#Brothels

[wangxianficrecs]

Inter-Sect Politics for the Absolute Beginner by Elpie (Horribibble)

Inter-Sect Politics for the Absolute Beginner

by Elpie (Horribibble) (@elpiething)

M, 3k, Wangxian

Summary: Today, with a formal missive from Koi Tower in hand and Zonghui staring at him with open concern, Nie Mingjue throws his head back and laughs and knows that no request will ever bring him such joy: Sect Leader Jin Guangshan has been brutally assaulted and, due to a conflict of interest, the Jin sect begs the assistance of the Honorable Sect Leader Nie Mingjue in the search for justice. - Wei Ying was raised in a brothel in Yunping, and Sect Leader Jin is having a very bad day. Kay's comments: Incredibly funny! Had me grinning the entire time. AU where Meng Shi was the one who found Wei Ying and took him in, offering him a home in the brothel. So, he grew up alongside Meng Yao and one day, when Jin Guangshan visits the brothel, Wei Ying is not going to stand by and look as his adopted family gets mistreated. Rest in pieces, Jin Guangshan's nuts. Excerpt: Without missing a beat, the young man laden in silks and ornaments and the almost tangible love of every courtesan in the room laden upon him like so much armor looks Sect Leader Jin dead in the eye and says, “A shitty lover, an angry drunk, but most of all an asshole.” Personally, Mingjue could not have asked for more. Except, perhaps, to borrow one of Huaisang’s fans to hide his face. “Young master,” Lan Xichen speaks up, ever the voice of gentle reason. “This is perhaps not the best defense…” For a moment, the youth stills, blinking at the elder jade, surprised by the sound of genuine concern. But then he takes a deep breath and plants his hands on his hips, clearly not having any of it. “It’s the truth.” He levels his gaze, once more, upon the gilded pervert. “You’ve got twenty kids at least, including A-Yao, so I know you know how a brothel works. You’re not new. If you’re coming into our houses to be a rotten bastard, you should just leave.” The only other man among the courtesans glaring death upon Jin Guangshan, has the spine to call, “Ying’er.” But Nie Mingjue suspects very little has ever deterred this man, least of all being called little baby.

pov wei wuxian, pov nie mingjue, canon divergence, canon era, wei wuxian isn't adopted by the jiangs, non-yunmeng wei wuxian, courtesan wei wuxian, brothels, bamf wei wuxian, jin guangshan being an asshole, justice, families of choice, crack treated seriously, humor, different first meeting

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[takeuchiitsuka]

#8859 Copyright © Takeuchi Itsuka. All Rights Reserved.

[myhauntedsalem]

Big Nose Kate, The Shady Ladies and The 1880’s Bordellos

In 1881, Tombstone, population of around 5000 inhabitants, supported 110 saloons and fourteen 24 hour gambling halls. It is no wonder that “the red light women” or The Shady Ladies (Big Nose Kate pictured at left, seated, and sister, standing. Older Kate right, below.) practicing the world’s oldest profession, were among the first to arrive, and the most welcomed, in the mining camp.

Some of the women were part-time entertainers, hoping to strike it rich; some enjoyed their work, while others did it just for the money. For most, it was the only avenue to survival. The more acceptable trades for women, such as seamstress, cook or laundress, paid only the lowest of wages. Without a man to take care of her, a woman’s choice was often that of scandal or suicide. Though considered by most to be sinful, these women chose survival and were proud, rugged, and independent.

An attractive, pleasant woman soon learned that she could name her price. Some worked at local theatres and dance halls. The older and less attractive women worked on the street, in the saloons where they were paid a percentage for caging drinks from the customers, or in the cribs.

Prostitution was legal in Tombstone as long as the proper city license for the business of “House of Ill Fame” was purchased. Revenue collected from the sale of these licenses was, for many years, the sole source of financial support for Tombstone’s schools. Although considered to be a profession of sin, large contributions helped to build area churches, and during times of illness, the parlor houses not only housed the sick, but the girls provided their care. (Madame Blonde Marie at left)

A crib, consisting of one room, approximately 10×8, constructed from rough lumber with a tin roof, was the worst place to work. To ensure that her customers could find her, the woman’s name was painted on the door. The cribs were rented to prostitutes at a price of $3 per day, payable in advance. The rooms were sparsely furnished and arranged for a quick turnover. The customer removed only his hat! The customers were miners, laborers, soldiers, and a very few cowboys, as Tombstone was a mining camp. On payday it was not unusual for a girl to entertain as many as 70 men. Disease, alcoholism and drug addiction were her destiny. The fees were typically: Chinese, Negro, Indian 25 cents Mexican 50 cents French 75 cents American $1.00.

The parlor houses were of various designs, however, all required PAYMENT IN ADVANCE and posted the sign SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR MONEY REFUNDED. Due to local restrictions, the parlor houses were located in the same area as the cribs. In sharp contrast, the parlor houses were furnished with carved furniture, red velvet drapes, full length mirrors, exotic paintings, and deep soft rugs. Most were two stories.

The first floor was usually a saloon where drinking, dancing, and gambling took place. These customers were served by young, attractive maids and a uniformed butler. The girls would line up for the customer to make his choice. The madam was paid and the man escorted upstairs to one of the elaborately and lavishly decorated private rooms. The standard fee was $10; overnight cost up to $30. Young women of exceptional beauty and older women with special skills or well known passionate ability demanded higher prices. The madam took half of the girls’ fees as well as $5-$20 room and board per week depending on the times.

During the California gold rush, the brass or bronze check for the house came into use. It was the standard token. The check was purchased from the madam and presented to the girl who would cash in the checks for payment. Each house accommodated between 5 and 30 girls who could make up to $150 per week. In comparison, miners made only $3 for a 12 hour shift!

The hours of operation were noon to daybreak, and the girls got 1 day a week off. Huge profits were made from the sale of beer, whiskey, wine, and champagne. The competition was fierce. Most madams allowed their girls to pass out business cards with the girl’s name and the house’s address. Others were allowed to sell nude photos of themselves in unusual poses. Most were known only by nickname, both to protect their families and in the hopes of marrying respectably in the future.

[el-ffej]

🤔

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Eddard IV

“Would the lord and lady like the use of a bedchamber?” asked Littlefinger. “I should warn you, Stark, we usually charge for that sort of thing around here.”

“A moment alone, that’s all I ask,” Catelyn said.

“Very well.” Littlefinger strolled to the door.

“Don’t be too long. It is past time the Hand and I returned to the castle, before our absence is noted.”

[thespliffbunker]

Directed by : Tinto Brass.

[historyhermann]

Burkely's Top Twenty Anime TV Shows of 2023

Composite image comprising of screenshots from seven of the twenty shows on this list. Top row: Birdie Wing (left), Magirevo (right). Middle row: Kuma Kuma Kuma Bear (left), Skip and Loafer (right). Bottom row: Yuri is My Job! (left), 16Bit Sensation (middle), The Apothecary Diaries (right). Not pictured: Ippon Again!, D4DJ, BanG Dream! It’s My Go!!!!, Shy, The 100 Girlfriends, Yohane the…

[greenhikingboots]

A Safe Stranger - Jonsa Ficlet

Woops. Hand slipped. Here’s another ficlet. I’ve been going through my Google Docs, simplifying half formed ideas and finishing them up. Summary for this one, so you know what you’re getting into (because it’s different than my usual stuff):  The owner of the Mole’s Town brothel has a gift for him. Nineteen and still a maiden, they say. And the prettiest thing in all the Seven Kingdoms.👀

In this life, nothing is certain apart from taxes, war, and death. Oh, and on occasion, brothers of the Night’s Watch will break their vows with Mole’s Town whores. That’s their version of the saying, anyway. Their Lord Commander, Jon Snow — murdered, resurrected, replaced, and eventually returned to them — is far past caring. When he was a green boy, he took his vows seriously. That is, he tried to. And he expected others to do the same. But so much has happened since then, so many terrible, heartbreaking things, that a bit of vow breaking here and there doesn’t really bother him anymore. For fuck’s sake, he broke his own vows with a wildlig. So who is he to judge? As long as his men aren’t hurting women, bruising them or forcing them to do things against their will — or gods forbid, putting a babe in them they’ll never help provide for — what does Jon care? -x- The owner of the Mole’s Town brothel has a gift for him. Nineteen and still a maiden, they say. And the prettiest thing in all the Seven Kingdoms. “The owner — she wants to thank you for restoring the Gift,” they tell Jon. “Says business has been booming ever since. Says you wouldn’t have to pay for the girl neither.” Jon allows the conversation to continue more for his amusement than anything else. “How could a girl living in a brothel still be a maiden?” he asks. “Serves drinks, plays the harp, and does the singing. Owner says it’ll stay that way until she’s heard from you. So you want the girl or not?” -x- Jon tries to be discreet about it, tries to keep it between him, the brothel’s owner, and the steward he sends with his answer. But of course his attempt fails. Before the steward even makes it back to Castle Black, all the men know. “Don’t want her unless you can have her in your own chambers?” they tease. “Is that you’re thinking, Lord Snow? We heard she’s meant to come back here with your steward.” Jon shakes his head, embarrassed but amused as well. “You’ll all kindly fuck off unless you want nothing but cold stew for the next fortnight,” he quips. “Thank you and goodnight.” -x- If the girl doesn’t want to fuck him, that’s fine. And if she doesn’t want to return to the brothel, that’s fine too. Jon’s prepared for both options. The latter might be tricky, logistically speaking, but he’ll find a way to make it work. Rickon Stark — Jon’s baby half-brother when last they saw each other, many, many years ago, but now known to be his cousin — serves as the young Lord of Winterfell. If need be, Jon will send the girl to work in his kitchens or be his seamstress or something of the sort. He’ll give her a chance to make an honest living, if that’s what she wants. What’s dishonest about sex work? It’s easy enough to imagine her asking such a thing. It’s the oldest occupation in the world. Everyone knows that. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe that’s Jon wanting the girl to want him. It’s been a long time since he’s felt wanted. He aches at the memory of it. -x- When Jon sees the girl, he’s struck by how easily she could pass for a member of House Tully of Riverrun. If she dyed her hair auburn instead of its current shade of brown, she could even pass for a member of the family he grew up in. Another one of Lady Catelyn’s daughters. Face not as round as Sansa’s, but eyes just as blue, cheekbones just as high. “Shae Rivers, m’lord,” the girl says, giving a small bow. “Rivers?” Jon asks. “Natural born, then? Like me?” “Ah, but you weren’t, were you? Only thought you were for many years.” Jon scoffs. “My reputation precedes me, I see.” “It’s a good reputation, m’lord. You saved us all from those monsters beyond the Wall.” “And ushered in a Dragon Queen,” Jon challenges. That was the reason he’d been sent back to the Wall. Seems ridiculous not to acknowledge it. “But then you saved us from her too,” the girl — Shae says. But Jon is undeterred. Admit what I am, he thinks. Let’s have no secrets or half truths between us. “Which is worse, do you suppose,” he asks, “being a queenslayer or a kinslayer?” She doesn’t answer that question. “Take off your clothes, m’lord,” she says instead. -x- She’s meant to be his gift, and yet Jon can’t help but bury his face between her legs. He wants to feel her squirm with excitement, hear her moan with delight. After she’s done just that for several minutes, she wraps her fingers around his arm and tugs. “Come up here, Jon,” she commands. He doesn’t catch it at first, the change in what she’s called him. But soon he’s kissing the inside of her wrist, the one below the hand that tugged at him. And that’s when he sees it. A birthmark he recognizes. Jon stares, then rubs his thumb over it, the truth sinking in. Sansa — not Shae, definitely not — sits up and holds his face between her hands. “Don’t be angry with me,” she begs. Jon shakes his head. She’s alive. After all these years. He’s more likely to weep with relief than be angry. And yet— “Why would you want this?” he asks. “Why would you let me —” “It’s as I said earlier,” she interjects. Earlier, Jon gave her the option to go to Winterfell, to work in Rickon’s castle, just as he’d planned. But Sansa, still pretending to be Shae, had said she’d been running from dangerous men her whole life. One day, she was bound to be caught, bound to be forced to do things she didn’t want to do. “Not at Winterfell,” Jon tried to assure her. “You’re wrong. Terrible things happen to women even there. I’m sure of it,” she countered. “So I think I’ll take my chances with you, Lord Snow. You seem gentle enough. At least this way I might actually enjoy my first time.” -x- “I don’t regret it,” Sansa insists. “Unless — are you angry with me?” “If I’m angry with you, then you’ll regret it? Is that what you’re saying? Sansa… we were raised as brother and sister.” He still doesn’t understand. Why did she pretend not to know him? Why, when he spoke of Winterfell, did she not reveal the truth about who she was? Who she is . “Aye, we were raised that way,” she replies, “but that isn’t who we truly are to one another. And you're —” She huffs, frustrated. “You’re nearly a stranger to me! A safe stranger. But I suppose lies of omission are still lies, aren’t they? I don’t regret it, but I am sorry. Will you forgive me?” -x- It doesn’t make sense, how he can feel so differently than he knows he ought to. But after the initial shock wears off, Jon realizes that’s the case. The simple truth is that he still wants Sansa. And she wants him too. Even so, honor compels him. Her honor. Now that he knows who she really is, he tells himself to resist. And when they fall asleep sharing his bed, he makes sure to face the wall. Sometime before daybreak, she slips her arm around his waist. “Did you miss me?” she whispers in his ear. Jon’s sleepiness makes him unencumbered. He lifts Sansa’s fingers to his lips and kisses them gently. “I missed you desperately,” he admits. “Don’t you want to show me?” She slides her fingers under his shift. She kisses the crook of his neck. “Jon, please. Show me how much you missed me,” she begs. “Show me how happy you are to have me back in your life.” “I’ll show you,” Jon agrees. He rolls over, then straddles her waist. He kisses her mouth this time. It’s easy In the dark, where Sansa’s little more than shadows and curves and sparkly blue eyes. A safe stranger, as she said.

[kip-and-kit-nightengale]

Kit Nightengale ,My encounters

------------------

My name is Kit Nightengale, the date is October 15, 1883. Today marks not only my birthday but a year since I ran away from home, it makes me rather sad. I miss my family so much. Especially my brother, it is also his birthday. We're twins and have been practically inseparable our entire lives, which is part of why this whole situation hurts so much. I haven't seen him in, as previously stated, a year ago. Today. Our birthday.

It's been a whole year since that horrific night and I can't believe it. I often got into trouble but I never figured I'd actually ever get caught for it, no matter how many times P warned me. He always told me I was "too crazy a gal" to think that my crimes would never be found for. I hadn't committed anything too unspeakable. The crime I commit is robbery and I suppose some form of impersonation. I dress as though I work at the brothel, which the idea alone icks me. I don't mind women who have such jobs, the profession alone is rather brave. I just don't tend to have the...drive. The idea of fancying a partner like that...sounds...dry. I love the concept of romance, love, adventure, a person for life! But that part? Oh, no thank you.

I got off track...I dress as though I work the job and then find a man. I let him take me somewhere nice, while he's eating or drinking at supper time, I slip something. Around thirty minutes later I mention hitting the hay with him, he agrees and we head to the bedroom. I go to "get ready" and wait for him to finally...fall asleep. I take this opportunity to go through all his clothing. Pockets, hats, socks, boots, everything. I steal whatever I find valuable. If we are at his place then I'll go through the cabinets and drawers until there's nothing left or my sacks are full-whichever comes first.

I keep these sacks beneath my dress around my cage. Rather helpful, see why I fake this profession? Well, one faithful night I was set up. I took a guy back to his house, had a lovely dinner with him and waited for him to fall under his slumber. Only...he faked it. And caught me stealing from him. Turns out the man I had tried to rob from worked for the sheriff. The trouble I was in....

I ran for home, reigned my trusty steed and never showed my face back there again. I have been waiting for things to cool down and for someone to come get me. He hasn't yet but I trust he will. In fact I've been hearing talk all about him. Well, they never say his name directly, hell, no one but me knows his name. They talk about that "scoundrel of an outlaw" often around here. Apparently he pulled off a decent heist today. It's amazing hearing them talk about him. They all talk about him like he's so fearful and everyone has been warned to look for a man in his forties. It's absolutely hilarious to listen to.

That "man" is no man...he's certainly not in his forties...after all today is our twenty fifth birthday. P just has always been good at hiding his face and looking more "rugged and old." All this talk makes me hopeful for the potential to come back home to him. I know with every story I hear that he's getting closer...not only to me but to his dream...I can't wait to get a poster of him. I just know it's him and each story makes me more ecstatic to await for him. I love and miss him so much. I know he many never see this but happy birthday, P. I miss you.

-Kit Nightengale

[theirisianprincess]

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[usnewsper-politics]

Rise in Flushing's Illegal Businesses Threatens Migrant Workers: Urgent Action Needed! #brothels #FlushingQueens #humantrafficking #illicitmassageparlors #migrantworkers

[telleroftime]

Imagine Sukuna letting you wash his hair. He's never allowed it before but he heard some ladies in high society talk about how their maids washed their bodies for them from time to time and as a man that likes to try everything - he summoned you to the bathing chamber just so that you could do it.

You, the head servant, had simply assumed that Sukuna intended for you to bring him something. Perhaps the oils in the water were not to his liking, or perhaps he forgot a towel. But no, he orders you to wash his hair for him.

He doesn't think he would enjoy it. He stops you a few times during it too, his hand gripping your wrist before he relents. And when you finally lather the products in his hair? He cannot stop the content rumble from leaving his throat. He relaxes against the edge of the water as his back presses more firmly against your knees that stick out over the edge. You're delicate and that surprises him. He's not used to that, even from his concubines.

You comb his hair too, rinsing it with rice water and making sure each knot is brushed out. He likes it. He will never admit that he likes it, but he does. And you know he does when he summons you once per week to do it again and again. And of course, no one else gets the privilege.

[telanganajournalist]

Beware of Beautiful shadow girls!

spamming messages alert! Don’t call the numbers that look like a spamming message? Don’t you click the links? Don’t do WhatsApp chat or video call? ఇలాంటి మెసేజ్ లోని నంబర్లకు ఫోన్ చేసినా? లింక్ లను క్లిక్ చేశానా? వాట్సాప్ చాట్ లేదా వీడియో కాల్ చేసినా? ఇక నీ పని అంతే! తస్మాత్ జాగ్రత్త! స్వీట్ గా మాట్లాడుతారు అమాయకులను బుట్టలో వేస్తారు. అందమైన అమ్మాయిల ఫోటోలతో వలవేస్తారు. అందినకాడికి దోసుకుంటారు.…

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Eddard IV

“Your lady awaits you upstairs.”

Ned was lost. “Catelyn is truly here? This is not some strange jape of Littlefinger’s?” He sheathed his blade.

“Would that it were, Stark,” Littlefinger said.

“What is this place?”

“Just what it appears,” Littlefinger said. “A brothel. Can you think of a less likely place to find a Catelyn Tully?”

He smiled. “As it chances, I own this particular establishment, so arrangements were easily made.

“I am most anxious to keep the Lannisters from learning that Cat is here in King’s Landing.”

“Why?” Ned asked.

“Follow me, and try to look a shade more lecherous and a shade less like the King’s Hand. It would not do to have you recognized. Perhaps you could fondle a breast or two, just in passing.”

They went inside, through a crowded common room where a fat woman was singing bawdy songs while pretty young girls in linen shifts and wisps of colored silk pressed themselves against their lovers and dandled on their laps.

No one paid Ned the least bit of attention.

Ser Rodrik waited below while Littlefinger led him up to the third floor, along a corridor, and through a door.

[kalihaze604]

reincarnation

I always believed in reincarnation before I even really knew what it meant. At age 7, as a form of punishment from a babysitter sick of dealing with a bunch of nasty kids, she sent us all to “Vacation Bible Camp” which was literally like Bible School at the local Church and church related activities all week as some sort of an attempt to teach us to stop being so mean to each other. My sister was getting bullied by other kids there, and it was the Christian Missionary babysitter’s way of staging an intervention of sorts in the only way she knew how. I was raised without religion other than my grandparents giving me a kids version of the bible, my parents attempting to drag me to church on Christmas once so I could see how other folks celebrated, and then this vacation bible camp. At the end of the week we were told to “go into the chapel and pray to god” and silly little me—— I was like “hey God, when I die, I wanna be reincarnated as a cat in my next lifetime!” Because I LOVED cats and one of my favourite things to do was going over to my friend’s family farm and spending time with the countless barn cats and their kittens. even before I even knew what would entail, like the fact that I would have to karmically fuck up perhaps to have a lower birth order in my soul’s next lifetime? Or would that mean that cats are the gods the Egytians worshipped them as? And that they should be treated as such by society? Hmm interesting way of looking at it two ways? I tell my cat that he is my Angel all the time?

anyways back on topic to the two photos. The first photo on the left is Al Hubbard, and the second photo on the right is Lahiri Mahasaya. Al, who was one of the first people using and distributing acid in this neighborhood, with the headquarters of his operations running out of an old brothel on Alexander Street. I was learning about the history of the first red light district in Vancouver, the first brothels, and how sex workers were pushed from block to block by the city and the cops. So first, back in the original township of granville aka gastown there’s already like 3ish brothels or “houses of ill repute” known. Then DuPont Street aka East Pender between columbia and carrall and later expanded up to main and down to abbott in general area. A bunch of brothels were built but mostly were single rooms with one worker occupying them. Then the workers got pushed up to Shore Street aka east Georgia street west of Main Street towards false creek, then they got pushed to Alexander street where many of the privileged and prosperous madams had lavish brothel buildings built rather quickly and luxuriously by the standards of the time. There were a LOT of brothels in the area as well as a LOT of workers and this was the original red light district of Vancouver. Chinatown literally used to have red lights? Anyways back to Al- he was referred to as Captain Trips and was known to carry a bunch of acid that he would hand out “to the right people” in hopes that it would help them wake up and perhaps experience a glimpse of what a religious experience or what enlightenment could possibly be like. He just handed out acid like money didn’t matter and died broke because it was all about the spirituality and the potential for positive change that LSD held. He ended up moving his business into one of these old brothels at Jackson and Alexander. I actually hung out there once about ten years ago. But when I saw his photo for the first time, I was shocked when I noticed the similarities between his face and Lahiri Mahasaya, one of my beloved teachers from a different time period, who as a yogaavatar, has transcended time and space to come visit me. If y’all have read Autobiography of a Yogi - you know I’m not joking about this being possible. Their eyes. Their eyes convey an eerie similar blissed expression. I would not be surprised if Al Hubbard was a reincarnation of Lahiri Mahasaya, I mean that would likely explain a lot of similarities between the two from what I’ve learned. Super trippy. Pretty sure different past life versions of my soul have spent time with both of them. anyone that knows me knows I talk about past lives a lot but I just learned my name from a recent past life and I’m fucking thrilled with how much I have discovered about that lifetime, it’s like the greatest, most compelling mystery of my ancestral trauma that I am so relentlessly seeking answers to and now they just flow to me 💕 it’s the greatest healing gift to my soul.

[nekovale]

first kisses