Bucky's whole undivided attention. He was infatuated with your sass and strength and complete disregard for his and Steve's day jobs.

Bucky blinked back into awareness. He had finished all of your dishes while reminiscing about the day you met. That first day had set the trend for the rest of your friendship. You treated them like normal people, there were a few times you seemed to freeze because of their looks or bulk but most of the time you refused to tolerate their bullshit but you were there for them when needed. You helped keep them grounded when the anxiety and stress and nightmares locked them in their heads and apartment. Bucky liked taking care of you, he liked having a friend that depended on him and appreciated him not for his enhancements but for himself. He liked returning your easy affection and acts of service. He continued to clean your apartment, folding your clothes and putting them on your clean bed. He was straightening up the living room again, fiddling with the throws thinking of the first time you had let him in.

He had just gotten back from a mission. Another group with a badly put together doomsday plot, you had just gotten back from a 3-11 shift. You hadn't seen either of them in a while, your schedules not matching up so you were excited to see Bucky. Bucky was alone, Steve wanting to stay at the Compound to finish up the paperwork and work off the last of the tension. You had forced him into your place with the promise of pizza and his pick of documentary. That was the moment Bucky fell in love with you. You didn't mind that he had the habit of being quiet and sullen. You didn't mind that Steve wasn't there, you were okay with just Bucky. You let him in, you were warm and soft and inviting. He fell asleep on your couch. The next morning Bucky woke up with a pillow and blanket, a big platter of cookies with a note on it.

Taking care of you when you were sick with a cold was the least he could do after everything you did to help him with recovery. You helped him see the benefits of therapy, even helping him through the rougher spots. Sometimes Bucky thought he was closer to you in ways than Steve. Steve didn't know about the late nights spent on your couch learning everything he could about the strange and sometimes intimidating future he found himself in. Steve didn't know how much you soothed him on the bad days, even the thought of you made him smile when he was stuck in his head.

He took one last look around and deemed your apartment clean enough, he turned all the lights off and grabbed your trash to take to the community trash room and headed back upstairs to begin dinner for the three of you.

"I would say it smells good but we both know I can't smell anything." You voice interrupted him. Bucky turned a large grin showing his teeth and dimples lighting up his face. Your breath caught in your throat. Academically you had noticed Bucky's attractiveness. You spent days...weeks pushing down the thoughts and feelings Bucky initiated and it worked for a while. Worked until Bucky started noticing you. At the beginning you had worked regular hours and were doing well but as time passed, needs at the hospital grew and you went from well to good to ok. Bucky began putting the numbers together-the little sleep, the long hours, lost weight, decreased appetite-realizing your lack of self care.

Healthcare was not an easy field, it took a toll on you mentally and physically. You stopped taking care of you to take care of others and after so long it was hard to stop. You had begun the insane hours six months ago, your supervisor promising it wouldn't be long, there was a few graduate nurses due to start soon. You ignored the signs of a depressive episode, lack of attention, apathy, disregard of personal needs-thinking it was just burn out. You decided the best option would be to work through it, get on the other side of the staff issue and take a vacation and be done with it but the staff is still short and now you were sick and needed Bucky to take care of you like a child.

He spent so much time trying to help you with your issues after he worked through his own. His recent help and attention did nothing to help ease you affection for him, you couldn't say anything though. e rarely let people into his circle, he spent too long giving himself willingly or unwilling to other people for you to even ask him for anything. You just enjoyed being close enough to be there for him to lean on, you wanted to help him shoulder his burdens like he did you. 'Bucky Barnes is too good.' You thought.

"Y/N! You're up. Good! Sleep alright? You didn't sleep very long." Bucky said. He gave you a quick look over, seeing you with messy hair while wearing his clothes brightened his smile even more.

"Yeah, I did. I got a little hot so I thought it would be a good time to get up and see what was happening. How was the rest of your team bonding?" You asked.

"I am working on dinner." Bucky told you. You walked over to where his was working only to nudged away. "Aw, hell no, sweets. You are sick. I ain't getting your germs all over my food. Even if I can't catch it. Also you are my guest, so sit down." You took the hint and sat at the table, leaning on your hand.

"I am a guest at your place while I am here. So I can't be of use? But at my place, you have free reign?" You straighten up, glaring at Bucky's back. "You say I am your best girl and you help me all the time, but I can't help you?" Your bravado shrank a little. You felt your eyes grow wet.

"My sweet girl. I'd love nothing more for you to be over everyday. I want you to get better before anything else. I am helping you know. You have already helped me. You just existing helps me every single day. That is why you are my best girl. Always." Bucky pulled you into a tight hug, he could feel you trembling. "Everything is fine. Things were never not fine. I am not yelling at you. I just want you healthy. I also want you to have a place where you can relax. If that means I do chores at your place or you don't do chores at my place then so be it. I don't want you working so hard." Bucky's voice was low and rumbled in your ear where it was pressed to his chest, soothing your frayed nerves.

"Sorry Bucky, I get emotional when I am sick. Doesn't help I've been stuck in my head the last few days." You took a deep breath, calming down even more.

"Baby doll, never apologize to me for how you are feeling. Your feeling are always valid no matter the reason. I like knowing what is going on in that pretty little head of yours at all times. Now, instead of sitting here in the kitchen uncomfortable, got sit on the couch."

"I am only going because I want to pick out a movie, not because you told me to." You tried to sit on the couch but missed the mark turning it into a tired flop.

"You are always so stubborn. Just sit and rest. You have today and tomorrow and the next day off. Let me pamper you. You work too long." Bucky turned back to dinner.

"I know. Work's been so hard lately and my mental health has been deteriorating. I know I can't keep this pace up forever. I also know that I depend on you too much, but I am trying. I am just...so tired you know?" You couldn't face Bucky instead talking to the remote used to control the F.R.I.D.A.Y implemented media library.

"It is okay to be tired. It is okay to ask for help and depend on others. It is okay to put yourself first sometimes." Bucky told you. You stayed silent, thinking over what he said.

"Did you learn that from your therapist?" You joked fiddling with the remote.

"No, I learned that from you." You jerked your head up to see Bucky looking at you. "You taught me that." He reiterated. His blue eyes shone with sincerity. "Now, pick something to watch." He tried to lighten the mood.

Steve came through the door at that moment. "Sorry Buck, I told you that I would stay here but I was needed at the Compound. How's it going?" Steve asked you.

"Good. I am going to take more meds after dinner, and I slept a bit. I was getting the movie of the night started. Wanna get comfy and join me?" Steve agreed and went to do just that. You cued up the movie and waited.

After a bit, Steve came back and Bucky handed you your meds and a plate of food. "Here you go. Make sure to drink all that gatorade."

"Yes, mom." You said sarcastically.

Bucky sighed heavily. "Don't joke. Between you and Steve I am surprised I haven't grown feathers and the ability to cluck."

"I don't know Buck, you do tend to cluck quite a bit." Steve teased him. Bucky glared at him with no heat, moving to take his food away. "No! I'm sorry. Don't be mean." You laughed at their antics.

Dinner passed with jokes and laughter and ended with Bucky tucking your sleeping form back into his bed. He tried to leave but you had ahold of his shirt. "Stay, please." You said, tightening your grip.

"Okay, hun. I'll stay. Let me get changed." You snuggled deeper under the covers while he got changed. Bucky crawled in with you, you turned over squeezing close. He watched over you as your breaths got slower and more regular. You shifted a bit mumbling under your breath. "Love" you Bucky." Before dropping fully into sleep. Bucky smiled with a "I love you too." before doing the same.

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So what did you think? Thank you so much for hanging around as long as you have! I appreciate all your support.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #bucky barnes x medical! reader #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fanfiction #domestic avengers #avengers family

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alitheamateur · 5 years

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The Grind- Chapter 26

“You sure about this place, babe? How come you don’t just wanna grab some coffee from The Grind and go back to crash on the couch at home?” I asked as Colton pulled open my passenger side door to walk hand-in-hand with me down the sidewalk.

Luckily, I cautioned Tia’s persistent advice at dinner last night, and limited myself to only three glasses of wine, and one measly shot of Patron. So, Colton’s 7 a.m. feisty bite to the exposed skin of my cheek under the sheet as my wake-up call, wasn’t ruined with a blistering hangover. He was adamant about taking me to some diner he’d heard about from one of the guys at the bike shop to try their German potato pancakes that he was just so certain I’d love, and I was a sucker for a languid, sweatpants breakfast date every now and then.

“It’ll be fine, Livvy. Let’s enjoy some good grub, then I promise we’ll squeeze in a nap before we head to the gym later. Deal?”

He kissed the fingers that were interlocked with his own, then smiled mischievously as we slipped inside, escaping the rustling winds of the morning. We didn’t stop at the ‘wait to be seated sign’, instead Colt scanned the room, peeping over the full booths and tables around the room.

“C’mon, I see an empty table over here, babe.” he pointed, tugging me not so gently to the left of the hostess stand.

“Colton, we have to wai-,” I started to argue with his bullish, bizarre behavior, but before I could state my objections, reality slapped me across the face.

Seated with their backs to us, both sipping on a black cup of the house blend, were two Indiana natives, very far from home. Mom turned around to investigate the bustling approach over her shoulder, and stood to push herself from the seat with an unsure smile.

“Wh-..how did you guys get here? What’s going on?” I babbled wrapping a halfhearted, confused embrace around her neck, searching for an explanation from someone in the party of 3.

“It was all sweet, Colton, Liv honey. He arranged the whole thing. He insisted we come.” mom confessed, admiring Colton with a look of appreciation.

“I wanted ‘em here to see you fight, baby. And to see the house and everythin’. They got here yesterday afternoon, and I got them all set up at Westin, and ate dinner with the both of ‘em last night to get familiar.”

The pieces started to connect then. Why Tia was so snarky with keeping me away from the bottle, why Colton was so incessant about dragging me out of the house before 9 a.m. this morning, and why there was a button-down dress shirt discarded into the hamper when I did laundry after a late return home last night. I internally tipped a hat to his successful undercover moonlighting, though.

“Kid wouldn’t take a dime from us, either. Paid for the tickets, a ride from the airport, and our room, too. Seems we owe this one, sweetheart.” I heard dad say as I took one of the empty seats across the table from he and mom.

Their visit may not have been on my terms, or my timing, but I did feel complete having them here. Although there was a suitcase of nerves that landed on that plane along with their arrival to Pittsburgh, it just felt, right. The four of us, together, all in one place had me swelling with a sense of gladness and completion, all courtesy of the mysterious man in blue seated to my right.

“I can’t believe you did all this, Ritter. I expect a play-by-play when we get home, ya’ big box of lies.” I leaned to kiss him sincerely.

“I’m pretty impressed with myself to tell the truth.”

The meal consisted of bacon all around, mom whining about the cold temperature, those potato cakes Colton was correct about me losing my mind over, and a general calm, steady flow of conversation. I was impressed at how normal, and interested Tony and Liz seemed to be the entire time. Dad never brought up a single utterance of basketball, and mom pounded me with questions about my match, and what it would be like. I felt a connection so genuine that had been minuscule for so many years, and I knew Colton played a tremendous role in the healing psychological wounds.

“You guys should come by the house and spend the afternoon with us. All my stuff is moved in, and it doesn’t look like a construction site anymore. Mom, we could swing by the food market to get what you need for gran’s jambalaya for dinner, too!”

My inner, overly-eager, rambunctious childlike manner took me over, and I instantly began bulleting out an itinerary of events. I’d have to take mom to meet Andrew, and she would die over the Americana at The Grind. And dad, maybe Colton and I could take him to the trolley museum and a PNC park tour in the next couple of days.

“Livvy, we’ve got to try and get to the gym for a few hours today. It’s down to crunch time, babe,” Colt reminded me with apologetic tone. “But, we can check them out their room, and settle ‘em in at the house first, okay?”

Of course, the gym. This week wouldn’t be one of family dinners and touristy adventures with the fight countdown fuse burning low. And now, I had even more work to do down at Temple Fitness with my parents in attendance. The weight of potentially letting Colton, Tia, and the rest of my corner down was sickening enough, now add the weight of Tony and Elizabeth and you’ve got one wound tight Liv. Perfectionism is a weakness not all can relate to, and of that they should be eternally thankful. I failed my Warrior teammates and the rest of my small-town not so many years ago, and that disappointment in itself nearly disconnected me entirely. I may have grown and evolved in many ways since relocating to the Pittsburgh, but the will to please my loved ones was a quality I would undoubtedly live with until my final breath.

“You do whatever needs to be done today, sweetheart. I know these next few days are crucial, so don’t mind us. We’ll take whatever time you can give us.” my mom pats my hand from across the table, and shot and thoughtful smirk.

“We’re just happy to be here, Livvy. You’ve got a good one there.” My dad’s opinion of the man I loved was never considered to be a worry I had, but in that moment, I couldn’t have been more prideful in how truly wonderful Colton had been to them, and to me for organizing this little surprise.

After dragging my parents’ belongings up the front steps of our home, and leaving them the keys to my car in case they got the pangs to explore around a bit, Colton and myself dutifully reported for in for a session down to the gym. The last couple days I had been studying up on a submission move I really wanted to try out. The Omoplata essentially was a move to apply unbearable stress on the arm of your opponent, inevitably resulting in a tap out. Tia, nor Colton had introduced me to the technique, but it was one I had stumbled upon doing some research on my own one afternoon during some down time at the Pilot office. Having never actually seen it done in reality, I only had internet tutorials, and other martial arts circuit fights that had been posted online to educate myself.

Upon trucking into the somewhat crowded parking lot, and settling my duffle into a locker down the hall from the ring room, Tia had called to say something had soured in her stomach, and she wouldn’t be making it in to train with us today unless I wanted to mop up her throw-up. Naturally, I insisted she stay in and recover, leaving me in the hands of Colt.

“Grab the rope, let’s warm up for 10 minutes after you stretch, babe.” my handsome trainer instructed as he downed the settlings of a pre-workout drink at the bottom of his cup.

“Did you remember to tell dad about the construction on Liberty bridge in case they decide to venture out of the house?” My voice vibrated as I bounced with the whip-like jump rope.

“Yep, as we were walkin’ out the front door, Liv. Don’t worry, ‘ight? They’ll be fine. I gotta say though, I wasn’t expectin’ ya’ to be so thrilled about ‘em being here.”

I was fairly flabbergasted myself in that matter, but I had no explanation for my nervous excitement. I guess, maybe it was the common cliché of not knowing how much you in fact needed something, until you had it.

“Thank you, handsome. I really am glad you did all that. Although, I’m a little concerned with all the unsuspected sneaking around you were able to get away with.” I smirked, dropping the braided rope to adjust the tightness of my messy bun.

“It nearly got the best ‘a me lying to you like that, but it was for good reason, at least. Except, them being at the house every night for the next few days may turn out to be a little problem. Seein’ as their daughter can’t keep her greedy little hands off me & all…” he teased unnlacing his trainers to pull of his socks before we moved into the ring. He was knelt on one knee just a foot or two behind where I stood, then inched over in that crouched position to friskily bite the pert cheek of my backside, and grabbed a handful of the other.

I’d never get tired of those stout, mitt-like hands of his touching my body, and I let my head drop backward a bit to sigh into his touch. If by some unfortunate event, things between us happen to fall to pieces again, no man would ever live up to the bar set by the infamous Colton Ritter.

“I can manage a little self-control, you animal. Let’s make a bet on who caves in first, shall we?” I said, stepping over the middle rope of the mat.

“You better be careful playin’ with fire girl. You may get burned.”

We had bounced around, grappling and rolling for nearly an hour already, with just a couple rushed breaks for water, and I still hadn’t built up the courage to try the move I had been so eager to crack at. I welcomed the respect that Colton had to never half-ass me when we did train one-on-one, however always extremely careful to make sure I was never harmed in any way. His insights, and words of wisdom related to the cage were something I considered to be a matchless gift, and I loved him eternally for offering it up.

Just as I was about to weigh the Omoplata to be the impossible, especially considering my mock opponent at the current time, Colton let down a wall, and broke his own most crucial ‘golden rule’ of fighting. He attempted to tangle me, but instead, mistakenly gave me his back, awarding me the perfect moment to pounce. I pinched his shoulder between the bones of my knees, then swung one leg hurriedly over his head. Colton’s arm was trapped between the center of my limbs, essentially hooked around my left thigh as I crossed my ankles. I flattened his chest and face to the mat with speed I didn’t know I had, and swung my legs to the side, easing into a squat with his helpless arm still locked in. The stretching pressure of his muscle grew the higher I raised, and defeated, Colton yelped out with a tap.

Instantly releasing, I tumbled to my back, and laid to rest with exasperating breaths. Executing the technique on an individual with such a powerful strength, was equally as exhausting on the attacker as the victim, and I could feel my blood tingling, and rushing through my veins like the Colorado rapids.

“I sure as hell don’t fuckin’ remember teachin’ you that, 2-1,” my captor said still face planted onto the canvas, almost cackling. “But you pulled it off with damn near perfection. I’m impressed, baby!”

“That one is just a little something I picked up on my own. Coach…” I replied, mounting his back to massage his shirtless shoulders.

Colton flipped, doing a 180 to now laying on his back, with me still atop him with a sweaty, rosy face.

“Oh, so she thinks she can pin me now, huh? Don’t get too comfortable up there, Elliott. You know I don’t do bottom.”

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this-lioness · 4 years

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Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done. This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up. Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious. So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side. I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for. I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary. And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet. And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over? I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON. Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards. Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on! And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up. His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday. I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house! And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me. I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks? Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t 2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1. You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. 2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair. The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory. And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit! I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store! Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE. Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone. I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch. It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT. Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1. Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2. Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3. Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4. Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5. Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6. Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it. That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.) The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7. Clean the floors (vacuum and mop). This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done. Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware. We have talked about this. He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE! I love my house and I love taking care of it. I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine! I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome. Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

#oc #ugh

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flyingsassysaddles · 7 years

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After the Soviet Union

Ivan Braginsky was miserable. The Soviet Union had collapsed, his economy was in ruins, and he had to deal with that STUPID American’s look of triumph, an expression that said, oh, I’m sorry, were you are a superpower? I didn’t notice over the sound of ALL MY MONEY! Mwhwhaha! It didn’t help that he now owed the American 45 bucks from a bet back in 1945.

But the worst part of it all was the loneliness. During the Soviet Union, there was always people mulling and working around the house, talking and laughing and filling the large mansion with cheerful banter and at least some noise. But all of the Soviet states left, with Kazakhstan being the last one to skip out the door. She even punched his shoulder and cackled about how she was going to destroy the rest of Central Asia, before telling him that she hoped she and Russia could still trade after this mess was over.

And once she was gone, the house had gone quiet. Deathly quiet. The only sounds came from the howling winds and the mansion’s occasionally shudders. Ivan would sit in his room and listen, hoping to hear Latvia yelling about impossible to cook food, or the Caucasus nations throwing rocks at each other with glee, or even the sound of his older sister humming away while finishing the laundry. But there was nothing, and the house remained a solemn tomb of memories long gone, and a fancy casket for a bitter old man who wanted to hide away in the ground and never come out. His sulking lasted for weeks, months, before one nation had enough.

“IVAANJAV!” The house roared, and Russia fell out of his chair in surprise. Did the house finally learn how to talk? And why did it sound like an angry Mongolia?

“IVAANJAV, I KNOW YOU ARE HERE!” Oh god that wasn’t the house, Ivan realized rather stupidly, still a bit hungover from his vodka drinking session from last night. That WAS Mongolia. Oh god, he worried, Mongolia didn’t come here to kill him did he? He heard that happened sometimes with empires and their subjects. But, he reasoned, Mongolia didn’t live here, and he was an independent nation! He couldn’t have come here to kill him. Right?

“IVAANJAV, FOR THE LAST FRICKING TIME, I KNOW YOU ARE HERE! SHOW YOURSELF YOU VODKA LOVING COWARD!” Better safe than sorry, Russia decided, and jumped out of the kitchen and to into his locked weapon supply room upstairs.

“WELL THEN, IF THAT’S HOW YOU WANT TO PLAY YOU RUSSIAN DRUNK, LET’S GO! I HAVE ALL DAY TO FIND YOU!” the house rumbled, and Russia took a gun and spear from off one of the walls and pointed them at the door in fear. No way the Mongol was going to get him! Not when he still had 326 fully functional guns in the same room!

“READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Ivan waited in silence, skin crawling with fear and eyes wide, tracking the door’s every move. The minutes dragged on, and the Russian slowly began to relax slightly, gun pointed a bit down. Then an hour past, and Ivan was lulled into a sense of safety, putting his gun on the ground where he was sitting and searching through his pocket for any vodka or food that he usually had stashed all over his house (except for the weapon room dammit). Time walked on, and Russia boredly looked at one of his guns that he won from Alfred (he had an entire collection along with angry letters from Alfred to send them back, which he never did of course). More time sped by, and Russia was debating coming out to fight Mongolia just for the entertainment when the door slammed open and an angry looking braided hair man glared at the terrified Russian with god like fury.

“You see, THIS is why I DON’T DO NICE THINGS! I come all the way from ASIA to come see you, AND YOU’RE HIDING FROM ME IN A ROOM! I spent 3 HOURS LOOKING FOR YOU IN THIS BLASTED HOUSE!” Mongolia roared, grabbing Ivan’s collar and pulling him off the ground, thoroughly pissed off. “AND I FIND YOU HIDING IN A CLOSET!”

“It’s a weapon room,” he corrected meekly, only for Mongolia to drop him onto the ground and jab at his chest with every furious word the Mongolian had to say.

“WELL, if it’s a WEAPON ROOM I suppose that makes it alright that I was on a plane for SIX hours to come and cheer you up and had to look around your MANSION WITHOUT ANY FOOD OR WATER OR ANYONE TO SAY HELLO! Because after all, it's a WEAPON ROOM!” Mongolia threw his hands in the air and started to walk out. “THIS is why I never listen to Tibet. Go cheer up your friend, he said, it’ll be a fun trip, he said, he wouldn’t hide in any CLOSETS, he said. I’m never taking that monk’s advice again.”

Ivan’s eyes widen and he rushed out of the weapon room trying to catch up to the furious Mongol. “Look Munkhbat, I’m sorry, I didn't know!” He caught up to the fairly short man on the stairs, grabbing his sleeves and panting from walking so fast. “Please,” he said in between gasps of air, “Stay for awhile, you came all this way after all.”

The former empire looked at the doubled over man, still gasping for air, and decided that he really did need to have a talk with Ivaanjav. The Russian looked like a goat that had been in the wild and eating nothing but wild flowers for years. Not to mention the Mongol was hungry.

“Alright fine. I’ll stay. But you have to give me food,” Mongolia grunted, and went down the rest of the stairs to the kitchen.

“Thank you Munkhbat! I was simply frightened, I didn’t mean to insult you.” Ivan gave a sigh of relief and looked around the kitchen, before realizing with a face full of embarrassment that he hadn’t cleaned the kitchen in three months. The mongol sat on a chair behind him, looking at the destroyed kitchen with a critical eye. Ivaanjav was in even worse shape than he thought.

“Sorry about the kitchen, I haven’t cleaned up in a while.”

“I can see that.”

“Um, would you like some food?” Mongolia raised an eyebrow. “Right, stupid question. What food would you like?”

“Anything that isn’t filled with vodka and the smell of death, which is what I assume is half of what you have.”

“Pickles it is.” Ivan grabbed a jar of pickles from the top shelf, and placed in on the table in front of Mongolia, putting down a paper plate and a couple of plastic forks down as well. Ivan sat down, and they both looked at their quite pathetic meal, before Munkhbat decided to address the elephant in the large, awkward, and more than a little sad room.

“Ivaanjav, you’re a mess.”

“I know, the food is a little bad but-”

“No, I mean YOU are a mess. Look at yourself! You obviously haven’t changed your clothes in weeks, and the house is in complete disarray! Just look of your kitchen you are always so proud of! It’s terrible. All of your things are being destroyed and falling apart and rotting because you are not taking care of anything. This place is a mess, The kitchen is a mess. But the biggest, worst, most rotting mess in this room, is you.”

Ivan’s eyes went wide. He looked around the kitchen he used to be so proud of back in the Soviet days, looked up at the ceiling where a spot of fungus could be seen on the ancient roof, and then glanced down at himself, at his stained coat and unwashed hair, his nails coated with dirt and skin gritty from oil and spilled alcohol. He looked at it all, and then at Munkhbat’s severe face. And then Ivan started to cry.

Mongolia led him to the couch in an adjoining room as Ivan sobbed his heart out, collapsing on the couch and hugging a pillow soon filled with snot and tears. Ivan cried and cried, harder than he cried after the death of Anastasia, harder than he cried during all the wars he had to fight as a child, harder than when Germany stabbed him the back, harder than he ever left anyone hear. He cried for his lost Soviet Union. He cried because how he lost the great, terrible game between him and America. He cried because of the way the house creaked and groaned with no one to sweep its cobwebs or mop the floor. He cried because he would never, ever be able to cry this way again, like the world had crashed and burned, and he was the only that got singed, and everyone was happy to see the whole world die, and leave him alone burning in the dirt. He cried and he cried, letting his heart out in the open for all to see, lost in a pile of emotions he would never feel again.

Through it all, Munkhbat sat besides him, giving tissues when asked and bringing over water when it was not. He listened as his former charge cried loneliness and fear and sorrow. He sat by and waited until Ivan had cried every emotion out of him, leaving an empty shell of a man who sat numbly on the couch and sniffled every once in awhile, blowing his nose and hugging the pillow tighter. He sat there when Ivan finally said something comprehensible, the first real, unfiltered thought he had since everyone had left him to die alone, since the world had left to watch him burn.

“Do we have any food?”

It took something digging, but Munkhbat managed to produce some bread he had found deep in the cupboard. After that proved to be insufficient to the now doubly hungry men, Mongolia swallowed his pride and ordered chinese food. After yelling at the lady on the phone for a few minutes (“What do you mean you can’t deliver in this location?! It’s not THAT far from Moscow! Get your stupid chinese food over to this address or I will burn you restaurant to the ground! I’m hungry and I know your address god dammit!), the food arrived and they sat down at the newly cleaned table, talking of times past long ago.

“I know how you feel Ivaanjav. When I fell apart after the Mongol Empire, I felt excruciating pain for years. I could hardly move! It was a miracle that Buddha didn’t call me up to afterlife right then.”

“You felt the terrible pain of loneliness and sadness that feels like it could swallow your being because everyone hates you and wish you’d simply disappear so they can get your land?”

“Er, I was talking about more physical pain, feeling like I was being torn into pieces day after day after day, with my limbs randomly falling off and new scars popping up every once in awhile, but sure, that too I guess.”

“Does it ever get easier?” Russia asked softly, purring down his chow mein and staring at the white rice like it had all the answers.

The mongol shrugged. “It is like any loss. It hurts forever, but it dulls with time. Who knows? Maybe in 40 years you won’t even feel that sad anymore.”

“Oh.” Ivan looked back down at his rice. “What would you do if you were in my place then?”

“Besides relish in glory over all the land I owned?”

“Um, sure.”

“Join an army.”

“Really? What would you do for the sadness?” Ivan asked.

“Join an army.”

“The loneliness?”

“Join an army.”

“The lack of purpose?”

“Join an army, duh. That one was easy.”

“No friends?

“Join an army.”

“Would you do anything BESIDES joining an army?”

The mongol was quiet for a second, before scratching his braided hair in confusion and giving Russia a raised eyebrow. “Does joining a mercenary ring count?”

“I can’t believe you. Would you do anything BESIDES fighting?!”

“Of course not! I’m a fighter! The only way I’m still alive is because I hit my problems! If I feel bad, I’ll just follow my great leader Genghis Khan’s word of advice.”

“And what’s that?”

“Join an army.” Russia gave a cry of frustration and Mongolia let a tiny smirk rest on his face.

“Okay, what about if you were feeling like I was feeling, you couldn’t fight anyone, and had no way to join an army of any kind. What would you do then?” Ivan asked, trying to get an answer that could actually help him.

“That is the reason Tibet exists,” Munkhbat grinned, devouring more of his rice.

“So you’re saying I should seek the comfort of those I love?”

“Sure Ivaanjav. Whatever you say. Do we have any more rice?”

Soon all the food was gone, and the pair were sitting on the couch once more, remote in hand and surfing through Russian channels. They sat in silence, well, Mongolia was complaining about the crappy T.V reception, which was rich coming from a guy who never had reception at his place, as Russia pointed out, but that might have well been white noise. Generally, they sat in relative silence, until Russia finally spoke.

“Thanks for coming. I needed that,” he whispered, glancing at Munkhbat to see his reaction.

“Hmm? You mean making you cry? Don’t worry about it, I do it often, though not really on purpose. Think of it as tough love,” Munkhbat explained, before focusing back at the T.V.

“Mongolia?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for what I did to you when I was the Soviet Union.”

“Well, that’s in the past now, isn’t it? Besides, at least you apologized, and that makes you twice the man China will ever be. Oh, go back a couple channels, I think I saw a Spanish opera.”

#hetalia #daily upload #russia #mongolia #soviet union #tibet #america #end of cold war #tough love #just a idea main #fanfic #a great spanish opera

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hisvault · 7 years

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For my tenth anniversary the wife and I decided to go to Ireland. This pleased me beyond belief. I have been to some great places but for what ever reason never thought that I would find myself in Ireland. Yet here we go. We got some pretty good deals so far, the flight was booked round trip through Aer Lingus, and we got a small studio apartment using Home Away. All in all we have only spent 2800 bucks so far and we took care of the two biggest items. Are expectations are high, but our itinerary is low. We are going to relax and take it all in. The main goal is to go and enjoy the people, the pubs, and mainly the scenery. We are only a few days away from setting off onto our journey, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Day #1 Pre Trip (Friday)

The pre-trip excitement and jitters have begun, more so for the wife then me. She has made many statements that don’t seem all that logical or maybe I just don’t get it. All of a sudden there is zero time, even though we leave on Sunday, and everything needs to be cleaned as if the damn Pope is coming over. The biggest thing is that she wants to clean weird shit all of a sudden like “Do you think we should mop the ceiling”, or “Eww, HONEY WE SHOULD PROBABLY DUST THE INSIDE OF THE FRIDGE BEFORE WE LEAVE”, WTF. I try to remind her that there will be no one here for a week, and trust me the cat doesn’t give a shit what the house looks like. The other things that need to be accomplished fall in very different categories such as needing to get haircuts, shaving all of my body hair off, getting her toe nails done, shopping for more clothes, checking the weather in Ireland every 15 minutes, searching our closet for 30-60 minutes as if new clothes will magically appear each time we re-enter this den of outdated cloth. While I begin to pack I will be reminded over and over again that I shouldn’t take that and pack this, and constantly asked will this fit in your bag. Oh the joys of travel.

9:00 AM

Showers are complete, the wife and my oldest are headed to the mall soon to purchase a shit ton of items that will only be worn once. They will eat a crazy good lunch, and I am sure that when she gets home she will only pack half the things she bought. Me I am off to find barber to cut my hair, not just any barber though it has to be one the can cut my hair so it doesn’t burn my wife’s eyes when she gazes at me. This has been an ongoing battle. I usually don’t get to caught up in it, I pick the first place I see and get it cut. I remind you that I have been overseas a lot and have had some wild people cut my hair. My favorite was a gay Filipino with long nails that would sing Christina Aguilera’s “DIRTY” while cutting my hair, and this took place in Riyadh Saudi Arabia. Yes a gay Filipino hair stylist in the middle of Saudi Arabia. Dude was good though.

11:35 AM

Back from my hair cut. The girls are still shopping. I take this valuable time to wonder around the house and just think about all the things I should be doing.

12:55 PM

Fuck I got shit to do!

1:00 PM

Cold Beer?

1:05 PM

Well I guess I better Mop.

8:25 PM

The puppy has gotten a bath at PETCO, more laundry is in, and I believe the wife is a bottle deep on some white wine. Me, well I have had a couple more summer ales. Time to relax and enjoy the night. I think I have been asked to vacuum the lawn tomorrow.

Day #2 Pre-Trip (Saturday)

8:30 AM

The wife is up and ready to leave so that she can get her hair done. Most mornings it takes what feels like 47 and half hours for her to get ready in the morning. Since she is trying a new hair dresser it took 20 minutes to get ready. Where is this motivation every other day. I have been told that her hair will take up to 3 hours. Holy shit, 3 hours! That’s insane. For what ever reason the woman that is normally the most impatience person I know, all of a sudden has the patience of a Buddhist Monk. Crazy, is 0930 to early for a drink?

9:33 AM

So I didn’t grab a drink, but I did start the laundry. I am beginning to feel like she has a master plan where I do all the cleaning while she runs around.

10:38 AM

I cut the grass one last time for this week. Started some more laundry and now have become anxious about my pancreas. Three weeks ago I had Pancreatitis which was by far the most painful thing I have ever felt. It was like a tiny dwarf made of razor blades was doing laps in my stomach and back. So fast forward I had three beers yesterday and now I think I have awaken the beast again. Probably all in my head.

1:56 PM

I went and tried to pick up my dry cleaning and it wasn’t ready. I hate when that happens. I am going to start prepping a beef brisket for tomorrow, I just want it to marinate over night. Going to jump up early to cook it. The family requested it, and I shall deliver. Although I wont be able to enjoy it to much because of the law fat anti pancreatitis diet I am on. FUCK YOU PANCREAS.

5:00 PM

Bags are pretty much packed. The wife’s hair looks great, yet she still hasn’t noticed mine at all. Off to pick up my dry cleaning again, it better be done.

5:15 PM

God dammit the place is closed.

6:00 PM

I am sitting on my couch my stomach continue to act funny, what the hell.

7:18 PM

We have successfully died Easter eggs. This was the cleanest it has ever been, no dye anywhere.

Day #3 (Sunday Easter and the Day we travel)

3:00 AM

I wake to smoke the brisket, nothing like getting the smoker ready at 3am. That smell is good at all hours of the day. The best part was is that it was quiet, almost tranquil and bliss. This is because everyone else was still asleep.

7:00 AM

My peace is broken by children searching for the for Easter baskets. They look like junkies who were just given clues to where drugs may be stored.

8:30 AM

Final touch up cleaning and then it’s off to the outlaws, I mean in-laws. No really they are the greatest people ever.

12:30 PM

Kids are dropped off, we give a quick hello and goodbye all in one breath and it’s off to Ireland.

1:45 PM

We still had to drop the dog off. At this point I am beginning to fade, 3am was a bit early. Time to suck it up and head to the airport.

2:50 PM

Chickies and Petes for a beer and some grub, the pre flight meal. This isn’t the Easter meal I was looking for but who cares I am heading to Ireland. Side note I haven’t pooped in two days. I know that this isn’t relevant but it’s frustrating and I had to get it out.

4:10 PM

Frontier Airlines just held a jelly bean contest, you know the one where you have to guess the amount of Jelly Beans in the jar. Kinda weird, at least they didn’t beat anyone up, or hold a fight club for seat upgrades.

DUBLIN DAY 1 – Hell yeah.

7:15 AM Dublin is 5 hours ahead Thee Time Traveler is in the FUTURE.

I awake from my slumber, we are landing soon and I am juiced. The wife not so much, she didn’t sleep well on the plane.

9:30 AM

Gary our driver has picked us at the airport, friendly gentleman and gives us a brief on the way over for some things to do today. He pulls up in front of a boarded up home and says “alright we are here”, Funny Gary, we are actually staying a next door. The place is small but comfy, and has everything we need for the week. We just can’t seem to figure out the stupid outlet deal, so many prongs.

10:00 AM

We walk down to the grocery store and pick up eggs, tea, Doritos, and water. You know the basics.

Times will be omitted from this point forward (They begin to get a bit blurry)

We left the apartment to begin touring Dublin. The weather was damp, which I am guessing this is what most days are like. If you could imagine it’s kind of like a damp basement all over the place, a little wet, little cold, and pretty grey. You wouldn’t be able to tell this from the people though because it’s like the sun is always shinning for them.

Our first stop would be a local pub called Kavanagh’s Pub just down the street from us. The Bartender was an awesome women named Rose who was well traveled and offered a wealth of information for places for us to go and see. The rest of the pub was filled with older men wearing scally caps or duckbill, drinking Guinness and reading the paper. For the first pub to pick it was exactly what we thought it would be like. Rose knew each person that came through the door. We sat and chatted for a bit said our goodbyes for the day and off we went to see what Dublin had in store for us.

Dublin was still celebrating Easter and the Easter Rising Rebellion of 1916. Most shops were closed along the way but there were festivities going on throughout the city. The first one we went to was a place suggested by Gary the Driver and Rose the barkeep called Smithfield Square. The square was blocked off for various tents to do things, food trucks abound, and a concert stage on the far end. We walked around checked out a few things and decided to grab a bite to eat. Dublin is very westernized so it has a familiar feel when it comes to the eateries, the place we chose was called Oscars Cafe and Bar. The wife got a veggie burger with chips (French fries), I got a normal burger and chips, both were delicious. She drank a glass of wine and I drank a Galway Hooker. This was not a real Hooker it’s the name of the beer, stay with me people. We finished up and off we went to see more of Dublin.

Ken a local at Kavanagh’s suggested St. Stephens Green, much like Smithfield Square there would be festivities, family oriented activities and a concert. The park was amazing and packed full of families enjoying the day. We walked around the park for a bit until the wife got home sick seeing all of the families with their kids. I have to admit I felt it a bit as well. So the only way to solve this problem is to head of to another Pub.

When we were searching for St. Stephens green we passed a few pubs along the way, yet ne stuck out to us and that was Brazen Head Pub. This is the Oldest Pub in Ireland, opening in 1198. Unreal I know, it’s almost hard to wrap your head around how old some of the things are here, manly because the U.S only became independent in 1776. The Pub was hundreds of years older then that. We found to stools at the bar pulled up and ordered two Jameson and Ginger Ales. Looking around the history of the bars patrons were all over the walls. Dollars bills from all over the world were taped and tacked to the walls along with patches from first responders, military, and law enforcement groups from all over the world. The bartender, whose name was Gary, offered up some great advice on more places to go and see. He laid out a tour that would show us the history of the 1916 Easter rebellion.

We finished our drinks grab the map provided by Gary and took off towards wear we were staying. At this point of the day we had walked a few miles already and were beginning to tire out. We got back to one of the main streets near our studio apartment and stopped in at a pub called L. Mulligans Grocer L. Mulligan Grocer. This would be the final pub of the night, but maybe one of the best. We sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with Harry the English bartender. Nikki would nickname him Harry the Prince. It was at this point when we were trying to finish our drinks we realized how tired we were getting, I could have fallen asleep right at the bar, so we finished up and headed back towards the apartment, not before we stopped and picked up a bottle of Captain Morgan and some diet Cokes. Gotta have a night cap right.

We stumbled into the room tired and slightly drunk and tried to map out the next day while having another drink. Neither one of us at this point could understand the other one so we decided to call it night. It was only 6pm at this point. Hey don’t judge us, we were jet lagged and drunk, and tired from walking around the city. We laid down and fell asleep before our heads hit the pillows.

2 HOURS LATER we sprung from our sleep, I don’t know who woke first but we were up thinking that we had slept through the night. NOPE, we couldn’t have been more wrong it was only 8pm. We only discovered this after stumbling around the room in search of our phones to check the date and time. It looked like the scene from Stepbrothers when they were sleep walking around the house. Nikki yells to me that it’s still the same day and only 8pm. I don’t believe her at this point and continue to look at my phone with one eye open and look of WTF on my face. After checking the time 38 different ways, we went back to bed. Hopefully tomorrow will be go just as good.

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Day 2 DUBLIN – What did we get ourselves into

We laid in bed until about 9 am. I decided to get up have some tea, and write down some notes from the previous day. As I am sitting there smiling and reflecting on the previous day, could smell a slight hint of pee. Sorry for adding this but I found it funny. In my drunken state the night before I had attempted to use the bathroom, I guess I didn’t get him all the way out before I started and got a little on the front. Men you know this has happened at some point in your adult lives, women I don’t know what to say I am disgusting.

After making the wife some eggs and tea we decided to start our day off the same way we did the previous day and that was by going to Kavanagh’s and seeing Rose to have a pint. The wife has adopted Rose as our Irish mother by this point. She seemed almost to excited to see us and gave a plate a various chesses and some chutney to spread on them along with some soda bread. If you don’t know what chutney is look it up, go by some, and enjoy, your welcome. We finished our drinks, through down some cheese and headed off to the Jameson Tour in Smithfield Square.

I have been to Kentucky and done the bourbon trail tours, which are excellent tours. Now the Jameson tour isn’t anything like the Makers Mark tour, but more like the Evan Williams tour on bourbon row in downtown Kentucky. I don’t want to diminish the Jameson tour though, because it was excellent. Our tour guide for the day was Lawrence a Californian relocated to Dublin. They give you a wonderful brief on the history of John Jameson, and how much the distiller meant to Dublin. At the end of the tour you get to conduct a tasting, equally excellent. The facility is amazing and the tour is just long enough. Once the tour was complete we sat at their bar and had a couple of drinks. Jameson is no longer distilled at that location, but you still get a wonderful experience.

We left Jameson and headed towards St. Michans Church where we wanted to go and see the crypts below the church. The have a short St. Michans tour were they take you below to see ancient bodies that have been amazingly preserved over time. the crypt’s temperature never changes, and the limestone rocks, and methane coming from the gerund keep the bodies in amazing shape. The oldest one we saw was nearly 800 years old. Crazy right. Pictures couldn’t really be taken down there because it was considered a sacred place, and the tombs that were still technically in use no light could be shown in the room. This added to the eerie fill that the crypt held. I did manage to touch and old skull sitting on the floor. Nikki made me use hand sanitizer almost immediately after I told her. The history above and below the grounds of Dublin are fascinating.

After we were down playing with the dead we headed off to a pub. I mean come on guys we are in Dublin, I believe it is illegal if you don’t drink while you are here. The Pub we went to was called O’Sheas Merchant. We sat down and talked to a lovely lady named Caroline. She looked to young to be a grandmother but went on to tell us about her son in Australia, and the 2 year old grandson that she missed dearly. We talked about this while we had drinks and ordered lunch. Nikki went with the fish and chips (as a reminder those are French fries), I ordered a sandwhich called the Dubliner, it was a smaller panini with beef, and cheese, also it came with a side salad and chips. Both meals were delicious, especially the fish, awesome grub and an awesome pub. We finished up there and decided that we would go see Christ Church Cathedral.

I highly Suggest the tour of Christ Church Cathedral. When you enter this place you are immediately shot back into time. The church was founded in 1030, yeah 1030 not like that morning but the year. Pay for the tour also, you could conduct a self tour but you won’t be able to go to the bell house and ring the bells. This place gets older and older. The tour guide gives you some amazing history, and tour of the church, the bell house, and the crypt. The crypt isn’t as creepy as the one at St. Michans but has some amazing artifacts. The weirdest of which was the cat and the rat mummy’s that had gotten stuck in an organ which were found in the 1850’s. You will need to be mindful of the stair case that leads to the bell tower and the doors as well. The seem to have been built for children, if you are a man of average height it’s going to be a tight fit. Once the tour ended we were off to go pub hopping. MMMM Drinky Time.

We decided at this point that it was time to do some pub hopping around Dublin and the first pace we went to was called Peadar Kearneys Pub, named after the man who wrote the national anthem for Ireland, so we were told, I will have to fact check that one. I googled it, it’s him. We ordered a coupe drinks and began talking a man we named drunk Sean. He talked about a couple of other pubs that he knew where we could hear some Diddly Day Music. We kept talking and when he found out we were from Delaware he screamed the “THE FIRST STATE” and he said to quote him on it, so there Drunk Sean your quoted. We left Kearney’s and found a bar called The Auld Dubliner, which was a great little bar with a guy playing some music. Awesome little place, and the beer was flowing. We had one a piece and left to find anther pub. The next stop was going to the trendy Temple Bar. It was packed, a great atmosphere but almost overwhelming with the amount of people in there. Plus not as sociable as the smaller off street pubs, but we still sat and had some beers, and Nikki was onto Captain and Cokes by this point. After drinking there we left and found a place that Drunk Sean suggested called The Old Storehouse. This place was great, and also had live music. The solo artist was playing some classic irish tunes, and the place was very much alive. We sat at the bar and almost immediately struck up a conversation with a unique older fella. I heard him say his name was Tim, Nikki thinks it was Ken, so he is now TIMKEN. TIMKEN was an older fella with Phil Donahue hair, no top teeth except for the right K9, a sport jacket, and bow tie. He had a heavy accent, and proclaimed to know Drunk Sean. This was not a shock. Nikki kept leaning back more and more as he spoke, I would later find out that his breath had some history also, it was bad. So after finishing our drinks and ending our conversation with TIMEKEN we headed off again to find another pub. It really isn’t hard to find them here they are everywhere, you can’t drink at all of them. NO WAY NOT NEVER. The next place was called Bad Bobs, which like The Temple Bar was packed full of patrons. We found a spot in the back of the bar sat down and orderd drinks. Nikki struck up conversation with Peter, Johnny, and Rob, three bartenders working that night. What we did find was that the drink prices in this part of town began to get higher as the night went on. This will be a little confusing, but TEMPLE BAR is an area as well as a bar also. So in the TEMPLE BAR area the bars attract a lot more tourists and the prices seem to flow as fast as the beer. We finished our drinks there and headed of to some local pubs near the apartment.

Along the way Nikki decided that Facebook live was going to be her new addiction, but she isn’t that great at it. For anyone that saw it, I am sure it was hilarious, after re watching it I laughed probably as much as you all did. This continued on even when we reached L. Mullgans, we sat down and talked to Prince Harry, Gary, and Steven. Yes there are a lot of Gary’s in Dublin, this was the third one we met at this point. It was getting late and we traveled a ton again today, so if was off to one more pub and then back to the apartment. We hit Tommy O’Gara’s but didn’t stay long. We knew we were well on our way to time traveling so it was time to roll.

We stopped in at Tesco’s, the local supermarket, grabbed a pizza, Captain Morgan, and some other junk for the room. When we got back I made drinks and a pizza. We ate it like caveman and threw Doritos down our necks like someone was trying to steal them. I then began to Time Travel so telling you anything else would be just made up stuff at this point. Day 2 in Dublin, awesome.

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DAY 3 in Dubiln – The Chance Meeting

WTF is that noise!!!!! Oh it’s my goddamn alarm on my phone going off like a bomb in my head. I jump up and turn it off with my eyes closed. What I would have seen if my eyes were open was the full glass of Captain and Coke that I was about to spill completely into Nikki’s purse. Yup one swift hand movement and this drunk Ninja just emptied that glass of amazing into her purse. She jumped out of bed like the damn thing was on fire and emptied the contents in like two movements. I stood there dumbfounded by my actions. We cleaned it out, set it out to dry, and back to bed to we went.

We would late wake and begin our day. We figured out a strategy for the things we wanted to see and off we went. We stopped at Cowtown Cafe to get a little breakfast to fuel up for the long walk ahead. We walked for what felt like ever trying to find The Kilmainham Gaol, which is an old prison and suggested by many as one of the best tourist attractions around. We finally arrived after walking about and hour only to discover that the next tour wasn’t going to be for another five hours. So we bought tickets for the next day and off we went.

Across the street was the Modern Art Museum that cut through the area we were in and expedited our walk. The grounds of the Modern Art Museum are an amazing sight to see and offer some tranquility in the city. This was a nice and peacful walk, the kind you don’t say much and just hold hands and enjoy. It was nice to share this moment with the love of my life. We just walked quietly taking in the sights, and enjoying each others company. We never made it inside the Museum, only because we aren’t big art fans, but also because we were headed to the Guinness Storehouse.

We arrived at the Guinness Storehouse to take the tour, learn about the history and brewing process for Guinness. This, much like the tour of Jameson, was awesome and you get a free pint of Beer. We decided to get our beers at the Gravity bar at the top of the Guinness Storehouse. One of the best views, if not the best view, in all of Dublin. The bar offers a 360 Degree view of the city which you can see for miles, and it’s nice to just take it all in. Plus we were tired as hell from all the walking over the last three days, so it was nice to sit a moment and enjoy the views.

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Once we finished our pints we muscled up and headed to the Dublin Castle. This is located in the City and is almost hidden, you turn down street just up from Peadar Kearney’s and there it is. We went in and did the self tour where you get to see the state rooms, maybe next time we will do the full tour, but we were getting tired and hungry so we wanted to start heading back towards the apartment in Stoneybatter. The full tour would have taken more than and hour and we didn’t want to spend that time, so we started moving again.

We casually moved through the city up and down different streets working our way back to home base. We had passed through Jameson and into Smithfield Square tired and only thinking of grabbing something to eat and relaxing. We got almost to the end of the square when a gentleman passed in front of me that looked all to familiar. I have told my wife many times over that timing is a funny thing, and in this case ten seconds later or earlier and I would have missed this chance meeting. So this man walks passed me and I don’t see his face at first but the back of his head, and his gate is a bit different. I knew almost right away what I was looking at, my wife on the other hand had no idea and may have thought that I was having stroke, nope I was looking at the Champ and my chance meeting was about to occur. I tell the wife “hey thats the champ Conor McGregor“, in her really cute voice she sates ‘who”, I said the champ the biggest fighter in the world right now, at which she says ‘OK”. So like a hippo chasing a cheetah, I follow after the man and sure enough it’s the man himself. He looked like he didn’t want to take the photo at first but was gracious enough to do so, and I appreciated that. He turned smiled and took the photo. We didn’t think or even count on seeing the man but there he was, and the chance meeting happened. My wife took the photo blasted it to social media, of course after googling who he was, and I guess that makes if official since it’s now on Facebook.

Well back on the path to food, we landed ourselves at L. Mulligans again to grab a bite to eat and enjoy another drink. We were almost walking hunched over at this point with our backs, knees, and feet hurting from all the miles we have been logging walking around town. It was nice to get out of the misty rain that had been falling for most of the day and relax for a few moments. We order Scotch Eggs, and Bison burgers. Awesome, and I highly suggest them, not because I have taken a liking to L. Mulligans but because they were really good. We drank a couple of Jameson and Gingers and headed out, last stop was going to be the grocery store for some more Captain Morgan so we could go to the room relax, and have a nightcap. I let the wife read this story so far and got the thumbs up for some minor editing but many for her approval, as my chief editor I need to run things past here just to make sure I haven’t said to much or to little. Well time to enjoy some alone time. See you tomorrow.

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Day 4 in Dublin – The Last Dance

Our First stop for the day was to be the Kilmainham Gaol, a hostirical prison that held many of the more famous political prisoners during the Easter Rising Rebellion, The War of Independence, and the Civil war for Ireland. If you want a get a quick lesson in Irish history this is the tour to take. Plus the jail has a few creepy aspects to it. We walked back through the Modern Art Museum one more time, there is an amazing Garden on the grounds that is absolutely elegant to walk through. If you have the chance I highly recommend seeing the parks and gardens throughout the city. Phoenix Park is massive but beautiful, St. Stephens Green as well, and the gardens at the Art Museum are all well worth the time. Your eyes will thank you.

The rest of the day was filled with walking around Dublin doing a little shopping and just taking in the sights one last time. Along our way back we stopped at Jameson for one last Jameson and Ginger, and a little shopping. We continued to walk back until we hit L. Mulligans to fill up another glass or two. We left Mulligans headed to the grocer and grabbed some wine and pizza so that we could head back to the apartment and start packing. So there we were eating Tangy Cheese Doritios, waiting on a shitty 4 cheese pizza, and drinking some wine. It was a great moment though we got to sit, drink, and reminisce about the week we just had. There is nothing better than reflecting on the time you just had and knowing that you had it with not just your wife but your best friend. We had a blast and will truley miss Ireland. It will surely always bring a smile to our faces.

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Day 5 Dublin – Departure day

Up bright an early so that we could clean all twenty square feet of the apartment we were in. We also had to pack, which took all of ten minutes. It is amazing how slow time seems to move when it’s finally time to go home. Gary the driver was waiting out front patiently for us. The drive was quick yet quiet as passed through the streets of Dublin. I won’t bore you with us sitting at the airport playing on our phones waiting for our flight. Just know that if you ever want to take a vacation over the pound I would suggest starting with Ireland. No shit right, but honestly the beer is great and the people are even better.

See you in the Future – Thee Time Traveler

Links below are some of the services that we used and recommend.

Aer Lingus

Aer Lingus Airline – The plane was excellent and the service on the plane was great. Prices were very competitive, and best of all it was a comfortable flight.

Home Away – Greats vacations Places

We found our place on Home Away, we love this site.

Glencourt Apartments

The apartment that we stayed in was great. If you are looking for a similar experience talk to Liam Travers. [email protected]

I can’t say enough about Liam and the resources that he provided. The room had everything we needed, and the suggestions he left us were spot on.

For a list of the bars that we went to check out my story on DOW ( The Ireland Edition) coming this week on Hisvault.com

Ireland “Home of Great Beer and Even Better People” For my tenth anniversary the wife and I decided to go to Ireland. This pleased me beyond belief.

#conor mcgregor #dublin #home away #Ireland #pubs #traveler #vacation

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