#quin silver

[wildflower-otome]

Spade no Kuni no Alice - Otomate Style Covers

[quinloki]

Quin do you have someone particular in mind? Because what you described I either picture Mihawk, Rayleigh, Lucci, Kid, Izou or Crocodile maybe Sabo too. Yes definitely Sabo too.

You can't just drop this and not write more. 🥵

original post

XD

I mean, me being me I had Marco in mind primarily. Sat between your legs, using one transformed foot to wrap his talons around your calf and keep your legs wide open.

Long fingers just finding the points that send sparks through your vision. The way he flickers flames over you every time you orgasm to help you recover a little faster so there's less time between them.

Rayleigh's a good choice too. He doesn't even press his fingers inside your ass, just teases against the ring until you're losing your mind wondering how he can bring you to the edge like that. A gentle swipe of your slit with his thumb and you're crying, begging, gods and demons just let you cum, just once, please.

He wants to know what the rush is, you both have all day, just relax. Once you relax he finally pushes inside, and you're cumming in that soundless sort of way that rolls your eyes back, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, squirting down his arm.

Sabo's a good one, but he's traded his usual leather gloves for those bright blue neoprene gloves. You've been role-playing, and he's the shady government official there to get your confession. You've done nothing wrong, of course, but you're still going to admit to your crimes by the time he's done with you.

Don't fight it, don't think too much, just drown in the pleasure and admit all your sins to him. He promises he'll make sure you atone for each, and every. single. one. ♥

Kid's thick fingers are covered in lube, and the stretch is intense, but he's only going to hurt you if you beg for it, so it might feel weird, but it still feels good. The cold heavy curve of the tip of his metal finger against your tongue and the perfect tension against your neck. It's equal parts alluring and scary how fine his control is over that massive hand.

How caring he is that the finger tips are rounded right now, so there's no hard edges against your tongue or lips. Every time you cum he's leaving hickies and bite marks on your skin, seasoning that deep pleasure with spice just the way you need for it to prolong everything.

Crocodile's hook cradles your neck as his single finger fills you well. He teases pushing his thumb into your cunt, but shifts up and teases your clit just as you think you're going to get double penetrated by his fingers.

Of course he does this while you're in his lap, legs draped over his, gaze hazy and unfocused as half the upper staff gives the report for the day. You're certain Crocodile won't have missed a word, but you're not even sure how many people are there. No would dare to risk anything more than a shaky voice or clearing their throat in regards to you, and the only time people stop talking is when you're cumming.

Everyone listens, no one daring to disturb the one Crocodile actually wants to hear.

Izou has you suspended from the ceiling, face lined up with the window as he works. Between the height of the window and some curtains, no one can see much except your face, but if you cum too hard to scream the entire ship's going to hear you.

The point is who gives in first - will Izou show mercy, or will you remind the crew that the one person who can really make you bloom is him?

Lucci is unforgiving in fingering you, nearly forcing an orgasm from the beginning, but you can't. Much as he works you toward the brink you have to fight it, you have to struggle - by Lucci's words specifically you're not allowed to cum until he gives you permission.

The longer you obey him the more pleasurable his conquest of you will be. Make it a minute and you probably won't need medical attention. Make it two minutes and the bruises and claw marks will be much sweeter, almost kind.

Make it three minutes and any crying you do will be from overwhelming pleasure.

Hold out until he tells you you're allowed and you won't be able to walk for a couple of days for all the best reasons.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Black and Silver Pant Set from A.B. Archie (n/a)

[quinloki]

Not putting this in the tags cause I wanted to really sink my teeth into it.

The trope for Marco is effectively like a Fairy Tail - nothing went wrong. It was nearly love at first sight and there weren't any real bumps. At least not between us, all the issues are external ^^; Probably Soul Mates if I'm picking something more traditional.

Eustass Kid was more Rivals to Lovers, and it wasn't much of a rivalry so much as sexually tense friendly competition. Plenty of back and forth though, and just a few misunderstandings.

Sabo was more slowburn than anything else. Frustratingly slow too, because it was nearly love at first sight, but both believed there was no way the other was being anything more than just polite. (When the tension finally broke it took three days to recover).

Donquixote Doflamingo was a fight and a disaster - 100% enemies to lovers, and more reluctant lover than anything else. Yandere through and through and I probably won't last all that long. ^^;

Sir Crocodile was Only One Bed. It was a business trip for both of us, for different businesses, and options were limited. I made him sign a contract that he would be a gentleman and then slept on the couch (one of us was small enough for it, one of us was *not*.) >.> After that it kind of turned into yandere, but the bastard's so smooth it's hard to not just accept it. 😩

Rayleigh was a competition - it was supposed to be a one-night stand. idk if hubris or arrogance did me in on that one, but now I have the two of them looking out for me. Strangers to Lovers.

what’s everybody selfship trope?

[petermorwood]

Potato Crisps / Chips on Tasting History

So we've just watched Max's latest...

...and I was grinning a bit because I posted about Dr Kitchiner's 1817 (non-US, definitely non-Saratoga) crisps / chips recipe a month ago.

That image was from an American edition of his book; I've found a pic from the original - NB that these slices are floured before frying.

For reference, here's a two-penny piece from about 1797; the coin would still be current 20 years later:

...and here's how thick the potatoes should be sliced. That's 4mm, which is 2mm less than "a quarter of an inch" (6.25mm).

The slices will get even thinner as their moisture evaporates during frying, and, given the nature of recipes, potatoes cooked this way are probably even older than 1817 and Kitchiner's is just the first appearance found so far in print.

*****

The first recipe for "Game Chips" (an accompaniment to grouse, pheasant etc.) appeared, per the Wikipedia link, in a 1903 book published by famous chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935):

"Chip potatoes - these are potatoes cut into thin slices; this is usually done with a special plane. (A mandoline.) They are put in cold water for 10 minutes; then drained, dried in a cloth and fried until very crunchy. They are served hot or cold and generally accompany game roasted in the English style."

However, per Escoffier's Wikipedia page, much of his work was based on that of Anton Carême (1783-1833), whose dates are squarely coincident with Dr Kitchiner's Potato Slices.

Given the amount of cookery to-and-fro between England and France after the Napoleonic wars were over, it's impossible to say who first came up with the idea of potato crisps.

The French loved dainties - "un petit quelquechose", a little something - which the English pronounced and dismissed as "kickshaws", something over-fussy yet insubstantial. Yet those same English also loved roasting things with their appropriate accompaniments.

(I'm writing this just over a week after Christmas, and have been well reminded that the phrase "Roast (turkey / goose / beef) With All The Trimmings" is still in common 21st-century use.)

If those roasted things were game birds, only those above a certain level in society would be eating them, so it's not unreasonable to assume a rich-person game bird would attract fussy, time-consuming rich-person trimmings like, okay, Game Chips.

One thing's for sure, Potato Crisps - and Game Chips too, so hard luck, Escoffier - are almost certainly older than even Tasting History could prove.

*****

BTW, they also existed at a time when "English Food Was Bland" is more fake history.

Sauces put out on the table in fancy bottles had fancy labels ("bottle tickets") showing what was in them, and the contents were often far from bland.

Quin sauce was anchovy-based, hot and pungent.

Harvey's was a spicy sauce similar to Worcestershire, ketchup was probably mushroom and also spicy; the other two need no elaboration.

AFAIK the two crescent-shaped ones in the next pics are deliberate imitations of an officer's rank-gorget.

Finally a generic Not-Bland label that would go on any number of modern bottles (antique silver, yours for £250)...

*****

And after all of the above, I could do Very Bad Things to a packet of Tayto Cheese 'n' Onion. A packet?

Why stop at a packet when A Pack takes less time to say?

After all, It Is Written that:

"Reading One Book Is Like Eating One Potato Crisp Chip."

And also that Nothing Exceeds Like Excess...

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in December 2024 🌈

Find these books and more here.

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ Sugar-Coated Kisses - Echo Lark 🧡 Christmas at Watson Memorial - Clara Ann Simons 💛 Warm-Blooded - J Greene 💚 It Takes Three To Tango - Jem Wendel 💙 The Black Curse - N.A. Moore 💜 Heavenly Tyrant - Xiran Jay Zhao ❤️ Encrypted Hearts - E.V. Bancroft 🧡 Dangerous Devotion - Robin Jo Margaret 💛 Sew in Love - Rhea Fox 💙 Saint - Chani Lynn Feener 💜 Her Ladyship's Christmas Companion - Theresa Meiningen 🌈 A Sky of Emerald Stars - A.K. Mulford

❤️ Inked in Blood and Memory - Allison Ivy 🧡 The Key - Jo Morgan Sloan 💛 Home Between Homes - Flynn Woods 💚 A Kiss for the Holidays - C.S. Autumn 💙 Loving the Linebacker - Amaya Knight 💜 Close to Home - Allisa Bahney ❤️ Christmas Shelter - Eva Gonzay & Julia C. Brown 🧡 This Isn't Everything You Are - J. Marie Rundquist 💛 Keep It in the Dark - Justin Arnold 💙 Santa & His Elf - Bink Cummings 💜 On the Subject of Kittens and Mittens - Katie Silverwings 🌈 Winter's Whisper - M Bonneau

❤️ Boyfriends - refrainbow 🧡 Innis Harbor - Patricia Evans 💛 A Complementary Connection - Eskay Kabba 💚 Point of Sighs - Melissa Scott 💙 Bind You by Blood - Shepard DiStasio 💜 The Resurrectionist - A. Rae Dunlap ❤️ Fractured Dreamer - A.K. Adler 🧡 The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💛 Becoming Disabled - Jan Doolittle Wilson 💙 A Caress of Water - Nico Silver 💜 How to Survive As a Villain 1 - Yi Yi Yi Yi 🌈 The Silent Concubine - Qiang Tang

❤️ Hadrian - Harlowe Savage 🧡 A Series of Rooms - A.J. Barlowe 💛 Inklings of Invisibility - S.L. Dove Cooper 💚 The Cobbler and His Elves - C.B. Wren 💙 A Nightclub for the Holidays - Arden Coutts 💜 Armor of Dusk - Jess Galaxie ❤️ Twisted Shadows - Allie Therin 🧡 A Deception of Courts - Ben Alderson 💛 Trial Run - Carsen Taite 💙 How to Flirt with a Witch - Tiana Warner 💜 Roughed Up - Kate Hawthorne 🌈 House of Crimson Curses - Ruby Roe

❤️ Sister Snake - Amanda Lee Koe 🧡 Roland Rogers Isn't Dead Yet - Samantha Allen 💛 The Rivals - Jane Pek 💚 Private Rites - Julia Armfield 💙 The Christmas Switch - Briar Prescott 💜 Ribbonwood - Ruby Landers ❤️ Shifting Lanes - Joanne Kwan 🧡 Twice-Spent Comet - Ziggy Schutz 💛 A Crush for the Holidays - E.L. Ough 💙 Resist - Lasairiona Lewis 💜 Free from Falling - E.L. Massey 🌈 The Legendary Master's Wife - Yin Ya

❤️ Tide Breaker's Curse - Ivy H. Marikova 🧡 Twist Her - Terri Ronald 💛 How to Fuck Like a Girl - Vera Blossom 💚 Dog Days of Christmas - Krystal Wolfgang & Kimberly Wolfgang 💙 Warmer, Colder - Alexia Onyx 💜 Salt in the Wind - Jenna Pine ❤️ What We Carry With Us - Joseff McKenneth Goodwin 🧡 Reinvention - Karol Yan 💛 Christmas Carols - Maxime Jaz 💙 I'm Not Your Pet - Fae Quin 💜 Something Extraordinary - Alexis Hall 🌈 I Might Be in Trouble - Daniel Aleman

❤️ Deck the Palms - Annabeth Albert 🧡 Don't Get It Twisted - Wren Taylor 💛 Ice & Sweet - Charlie Novak 💚 Speak EZ - Elle E. Ire 💙 The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish - Xue Shan Fei Hu 💜 Horns For Hell - Rafael Nicolás ❤️ Flamboyant Fictions - Ian Fleishman 🧡 Where the Heart Is - Jenni Simonis 💛 Sorry I Kissed Your Dad - Achilles King 💙 Merry Weihnachten - E.J. Noyes 💜 An Alpha for the Holidays - Emily Axon 🌈 The Blessed - Anne Shade

❤️ Our Sinful Love - Amy H. 🧡 Gambler's Conceit - Adara Wolf & R. Phoenix 💛 Fate and Flambe - Leena Metcalfe 💚 Figure You Out - Hannah Danielle & K.F. Starfell 💙 Amaranthine - Aricka Alexander 💜 Twisted Loyalties - Barbara J. Webb ❤️ Echoes of Us - Alex Cross 🧡 The Shadowbearer's Curse - Jasmyn Morning 💛 Too Many Beds - Various 💙 We Are the Beasts - Gigi Griffis 💜 Unspoken - N.N. Britt 🌈 Rainbows After Storms - Luka Kobachi

❤️ The Shutouts - Gabrielle Korn 🧡 Robin's Worlds - Rainie Oet & Mathias Ball 💛 What the Woods Took - Courtney Gould 💚 Rescue Me - N. Slater 💙 Seb & Ailin - Michele Notaro 💜 The International Love Story - Jonas Noelting ❤️ Waterlogged - Nance Sparks 🧡 The Guardians - Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 The Changeling's Faerie Prince - K.D. Ellis 💙 Until at Dawn We Wake - Charlotte Dalwood 💜 How to Get a Life in Ten Dates - Jenny L. Howe 🌈 Hammajang Luck - Makana Yamamoto

❤️ The Rules of Royalty - Cale Dietrich 🧡 Tired of Waiting for Tomorrow - Allison K. Garcia 💛 One Last Run - Bryce Oakley 💚 Reckless Hearts - Jax Calder 💙 Christmissed - Blythe H. Warren 💜 How Could You - Ren Strapp ❤️ Blackened - Tyler Briggs 🧡 Gratification in Gluttony - Nik Knight 💛 The Mogul Meets Her Match - Julia Underwood 💙 How to Be Heard - Roxane Gay 💜 The Case of the Missing Maid - Rob Osler 🌈 Shades of Us - D.L. Sims

[celtickink1957]

My post that pays tribute to the beautiful bondage models who have graced our magazines, computers, cell phones and fantasies over the years. Below I've compiled an alphabetical list of many of them as a way to get started. It is far from complete but I will update it as I think of more. I encourage my followers to participate by pointing out omissions, requesting your favorites be featurrd and contributing pictures of your own. Let's have some fun with this. Enjoy! 

Abbey. Akira Lane. Akira Shell. Alba Zevon. Alexis Grace. Alexis Taylor. Amanda Foxxx. Amber Michaels. Anastasia Pierce. Angela Sommers. Andrea Neal. Angel Lee. Anne Stonebrook. Annette Schwartz. April O'Neil. Aracoeli Nin. Ariel Anderssen. Artemis Bound. Ashley Graham. Ashley. Lane. Ashley Renee. Babydoll Michelle. Bambi Newberry. Becky Speed. Bettie Page. Brianne Benson. Cali Logan. Candle Boxxx. Carissa Montgomery. Carolina West. Charlee Chase. Chelsea Pfeiffer. Cherie DeVille. Chrissy Marie. Christina Carter. CJ Belle. Clover. Cobie. Daisy. Dakkota. Danielle Trixie. Daphne Rosen. Darby Daniels. Darla Crane. Debby Turpin. Dee Williams/Darling. Dixie Comet. Eden Wells. Elizabeth Andrews. Emily Addison. Emily Camille. Emily Marilyn. Eve Ellis. FaythonFire. Felony. Fi Stevens. Gianna Lynn. Gigi Allens. Ginger Savage. Goldie Blair. Hayley Leigh. Holly Morgan. Jackie Bound. Jamie Quin. Jane Stone. Jasmine Guy. Jasmine Shay. Jasmine Sinclair. Jenna Hoskins. Jenna Lyle. Jenni Lee. Jennifer West. Jenny Anderson. Jessica Wood. Jewell Marceau. JJ Plush. Jordan Berlin. Judith Wilson. Julia Faire. Julia Parton. June Bauer. Karina Santos. Karlie Montana. Katherine West. Katie Jordan. Kelly Shibari. Kendra James. Kobe Lee. Krystal Summers. Lara Cox. Laura Blake. Lia May. Lil Missy. Lindsey Sinclaire. Liv Latexale. Lorelei Lee. Lorna Latexale. Lucy Purr. Ludella Hahn. Madison Young. Mary Jane. Melissa Roberts. Mia Chang. Milestiba. Molly Matthews. Monica Harris. Nadia. Natali Demore. Natalie Minx. Nicole Peters. Nicole Sheridan. Nyxon. Olivia. Paige White. Pamela. Paris Kennedy. Penny Barber. Pepper Sterling. Pia Sands. Rachel Adams. Rachel Wells. Randy Moore. Rocky Emerson. Rubberreva. Sadie Belle. Sahrye. Sally Roberts. Samantha. Sandra Locke. Sandra Silvers. Sara Liz. Sarah Blake. Sarah Brooke. Sarah Gregory. Sasha Monet. Savannah James. Serene Isley. Shay Laren. Sidnay Adams. Simone Devon. Skylar West. Stacie Snow. Sye Rena. Tasha Marley. Star Nine. Terra Mizu. Tiffany Storm. Tigerr Benson. Tori Sinclair. Tyler Scot. Vivica Lase. Whitney Prescott. Yvette Costeau

[shady-tavern]

Masterpost

For anyone who wants an easy overview of my stories.

***

Fantasy stories:

Missing Piece

A Deal of Games

Deals and Revelry, Quin's Backstory

Healing Hearts

Vampire's Lullaby: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Drabble

The Tailors on Baker Street, Drabble

Winter Star

The Fall of a God

Learning to give Life

Lich Mage and Melina: Part One and Part Two

Symphony of Song and Music, Drabble

Everything

Amnesiac God-Spouse

Seeking Shelter from the Dragon

The Miracle Dealer

What makes a God

The Royal Oracle

*

Hero and Villain Stories:

Heart Song

A Dash of Villainy within A Hero: Part One and Part Two

Perfect Nemesis: Part One and Part Two

Villain providing an Out for Heroes

Nightshade

Villain Roommate

Silver and Hero: Part One and Part Two

Paint the Town: Part One

*

Space and Aliens:

Going Home

Psychological Warfare Chess on Crack

*

Sneak Peeks for Patreon Stories:

Dancing with Stars

Holding Curses with Gentle Hands

Salt and Iron

Sanctuary

Dark Waters

Woven Magic

Doll House

The Price of a Life

The Magic of Consequences

Heartless

Breaking Chains

Wishmaker

Firsts

For the Living and the Dancing

Haunted House

A Heart of Death and Hope

*

WIPs:

The Shape of a Soul: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

*

Want to read more and support me at the same time? Want more awesome, fun or wholesome stories? Want to lord your support of an artist over your enemy's head as you laugh at them from the top of your metaphorical castle tower?

Or perhaps cackle in the woods while a disgruntled woodcutter shakes their fist at you? Head over to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!

There will be a new, exclusive short story every month (and occasionally a surprise second one!) while I work on upcoming books and more stories that I will post here!

Also, you get bragging rights. For what, you decide, but I am handing you a blank writ for bragging rights.

[pityroadart]

since the tags on my Lewis hands painting have mostly been along the lines of #WATERCOLOR?! HOW? (thank you!!) I figured I may as well do a wee step by step of how I painted the skin)

(disclaimer: I did not take many photos of the different stages, so you'll just have to trust the power of my narration)

(above) first up: the reference was from the Met Gala, as posted on Lewis Hamilton's Instagram. I can't take credit for the framing/pose — that was all the photographer

here's my cleaned up sketch and the first couple layers — I did a wash of colour on the hands first (quin burnt sienna PO48 quin maroon PR209 pigments my beloved, the best for warmer/deeper skin tones), added in a layer of shadows in the same colour to build structure, then got the inky black background in (mostly burnt umber PBr7 & French ultramarine PB29 I believe, with a bit of Roman Szmal's shadow grey too)

I kinda wish I'd left the background like that, but hey this whole piece was an experiment so I'll learn from it next time

next I added in further shading to the hands — again with the same skin tones as before, in different concentrations depending on the area, with the addition of some redder and darker tones too where needed. I also painted in the tattoos here — making sure they're under a layer or two of watercolour settles them into the skin like a real tattoo, rather than them looking sharpied on

And then! this is where the magic happens, and the part I'm most pleased with: by the stage of the first image above, the shadows were great in terms of position/shade, but felt a bit too blocky and stylised for the piece. So, if you get to the same issue (whether painting skin or clothing or anything with softer and more rounded contours), what you wanna do is:

make a pool of incredibly diluted skin tone mix on your palette. Literally, just water with a subtle hint of colour, roughly the same value as your highlights

get your softest brush. Nope, softer than that. In watercolour brushes, 'springy' is the opposite to 'soft', so you want bristles that don't really bounce back to their original shape if you push the wet brush against a firm surface. I'm using the Silver Black Velvet brush I've been using for the whole painting, but ideally a squirrel/sable or synthetic sable brush is gonna work

gently paint that diluted skin tone wash over the whole of the area (the hands, in this piece). This is why you want your softest brush, so as not to disturb the paint underneath too much. It also helps if the pigments you've been using are more staining (resistant to lifting). In general, phthalos and quinacridones are most staining, and granulating pigments least so. I've been using earth quinacridones here, which are moderately staining. Using good quality 100% cotton paper also helps

before that diluted wash is dry, get some paper towel and dab out the highlights. This keeps the edges softer and more natural than if you just painted around them

the wash you applied should have been just enough to soften those hard edges of shading you had previously, leaving lovely soft and more realistic transitions. Ta-dah!

then, off-camera, I added the darkest shading, painted in the gold, and felt it was missing something so added some scribbly highlights in 'ivory' coloured pencil. And that's that! It did involve a lot more swearing and complaining than I've just made it seem, but the skin part at least was something I'm used to.

[wildflower-otome]

[quinloki]

Sure I'll ride this bandwagon for a bit. =3

Open to anyone who wants to do this as well. (tag me if you want, so I don't miss it and can vote on your poll!!)

[thatrickmcginnis]

ROWLAND S. HOWARD, Toronto, April Fool's Day, 1988.

Rowland S. Howard was one of a handful of my guitar heroes (a list that includes Andy Gill, Ricky Wilson, Keith Levene and Robert Quine.) This is probably why I made the effort to photograph Howard and his band when they came through town, despite not having an assignment or a venue where the photos would be published. I brought along my studio in a bag and found the same helpfully empty space behind the bar at the Silver Dollar Room, the same place where I'd photographed Lydia Lunch two months earlier. These three shoots I did early in 1988 were crucial and coincidentally connected as Howard worked with Lunch throughout his life (their collaborative "concept album" Honeymoon in Red had been released the year previous), as had Henry Rollins, the next subject in my ad hoc studio at the Silver Dollar, who would also work with Howard.

I found Rowland S. Howard to be polite and friendly, with impeccable manners - very different from the haunted-looking man who would stalk the stage chain-smoking in concert videos I'd seen of The Birthday Party of Crime & the City Solution. He was in town with These Immortal Souls, the band he'd formed with his brother Harry Howard, his girlfiend Genevieve McGuckin and drummer Epic Soundtracks (born Kevin Godfrey), but for some reason McGuckin didn't make the Toronto show, part of a tour supporting their first record, Get Lost (Don't Lie). I spent most of the three rolls of film I ran through my Mamiya C330 trying to get a decent portrait of Howard, but shot the band together on the last half of the third roll, where Epic is wearing a Black Flag t-shirt; These Immortal Souls were the first non-American band on the Flag's label, SST.

Rowland S. Howard smoked all through my shoot with him, which I spent trying to get something that captured his somewhat wasted elegance. My white backdrop, a painter's tarp, had taken on some impressive wrinkles while stuffed in the gym bag it lived in between shoots, and it's taken considerable skill and digital magic to get these shots to look as slick as I had imagined them while doing this shoot nearly forty years ago. In the end I think they capture a few different facets of Howard, who would be in poor health for many years after I met him, afflicted from Hepatitis C that would lead to cirrhosis and liver cancer and ultimately kill him in 2009, at just fifty. Epic Soundtracks would die suddenly in his London home in 1997, after recording several acclaimed solo albums. Autoluminescent, a documentary about Howard, would come out in 2011.

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER TWO

pairing: model! minghao x stripper! reader

word count: 1.5k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, hao’s sorta kinda a regular customer, soft dom! minghao, steamy/intense makeout session, super/mullet minghao inspired, partial nudity, vip room sex, slight use of pet names (doll, masterpiece, baby), aaand i think that’s it

playlist songs: adorn - miguel, mushroom chocolate - quin & 6lack, anime girls - melli

notes: thank y’all for the love on pd so far! i’m getting notifs nonstop and that makes me really happy :’) hope you enjoy this week’s chapter!

taglist: @im-gemmy , @enhacolor, @hooniewnderland , @svtup , @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol (let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist)

you apply the finishing touches to your makeup, admiring how you looked in your silver sequined two-piece set and matching seven inch heels. to your surprise, you could already hear the loud atmosphere from the dressing room - and it wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet.

“it’s gonna be a good night,” you think to yourself, smiling to yourself at the thought of you covered in hundred dollar bills.

before you head out, you scroll through your phone one last time, looking at your social media feeds. double tapping on a friend’s post, you see a notification appear at the top of your screen.

minghao: hey, are you working tonight? i’m back in town for a show, but i need to relax and see you 😩

you bite down on your lip, your eyes rereading the message and your brain taking in every word. minghao is a famous model, somewhere in the world he was always in a show, walking the runway for all of the luxury brands. his handsome looks and his insanely gorgeous figure made him the it-boy every designer and photographer dreamed of.

you first met minghao at the club a few months ago, when he came for a magazine shoot and his friends decided to take him out. the second you laid eyes on each other as you were walking around the main floor, he took you by the hand and soon you were dancing for him in front of everyone. it didn’t take long to convince minghao about getting a room, your body clenching around nothing as you think about how big and hard he was in those jeans when you started to grind on him, thanking the heavens that your outfit made it possible to feel everything.

😈: hao! yeah, i’m gonna be working tonight. pay for a room as soon as you get here and i’ll be waiting 😏

minghao: i’ll try and get there within the hour. see you soon babe ❤️

you quickly toss your phone to the side when you hear your name being called, realizing that you would just have to kill some time before you got your main event.

——

as soon as they get through the doors (an hour later like he said), minghao walks in with his entourage, his dress shirt buttons deliciously exposing some of his toned chest, and his black distressed jeans accenting his legs. met with some screams, he greets his crowd as his people make sure he’s given enough space.

the music has switched a bit, and more sultry, intimate tunes fill the building. your hips rotating in rhythm as mushroom chocolate’s chorus comes on, playing with the straps of your top as you flirt with the customer in front of you.

so immersed in your own world, you don’t even realize that minghao has finally spotted you and approaches your space, sitting down a few inches away from your audience. your eyes for a split second reveal your shock and surprise, and minghao can’t help the smirk that crawls on his face.

“did you think i wouldn’t show up? i’m hurt, my pretty little doll. you know i’m a man of my word.” you stop dancing and walk towards him, gingerly sitting his lap, both your legs on opposite sides of his.

“mmm, trust me, i know you are, you know it’s just been a minute since i’ve seen you hao.. you look different,” you trail off, eyes wandering all over his body. did his muscles get bigger or something?

“good different or bad different?” he asks.

but before you can respond, someone clears their throat. the person sitting across from you and minghao stares in disbelief. right… you still had someone to “take care” of. you sigh, kind of wishing that you had gone straight to a room so your time with minghao would’ve been interruption-free.

“give me a sec, hao,” you say crawling off his lap, missing the contact and approaching the other customer. “i’m sorry, but it looks like i have to cut this short,” you say feigning a fake disappointment. “but, if you decide to wait for me, i can guarantee it’ll be worth the wait,” you say taking the cash on the floor, bending over in front of the two, teasing them. obviously you don’t notice, but minghao bites his lip at the sight, hoping that he would get to see that again in the next few minutes.

when you’re done, you take him by the hand and the lead the way up the stairs to the vip rooms. you stop at the first empty one you see, brushing the curtains away as he lets go of your hand to face you.

“you never answered my question, y’know,” he says staring directly into your eyes. you stare back at him a little confused, already forgetting what he had said earlier.

he laughs, “wow, you forgot already? what’s going on doll?”

“nothing,” you say chuckling back at him, “i just, have a lot on my mind now.. and it’s mostly you..”

“oh? care to tell me more?” he says, putting his hand on your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“i guess to answer your question, it’s a good different… you’re always hot, but tonight, hao? you’re fucking irresistible,” you swipe your tongue across your lips, biting down on your skin.

“really now?” he smiles, his lips inches away from yours. but before you can say anything else, his mouth crashes on your soft, pillowy lips, trying to take in as much as he could of you.

you put your arms around his neck, trying to bring him in closer as you match his energy and enthusiasm. minghao’s hands begin to roam your body, especially your breasts. he couldn’t help but admire how temptingly delicious they looked in your bra piece. you moan into his touch at every little trace and brush, craving for more.

“mm, minghao!” you whimper when he get adventurous and delicately touches your crotch, and you clench yet again around nothing. you continue to moan out his name in bliss and neediness, but after a minute, an idea pops in your head.

“m-minghao, you wanna take this to the couch?” you say trying to snap him out of his daze for a second.

without another word, he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the couch, your mouths still on each others. when he finally feels his legs against the edge of the furniture, he sits down, placing you on his lap.

not wanting to wait any longer, minghao takes off your bra, slowly revealing the top half of your body. he hisses at the sight, nearly groaning out at how the colorful lights in the room added to the glow that covered your body.

“you’re such a masterpiece,” he says as he once again guides his hands toward your body, this time paying extra attention to you chest.

while he was focused on that, you took to the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and pull his zipper down. he realizes where you wanted to go, and helps you get them, as well as his boxers off. once they both pool at his ankles, you smile when you can finally get to what you want after all the foreplay.

as you sink down on him, you both let out a loud moan feeling of being inside each other. “g-god, fuck,” you whisper into his ears clawing down his back, pressing into his chest. even though the music has long been forgotten to you, somehow your hips naturally grind to the rhythm. minghao notices and takes hold of your waist, guiding them in the right places. “god, you feel so good, baby,” he groans.

slowly but surely, you begin to feel a good pressure build in your core, your whimpering getting more frantic. “ahhh shit, shit, minghao, m-minghao,” you begin to move faster wanting to release all over him. and when he hits the right spot in you, you can no longer hold back, and you nearly scream, coming all over the lower half of his body.

you try and catch your breath, not wanting to come down from your high, but remembering you still had a job to do. “fuck, i needa go back downstairs soon,” you say getting up to find your bra top.

“do you have to go back now?” he asks, pulling his boxers and pants back up.

“well, not right this second,” you respond fastening your straps. “did you wanna stay a little longer?” you smile sweetly.

“yeah,” he says leaning back on the couch, returning your sultry gaze. “haven’t seen you dance for me in awhile,” he plams himself over his pants, already getting worked up at the memory.

you walk towards the pole, your arm holding onto the pole. “then minghao, be prepared for a dance you’ll never ever want to forget,” you say hooking your legs to spin on the pole.

[varlaisvea]

OC posting some more

OC: Araszha-dar (ESO)

(nicknamed Ara, later Arch-Mage Araszha-ko)

Appearance: Cathay-raht, dark silver fur with pale, "roguishly unruly" silver hair. Gold eyes. One of those people who is objectively attractive and knows it; so handsome, so punchable.

(Sorry, I have no real visual references for him. All I’ve drawn is this ~spicy art, which isn’t a great reference. But, as one of my ESO characters provided the body model for that drawing, I've included a few screenshots of him in this post.)

Araszha-dar (as portrayed by my Nightblade healer, Bree'zango) in his hometown, Riverhold. His family's house is in the back center. Breezy here has the 'subtle serval' skin markings—Ara doesn't, but i forgot to turn them off for this pic. whoops. I don't really have a 'default' outfit for him, but when he’s not wearing formal mages’ robes, he typically wears utilitarian clothes that are suitable for stealth and easy to move around in. But also, obviously, anything he wears must be stylish—for him, that usually means tight/form-fitting and a lil foppy.

Personality: Ara has the sort of personality you'd expect from someone with a -dar at the end of their name: clever, charming, inscrutable, almost certainly lying to you. He’s the sort of person who is irritatingly naturally good at anything they care enough to be good at, but doesn't care about that many things. He's well-read, having spent his youth with not much to do but read, fight in the resistance, and help take care of his siblings (+ eat hot chip and lie). Since he was a toddler, his family has said about him, you cannot spell 'drama' without 'ara'. He loves Khajiiti history and knows a ton about the aqueducts of Northern Elsweyr.

He uses he/him pronouns and (usually) the masculine form of his name. (Dar'araszha, the gender-neutral form, feels sludgy in the mouth, he says.) Otherwise, he almost never refers to himself using gendered terms, eg he and his loved ones use child, sibling, and spouse rather than son, brother, and husband when speaking about him. He occasionally uses 'Araszha-daro' (she/her) to refer to aspects of his personality, and as Arch-Mage, he uses the feminine -ko for his formal title.

“You do seem like more of an Araszha-ko.”  “I thought so too,” he said. “All of this one’s best teachers of magic either go by -ko, or would if they were Khajiit. We all like to pay homage to our heroes, yes?” He gestured to me to sit on the bench next to his desk, which he had just cleared of books. “However, Araszha’s name-title of choice will always be -dar. Especially here in Winterhold.” -Prashal, Khajiit adept, College of Winterhold, from a journal entry

Ara is very proud of his heritage and proud of Khajiiti history. He's from Riverhold, so speaks a more northern dialect of Ta'agra-flavored Tamrielic, most notably meaning that he often (though not always) refers to himself as 'this one' and very occasionally uses his name + third person. (See my unnecessarily detailed post about 'this one'—tl;dr, a northern accent for Khajiit is sort of like a southern accent in the US—unfairly associated with ignorance and lack of sophistication due to racism, classism, etc.) He is typically unwilling to drop his northern dialect to speak more "proper" Tamrielic, although he's perfectly capable of doing so. He makes a point to use Ta'agra terms for proper nouns whenever applicable (ie, Ne Quin-al, Pa'alatiin, Boethra, S'rendarr, Molagh, Nirni, etc.).

He's more culturally religious than spiritually so. He references the Moons a normal amount (ie a lot) and takes the 'little bit of everything' approach to deities that most Khajiit do, sometimes referencing the post-Riddle'thar pantheon (the Khajiiti versions of the Aedra) and frequently referring to the 'good Daedra', especially Mafala. Because he's got a soft spot for Mafala, he's also a Vivec fan, but probably not in a way Vekh would appreciate... more in the way one is a fan of deliciously gay and awful villains. (He thinks Vivec is 'more catlike than many Khajiiti gods'.)

Background: Ara’s parents never married, but by all accounts were very in love, and had seven children together—Ara’s the middle child, with three older brothers and three younger sisters. His father (Dohalim), who was born Baandari, was killed when Ara was young, in the Imperial occupation of Riverhold that occurred during the Knahaten flu. A few years after Dohalim's death, Ara's mother (Zhanna) married a friend from her youth (Issi-ko), who became a second mother to Ara and his siblings.

Finally when Hali was old enough to start learning magic, I got up the nerve to ask Mother why Araszha could not. I was barely a teenager; I remember bursting into tears when I finally put it into words. I had harbored this wish for years—I felt so much shame, having gleaned that I was not supposed to know clan-magic, but never knowing why. Mother was perplexed, but she understood that something deeper than feeling left-out was happening to her Araszha. She hugged me and apologized—she said that the clan-magic is typically passed down mother-to-daughter, so she had not thought to teach me, but she also had not known I’d wanted to learn. Ask for what you want, Ara-ja, Mother said, make someone tell you no. I will never forget it—that much-needed lesson shifted something in my mind. The very next day, Halima and I had our first magic lesson along with Palya and Erisi. - Araszha-dar, memoirs about his life as a mage

Ara actually wasn't great at the clan-magic, but discovered during that study that he was a very powerful siphoning mage. His mother did not know much about siphoning, but she helped him learn to control it, and told him he'd need formal study—maybe the College of Winterhold. Ara's stepmother Issi-ko is a curator at the House of Histories in Riverhold, and after the flu (during which pre-teen Ara was hustling to help send supplies to the south), Ara took an interest in stolen Khajiiti antiquities. He began researching them at the libraries in the House of Histories and the Temple of the Purifying Moons, and then he and his brothers (oldest to youngest: Doshan, Elia, and Mika) would try to find and liberate them.

In Ara's twenties, Riverhold was once again occupied by Imperial sellswords. When that conflict began brewing, Ara began learning the claw dance Ziz Kurah in order to contribute to the 'rain of sand' defense of his hometown. He joined an elite assassins' guild, the Ziz Zhan, from which he had a lot of trouble extracting himself after the occupation ended in 2E 582. By his early 30s, he was still kind of on the run from the Zhan and had been vaguely planning to take his own life, but instead he impulsively enrolled at Winterhold College, having been convinced to do so by a couple of mer he was traveling with, including his future spouse/co-conspirator, Eymei.

They are helping him create his own course of study! Winterhold rarely rejects anyone, so long as they can demonstrate basic mystic competency, but to hear him tell the tale, Araszha-dar sleekly charmed the wizards of Winterhold into accepting such a blatantly unserious scoundrel. Of course, he glossed over the part where the faculty panel delayed their decision because they could not even find record of a siphoner as powerful as he is(!). They told him just what I told him shortly after meeting him, which is the same thing Hlanna and Vihk and Seeks and everyone else told him too: he must receive instruction for his own safety. I cannot imagine there was ever any real danger of Ara being turned away, but it sounds like a couple of the archmagi were still a bit apprehensive about admitting someone with skill they have very little experience with. “So, this one says, perhaps the school’s records would benefit from studying what Araszha can do?” He simply suggested to some of the most respected and learned mages in Tamriel that they all learn about siphoning magic along with him—and they agreed! Ah, it is nothing to one so sleek, yes? - Eymei Gwylanwe, agent of the Thalmor, journal entry during a brief visit to Winterhold College

A bunch of stuff happens that is currently up in the air, but a couple years later, Ara and Eymei sort-of-impulsively get married during a visit to the ruins of her family's home in Sunhold. This relationship, by the rules of Altmeri Praxes, is illegal, immoral, and repulsive, so they have to keep it a secret, although their families are lovingly supportive.

As he married into a psijic Elf family, he receives a varla pearl like Eymei's (see more about this on Eymei's post). The wedding coincidentally happened during a time of high mystic potency—a bloom of bioluminescent algae and plankton that happens mostly-anually around Sunhold. The Ayleids called the phenomenon Varlaisvea, and it was traditionally the time that psijic Elves would harvest their varla pearls, making Ara and Eymei's pearls even more powerful as they are bound to each other. The varla pearl becomes very important in Ara's magic, allowing him to become a highly skilled healer as a siphoning mage, when siphoning is typically primarily used as harmful magic. In the picture I drew, he wears his pearl in a necklace, but I've since changed that detail—now, he has the pearl set into a piece he found on one of the many delves he undertook in his youth: a strange intricate bracelet...

Later on, he becomes the first Khajiit Arch-Mage of Winterhold. At this time in history, Winterhold College is relatively newly-established, and has a reputation for being a place where experimentation, creativity, and independence are championed, in contrast to (for example) the Mages Guild and Shad Astula. Ara revives an old lapsed policy of teaching every student the basics of Restoration and Destruction magic regardless of their area of focus. Under his leadership, a clinic is opened up on the grounds of the College so that the people of Winterhold may have access to the College's skilled healers. Also, the College begins a program where student and faculty volunteers teach the basics of Restoration magic to anyone who wishes to learn, free of charge. These changes are popular with students, residents of Winterhold, and most of the faculty, but there is a small but vocal group of faculty who fear it will make the College less appealing to elite families (many of these same folks opposed the idea of a Khajiit Arch-Mage, too...). Still, under Ara's leadership, the College slowly begins to build the reputation it will have for well over a millennium—pride of the City of Winterhold, best place in Tamriel to learn Restoration magic, and staunchly committed to independent study of magic.

Arch-Mage Araszha-ko in his quarters at the College of Winterhold. This is the costume I used as the base for his outfit in the ~spicy art I linked to above.

During their time in Winterhold, Ara and Eymei learn about some threats to the College—to the reputation of the institution, the building itself, the city surrounding it, and to the independent study of magic in general. They soon learn that the threat goes far deeper than just Winterhold, and that they are hopelessly outgunned. They spend their tenure there gathering information, learning as much as they can, and plotting to outmaneuver an adversary with unlimited time and resources.

This part might change completely, but currently: over the course of their life together, Ara and Eymei learn ways to combine their magic. Ara becomes a legendary siphoner; the combination of their power gives him extraordinary ability to control and balance healing and withering magic. For Eymei, the combination of their power makes her an extremely powerful conduit for life-energy, and she is able to bring suffering people safely and peacefully to their rest through her connection to the Ehlnofey. Typically this is dangerous to do with mages and people otherwise imbued with mystic power, but Eymei is able to withstand the massive energy fluctuations that come with such an endeavor. At the end of Ara’s life, he asks Eymei to do him this mercy.

Uh, he's way more of a dick and a mess than this makes him seem. I guess you'll just have to read what i post about him!

I’ll probably change this post as things change? I must grudgingly admit, this was a useful exercise.

[kcrabb88]

Kill the Lights

Chapter 23

Summary: When Obi-Wan interferes in the Fives incident, Palpatine decides he's had enough of the Jedi Master getting in the way of his attempts to corrupt The Chosen One. Obi-Wan, catching on to Palpatine's plans, goes missing. When photos and videos of Obi-Wan's torture are made public, Anakin starts to unravel. Quinlan searches the Coruscant underworld with increasing desperation. Dooku wonders if he's made the right choices. Obi-Wan, trapped and tormented, tries to reveal the truth about who the Sith lord is. Schemes come to light. Myths merge into reality. Palpatine, obsessed with Obi-Wan, becomes more dangerous. With the Republic in the clutches of a Sith, the Jedi, the clones, and their friends in the senate fight to find one of their best--and save the galaxy's guardians from extermination. Chapter Summary: Tholme faces Palpatine's rage. Palpatine slips deeper into obsession. Obi-Wan, desperate to help the Jedi, finds a friend when he most needs one, and as a result, finds ways to rekindle his intimacy with Quinlan. Quinlan comes to understand that Palpatine views him as a rival. Anakin comes to terms with what-ifs. The Shepherd, Quasar, Astro, and Nova play Palpatine's game.

“I understand wanting to spare your kid, Obes,” Quin continues. “We need him and Pads to help get rid of Palpatine, we absolutely do, and that hurts and I get it, and I want to spare them what I can in this situation just like I want to spare Aayla. But listen to me.” He pulls back with one hand on each of Obi-Wan's shoulders. “You do not need to spare me. We come in and out of this the same way, yeah? Quasar and the Shepherd. You told me I was Quasar from the start. Let me be.”

Obi-Wan nods again as the stars from his dreams scream silver inside his head. He runs a hand down Quin’s chest.

“I need you,” he says, and desires drapes itself over him. “I need you.”

Quin kisses him again. Hard. Obi-Wan's feet leave the floor entirely when Quin hefts him up into his arms. This is no easy feat—Obi-Wan is not short, and he’s sturdy, but Quin is tall enough and strong enough to do it. Obi-Wan's brown robe falls to the floor in the process.

[lesmisletters-daily]

The Death Of A Horse

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.3.8

“The dinners are better at Édon’s than at Bombarda’s,” exclaimed Zéphine.

“I prefer Bombarda to Édon,” declared Blachevelle. “There is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the room downstairs; there are mirrors [<i>glaces</i>] on the walls.”

“I prefer them [<i>glaces</i>, ices] on my plate,” said Favourite.

Blachevelle persisted:—

“Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bombarda’s and of bone at Édon’s. Now, silver is more valuable than bone.”

“Except for those who have a silver chin,” observed Tholomyès.

He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visible from Bombarda’s windows.

A pause ensued.

“Tholomyès,” exclaimed Fameuil, “Listolier and I were having a discussion just now.”

“A discussion is a good thing,” replied Tholomyès; “a quarrel is better.”

“We were disputing about philosophy.”

“Well?”

“Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?”

“Désaugiers,” said Tholomyès.

This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on:—

“I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since we can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the immortal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One affirms, but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from the syllogism. That is fine. There are still human beings here below who know how to open and close the surprise box of the paradox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking with so tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from the vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred and seventeen fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention while you drink! three hundred and seventeen fathoms! and Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper, gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for four francs and fifty centimes.”

Again Fameuil interrupted him:—

“Tholomyès, your opinions fix the law. Who is your favorite author?”

“Ber—”

“Quin?”

“No; Choux.”

And Tholomyès continued:—

“Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chæronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation! <i>Nil sub sole novum</i>, says Solomon; <i>amor omnibus idem</i>, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus.”

Tholomyès, once started, would have found some difficulty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda’s, the worn-out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, <i>Mâtin</i> (the jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the passers-by, Tholomyès’ merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyès took advantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy strophe:—

“Elle était de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses

Ont le même destin;

Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivant les rosses,

L’espace d’un mâtin!”

“Poor horse!” sighed Fantine.

And Dahlia exclaimed:—

“There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!”

At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyès and said:—

“Come, now! the surprise?”

“Exactly. The moment has arrived,” replied Tholomyès. “Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies.”

“It begins with a kiss,” said Blachevelle.

“On the brow,” added Tholomyès.

Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress’s brow; then all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.

Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.

“It is beginning to be amusing already,” said she.

“Don’t be too long,” murmured Fantine; “we are waiting for you.”