#doing the dirty dishes spiritual

[doingthedirtydishes]

Moving to Europe during Covid-19; Becoming poor and homeless in New York City.

After the success of my first book, Unbreakable Mind, endless projects were offered to me but none were a good match. There were many extremely attractive proposals. One was a second book, traveling to ten cities in the world, writing from an injured person’s perspective; an additional for NYT, to travel to 52 countries in 52 weeks, in a wheelchair; and, yet another, to create a travel TV show – but not any were the right fit, not one idea resonated with my soul.

Which avenue to further explore remained unclear until one fateful conversation in early May. I was on the phone with a friend from Amsterdam, a Norwegian-Dominican up-and-coming rap star, David AKA Big Mill, and he had an idea to share. “David,” I asked, “let me guess, another TV show idea.” He replied, “Yes, but this one is distinct.” Well, it was unlike all prior options – different to the point where I loved it. It made sense; it clicked with me – it felt right inside.

The other missing pieces to the puzzle would fall into place shortly thereafter. The morning of the 14th of May, my birthday, for some reason I was nudged to write an old classmate and friend, Adam, now living with his wife and four-year-old in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. He was recently laid off as an AV Director, a high position in the non-profit world of museums, now in search of a project to develop. I shared my idea for a new travel TV show with him and the rest is history.

After a seven hour conversation, going over every detail possible for how the project could ostensibly work, determining key people and positions needed to make a production company and TV show successful, and agreeing on a pilot location abroad (Amsterdam), we were off to the races. Since Covid-19 has affected so many business-people and investors globally, we were unable to raise the necessary funds. All agreed, signing on to the project on a shoestring budget.

One week later, with all airplane tickets and hotels reserved, my wheelchair supercharged by Gary Gilberti and his amazing team at Numotion Mobility, we were set to start filming pilot footage in Amsterdam in July and August. As I already live part-time in Amsterdam, I was planning on moving to Europe for two to five years. With everything [assuredly] in place, and not being a fan of storing items that others less fortunate could better utilize, especially during a global pandemic, I decided to give away my home, car, all my belongings to those in dire need.

What type spiritual person or leader would I be if I did not practice what I preached, helping others in life anytime one is able, truly living out the words I guide and ask of others to live, if I cannot do so myself? There was no need for me to store away furniture, clothing and other household items while others in my immediate presence were suffering from the current health and economic catastrophe. For two weeks friends and strangers came and took what they wanted.

Everything was going fine, just as planned. My home was donated, flights ready, bags packed and ride to airport sorted. Before flying out to Europe I planned to spend four days in NYC with an old friend, Georgie-boy, who lives across the Hudson River in Jersey City. George is an old and dear classmate from my irascible undergraduate days at Rutgers College; also the General Counsel for our production company. He has a thriving law practice in nearby Newark, NJ.

It was great to be back in NYC, my old stomping grounds in the late 1990s. There is nothing like “The City” – one of a kind, no other place like it on the planet.  We spent an afternoon sunning on the spacious waterfront in Hoboken, NJ, a nice day playing Frisbee in Central Park West, eating amazing Mamouns Falafel and Prince St. Pizza in Greenwich Village. Though it was expected to see murals and damage from prior fortnight’s rioting, it was eerily strange in person.

It was Sunday, a day of respite before flying to Europe on Monday. George and I spent the day having a relaxing lunch at Iberia outdoor café in the Little Portugal section of Newark, NJ. The next morning we were up bright and early, soon off to the airport. When we arrived at Newark International Airport it was nearly empty. There was not but one person at the check-in counter – moi. The Delta terminal was empty. It was June 15th and Covid-19 was in full effect. Wow!

Having never seen such a normally super busy airport terminal this empty in my life, it did not give me pause. George, on the other hand, had a different feeling, and decided to stay with me until I was ticketed to board. After finding a way to get my heavy bags checked in with no fees I thought we were on plan. Then a hiccup: “Sorry Mr. Quigley, you are unable to board the flight to Amsterdam. Dutch Immigration in Holland is denying you entry without proper permission.”

Well, that was a first, and not only a huge surprise but a major setback to a monumental project.  Oh shit! What do I do now? Thank goodness Georgie stayed with me; and thank goodness he was able to put me up at his place until this mess was all sussed out. It was an absolutely horrid situation; and to add salt to the wound, I was right smack in the middle of a Covid-19 USA EU political Visa predicament; whereas the EU would review country entry list every two weeks.

George was gracious enough to see me through the immediate emergency until it began looking like my delay would be a bit longer than originally anticipated. The EU placed a travel ban on Americans’ travel to Europe. And it would not be reviewed again until July 1st.  My new ticket was issued for a direct flight from JFK, NY to Amsterdam, Holland, July 1st. This being the case, and since George had a life to live, I moved to a Hilton close by to JFK airport in Queens.

What started as a journey by giving away all my belongings in order to chase a dream project and move to Europe was swiftly turning into a situation that could easily result in me becoming poor and homeless in NYC. Hotels are not cheap in NYC – nothing is inexpensive in the Big Apple – you pay through the nose. The costs were quickly adding up and what small financial safety net I had set aside was speedily disappearing. I could not last long in a hotel in Queens.

The hotel itself was of no help to my stress and anxiety levels. They had me on the sixth floor, all the way down the hall, in the far corner, in a room that was a very tight fit for a wheelchair, and could only be reached after struggling down one hundred twenty feet of carpet. As if that was not enough, one week into my stay the GM, Tracy Kass, awoke me early in the morning to inform me I would reach my 14 day hotel stay limit after this registration renewal, and she was calling to inform me they could not extend it any further. I was astounded, appalled. Unbelievable!

Miss Kass, later when challenged, changed her story, informing me I did not let her finish, she had more to say on the call – that there was, in fact, no 14 day limit. Three days and three voicemails later, and no reply arrived from the normally overly pugilistic General Manager. Only once it was elevated to Hilton Honors corporate office level did she return my call. This was after numerous emails asking her to send me a copy of the policy. She refused. It does not exist.

Upon complaint to NY State AG, their attorney replied that I did not let her finish, that it was actually a 28 day limit. That is total utter bullshit! Firstly, then why call me only after seven days? Secondly, I met two people outside the hotel who received the same inhuman treatment. Thirdly, all her staff, including her Director of Operations, apologized profusely to me in person for her insensitive, cruel call. It should be noted that all other staff were caring and supportive.

Later that week, while in the bathroom, the grab-bar broke off from the wall while attempting a toilet transfer, sending me straight onto the hard tile ground, injuring my neck and back. Do you think the hotel or GM did anything to help address the issue, let alone make some changes to mitigate a more comfortable stay? No! The room was a disaster for a wheelchair user. My stay in Queens was quickly morphing into its own mini crisis. I was stuck in a cement jungle without any stores. I had only one friend to assist me – Sunita in Boston. Hilton corporate has yet to reply.

With every door opening but quickly closing, I was running out of viable options, rapidly. The immediate future looked grim.  Running out of money (and patience), with no home to move to, with no home to return to, life was proving overly difficult. It allowed my mind to get the better of my heart, lulling it into anxiety, sadness and no hope for the future. Life was grim; I was not a happy camper. After nine years of struggle, I figured this project would run smoothly. Silly me!

After time searching deep inside, meditation and prayer, chats with mentors, close inner-circle friends and spiritual advisors, I decided that I would face the universe’s tests head on. It was time to truly practice my words – taking my hands off the wheel of life, as the universe has it under control. It was another example of ‘Doing The Dirty Dishes’ of life – the Buddhist principle that if you want to get anything done in life you first must put in your effort, getting your hands dirty.

In May, when the project began coming together, one night while deep in meditation, an angel came to me and told me: “Steven, after 46 years of white-knuckling the wheel of life, you can now finally remove your hands [from the wheel], let go, give up control of life (as if you ever had any in the first place) – the hardest lesson for most to learn, aside from reaction and attitude, or living through love – I am now at the wheel, in full control. Wake up each morning and relax.  Forget about your past; do not worry for your future; live in the present moment – the now.”

It all sounded great until I awoke on June 15th, only to be denied entry to a plane that represented my life’s work and dreams. Or did it!? What was the universe trying to tell me through stranding me in NYC? What was the lesson? It did not come at first, but it did not take long to figure it out. The universe was sending me bigger struggles to overcome. Why? 1.To truly test if my hands were off the wheel of life, wholly trusting in the universe 100% ; and 2. At length, it still had to break and broke me before my dream could be realized. I am grateful to both my teachers, the universe.

Three days later a friend from Portland Maine came down to NYC to rescue me. As soon as I stepped into her car I felt an immense 800 lb gorilla freed from my back. Off to Maine.

To be continued….Click here to read part II.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

[prettieinpink]

HAVING AN INTENTIONAL ROOM

Your room is the most important place in your life. You sleep, wake up, heal and experience many emotions just in your room. You have to take care of your room, so it is spiritually the ideal place to grow into the best version of yourself. 

KEEPING YOUR ROOM CLEAN 

Keeping your room free of mess is an act of mindfulness and self-discipline that supports your overall journey and connects you with your higher self. It helps with promoting clarity, and cultivating inner balance and is an everyday self-care ritual. 

Make your bed every day. You have to respect the place in which you sleep and heal.

Hang up clean clothes after the day or put any dirty clothes in your laundry hamper, avoid tossing them on the floor. 

Find a place for everything, and know where everything is. If you do not know where each thing in your room is located, you either have too much clutter or you’re disorganised. 

Tidy up your room daily, neatly putting everything away in its place. If needed, buy a few organisers. 

Don’t leave rubbish for extended periods. Treat your room like a temple, don’t disrespect it, and pick up after yourself. 

Try to avoid eating meals in your bedroom. We forget the dirty dishes over time, and it stinks and attracts unwanted bugs. 

Change bed sheets regularly. Once a week at the most, for more hygienic reasons though. 

Remove unwanted items on your bedside table. Keep it minimal and intentional with anything you want to place on it.

Regularly clean up the dust in your room, using a duster or a damp microfiber cloth on all of the surfaces. 

ENCOURAGING GROWTH IN YOUR LIFE

A room designed to encourage inner growth serves as a physical reminder of your commitment to self-improvement, personal development, and overall well-being. It creates an environment helpful to improvement, self-reflection, and positive change.

Keep specific areas of your room designated to one task in your life. For me, my desk is for productivity, my bed is for resting or relaxing and my bedroom floor is for mindful activities. 

Throw away any items that do not serve a purpose to you anymore. Avoid keeping items that bring you painful or harmful memories.

Minimise the presence of technology in your room. I suggest having zones in your room which is device-free or having a time of day in which devices are not allowed in your room. 

Create a vision board poster in your room that you can see every day, which helps to visualise and motivate you to create your dream life. 

Place meaningful quotes, affirmations, mantras or prayers as reminders of the values, mindsets or intentions you wish to cultivate in your life.

Display personal achievements. If you won any awards or certificates, place them in a way in which you can view them every day. If you have done something in your life that you think is an achievement but have no award to display, just simply create your own. Buy some balsawood and glue it together to create your own medal. 

Place items that align with the habits or routines you want to cultivate in your life so that they are easily accessible. Put a workout mat in the corner, always have your journal on your desk or have a cold water bottle ready to go when you wake up. 

3. DECORATING YOUR ROOM TO REFLECT YOU

Decorating your room in a way that reflects your true self brings a sense of authenticity and comfort. It creates a nurturing environment that allows for self-expression, reflection, and personal growth which ultimately contributes to your journey of inner development.

Make a mood board or vision board of how you would want your room to look, how it supports you and how it makes you feel. Choose a colour scheme in this process as well.

Add candles or incense that you think embodies who you are, or who you want to be. For example, if I want to be a cleaner person, I would choose a candle that smells like fresh linen. 

Put up posters of things that you like, people who you look up to or anything that expresses who you are.

Add a canopy to your bed while you sleep. So cute, and I believe it helps protect you from any unwanted energy entering through you while you sleep. 

Add a rug, even if you already have carpet, to enhance the cozy ambience of the room. 

An ottoman at the end of the bed can elevate your room to look more expensive, if needed, it can also be an organiser for your extra things. 

Put life in your room, adding low-maintenance plants or flowers can liven it up. A little extra, research some plants or flowers meaning’s and pick one that resonates with you. 

Display any of your favourite jewellery, bags, clothing pieces, or make-up around your room. A nice way to appreciate what you have, without actually using them. 

[is-this-yuri]

do as many things in the category you picked as you can, but even just one is okay! also feel free to come up with your own tasks if none of these appeal to you

[thesirencult]

PAC READING: YOUR DIVINE FEMININE'S AURA

Discussing your feminine's general aura and characteristics. Friendly for both men and girls/theys who like girls. You can also pick it to see how your aura is as a feminine ❤️

Book your reading by sending me a private message xoxo S.

Pile 1

7 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 10 of swords

Your DF has the aura of a sweet herbal witch. She lives in her little cabin in the woods and like a fairy she works on perfecting her craft. Greens and purples look great on her.

This is a slow and steady energy. This is someone who loves taking their time. She loves learning and implementing her skills. Making coffee becomes a daily ritual and same goes as washing the dishes.

Her attention to detail is immaculate and that can drive you crazy sometimes but you know that with all that good comes some bad. Very well presented, you can take her anywhere and all eyes will be on her. Very earthy, stable and focused on building a foundation for all things practical before she jumps onto commitment.

Her steady "working on myself" attitude stems from getting backstabbed one too many times. She knows that she has to build herself up and after that all her dreams will manifest. She is into self development and may love going through that tag on Tumblr. She may even be a blogger herself.

She is investing in herself and doesn't shy away from learning about accounting or law. Nothing will stand on her way to that cute fairy cottage *aggressive cute walk* 😉.

Pile 2

9 of pentacles, queen of swords, the magician

Whoever has this DF as a counterpart or has that aura, WOW. Miss Independent. A handful. We love seeing that *sprinkle, sprinkle* here. CEO. That's C-Suite energy!

This woman is someone powerful and dominant. Like a race horse you will always bet on because you KNOW, it will always come first 😉 (pun intended). She works very very hard for what she wants and similar to pile 1 she can be in accounting, finance and law. Good with numbers and her hands. I bet she has a dirty sense of humour.

From the first moment you see her you will know she is the real deal. Others blend in the background while she power walks in the room. Penetrating stare and red bottom high heels, her allure is different. She doesn't have to show dominance, others feel that she is the boss. Mami energy. Ferocious when someone comes for her loved ones. She could even be in law enforcement.

Red and brown. Symbolising high energy that's still grounded and serious. Do not cross her.

Pile 3

King Of Swords, Knight Of Wands, Ace Of Swords

Now, this one? A handful ! Try to tie her down. You just can't. A brat.

This person is very fluid. They don't care about terms and conditions. They are highly intelligent and her mind walks a thin line between spirituality and logic. The most unconventional, they will find a solution no one sees yet it's right in front of them. Highly intellectual and well versed in philosophy and math.

This reminds of a movie with James Franco where he played a start up founder who was into spirituality. A crazy genius. A party is a party and they will be there.

Partying in Ibiza? They've done that. Phuket for a Muay Thai Camp? That did that last year! Eiffel tower to try a croissant with pistachio filling? They just got back yesterday and guess what? They hate pistachios.

This person is the type to run a start up company focused on clean energy and when shit hits the fun they will call an astrologer and ask for recommendations. They respect everyone. They will listen to your mom and dad when they talk about their days and take mental notes of great ideas. They know great ideas come from the most unconventional places and fields.

Pile 4

Page Of Cups, Page Of Swords, The Fool (5 Of Swords + 8 Of Swords + 5 Of Pentacles flew out)

This can be my age difference pile. They will run you to the ground lol.

This is someone with lots of mental capacity. You ask them about World War II and they will tell you how Nazis and Churchill used astrology and why the war happened and after 5 hours you will be listening to them about Ancient Mesopotamia. "How did we get here?" You will think.

Well, it doesn't matter cause you love listening to their voice and their warm heartfelt laugh. They look innocent and pure and even if they try to intimidate you you will let them think they can but in reality they look like a cinnamon roll and they are a cinnamon roll. Their life was not the best and they have lots of trust issues. They may look innocent but their eyes hide a painful past. Like a kitten thrown out and left out in the cold they feel lost and unappreciated.

You listening to them means the world and you will be shocked at how appreciative they are and how loving with you. They are very romantic and they may have great expectations and daydreams about their love life.

I get that you might start off as friends and meet in a very random way on a daily run or while getting groceries or a tire changed. You will immediately fall in love with them and they will seem like they don't suspect a thing. Let me tell you, they know, they are just too scared to show their feelings and until you grab them and kiss em you won't know how much passion is brewing underneath this innocent and clever facade. They might turn into pile number 2 in a few years lol.

Ready for everything, you will always be a warm embrace and their home when they come back from exploration. You will love how they yawn while reading a book and how they stretch when they wake up showing revealing their tummy. They are cute to you, even if everyone else sees them differently, that's how you view them. They might be a black mysterious cat but you think of them as a tired little kitten waiting for a safe home that will accept them as they are.

[epinebleue]

love me now (m) | 01

(Gif credit)

in which you have sex via FaceTime.

pairing: johnny suh x reader (female)

genre: established relationship!au, mature.

warnings: dirty talking, praise kink, masturbation.

author’s note: tell me why i’m blushing while posting this lmao you can tell i haven’t written smut in years.

chapter index

“I really miss you.”

Johnny laughs quietly at your pouty face, causing the image to shake for a few seconds.

“I left this morning.”

“Still!” You defend yourself, head on the pillows and arm raised, holding the phone up so that Johnny can see your face. “The house’s so quiet. I hate it here.”

“You should’ve come with me, then.”

“I have to work, Johnny, it’s not like I didn’t want to go.” You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s accusations. He raises an eyebrow as if doubting your word. You know he’s only playing, but it bothers you a little. “Besides, you know how much I love your mother’s cooking, how could I say no to that?”

“Well, for your information, she won’t accept a no next time. She said she’ll cook all your favorite dishes.”

You laugh softly at that, flattered. You’ve been in a relationship with Johnny for two years, yet she loves and takes care of you as if you had dated for decades. Even if you can't go visit Johnny's parents that much, they still treat you like a queen every time you go there. You’re so fortunate to have them and their son in your life.

“She’s so cute. Tell them I love them.”

“I will.” Johnny places his free arm behind his neck and rests his head on it. “Tell me about your day. Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yes.” You hadn’t been able to go out with your whole group for months, ones too busy with work and studies, others trying to get their lives together. Managing to gather them in the same place had been such a challenge but so worthy. “Rosie’s starting a new job tomorrow, Jane will defend her PhD next month, and Jamie’s going to Hawaii on a spiritual retreat or some shit. Oh, and she made out with a waiter. And a bartender.”

Johnny scoffs in disbelief. “Classic Jamie.”

“It was a bet, actually.” And you lost 20 dollars, but you aren’t telling him that. “Wait a minute, my arm’s getting tired.” You rest the phone against the pillows and roll until you're lying on your stomach in front of it, hand supporting your chin.

“Is that my T-shirt?” Johnny asks out of nowhere. You’re speechless, having forgotten about it. Yes, you’re wearing Johnny’s favorite T-shirt, given by his father when he turned 16. It’s dark grey, with a drawing and the band’s name on the front: Coldplay. It fits Johnny perfectly but is huge enough to cover your body like a dress when you wear it.

“Yeah.” An embarrassed laugh leaves your lips because, up until now, Johnny didn’t know that you wear his clothes whenever he’s away. “It smells like you, makes me feel less lonely.”

“You’re so cute.” His eyes form a pair of crescent moons as he smiles, making your embarrassment grow.

“Stop!” Your face falls flat on the mattress in an attempt to hide away from his gaze.

“I mean it, you look so pretty.” You giggle against the soft covers. It doesn’t matter how much Johnny compliments you, you’ll never get used to it. “I’d so fuck you in that.”

You raise your head so fast that you hear your neck crack. You aren’t laughing anymore, but you still smile. Johnny, on the other hand, is dead serious. 

“Control yourself, sir, you’re in your parent’s house.”

“How can you tell me to control myself when you look that hot?” That wipes your smile away, his words causing the effect he wants, triggering a heatwave that takes over your body.

There’s a subtle wetness growing between your legs, even if he has barely said anything. That’s the power Johnny has over you. One look, one word, is enough. You look directly into his dark eyes, filled with lust, and you chuckle.

“Fine, you’ve got all my attention. Tell me what you would do to me.”

Johnny licks his lips before speaking. His words come out slowly, dragging them more than necessary. He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb his parents. If they catch him dirty talking via FaceTime, it’s over for you both.

“I'd start by rubbing that cunt of yours.”

You slide down the bed and get on your knees, making sure that Johnny can see your face and body. You place a hand on your thigh, gently moving it upwards to your wet core, giving yourself goosebumps. You touch yourself over the thin fabric of your blue underwear, letting out an obnoxious moan. Johnny's reaction is immediate, a quiet curse slipping out of his lips.

You sight. “Like this?”

“Yes, like that.” He says, eyes fixed on your movements. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, of neediness. “Take off your underwear, babe, let me see you.”

It’s not a plea, but an order. You love when Johnny bosses you around in bed; when he loses his patience and manhandles you until he has you where he wants. And it looks like the dynamic will never change, not even when he’s in Chicago, in his childhood room. You throw your panties aside and go back to the same position, knees on the mattress, fingers rubbing your clit now.

“Fuck, I’m so wet.”

You press your fingertips against your folds, waiting for instructions. Johnny moves his arm from behind his head and it disappears from the frame. A soft growl erupts from his throat, letting you know that he’s pleasuring himself, too.

“Touch yourself for me, baby girl.” The pet name has you drooling, rushing to insert a finger inside of you, slowly, to make sure Johnny can enjoy the moment. Then, he demands. “I want to see your body. Lift the T-shirt.”

You rush to grab the hem of the garment but take your sweet time to pull it up, teasing him. He clenches his jaw and the image shakes a bit. You close your eyes and picture Johnny’s hand around his dick, the leaking tip red and angry. You imagine him using his pre cum as a lube, his hand moving up and down, but never being satisfied, because only you can get him off. You bring the hem of the T-shirt to your mouth and bite it, keeping it up so that he can see your naked body.

“Shit... add another finger.”

You listen and slide in a second finger, the feeling of being stretched making you moan louder. It's a good thing Johnny has AirPods on.

You move your fingers in and out, desperate and lost in the view in front of you: Johnny has closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, leaving his neck deliciously exposed. You wish you could kiss it, bite it, mark him. You know he loves that kinky shit. Unconsciously, your fingers move faster, the sound of your juices flooding the room. You wonder if Johnny can hear that.

“Does it feel good, babe?” He asks, eyes falling on you again. You nod frenetically, unable to form any other words right now. “Fuck, you look so pretty. Are you a good girl?”

You fall apart every time he compliments you. You clench around your fingers and, again, all you do is nod. You moan in between sighs, biting on the T-shirt as you throw your head back. The fabric is all damp and your tongue is dry.

With your free hand, you rub your clit as your fingers reach further inside you. You wish Johnny was the one fucking you right now, your fingers being nothing compared to him. Hell, you want him so bad. Why does he have to be so far away?

Johnny growls again. “You're doing so good.”

Your mind is all over the place. Johnny's words encourage you to add another finger, even if he doesn't order you to do so. Johnny pants quietly enough so his parents don't hear him, but you do. Your hand cups your sex every time you thrust with your fingers, your climax getting closer and closer.

You open your mouth and the T-shirt slides down a bit. You grab it in a fist over your chest, making sure Johnny still has access to your body.

“John, I'm so close.” You whine with your eyes closed shut, the knot in your stomach growing with every caress of your clit.

“Wait for me, baby.” Once again, he demands. “You can do that, right?”

You're not sure if you can, but still, you nod, wanting to make Johnny proud. You want to be a good girl, so you keep pumping your fingers.

“But I want to see you touching yourself, please.”

“Sure, babe.”

Johnny smirks, and then his face disappears from your screen. Instead, you welcome the amazing view of his hand pumping his dick, erect and red. It looks so delicious you wish you could put it in your mouth. Damn, the things you would do if he was here with you. The image’s enough to send you over the edge, but you still try by all means to delay your orgasm. And it works, at least until you hear Johnny calling your name.

“Johnny, I can't-”

He must have noticed your desperation because his next words come out softly. “Cum, baby, cum for me.”

By the time you’re able to finish, your hand aches like hell. Your hand gets caught in between your legs as you cum. Your orgasm feels like an electric shock that shakes you to the bone as you call Johnny, desperately. You witness him finishing seconds later, white ropes landing on his stomach, abs clenching as your name slips from his mouth like a prayer. You thrust your fingers a few more times, riding your orgasm until the feeling fades away.

You pull them out, both hands landing on the bed before you fall on it, rolling to your side. You’re tired and sweaty, and the T-shirt sticks to your skin. Only your pants can be heard for a moment. Shortly after, Johnny switches the camera again.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He pushes his hair back, panting. “You’re so hot. I love you.”

The compliment fills you with pride, but his confession makes you smile widely, stupidly.

“I love you, too.”

You close your eyes for a few seconds, only opening them at the sound of Johnny’s voice. “Go sleep, princess, you’re tired.”

“No.” You whine. “I want to stay a little longer.”

“You’re literally falling asleep as we speak.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes you melt: adoration. You love it when Johnny looks at you like this.

“Nonsense.”

“I’ll call you in the morning, alright?”

You pout, closing your eyes again. His voice is so soothing that you could fall asleep as he speaks. “Promise me.”

“I pinky-promise you.”

“Okay...” You giggle. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, princess.” He zooms in on his lips, and teasingly whispers. “Dream of me.”

Hell, you miss him so much.

No reposting or translations allowed.

© epinebleue 2023

[rottenpumpkin13]

A long time ago, you received an ask about what languages the Firsts would like to learn. It went something like "Zack wants to learn Spanish because of -insert reason-" "Sephiroth wants to learn Latin totally not because of One Winged Angel" "Genesis wants to learn French to sound better than everybody". But the one I actually remember is Angeal:

Angeal: "If I had to learn another language, I would like to learn English, because nobody understands when I say to PUT. YOUR DISHES. IN THE DISHWASHER. PUTTING THEM ON THE COUNTER BY THE SINK DOES NOTHING."

I would like to counter this response by saying I put all the dishes neatly in the dishwasher for years until a new member of my family straight up refused to learn how to do it right. If the bowls aren't balanced the right way, they won't get washed. If you put things in the wrong location, you waste a lot of useful space. But this man flat out said "I refuse to learn how to do this right because I don't care".

So out of SPITE, dishes now sit on the kitchen counter because I refuse to be bothered when no one else gives a shit. What does Angeal think about this if this is something one of his fellow Firsts did?

Angeal may try to project an image of humility and honor, but he combats petty with petty. If he realizes people who have the privilege of owning a dishwasher are being disorderly out of spite, he'll do things to be even pettier. This includes:

• One time he witnessed Sephiroth dump a perfectly good mug of coffee down the drain, and made it his personal mission to mess with him. Over a month, he methodically swapped all of Sephiroth's coffee with decaf and watched Sephiroth slowly descend into madness.

• When Genesis couldn't be bothered to wash his dishes in the break room, Angeal turned it into an art show. He'd collect the dirty dishes and created elaborate display outside Genesis' office, complete with angallery-style label like "Exhibit 17: A Study in Neglected Responsibilities"

• Changed all the settings on Zack's computer so it would autocorrect "SOLDIER" to "SHOULDER" in his official emails to Director Lazard. Lazard received three reports about "SHOULDER Second Class performance reviews"

• Orchestrated a three-week psychological campaign to convince everyone—including Sephiroth himself—that he was allergic to coffee. Every time Sephiroth took a sip, Angeal would squint and ask about non-existent rashes until even Sephiroth started second-guessing himself.

• Loves cooking extravagant meals just to send photos to his friends with captions like "Made your favorite dish… Not for you though" or "This could've been yours."

• Claims everyone's preferred spots, especially Sephiroth's cherished right-side aisle seat in their usual mess hall booth. He'll sit there with a straight face while watching Sephiroth's internal blue screen. (punishment for the coffee)

•Steals Sephiroth's favorite coffee mug, making it mysteriously appear in increasingly bizarre locations around the 49th floor. like inside the copy machine, balanced on top of the water cooler, in the middle of board meeting tables, and once inside the vents.

• Changes Zack's training sessions into "essential SOLDIER skills" that suspiciously look like chores, like organizing the filing room, polishing all the doorknobs in the building, alphabetizing Angeal's spice rack, and putting coffee beans in the air vent in Sephiroth's office, so that Sephiroth constantly smells coffee whenever he's working.

• Weaponizes his infamous lectures. Once subjected Genesis to a 45-minute lecture on "proper pizza etiquette and the spiritual implications of throwing out the crust." Gives Sephiroth an hour-long lecture about resource conservation whenever he spots him with coffee. Sephiroth is in hell

• Takes malicious delight in creatively misinterpreting Sephiroth's requests:

Sephiroth: The coffee maker needs cleaning. Angeal: *Completely disassembles the coffee maker and spreads all its parts across Sephiroth's desk and cleaning supplies* Sephiroth: *visibly fighting the urge to cry*

• Maintains a detailed "incident log" where he documents everyone's minor transgressions. Once pulled it out during a board meeting to remind Genesis about "The Great Stapler Misplacement of Last Tuesday." Adds a tally mark under Sephiroth's name every time he spots him with coffee.

• Started a rumor that his office plant can sense irresponsibility. Strategically moves it around the office to "watch" people. Zack is completely convinced it's judging him.

Zack: I swear it droops when I forget to hand in my reports! Angeal, watering plant: The voice of nature speaks the truth.

• Sephiroth has quit coffee.

[dreamwatch]

Disenchanted Lullaby

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #16 - Prompt: Struggling | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: depression, chronic pain, referenced drug use | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, slice of life, introspection, the comedown after touring, loneliness, ennui

In all my universes Eddie has Bipolar type 2. Make of that what you will. :)

Technically no pairing... technically...

Eddie opens the apartment door, a rush of stale air meeting him in the hallway. He steps inside and drops his bag, toeing his sneakers off. The curtains are still closed, dust motes decorating the room; there are upturned dishes by the sink that are long since dried. The sofa is a mess of clothes and books, discarded when he was packing. The place is just as he left it four months ago.

He sorts through weeks of unread mail, bills on one pile, junk on another. Starts a third pile when he recognises the handwriting on some letters; Dustin, Mike. Steve. He sticks that one into a pile of it’s own. No overdue notices because he cut off the cable and sent checks from the road for the rent and utilities. Probably confused the hell out of them with all the different post marks.

There’s a lingering smell of himself in the bedroom, an echo of him, and he wishes he’d changed the bedding before he left for the tour. He unpacks his bag, checking for clean clothes, but there’s road-stink on everything so he takes it all down to the laundry, trying to get four months of sweat and cigarettes out of the fabric.

He had the good sense to empty the fridge before he left; he forgot once and came home to find food so rotten it was almost sentient. But that means he has nothing to eat. He’s been living off pizza and Taco Bell for sixteen weeks; there was a venue in Denver that gave them fruit and vegetables among the usual subs and pizzas. He never realised eating a carrot could be a spiritual experience.

The aisles of the local supermarket are filled with women and their offspring, an old lady hits the back of his bad leg with her trolley, doesn’t even say sorry. 

The harsh fluorescent strip light flickers above him as he stares at the deli meats. There’s fifty cents off pastrami. He needs to get bread. 

The strip light hums. 

Maybe some mayo. Should definitely get some oranges. 

��Sir?”

He blinks and looks as the girl behind the checkout.

“Sorry, what…?”

She sighs. “$26.55.”

“Right. Yeah, sure.”

He hands over three tens and walks out as fast as he can. As he loads up the car he notices the twin six packs of PBR at the bottom of the trolley.

The stairs finish off the job the old lady started, he feels flayed and raw, but he ran out of Vicodin about eight shows back. The apartment is quiet enough that he can hear the whistling of his tinnitus. He thinks about calling Wayne but it’s lunchtime in Indiana and the old man will be sleeping. He’ll catch him another time.

He’s in pain and exhausted, so he slides out of his jeans, climbs on top of the dirty bed and sleeps.

Wayne used to say that his mother ‘suffered with her nerves’, and Eddie could never make any sense of that until he started high school. They didn’t see it for what it was at first, teenage boys and their angry moods, but Wayne recognised it eventually. Eddie’s been on and off meds ever since.

Right now he’s off. But they numb him, dial him down when he needs to be dialled up, so he doesn’t take them when he tours. It’s not smart; the last few weeks he’s felt it creep back, insidious tendrils grabbing him, pulling him down. His ‘nerves’. He needs to call his doctor.

It’s amazing how many people think everyone in a band lives together like The Monkees, all trapped in one big house. They did, when they first moved to Indy and found a two bedroom shitbox. Now, though, they can’t wait to get the fuck away from each other the second the tour ends. Weeks trapped on a bus with no privacy and very little hygiene doesn’t do much for long term friendships. By the end any camaraderie has begun to curdle. 

Gareth and Matt live with their girlfriends now, Jeff with his wife and baby. They have solid families, good reasons to not be in the same room as one another until they have to get back into the studio. Eddie has his books, his records and a television set. He considered getting a dog for company but there’s nobody to look after it when he inevitably goes back out on the road.

He doesn’t verbalise it because it’s painful to admit, even to himself, but he’s lonely. He made some friends in LA, just for him, never to be shared. An actual boyfriend once. Or maybe just a lover, Eddie’s never sure where the line started and ended. But he has a habit of pushing people away, doesn’t even know why he does it. Hurts just to hurt.

He glances at the letters on the table. The letter from Steve. 

The red light of the answerphone blinks at him, telling him the tape is full.

He sits down with a beer and a bag of pretzels and switches the television on, flicking through the channels until he finds the Wheel of Fortune; he and Wayne used to watch that together. 

He really should call Wayne.

It’s nearly eight o’clock. He’d have finished his vocal warm up by now, finished his stretches, gone for a piss before drinking more water, drinking more beer, finishing up with a line of something. Roadie hands him his guitar, the black Flying V, he runs some scales. Hears the chanting as the crowd get antsy while their techs do the last mic check and clear the stage. Jeff is always first so the wall of sound has already built before Eddie walks out. A crushing roar that rumbles deep in his chest before he even strikes the first chord.

The crowd applaud as Gary from Sioux Falls solves the phrase: There’s No Place Like Home.

Eddie gets up for another beer. Comes back with two.

[dearinglovebot]

since yasammy week is in a month, here are my arabtino™ non-exhaustive culture observations for your fics:

- cheek kiss greeting: both latino and arab cultures do it. you do this when greeting family and friends both. for latinos it’s generally 1-2 and arabs are 2-3. you don’t actually kiss and it’s more of a symbolic gesture where you tap cheeks together (unless it’s like an auntie who’s getting cute aggression). the order is generally left, right (and left again, if it’s 3).

- a lot of spanish words are actually arabic. so if sammy forgets the english word for sugar and said “yaz where is the azucar” then yaz, even without spanish knowledge would know what she meant. cause azucar comes from al-sukkar. this is actually extremely relevant for food specifically. like olive (aceituna/al-zaytunna), basil (albahaca/al-habaq), and rice, orange, watermelon, etc are literally just the same word with a slight accent.

- latinos love dogs. arabs do not. both are fond of cats thought. in islam, dogs and pigs are seen as “dirty” animals (not spiritually. just literally. they’re muddy and islam values cleanliness). so it’s become a common belief even in non-religious communities that dogs are gross and cats, who “bathe” themselves constantly, are the superior pet. I think this is a perfect vessel for sammy wanting a dog and yaz being like “but they roll in dirt…” but sammy gives big sad eyes and yaz sighs like “fine”. similar thing with pigs. lots of latino dishes involve pork but no arab dishes do. which is something yaz might have to get used to (assuming she’s non-muslim in your hc. or maybe they make alternatives or vegan editions).

- we are constantly mistaken for each other. it’s not uncommon to try to speak arabic to latinos or spanish to arabs. their family members definitely might do that. AND! we share some common names. if they have a party and sammy’s cousin omar tries to talk to yaz’ aunt sara… confusion WILL ensue.

- these things, though are extremely shared concepts : big families with close relationships with extended family, calling anyone older than you “auntie/uncle”, calling family friends around your generation “cousin”, hosting guests is an extreme sport where you wait on them hand and foot like they’re the president, using whatsapp, your aunt sending boomer memes in the whatsapp family chat, no shoes in the house unless they’re special indoor slippers (9/10 they are adidas slides), white tanktop as lounge wear, looking down at white american culture and food, LOTS of seafood (if u hc them as being from costal countries of the regions), plastic chairs outside where adults sit and chat over drinks (most active hours are after the sun starts going down bc it’s hot), still using clothesline drying because you don’t fix what isn’t broken, can also apply to hand washing dishes but dishwashers are on the rise, watching 12 season badly produced TV dramas in your language with extremely camp-y plots

[ejzah]

A/N: Kensi and Deeks get a little cranky when they don’t have enough private time.

***

Deeks, stalking into the bullpen with Kensi: I just don’t see why we can’t keep the dirty dishes in the sink and the dirty clothes in the hamper. And maybe wash either of those things a couple times a week.

Kensi: Oh my god, would you just stop? You’ve been talking about the same topic for the last hour.

Deeks: Maybe I wouldn’t have to bring it up so much if you actually cleaned anything around the house.

Kensi, glaring at him: And maybe it would be nice if you weren’t such a clean freak. Oh, except for when it comes to tracking sand through the house after you surf.

Deeks, outraged: I always vacuum up after myself.

Sam, whistling sharply: Hey, knock it off you two! You’ve been bickering non-stop for the last two days. What is going on?

Deeks, putting his hands on his hips: Well, we’ve been so busy for the last month with back-to-back cases, we might be a tinge shall we say, irritable.

Callen: Are you trying to tell us you need a nap.

Kensi, unamused: No. What we’re saying is we’ve barely had any time to ourselves.

Deeks: To reconnect. And check in with each other. On both a spiritual and physical level.

Sam, lip curling in distaste: Ok, we get the picture. Seriously? *Deeks shrugs* Fine, take ten minutes and do whatever you need to and when you come back, you better not be arguing anymore.

Deeks, taking Kensi’s hand: We’ll try to be quiet.

Kensi: Thanks, Sam!

Fatima, slowly: So, they’re just going to go off and…?

Sam: We’re not talking about it.

Callen, hands behind his head: I hope they remember to lock the burn room doo or else Kilbride might be in for an unwelcome surprise.

Fatima, bemused: I feel like I need to leave.

[doingthedirtydishes]

Jettisoned layover in Maine during Covid-19 crisis; Surviving scarcely on lobster rolls, whoopee pies and IPA.

I am grateful the universe guided my way to Maine for summer. There are a lot of locations for jetsam to wash ashore but Portland sure resulted in as serendipitous a coast as any to land. A reserved melancholic state filled with boundless Subarus and massive white pine forest, where I could spend my summer frolicking about in nature, or so I thought. As I soon discovered je ne sais quoi, it was a state of ‘Maniacs’ who know much less about survival in the bush and much more about fine cuisine and craft beers. I was in the right place; there are no mistakes in life.

More on Maine in a minute, but first an update on the wags from Queens, NYC: Bart and his pious compatriots in Pennsylvania (owners of the Hilton Garden Inn at JFK, NYC) provided round two of comedic relief after their abhorrent treatment of me at their hotel while stranded poor and homeless in NYC. As if their first response to asking me to leave their hotel, under a discriminatory (non-existent) 14 day stay policy, was not humorous enough, the second reply through their attorney wins the ‘almost Darwin’ medal of honor, a world-class pisser.

In my second week at the hotel from hell, while attempting to transfer from the toilet to my wheelchair, the grab-bar I was using for support broke off from the wall, leaving me to find support on a hard tile floor. Their lawyer, in his greatest vomit of jester twaddle, attempting to make me look bad, as vacuous his basis and unsound his argument, however sophomoric and ill-prepared his research and statement, replied to the NY State AG’s complaint by insinuating: 1. It was a made-up story; 2. It was revenge against their ‘raved about’ General Manager, Tracy Kass; and 3. I intentionally caused the grab-bar to break off from the wall. Bartholomew, please send me a package of what your Lancaster crew feeds you for breakfast – evidently reality changing.

It is hard to believe such saints still exist in this world but notwithstanding their holiness, I will address these delusional saboteur swines who treat loyal Hilton customers like trash then cower and hide behind a half-assed inept lawyer who I would not hire to defend my trespass dog. Allow me to pull back the curtain for you: 1. Your hotel clearly partakes in discriminatory practices – easily verified through other guests; and 2. I could have called an ambulance, sued and definitely walked with a settlement, akin to your ilk – but I did not, I chose the high road. To what end?!

None of your attorney’s baseless accusations are worthy a reply except only to rebut: 1. Permit me take away the function and operation of your legs and see how well you can stand up to pull a screwed-in bar, almost one meter above the floor, from the wall and 2. You first could start off by complying with Federal ADA and NY State bathroom building code(s) – your grab-bar was not mounted to wall studs. It was anchored into sheetrock, unable to handle load – sure to get you multiple city infractions upon [further] inspection; and assuredly, possible future litigation.  

Hilton Honors has still yet to sufficiently address the situation or provide an adequate reply. They recently reported earnings to Wall Street, Q2 77% revenue decline. As well, Hilton has had to close 1000 hotels and has experienced a 56% decline in room revenue resulting from Covid-19. And this is how you respond to true-blue customers – silence? What are you so busy doing that customer service has fallen off the radar?  One might think they would choose to treat their Diamond members a teensy-weensy better – but do not hold your breath. J.W. awaits my return.

As I mentioned in my first blog concerning being stuck in NYC under Covid-19 crisis, it did not take long in the car before my attitude and energy were on the rise. As my good friend Elena drove out of NYC, up Interstate 95 towards Maine, the excitement of visiting The Pine Tree State was palpable. We arrived into Portland later than expected. George at the Black Elephant Hostel was gracious enough to provide me an emergency number I could call to be let in. Safely ensconced by the cozy fire, cup of tea in hand, I was where I needed to be. Puff, puff, pass.  

For the next eight days my home was the Black Elephant Hostel, a boutique hostel with a bohemian savoir-faire, owned and operated by a saucy local entrepreneur and former New Jersey native, previously in the horse business, Heather. George kindly reserved me a room that was ADA compliant. The bathroom in the room was exceptionally spacious, a real treat to a traveler in a wheelchair. As well, the kitchen was drafted by architects with the injured in mind; designed pragmatic and utilitarian, sunlight abound, a great place to congregate for mid-afternoon tea.

Aside from a superb kitchen you will also find a delightful general room with comfortable chairs, a table and a layout couch for a relaxing fireside chat or read and an outside patio and lawn area for joining other guests for a smoke or drink or chat. Marijuana is legal in Maine – becoming fully legal for retail sale in October, 2020. The outdoor garden seating area is a great place to meet with friends over a joint and discussion of transcendentalism. Albeit a cheeky owner, the staff, most especially George and Isabelle, was super helpful and caring, always willing to assist.

My over-confident exuberance was quickly replaced with worry and anxiety as summer housing was not panning out as originally thought. Housing is at a minimum in Portland. Real estate well over priced, is in a bubble. A few places did become available but then quickly turned south as one informed me the roommate no longer wanted me as a roommate (only after informed about my injury) and the other did not want my wheelchair banging up his thirty thousand dollars in new upgrades to his double-wide trailer. Anyway, probably prudent I do not appear on Springer.

Was coming to Maine the right choice? Of late, with housing options once again slipping out of reach, and money a wee bit short, it appeared inexorably I had placed myself in a worse off situation than in NYC. In spite of all successive otherwise invincible obstacles, I remained overly brimming with bold perseverance and infinite hope. What would I do now? Where would I go, sleep? Staying in a hostel was surely not the answer. It was expensive; not a long term solution.  

After receiving some unsolicited compassionate help from a few friends, I was able to get a room at the local Hilton in order to reassess the situation and come up with a new plan. It soon became clear that I was in need of additional assistance; I had just become poor and homeless in Maine. It is similar to being poor and homeless in NYC but surrounded with more congenial people and prettier scenery. After five torturous days of having no-where to sleep I was ready to give up.

However, something deep inside told me it would be ok, that this unfortunate situation too shall pass. As if the universe was testing me to make sure I truly had given up control of the wheel of life. The lesson(s) must always be worked through and understood before one can advance past the incessant hurdles of life onto increased mental capacity and psychological resolve. As I state in my book, Unbreakable Mind: One first must pass through darkness before they can enter into the light; it is a journey, not something you can order up from the fast-food universe. There is no free ice cream in the world – all is well-earned, graced upon you – endowed by your higher-self.  

The Vedic astrology reading, a gift from Sunita, I had from Nepal in June was coming true: I was warned I would face four months of hardship, having to rely on others for my survival: Doing the Dirty Dishes of life – only to emerge into the shining light whence soon thereafter. So I was now in the thick of the fight, in the middle of battle. As it turned out I did not qualify for any general assistance in Maine. Apparently the $178 in my checking account was not broke enough. The YMCA manager was able to find me a room but sharing one bathroom with forty other men on one floor, with my injury’s requirements, and its high costs, would not have been feasible.

After two weeks of being bounced around Portland like a pachinko ball in a Tokyo parlor it was time to give in and stay at a hotel. Portland is not a cheap city for lodging – and already suffers from a housing shortage. The manager at the Hilton did not want me to leave to another Hilton branded property for an extended stay so he offered me an amazeballs daily rate [to stay at his location]. It ended up being cheaper to stay there per night than the local hostel. I gladly accepted the deal. Vernon, Tim, Gudrun, Stephanie, Les, Al, Seonye and all staff were absolutely first-rate.

Once settled in and feeling a bit of wanderlust, it was time to explore what Maine had to offer. The most northeastern U.S. State sated with stunning ocean and lakes, craggy rocky coastline, limitless verdant forest, winding mountains and rivers, marvelous lighthouses and ripe maritime history, it is an outdoor wonderland – loaded with supernatural beauty at every new rocky cove. Our day trip to Sebago Lake with Joe, our new friend from Park Slope, Brooklyn, whom we met in the local hostel, was a proper introduction to the outdoor allure and natural grandeur of Maine.

One day Elena decided to take me on a road trip, a magic trail replete with drinks, food and breathtaking panorama. We ventured north 160 km to Camden, famous for its high mountainous peek, scenic vistas and gorgeous views of the harbor and surrounding landscape. We had stopped on our way into town at a local oyster farm, and along with the healthy snacks, pita and hummus Elena packed, we had ourselves a smorgasbord atop the hill, whilst the sun set over the harbor. After some mouthwatering local seafood and delish beers in town, we were off back to Portland.

One weekend an old friend, Sunita, from Boston, visited with her daughter Hazel. It was a typical summer day in Maine, bright azure sky overflowing with cotton-ball clouds, awaiting outdoor exploration. We ventured to the Head Light Lighthouse, just across Casco Bay at Fort Williams Park. There was a local restaurant’s lobster roll stand just up the hill – wow. No doubt I agree that roadside stands serve the best rolls in Maine. On another day we visited Old Orchard Beach and all its tourist fanfare. On our way home we stopped at Bayley’s Seafood for their NE Clam Chowder and a shrimp roll; also stopping at Clambake Seafood Restaurant for locally fried Maine clams. The best “Clam Chowda” and tastiest fried clams I ever savored, respectively.

A new friend, Rita, from Brasil, the following weekend, invited me out for lobster rolls and oysters. We decided to spend the day at Pine Point, a breezy back-bay sand-grass filled marshy delight where delectable food and drink are served at any number of “famous” restaurants. We settled for the local empire of Bayley’s – this time visiting their Pound Shack, on the water. Social distancing in place, masks off, it was a splendid day of hoppy IPAs, freshly shucked oysters with briny liquor and spicy peel-n-eat shrimp. Next we plan to meet in Rio de Janeiro.

The list of out-of-this-world foodstuffs, pioneered by distinctive carpet-bagging restaurateurs with all the right ingredients to make your taste buds pop with excitement, is inexhaustible. The square pizza at Slab Sicilian Street Food is one of a kind, worthy of review. The Thirsty Pig has the most unique menu of house-made hot dogs [with toppings] and sausages, paired with local beers. After sampling lobster rolls at Red’s Eats in Camden, the lighthouse stand, High Roller, Bayley’s, and one upscale restaurant, Scales, the best was High Roller in downtown Portland.

The local bar scene is as bustling as the food scene, with many locations sharing both honors. The East Bayside district of Portland, with its old emptied-out capacious industrial warehouses and expansive lots, has been turned into an extensive neighborhood of eclectic flavorful micro-breweries. Kris and Marty AKA baby tiger (his 14 yr old Shiatsu) visited one Saturday from New Hampshire. We selected Austin Street Brewery – perfect for sitting outdoor with friends. We ended up pairing with Sarah and Gabe, on their second date, which were sitting at the table next to ours. Later we met Miguel at Rosie’s Restaurant and Pub, where food and drink is served late into the night. And in a town where most places close at 9pm, it is a refreshing godsend.

If ever there was a place to be stuck for the summer, Maine wins the award. Portland has quickly moved onto the top three list of my favorite small US cities for food and beer. A charming and enchanting town, filled with a mix of artistic and liberal personalities, a feeling of unrestricted freedom to expand inside & outside the self, packed with an endless number of satiated artisanal restaurants and drinking establishments, it is certainly a place to visit with an open stomach and heart – without fail, both will be better off after a short visit. They will thank you tremendously.

With Europe unquestionably now in the rearview mirror, as the world is mired in a continuing international health and economic crisis, it begets the million dollar question: where off to next?

Stay tuned!

CLICK HERE for PART I of Covid-19 story: Stranded in NYC, JFK.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher. 

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.  

Thank you for your love and support.

[hearth-and-veil]

Hearth Craft: Death in the Household

This past Saturday, December 2nd, my husband and I had to put our dog to sleep. In order to not lose my mind, I'm going to ramble a bit about death in the tradition I practice. I'll go more into the spiritual concept of home later, but suffice to say home is considered a living spiritual-emotional entity comprised of the members of a household, and that we consider pets to be part of that entity.

First and foremost, in my tradition, death is not viewed as something dirty or polluting. While we obviously don't look forward to members of the household dying, we understand that death comes to everyone, so it isn't something to be feared. When someone dies, we don't rush to cleanse the house because that could chase away their spirit. Many spiritual cleansing methods are hostile to spirits of all varieties, and newly incorporeal spirits are especially susceptible.

We also don't physically clean the house until we either have confirmation that their spirit has returned, or until we have their remains back. [It's worth noting that my mom's family, where I learned this, are all cremation people. We don't bury our dead.] We do basic things, like keeping up with the dishes, but we try to leave the house as much like it was when the person died as possible. That way it's familiar to them. We also don't want to accidentally compromise something they're using as a tether. A tether is something that a small, insentient part of their spirit is tied to so that they can find their way home. My dog's tether was easy to figure out: her collars. Other people's tethers may not be immediately obvious, so we don't get rid of anything.

In my experience, after someone dies, their spirit goes away for a while. I mean, if I suddenly lost my Earthly body and got to go wherever I wanted, I would absolutely go exploring. We believe that's a large part of why people feel so exhausted when a member of the household dies - they aren't in the house to receive their offerings, so they're drawing all of their energy from household members. Because of that, it is super important that household members take care of themselves! You need to eat, to rest, to stay hydrated; not just for yourself, but for the loved one who has passed. Your community, if you have one, will bring you food for this very reason.

Some household members return really quickly, and that's especially true for pets. My dog probably doesn't know what the Grand Canyon is, so she doesn't much care about going to see it. She does, however, know exactly what her bed is, and she cares a whole lot about seeing it. My dog returned the very night of her passing - my husband and I both heard the distinctive jingle of her collar tags the next morning while we were waking up. (Her physical collars were on the other side of the house, sitting on a table, with nothing to move them.)

When someone's spirit returns, you need to be ready for them. We left my dog's food and water bowls filled. Her kennel door is open, her bedding is still inside. We left her spot on the couch clear so that she can sit on it. For a human, you may want to put out their favorite book so that they can easily read it, make coffee for them in the morning, keep their slippers on the side of the bed. Anything to make sure they know they are still welcome.

In our practice, someone doesn't stop being a member of the household when they die. They transition to being more on the spiritual side of things, of course, and as time goes on they tend to become less sentient. If someone chooses to fully move on, whatever that means for them/you, then what they leave behind is fully insentient energy that is just tied into the home energy. Their conscious spirit goes on to the next stage, but they usually leave something with you.

[broomsick]

Hello! Where can I start with witchcraft? I am a very new pagan so I thought I could as you for help.

Hi! That's a very good question. First of all, before I dive into details, it's important that you know there's no right place to start when it comes to witchcraft, just like when it comes to paganism.

However, it could be very useful for you to learn about different paths, or different types of practices before starting your journey! You'll discover very quickly that witches tend to specify what type of witchcraft they practice most when introducing themselves. Of course, one doesn't need to be confined to a particular practice! A witch could very well be as comfortable doing hedge work as doing storm witchcraft, or kitchen witchcraft. Still, there are loads of very different practices within witchcraft, and it could be super interesting for you to learn about them. You might immediately feel drawn to one, or a few in particular, simply because of your pre-existing personnal preferences. For example, you might know right away that you'd like to work with the sun, or with the sea! Before diving into the craft, I suggest that in this manner, you determine right away which kind of path you want to tread. Of course, you're always free to change, to practice many vastly different paths at once, and to altogether leave this or that practice in the past if it doesn't feel right anymore.

When that is done, there is one key-word to keep in mind: learn, learn, learn. You may want to purchase, or rent books on witchcraft, wildlife, omens, nature in general, folklore, and/or open traditional practices! Explore the many many websites that post articles about witchcraft (A few of my favorites: Round the Cauldron, Tea & Rosemary, Witch of Lupine Hollow, Flying the Hedge, Cailleach's Herbarium because I'm simply obsessed with Scotland, Otherworldly Oracle...). Look thoroughly into anything that piques your curiosity, really! Be open to taking new knowledge in, even on topics that might not have interested you at first. From star maps, to folk recipes, to seasonal holidays, to dream interpretation, to full-scale spells, to element work, to herbalism... There are so many topics to explore that's it's downright dizzying. And all of them are fascinating!

Now, there are also a few forms of practice to steer away from. These are closed practices, meaning that to practice them is to appropriate them, as they belong to groups who still traditionally practice them to this day. White sage smudging, working with deities from closed traditions, and hoodoo are all examples of practices you absolutely cannot engage in, unless you have been properly initiated into them.

With that having been said, I'll jump right into my personal tips. If we're talking concrete, hands-on practice, I do have a few suggestions as to where you can start! To me, cleansing is a very fun and simple way to practice witchcraft on the day-to-day. I usually start my cleaning up the space I mean to cleanse, for example, the kitchen. I simply put away what I can (dirty dishes, groceries and the like), and once that's done, I proceed to the spiritual cleansing. I often burn incense in the room, or I will sometimes "sound cleanse" using a little bell. This helps to keep unwanted spirits away, and to protect the home (I very much value hearth work). Brewing a tea and charging it with intent, working with sigils, and learning simple spells to say out loud are also extremely simple ways to start becoming familiar with witchcraft.

Finally, there are also a few questions I suggest you try answering as you begin your journey in witchcraft: "What do I believe in when it comes to magic? How do I think it works?", "What type of change do I want to create using magic?", "What local/family traditions am I attached to? How can I integrate them into my craft?", "Can I believe this or that piece of information?". In general, it's important to keep asking yourself these types of questions! Never mindlessly accept information you receive, and find your own answers with time and experience.

[haunted-linguini]

masky swf and nsfw headcanons?

i love this man <3

sfw+

REALLY into crystals and rocks in general

guilty pleasure is FNAF fan songs

his favorite animatronic is shadow bonnie

when he's not in his usual work attire, he's normally found on a couch, in sweatpants and classic rock t-shirt, reading some classic literature

doesn't really know how to be physically affectionate, so he often resorts to doing tasks for you to try and be of assistance

he will not do them dishes tho

has a stuffed bunny from his childhood he keeps around

spiritually relates to the song My Ordinary Life

nsfw+

mans is very into bondage and means of physical punishment

VERY into dirty talk and partners that are vocal

not too much a fan of being called daddy, but SIR???

calling him sir makes this man FERAL

not super endowed length wise, but very girth-y, which nobody is complaining about

hard top, unwilling to be a bottom whatsoever

thoroughly enjoys leaving his s/o tied up with a controlled vibrator he can start and stop at will

doesn't moan

he growls

[cocofetti]

On a spiritual/esoteric note:

We are always telling people "You ate them up!" when someone is going off on someone else. But honestly, sometimes, it just ain't worth your peace to pop off at everyone about every little thing! Like yeh, you ate but at what cost when the dish was served on a dirty plate? Quit COMING DOWN to petty people's level! The fact that you have to come down to get to their level should be enough to let you know, YOU ARE BIGGER AND BETTER THAN THIS! Greater is in your future! And you will never get to where you need to be constantly coming down to "set people straight". Let them think or do or believe whatever!! As long as they aren't in the way of your elevation, YALL CAN HAVE IT! People might perceive it as weakness on your part, but if you are on top of the situation, how can anybody get over on you? THEY CANT! So let them be. This is what they mean when they say "Forgiveness is for you, not the other person." It isn't that you are saying what they did was ok or that everything is back to the way it was. But you can forgive and move TF on from it! Let it go and move on in peace because you KNOW that GREATER is planned for you. Fuck them, respectfully.

I am living my best life. I ain't going back and forth with you niggas!

[writingonesdreams]

Sorting Mononogatari: Malevolent spirts

Based on the @sortinghatchats​​ system leaning on @wisteria-lodge​​ explanations and terms.

This is just an excellent little series. You have enemies to friends as an actual premise and purpose of the story, not just a plot point or side dish, found family, main guy and girl being actual foils for each other with budding romance and the conflicts between human and spirit worlds. While doing that it's actually quite character focused with slice of life elements.

Hyoma Kunato is a very interesting badger primary defined mainly by his total dehumanisation of said spirits, called tsukumogami. After losing his older brother and sister to a brutal attack of supposedly peaceful spiritual beings in need of guidance with the occasional troublemaker or two, he sees them as threats and monsters and attacks them on sight, actual situation be damned. That’s what prompts his grandfather to send him away to a a group of six tsukumogami that live with permission as humans and act like a family to an adopted human girl.

This is a big challenge for poor Hyoma that beautifully showcases his lion secondary. Hyoma is absolutely honest and straightforward about his feelings and intentions. He waltzes right to the family he is supposed to spend the next year with, introducing himself: “I hate you and I’m only holding out from destroying you to be polite”. This wins him no favours of course, with Botan, the human in charge of the tsukumogami freaking out on him, giving him a deadline to learn to work with them or leave, absolutely horrified by his attitude and prejudice. Are they really prejudice when he has such good reasons?

Anyway, the family is actually hilarious, very friendly, emotional, indulgent, carefree, while doing a dirty business of catching their own kind and making enemies with everyone out of love for their little human charge. They don’t get equal screen times, but I would like to sort at least the most prominent ones.

Nagi is the hot-headed main fighter and adult looking guy besides the two teens, the dreamy leader lady and the stoic mute older guy. He is a fine lion secondary himself - he reacts to Hyoma with a nice straightforward “fight me” right then and there. For some reason this actually helps though. Hyoma and Nagi speak the same language and Nagi appreciates the directness. When the rest of the family becomes (rightfully) insulted and irritated, Nagi offers up a helping hand in completing tasks and giving Hyoma a chance. Mainly because he notices that Hyoma is concerned about Botan, their human charge and can respect him for that. Botan is his snake main person. Actually without more information the whole family strikes me as very snake, being so devoted to sacrificing their good reputations and any chance to return to the spirit world and do work they objectively don’t like and that feels like treachery to them for their little human mistress - and their loyalty to each other.

Hyoma’s dehumanising badger primary quickly realises this family might be different, but they become more of an exception than a rule. Being with them makes him more curious, but his trauma induced bloodlust looks for the wrong kind of tsukumogami that kill humans, and gets insanely excited upon finding them. His goal of finding the killer of his siblings gives the series direction and him an overreaching goal, but what strikes me as particularly healthy badger about him is his reasoning behind his work: he wants to prevent further tragedies like the one he had to go through. He wants to save people by eradicating the dangerous kind of tsukumogami. His external goal of revenge actually doesn’t take over like a snake’s would, and it’s rather community and good of the many based like a badger and not a lion’s and it’s feeling based, so not bird’s.

Also Hyoma’s badger love for tradition and politeness is very interesting in contrast with his lion directness. It makes him look uptight, serious, mature until a conflict or fight happens, where he charges right in. He also has a way to tell you really nasty honest stuff...in a super polite proper way, with a greeting, bow and introduction, apology and please at the right time. Talk about lions being able to be polite just fine.

One more character I want to talk about is Botan, the human charge. She isn’t a hunter of the tsukumogami herself, she doesn’t train insanely like Hyoma does. Grows up like a normal girl, goes to a university (did I mention this anime has an adult cast and seinen target audience?). But she isn’t actually as humanly ordinary as it seems and the normalcy she did achieve is hard-earned with great will and work on her and her family’s part. She is carrying her own moribito inside, a spirit that didn’t choose an object like the other tsukumogami to manifest in the physical world, but a human one, which is very rare and promises god-like scale of abilities. Her spirit is sleeping right now, but no one knows when and how it will wake up. Her power is an important political tool, a point of unsteady neutrality treaties and fragile power balances around the local hunter, human and spirit communities. She is constantly watched, attracting spirits and tsukumogami like a light in the dark and she will have a lot but an ordinary life.

A collection of traumatic betrayals and losses also adds up to a very burned little snake primary. Botan cares only about her family, but she is completely paralyzed by her desire to trust and not being able to. Hiding behind a cheerful attitude perfected over the years, she is scared of trusting that people won’t die, won’t get fed up with her or won’t throw her to the wolves for their own purposes. Caring about others is difficult, being attached to them, even her closest people is painful, and making friends is possible but closeness is a point of struggle and torn feelings. This being the focus of her arc seems like an argument for a snake to me for Botan to be a snake throwing herself out of her own circle.

Her secondary strikes me as badger. She is friendly and cheerful, mainly to put others at ease. Her main concerns and activities, her language so to say, seems to be caretaking. Thinking of what to make for dinner, who is doing what today, how could she help with that, how could she be useful. Her way of getting closer to Hyoma is worrying about his injuries, bringing the first aid kid, commanding him to be careful with himself. It’s inviting him to breakfast, asking if he is tired, thinking about his needs. And she wants to be fair to him even at the beginning, when he is still very edgy and hostile towards the people she loves most, and that’s something.

We could also count Tsubaki of the Kadamori hunter clan as a double snake. In contrast to Botan’s snake, Tsubaki is only concerned with herself though and anything that would bring her pleasure, relief from boredom or a bit of fun. Her secondary is a confident playful actoress though, being charming or trustworthy and serious whatever the serious requires or playing the dumb spoiled heir or a girly confident friend to Botan while following her own agendas. 

Hyoma - badger / lion

Botan - burned snake / lion 

Nagi - snake / lion

Tsubaki - snake / snake

[purplemoonabove]

Good Time, a Good Omens One-Shot

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Plot: Aziraphale, instead of enjoying a delicious meal, misses his dear serpent demon.

Number of Chapters: 1

Note from Writer: This wasn’t intended for Valentine’s Day. I just wrote it because I love these supernatural dorks so much.

Expect more stories to come after. Not just on Good Omens, as well

Enjoy this gift anyway to you taken lovers and fellow singleteers. Happy Valentine’s Day/Single Apperciation Day 🥰👍🏾

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The food was always enjoyable. It was the very things humanity had to offer in life that Aziraphale most valued, along with his book collection. But as of now, resting in front of him as the food’s heat began to die out, for the first time in six thousand years Aziraphale made no move to consume.

It was an idea from the start of the ending day. After closing his shop and another well done for accomplishing no buyers to purchase his first editions, the man-formed angel decided to treat himself for a dinner this evening. He has done this before. Plenty of times for centuries. The sight of his curly blond hair made his presence as a regular in every restaurant he’d chosen in Soho, the Ritz being his favorite. Not tonight, though - he had a taste for sushi tonight.

There was no sushi, however, as his mind swapped the cold meal of wrapped rice and vegetables for a wanton soup. Despite not being a common dish to purchase, Aziraphale wouldn’t deny of his approval to its delicacy; a delicious warm broth of colored amber with herbs and spices to capture his senses, while also hiding away the chewable of meats and pastas and vegetables like a liquid blanket, was a treat to behold and understand as another customer’s favorite.

It truly was a delicious dish.

Just not one he was fond to consume at the moment, as the cooling liquid amber gave his mind memory of two smaller sets of liquid amber, one that has temperature rising and falling very quickly at the quickest of emotions.

Along with snake-like pupils to take on his unique nature, physically and spiritually. A styled bundle of short hair with a red exact to a forest fire’s flames. And, of course he wouldn’t forget, the formation of a smirk of mischief that could have archangels cautious on attack but would have Aziraphale warm as receiving his favorite dessert just for the Hell of it, nothing in particular or for occasion.

A sigh escaped his muted lips. The metal spoon stirred at low speed, the slight pressure from the foods inside being brushed at every stir. This was one of the very, very few meals Crowley has consumed throughout the millennia. Hardly would he chew, only swallow down in satisfaction of the burning desire of alcohol in mix with the flavored taste of chosen grapes. Aziraphale would do so, of course; it was a common routine they shared, after all.

But then one evening, Aziraphale was able to convince the stubborn man to try at least one meal when coming to this restaurant together. He brought the particular dish out of random, and for his sake took up at least half of the amount, much to Aziraphale’s gladness.

“Not bad,” the demon commented nonchalantly. Aziraphale was satisfied either way, and gladly finished the rest for him.

As of now, this dish was the permanent signature creation for the serpent demon—or, when the angel stopped fooling himself, was just a reminder of longing for companionship by one: his dearest best friend.

“Is everything to your liking, sir?”

The voice was gentle and careful, as not to not to disturb so rudely, but Aziraphale did jolt from his thoughts, now aware of the curious waitress. He was lucky nothing spilled.

“Oh!” He breathed out, then calmed with a caring smile. “Oh, just fine, dear. Thank you.”

She nodded with a returning smile, then headed off to the vacant table with the dirty dishes to collect and clean afterwards. Rush hour ended about an hour or two ago; the night was out and streetlights were present outside, seeing people walking by as they headed for home or late-night stores. Customers of a low population sat and eat in the restaurant, being acceptable and diminishing behavior as the restaurant’s hours were near.

How long was he present? Steam no longer left from the surface, possibly less than lukewarm at the moment. Although, his mind then came up with, the steam was nothing to compare of the releasing heat of emotions Crowley would come up with. Even though it was usually done at serious times, a grin managed to form on the angel’s face, humor causing a muted laugh to escape with body shakes.

The notice of hisses in his words, releasing the serpent within. A neck straining out from frustration. And sometimes, when those blasted glasses weren’t present, the variety of emotions running over his eyes as fast as the speed of his car.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

The mind was a cruel thing. The smile faded, and he rested back on the booth’s seat. Distractions of the food was no help anyway.

“How I miss you wily serpent.”

Crowley’s presence was as enjoyable as reading a new book of the twenty-first century that managed to grab his attention. Even though he has eaten alone before, it didn’t bothered him this much. Perhaps it wasn’t a good time to do so. Not when nothing - or no one sat opposite from him, to occupy and wait and speak when possible out of hidden respect and kindness.

He sighed in disappointment and shut his eyes.

Crowley…

Knock! Knock!

His eyes darted open. For a moment he thought to be back in his shop, and having to deal with another customer who clearly didn’t see the closed sign - There’s no use in speaking with me if you don’t read what’s in front of you!

But the returning notice of mutters from customers, and the distanced work in the kitchen with clattering dishes and sizzling meals in oil, brought out the reality of his presence still in the restaurant. Although, when glancing at the table, there wasn’t a shadow present before…

Eyes widened, then his head whipped right towards the window.

His heart raced in joy. He knew that smirk anywhere, and gladly returned it with a glowing smile.

“Crowley.”

The man-formed demon straightened from bending towards the window, his nose almost near contact below the text-posted sign. Then with a hand up and near his face, the muffled sound of fingers snapping was done.

No one but the angel took notice of the man, no longer outside and now sitting across from Aziraphale, his body relaxing in a manner close to how he would on his couch.

“Well.” He felt the urge to straighten his clothes out, maybe fix his tie… But what for? It’s Crowley, not of an archangel to impress or show physical respect towards. He settled with his hands on his lap. “Fancy meeting you here,” he finished.

Crowley hummed. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Three days of respectful waiting as the serpent called him one evening that he longed for a nap. When he would awake was the unknown abyss, a mile dive inside being each day of waiting for his return.

His eyebrows jumped to his hairline, then rearranged himself to rest crossed arms at the table. “Short time,” he muttered.

Aziraphale nodded. Thank Someone.

If he acted this way after three days, how would the angel be when waiting for a century? The Apocalypse would be no distraction when already prevented months back.

He then felt of a sharp gaze at him, the sensation he would receive and didn’t mind whenever Aziraphale ate with given silence by him. Realizing he was in thoughts again, he blinked and returned eye contact, snake eyes once more in public shielding of tinted glasses.

But his smirk had returned.

“Missed me?” He teased.

Desperately, his mind answered.

Aziraphale smiled. “A little.”

Crowley chuckled then played with the spoon in the bowl, stirring the now entirely cold meal. And yet, when the demon scooped an amount and brought it over to the angel, Aziraphale made no hesitation to take the amount.

It was warm again.

Just as his smile that never left during and leaving the restaurant, this time not alone.

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Cheers. *lifts up glass of champagne* To the second season 🥂