#Art Auction Market Share

[lalsingh228-blog]

M&A Activity in Art Auction Market to Set New Growth Cycle

Advance Market Analytics added research publication document on Worldwide Art Auction Market breaking major business segments and highlighting wider level geographies to get deep dive analysis on market data. The study is a perfect balance bridging both qualitative and quantitative information of Worldwide Art Auction market. The study provides valuable market size data for historical (Volume** & Value) from 2018 to 2022 which is estimated and forecasted till 2028*. Some are the key & emerging players that are part of coverage and have being profiled are China Guardian (China), Christie's (United Kingdom), Phillips de Pury& Company  (United States), Poly Auction (Hong Kong), Sotheby's (United States), Artcurial (France), Artsy  (United States), Beijing Council International Auction Company (China), Bonhams (United Kingdom), Bruun Rasmussen (Denmark), DESA Unicum (Poland), Dorotheum (Austria), Doyle (United States), Grisebach (Germany). Get free access to Sample Report in PDF Version along with Graphs and Figures @ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/sample-report/137873-global-art-auction-market

An art auction is the sale of art led by an auctioneer, most commonly held in auction houses, which have different locations around the world. An art auction is planned often months in advance, with a fixed line-up of works available for sale; these are presented in an auction catalog that potential collectors peruse before the big day. Then, as in all auctions, registered bidders raise their paddles, call their advisors, and feel their heart rates rise before the auctioneer’s hammer finally hits the block.

Keep yourself up-to-date with latest market trends and changing dynamics due to COVID Impact and Economic Slowdown globally. Maintain a competitive edge by sizing up with available business opportunity in Art Auction Market various segments and emerging territory. Influencing Market Trend

Experiencing Art & its Backstory

Female Artists Gain Ground

Advancement in auction services techniques

Market Drivers

Art Gains Popularity as Investment

Growth of New Wealth

Evolving Art Appreciation

Opportunities:

Advent of Online Auction Services to Connect People Easily

Growing Recognition of Artists on Digital as well as Physical Platforms

Challenges:

Challenges Linked with the Various Fraud Functionality

Have Any Questions Regarding Global Art Auction Market Report, Ask Our Experts@ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/enquiry-before-buy/137873-global-art-auction-market  Analysis by Type (Online, Offline), Application (Painting Art, Ceramic Art, Others)

Competitive landscape highlighting important parameters that players are gaining along with the Market Development/evolution

• % Market Share, Segment Revenue, Swot Analysis for each profiled company [China Guardian (China), Christie's (United Kingdom), Phillips de Pury& Company  (United States), Poly Auction (Hong Kong), Sotheby's (United States), Artcurial (France), Artsy  (United States), Beijing Council International Auction Company (China), Bonhams (United Kingdom), Bruun Rasmussen (Denmark), DESA Unicum (Poland), Dorotheum (Austria), Doyle (United States), Grisebach (Germany)]

• Business overview and Product/Service classification

• Product/Service Matrix [Players by Product/Service comparative analysis]

• Recent Developments (Technology advancement, Product Launch or Expansion plan, Manufacturing and R&D etc)

• Consumption, Capacity & Production by Players The regional analysis of Global Art Auction Market is considered for the key regions such as Asia Pacific, North America, Europe, Latin America and Rest of the World. North America is the leading region across the world. Whereas, owing to rising no. of research activities in countries such as China, India, and Japan, Asia Pacific region is also expected to exhibit higher growth rate the forecast period 2023-2028. Table of Content Chapter One: Industry Overview Chapter Two: Major Segmentation (Classification, Application and etc.) Analysis Chapter Three: Production Market Analysis Chapter Four: Sales Market Analysis Chapter Five: Consumption Market Analysis Chapter Six: Production, Sales and Consumption Market Comparison Analysis Chapter Seven: Major Manufacturers Production and Sales Market Comparison Analysis Chapter Eight: Competition Analysis by Players Chapter Nine: Marketing Channel Analysis Chapter Ten: New Project Investment Feasibility Analysis Chapter Eleven: Manufacturing Cost Analysis Chapter Twelve: Industrial Chain, Sourcing Strategy and Downstream Buyers Read Executive Summary and Detailed Index of full Research Study @ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/reports/137873-global-art-auction-market Highlights of the Report • The future prospects of the global Art Auction market during the forecast period 2023-2028 are given in the report. • The major developmental strategies integrated by the leading players to sustain a competitive market position in the market are included in the report. • The emerging technologies that are driving the growth of the market are highlighted in the report. • The market value of the segments that are leading the market and the sub-segments are mentioned in the report. • The report studies the leading manufacturers and other players entering the global Art Auction market. Thanks for reading this article; you can also get individual chapter wise section or region wise report version like North America, Middle East, Africa, Europe or LATAM, Southeast Asia. Contact US : Craig Francis (PR & Marketing Manager) AMA Research & Media LLP Unit No. 429, Parsonage Road Edison, NJ New Jersey USA – 08837 Phone: +1 201 565 3262, +44 161 818 8166 sales@advancemarketanalytics.com

[smallorangelover]

Auction and GFM for Gazan family !

A group of friends and I are running an auction and GFM. Our Gazan friend's family needs urgent medical care post evacuation to Egypt.

Our auction Instagram has original art, prints, commissions, clothing, jewellery, and so much more - over 40 artists and more added daily !

Share and bid to support us. In exchange you get unique artisan works below market value, some that will never be sold again.

Auction ends 5th June but Is likely to extend a little past that !

Post with details, vetting and GFM link

Instagram auction

[starsfic]

Summaries under cut

Long Xiaojiao teams up with several other streamers, including speed painter Marcy Wu, conspiracy theorist Todoroki Shoto, and figurine maker Gangle, to play Mario Party for charity. Shenanigans happen, including magic outbursts, old bullies popping up in chat, and general chaos.

While working on marketing and such for the park, Ed finds Indigo Park’s long list of lawsuits. The biggest one happened when Rambley’s animatronic body glitched and murdered a young employee. Weirdness abounded with the lawsuit of Indigo Park vs Playtime Co.

To boost morale for the anniversary of Elliot Ludwig’s death, Playtime Co. sponsors a happy hour at a nearby bar for the workers. However, the phrase “loose lips sink ships” rings true, especially when those lips are loosened by alcohol enough to share stories of several weird occurrences. The toys and children alike aren’t sure what to think when, the next day, they’re set free.

After learning about his parentage, Mikey sneaks inside an art auction of Hamato Yoshi’s art, learning both about his father and Draxum.

College AU: Cole's life is going to shit. Nya and Jay have been acting weird around him since that carnival game decided that he was Nya's soulmate. Hoping to ease the tension, he asks the cute waiter at his favorite restaurant to act as his fake date on a double date with Nya and Jay. The waiter's only stipulation? That his boyfriend watch the drama from another table.

Red Son gets turned on by Qi Xiaotian's hero speeches. Xiaotian notices. Smut.

That one fic I mentioned to @twinklecupcake: AU of Pignapped where Tang and the kids instead land in the capture where Zhu Bajie joins the journey and must work with Sun Wukong and Tripitaka to wrangle the pig. What Tang also finds is a rival over his husband- Blue Orchid.

Based on this post, the gang is hired to investigate the rumors of a bunny animatronic ghost overnight. The truth is a little more tricky.

In an AU where Dipper decides to stay with Ford, Mabel's parents aren't happy when their daughter turns up sans brother, especially when they learn who he's with.

A year after her husband is sealed, Princess Iron Fan stumbles across the god of marriage Yue Lao and decides to ask who her son will marry. The answer enrages her.

AU: The costar of famed actor Red Son is terrified of his true form...which is an issue considering they're doing an erotic version of Beauty and the Beast. However, one of the caterers doesn't mind beef. Smut.

[hypnostheory]

A guide to Hyp’s Writing

Okay so I have enough fics now that I feel like I can make a little guide here. So here we go:

“Hyp, I want something sweet”

something good and right and real - After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

and that’s the way i loved you - Alex accidentally fell hopelessly in love with his roommate and fuck buddy Henry. He tries to plan the perfect confession, but when have any of Alex’s plots worked perfectly?

heartbeats under coats - Alex, a DC lawyer on his way back from a work trip, is stranded in New York after a freak blizzard grounds all flights. He gets the last available hotel room on the island, but a freak error means the room is double booked. Unwilling to leave the other stranded, both men agree to share the room and wait out the blizzard together.

“I want something with action and intrigue”

trouble’s gonna follow where i go - Henry thought it was silly to hire an American to be his personal guard. He didn’t care that the man had an excellent service record, the highest level of security clearance in the American government short of the president, or a black belt in six forms of martial arts. A foiled assassination attempt changes that opinion, but Henry’s gratitude is not a passive thing – Alex’s going to have to work for it.

wanting me dead has really brought you two together - Rebel smuggler Alex is caught by his nemesis, Alderaan Senator Jeffery Richards. His prompt assassination is put on hold when Richard’s bounty hunter reels in a bigger fish; Senator Henry Fox of Naboo. Turns out, Alex has more than one rival on board the ship, but he’s going to need to work with Henry if they don’t want to get killed.

move fast (and keep quiet) - Alex is a spy tasked with securing a case of diamonds being auctioned off by black market smugglers. Henry is a rival spy who happens to be tasked with receiving the same case of stones. When Henry wins the auction, Alex has to retrieve his target, no matter the cost.

“I just want something really smutty!”

you handle it beautifully - Alex, discovering Henry is having a hard time getting out of his head enough to enjoy sex, has a clear solution: recreational drug use! While on the road to self-discovery and self-actualization, Henry surprises Alex more than once.

the only thing on my mind series - Piercer!Alex teaches Henry about the inner workings of BDSM in mid-90s New York.

secret moments in a crowded room - After getting a concerned call from the man's PPO, Henry makes an effort to ensure his body double Angus is getting properly socialized. Alex is hesitant to spend time with the Henry-shaped clone, but he quickly finds himself getting charmed by the man. Angus gracefully slides from strange phenomenon to friend.

“I just want a quick one shot”

like it’s patrón - Henry meets Alexander at a gun range, but it’s not the first time they’ve met. Alex calls in a raincheck.

where every wish comes true - Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

here the whole time - Married and bonded, Henry and Alex decide it's about time to get off suppressants and start enjoying their bond fully.

“I’m here for the angst”

you were more than just a short time - David the Beagle passes. Alex is there for Henry through his grief, and through the start of moving on.

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me - Rafael Luna gets through the election by the skin of his teeth. The other two Bastardos notice.

where others gave you scars series - Henry, after living in America, realizes some of the things he’s been living with aren’t normal. Alex teaches him that his pain isn’t in his head, despite what his family thinks.

[sinful-lanterns]

Wait, University au thought! Ok so like we have three visual arts girlies, right? Lisa, Enfer, and McQueen (they're the only ones I can remember right now).

You know those life painting classes, where they practice figures, often nude, of the person standing at the center of the room? Imagine if Reader agreed to work one of those classes.

Like just the three women who we just know all attended the Reader fan club meetings at least once. Suddenly getting an eye full of what half the women on the campus wants most. And now they have a room full of student paintings/sketches that that population of students would pay just about anything for?

It would be chaos, each piece being held at so much value, at first because of the subject, our dear sweet Reader. But then someone actually shares a small piece of the image... and Reader just looks so cute, so vulnerable, the kind of facial expression and body language that makes you want to run up to someone and smother them in affection.

Oh our poor girlies would be so done for, both to get these paintings, and possibly trying to prevent others from getting any of them.

Not there being a whole black market for Reader’s nude paintings 😭😭

I can imagine Chelsea holding up a whole auction for these paintings in the fan club, and all the women just go feral, trying to outbid each other for a chance of getting a nude Reader painting, only to be outbid by some of the more richer women like Eirene, Cabernet, Ariel, etc…

Also, I can see the three art majors (Enfer, Lisa and McQueen) just…flat out refusing to sell their paintings because the whole experience of seeing Reader naked and getting to stare and admire her for hours is just too valuable for any of them to give up. The other women would be begging for these three to sell their paintings (or at least show them) as they were the best painted of the class, so Enfer, Lisa and McQueen will open up a small “art exhibit” in their dorms, where the other women could pay to see their exclusive nude Reader paintings like an art gallery…

Long story short, these nude Reader paintings are now the hottest thing in the market. Also, Ariel trying to bid at the auction for a chance to win a painting of you, definitely surprised the other women to say the least, as they all thought Ariel was still cute and innocent 😅

[onmyyan]

Well, the best work, or writing in this case, is done in collaboration with others amirite? The prev ask responding to my ask got my gears turnin and taking a break from writing by writing helps my creative juices flowin

When reader starts out they may have had their fair share of run ins with Catwoman, Harley, and Poison Ivy in their own way. But that was when they were a small fry, certainly not noticeable to their old family much less the femme fatales of Gotham.

It isn’t till they begin to rise from the dredges of Gotham that the three begin to take notice.

For Selena Kyle, she’s an opportunist at heart. She’s not wholly evil nor is she wholly good. At the end of the day she just wants to bathe in the lap of luxury with her feline friends and if that means introducing herself to reader, the hottest thing since sliced bread, and getting in their good graces then so be it.

What she didn’t expect was recognizing that pretty voice from months ago when some goodie two-shoes stopped her from stealing a diamond ring from Cairo. Sure, it was going to be auctioned for some stupid thing like newly paved streets or whatever but Selena could care less.

She was a rooftop type of gal anyway.

At the end of the day though, Ms. Kyle is a professional, that means bygones can be bygones for the right price.

What she doesn’t expect is just how profitable it is to take down the baddies. After all, the Gotham black market alone brings in millions- billions of dollars every year through illicit goods. Untold wealth stolen from museums and the wealthy sold to the highest bidder, reader sometimes playing the role of a seller, sometimes the role of a buyer.

But always coming out on top.

It’s a stroke of genius too, when reader hires Selena for a job, at first it makes sense. You want a painting stolen from some corrupt politician? Get Catwoman to do it. What truly confused her though is why you wanted her to put back the damn thing in the basement of the guys place a week later.

Turns out, art insurance companies are more vicious than one might think, and art insurance fraud can get you a lifetime in prison… and forfeiture of all your assets.

Assets you could happily sweep up on the dime now that that pesky obstacle was out of the way.

For Selena you aren’t just an adorable kitten flaring out her claws for the first time, but a beautiful independent woman just like her. And ladies ought to stay together in a town like Gotham, right?

At least, that’s what she’s telling herself…

Harley is much quicker to warm up to reader. She sees herself so much in the up and coming super villain. How many times has she gone to Arkham or sacrificed some part of herself for the Joker? How many times as she tried to appease the sociopath only to be ignored or even worse, have her efforts thrown into her face?

Speaking of faces, thing about being a brilliant psychologist means that she can be good with recognizing faces. She certainly recognized yours ages ago when the tabloids talked about a Wayne kid that left the nest early, paparazzi all vying to get a shot or two of the illusive member of the dynasty.

You were a rich kid, but seeing you now certainly could convince anyone otherwise. Harley sees that fire in your eyes, the emptiness and the hurt she long ago overcame to be her own woman in this town.

It runs through her head like a list when she analyzes reader’s movement. Symptoms of childhood neglect vary, naturally, but reader has the tell tale distrust in strangers and aversion to affection that has Harley’s mind buzzing with theories and thoughts, lots of thoughts.

It’s interesting to see when teaming up with reader to spread some chaos, the idea of using controlled unrest in rich neighborhoods to lower housing costs brilliant in her mind. Plus, rich suckers get to suck so why not?

Seeing reader like that just sparks something fierce in her. Maybe it’s a remnant of her more humane side, of the old doctor and psychologist, but she’s determined to be by your side like it or not.

You’re partners now, Puddin. You pinkie swore when teaming up so there’s no stopping now!

Pamela is honestly a whole lot harder to warm to reader. She’s a solo act for the most part, an antisocial eco terrorist that barely has friends outside of Harley and … Selena, but even the jury’s out on that one sometimes.

Her connection with nature makes her jaded with the vile parasites that walk about the street, the news of a new crime lord making the woman roll her eyes dismissively. New crime in Gotham? Please, be for real.

It’s only when Harley comes barreling into her greenhouse babbling on and on about reader that Pamela realizes maybe she ought to take a second look.

Who knew doing “good” as you put it, would involve her world so much. The plan was simple, destroy a few gas stations and car parks, break into some oil or gas executive event and make owning a car in Gotham all the more painful.

Growing pains according to reader.

Then with all the slush funds reader has, fund and develop a robust subway and bus system. Less cars, less subsidies, less pollution.

It was simply a coincidence that the reader had started a company specializing in public transport mere weeks ago, promise! And what’s more, building these tunnels meant that there’d be a perfect opportunity to carve out secret bases, paths, and caches all around the city. And as the system spread, making travel more green and efficient, so would your influence.

If you kept your thinking like that then… just maybe, Pamela might stick around more (Oh who is she kidding, the moment Harley was down for you Pamela would undoubtedly be there for her friend and you lol)

Incredible addition omfg??!?! I adore the way your mind works omgggg

Literally perfect I love your characterization of the sirens so much sjsksks

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times

Words: ~4.5k

Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3

Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.

I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.

You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels. 

Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations. 

With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you. 

The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint” that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself. 

You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal. 

Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return. 

With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually. 

Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.

While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…

Washington, D.C. 6 months ago

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear. 

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. 

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.” 

~~~

Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask. 

You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily. 

Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level. 

You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.

Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady. 

“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command. 

“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.

Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”

The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move. 

A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know. 

The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too. 

“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.

The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.

He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed. 

“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.

“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.

The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table. 

Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums. 

“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?” 

“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.

Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.

You have never felt more attracted to him.

Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.

“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile. 

“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.

“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 

You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”

You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.” 

Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.

Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids. 

“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.” 

Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.

Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.” 

You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee. 

“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.

“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.” 

Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection. 

“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest. 

“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples. 

“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.

“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”

“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure. 

“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back. 

“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time. 

“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg. 

“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.” 

“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip. 

You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you. 

You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.

“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you. 

“Is this, uh��safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance. 

Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.” 

You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”

Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing.  He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.

“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence. 

“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”

You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact. 

Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers. 

Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance. 

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.” 

Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.

The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”

A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.

Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.

“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)

Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

[rebirthgarments]

Hi friends! We have a couple of updates to share. 

Firstly, Seraj needs more than $3,300 to pull off his final Ramadan project before Eid. He wants to distribute it on the last day of Ramadan, which is in 3 days, so we need to get to $20k ASAP! 

contribute at bit.ly/serajfund

The financial situation in Rah Fah continues to decline, with intermediaries taking a 15-17% cut when people get cash out. He is so hopeful that this project will work out! Helping others and bringing smiles to faces–especially those of children–is clearly one of Seraj’s passions. 

Here are the project details, all thought up by Seraj himself. He has amazing ideas! 125-130 cash envelopes containing either 50 or 100 shekels each. Seraj will distribute them based on how large each family is. Seraj will also make 40 envelopes for kids, each containing 20 shekels. 

Currently, Seraj’s plan is to distribute his envelopes on the last day of Ramadan, before Eid al-Fitr. Last time he tried to print something, the printer had no electricity. He has a plan this time for checking in early to make sure he has a chance to print. 

Working with Seraj on his mutual aid projects has been such a tangible reminder that we reject the notion of charity (which is very rooted in the white savior complex and pity of Black and Brown folx), and even allyship (not enough action)  instead are partners and collaborators with Seraj self directing, leading us, and constantly motivating us to to get to the next goal so he can achieve his vision! 

 Because Seraj and his family have managed to survive, he’s been able to give back. No NGOs or governments, just a 21-year-old young man helping as many of his neighbors as he can. In his words, “This is my duty, sisters, as long as I can help! Why don't I do that!”

Seraj is genuinely a superstar to everyone on our team. His generosity is humbling to us. We have so much to learn from Pale-eh -steinians. 

Secondly, we have a date for our upcoming virtual dance party! Mark your calendars for Monday, April 29th in the evening (Pacific time). Sky is hosting this event to hype up our virtual auction for Seraj. Follow Sky on Instagram for more details @rebirthgarments or @radicalvisibilitycollective

If you’d still like to contribute items to the auction, go to bit.ly/fundraiserforseraj ! Seraj’s Support Soirée would like to offer an item or service for every budget. And we encourage a wide variety of dough-nation types! While many of them will be creative objects, they do not have to be.

Some examples:

a book you love or wrote

a framed photograph

a massage (local area bidders only)

a meditation session

a piñata

a tarot reading

a t-shirt you love or designed

stickers

a virtual lesson on social media marketing

visual art

a virtual dance lesson

Your items will be listed this week on Give Butter! (stay tuned for details!) 

Our support soiree dance party will hype up the auction featuring selections from the archives of Rebirth Garments fashion performances while you can dance with Sky!

Thank you so much for being here for Seraj. He and his family are so deeply grateful for all of the ways folks have supported them and partnered with them to help others. And our team is so thankful for how you all have stepped up. Please share and contribute! 

-Written by my team member Bex with additions by me!

[image Description: a flyer featuring a photo by Seraj of a small little kid with a blue plastic bag full of fresh fruits and vegetables. The kiddo has a heart emoji over their face and is smiling really big. They are wearing a red shirt that says “sleep time” with a sleeping bear on it. They are standing on a sandy ground in front of a tent. Text to the right of the photo on a red background reads: Gaza Sky Seraj’s mutual aid project for Ramadan in Rah-fah For part 2 of Seraj’s Ramadan project, he gave out 32 food parcels for 32 families around him in the displacement camps. Send support to his family + others! bit.ly/serajfund “ Underneath is a QR code with the link. ]

[gauloiseblue]

The Garden

Since that day, he's been seeing her more often. Sometimes on his way to the town, or running into her at the market. Maybe that's the perk of being a neighbor

He also runs more often with Liv—Olivia as he becomes a regular at her bakery

She's already a chatty girl from the start, but after knowing he didn't think of (name) as a bad person, it seemed to increase twofold

She talks a lot about her; what she's like when she first moved, her story about the bakery, how it took 3 years before they became friends, and how she taught her how to make sourdough, because she seemed to have fun making them

There's also heavier stories about her, when the rumors were affecting their friendship, and how long it took her to take down the wall she built, until they could talk like they used to. Though it's no longer there, she did feel like she has changed, and she couldn't do anything about it

One day, the subject of the talk comes to the shop when she's talking to him, and ends up giving her an earful, telling her she shouldn't bother a buyer. But he quickly says he doesn't mind, which earns him a dirty look from her

He wants to believe her, and that his neighbor is simply misunderstood. But he's a rational man, and he'd like to see her from many perspectives before truly believes in her words

The second person who believes her as a good person is Mr. Harris. He talks quite a deal of her, whenever he picks up fresh milk from him

"She's too nice sometimes, it's almost like I'm taking advantage of her kindness."

He tells him the story of the bull, and how he didn't have enough money to buy it from the auction, and he told her about it when she asked him whether he wanted to join the auction or not. Which, to his surprise, she delivered the bull the next day, saying she likes him, but can't possibly keep him, so she gave the bull to him.

He then proceeds to tell him how she loves the cows in his farm, and that he let her named one of the baby cows. He also gave her his products for free, and that he'd share anything his friends gave him to her

There's a lot of people, especially kids who like her. But when it comes to kids, they only like her because she's like a lady santa claus

She'd scold them if they ask for money, or anything for the purpose of showing off. If they genuinely want it, she'll give it to them without many question

But what amuses him, is how they ask for it. They're very straightforward, they'll just ask her if she's really a santa claus, and mention the thing they want. If their answer satisfy her, she'll buy it for them, if not, she'll close the door

The way they told him about her is like telling a legend

As for the adults, they usually thought that she's kind, just reserved

He keeps track of the info, and tries to piece them together. He told himself he's not trying to figure her out, he's just trying to understand her. Though deep in his heart, he knew he said it to justified his actions

Months have passed, and he begins to see a clearer picture. It's likely that her job is related to arts, possibly an artist herself, or a curator, judging by her preference, and how much money she had earned

He also guessed about her status from the lack of a ring in her finger. She might’ve been married at some point, but not anymore. There also aren't many men in the village who take interest in her, even if they do, they won't really do anything about it. Country men avoid scandals like city boys avoiding responsibility

That's what he thought, until he finally saw the gardener

He met him one day, after finishing his morning jog. He saw a young man working on the flowering trees around her garden, and he decided to say hi

He's very attractive, and his eyes still possess a childlike innocence. He almost looks like a small pup, which seems like the complete opposite of her

They talk for a while, before they turn their head towards the door, which is opened before the owner of the garden steps out. She seems surprised to see him talking with the boy, but she welcomes him nevertheless

He didn't miss to see the boy's eye lights up at the sight of her

"Have you had breakfast?" She asked him, and he shook his head, "Do join us, then"

He never really eat after exercise, but he can't resist the offer for a cup of tea

They all settle in the dining room, which has a pretty wine cellar, and extensive collections of liquors. He takes one of them to examine it

"You like to drink?"

"Not really." She replied, "Most of them are just for collection."

"That's a shame," He hums, "It's a good whiskey."

"You may take it if you want."

He turns his head in surprise, "What?"

"Well, you said it's a good whiskey." She looks at him after setting the table

He shakes his head, "It is, but I don’t drink anymore."

She mutters a small 'oh', before taking a seat. The young man follows afterwards before he does

Today's menu seems to include poached eggs and spinach, with yellow sauce on top. The boy quickly digs in, as well as talking about the garden's condition, and anything that crossed his mind

She only gives short answers to all of his babbles, almost as if she's putting a barrier between them. It's even more striking as she mostly keeps her conversation with him, leaving the boy out subtly.

Once the boy finishes, he excuses himself to work for a little bit before going to him. After he leaves the room, he turns his attention to her

"He likes you."

She then groans, "I know, it's giving me headaches."

"Why'd you keep him around, then?"

"It's not like I have a choice."

She begins to tell him about his situation, from the start until now. He likes flowers, but his family didn't have enough space for his hobby, for a reason that they're farmers, and an acre of land can produce a bag's worth of potatoes, so they couldn't really afford wasting it. One day, when he walked on this road, he saw her house with withering trees and decided to knock on the door.

"Of course I couldn't refuse him, I wanted to see the flowers, but I didn't know how." She sighs, "He didn't want to receive any payment from me, so I told him he could buy anything he needed. That's the least thing I can do for him."

"When did you realize he has something for you?" He asked

"I'm not sure." She bit her lips, "I did have my suspicion early on, but after his visits became more frequent for no other reason than meeting me, I knew I was right."

"You gonna do something about it?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't wish to burn the garden just to push him out of my life." She mused, "He had taken care of them for so long, it'd be cruel of me if I took it away from him."

He rubs his chin as he thinks, "Perhaps you can hire a real gardener to replace him?"

"I'll think about it." She leans back on her chair, "It's a shame, though. It's nice to have him around."

"Then don't do anything about it. Let it happen."

She laughs as she catches what he means, "I don't think it's appropriate for me to do."

She talks about his desire to go to a business school, so he could expand the business once he takes over. But his parents can't really afford it, so he decided not to pursue it. She then encouraged him to apply for a scholarship, and helped him to get it, which was a success. Now he's in the 2nd years

"No wonder he likes you." He commented

"He shouldn't be." She frowns, "I'm almost the same age as her mother, he shouldn't have any feelings towards me."

"Well, that's because you don't look like one."

She lets out a small laugh, "I'm flattered, thank you."

They talk for a bit, before he excuses himself. On the way out of her garden, he finds the boy working on the potted plants, before they both hear a song softly plays from one of the windows

The boy smiles as he tugs on the withered leaves, and all of the sudden, a single thought strikes him

He doesn't love the garden. He loves the owner

《 Prev | Next 》

[firstelevens]

I could not possibly choose because I want to see your take on most of those Situation prompts, but if any of these speak to you from this list: 1, 2, 8, 23, or 52?

(I was working on a "loss of powers" fill for you but it got so long that it's gonna take another three thousand words to finish, so in the interim, here's some fluff)

1. touch starved/cuddle curse pollen

Sam has been on edge since this mission first came up on his radar. The minute he’d gotten the tip—black market sales of alien goods hidden within upmarket art auctions—his gut had told him that things were going to go wrong. He’s been waiting for it all week.

First he thinks there might be a jurisdiction issue, but Monica offers to run interference and takes care of it before it lands on Sam’s desk. Then Redwing scans the supplier’s base for heat signatures and picks up two other figures moving through the hallway, mere feet away from where Sam and the others made their entrance.

He’s certain that this is the thing he’s been worried about, but another scan from Redwing reveals that the taller of the two figures is carrying a very familiar hammer, and a moment later, Thor himself rounds the corner with a little girl in tow.

The two of them didn’t know each other all that well, but he greets Sam with a bone-crushing hug all the same, and Sam can’t pretend that he isn’t glad to have a little divine intervention on his side for this mission, just in case.

Between sharing the information that they’d uncovered and hearing about Thor’s own leads, Sam almost forgets about that bad feeling he’d had. It only comes back to him as they go to track down the merchandise, Sam and Bucky splitting up as a hallway unexpectedly forks left and right in front of them.

Sam is scanning crates in large, high-ceilinged room when Bucky’s voice sounds over the comms.

“Sam? Sam, you there?” he asks, his speech growing strangely slurred. “Sammy…I don’t feel so good.”

There’s a soft thud that might be Bucky passing out, but Sam doesn’t have the time to parse it. He’s already sprinting down the hallway that Bucky disappeared into, stopping in the open doorway of what looks very much like a greenhouse.

He’s just about to walk through when Thor calls out, “Captain, wait!”

“Bucky’s in there!” says Sam. “He called for help and then he passed out.”

“Sergeant Barnes may be stronger than the average man, but he is still of Earth,” says Thor. “As are you.”

“What’s your point?”

Thor gestures to a cluster of spiky orange plants on the table nearest the door. “I played among these as a child. Most of these plants are familiar to me in some form or another. I cannot say how they would affect you, but they won’t do me harm. Let me bring him out.”

Sam nods, though he cranes his neck to see over the plants as Thor sets down his hammer and disappears among the greenery.

“He’ll be alright,” says the little girl, who Thor had introduced as Love. “These are houseplants, mostly. I don’t even think I see any carnivorous ones.”

Luckily, the uncle instincts kick in and allow Sam to maintain a calm demeanor as he thanks Love instead of doing what he wants to do and asking just how many carnivorous houseplants they have in outer space.

It’s a good distraction when Thor emerges with Bucky in his arms, looking more or less unharmed, and Sam’s relief immediately turns to bafflement when Thor gestures with a nod to the table just by the door.

“Water, please, Love.”

She scurries around him to grab a bottle of water from the table and immediately opens it and pours it over Bucky’s face.

“Thor, what the–”

“I just wanted to wash away the residue around his nose and mouth. He inhaled it.”

“He did what?” asks Sam. “Do I need hazmat down here? Should I call–”

But Sam breaks off as Bucky wakes with a cough and a sputter, shaking his head to get his now-wet hair out of his eyes. He blinks a few times, like he can’t quite focus as he stares up at Thor.

“Wow,” says Bucky, and just as Sam is bracing for a tirade about how it’s rude to throw water at someone, he goes on to say, “your bicep is bigger than my head.”

Sam feels his jaw drop. Then it drops a little bit more as Bucky lolls his head against the aforementioned bicep, smiling up at Thor.

Thor laughs, looking at Sam. “Completely harmless,” he says. “It’s the pollen of the Gangalorian Moonblossom.”

When Sam narrows his eyes, he tells himself it has nothing to do with the way that Bucky is staring all wide-eyed at Thor’s jawline. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“You need only know that it won’t hurt him,” says Thor. “Captain Rogers encountered it once, years ago now. The effects wore off within hours, and he was perfectly well the next day.”

“What effects?” asks Sam, though he’s not sure he needs to. At the sound of his voice, Bucky turns to look in Sam’s direction, and his eyes immediately go wide.

“Hi, Sammy,” he says, grinning so wide his eyes scrunch up. Bucky pats Thor’s chest, then makes a vaguely impressed noise and pokes at it one more time. “You can put me down now.”

Thor glances at Sam for approval, then sets Bucky down once he gets a nod.

“See?” slurs Bucky, still looking wobbly. “M’great.”

Then he takes a single step and stumbles over his own feet, but before Thor can reach out again, Sam has an arm around Bucky’s waist and Bucky’s left arm over his shoulder. “Sure you are, Buck.”

Up close, it’s clear that his pupils are enormous, his face flushed. Sam reaches up to sweep Bucky’s hair out of his face, and Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, a shudder going through him.

“‘Course I’m great,” says Bucky, leaning into Sam’s side. “You’re here.”

Sam feels his face go warm. He looks at Thor. “You promise he’ll be alright in a few hours?”

Thor nods. “Perhaps a bit cuddlier until then, and with fewer inhibitions, but no harm will come to him.”

“See?” asks Bucky. “Told you. I’m fine. Thor said so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Sam. “Are you two okay to wrap up here while I get Bucky back to the jet?”

When Thor assures him that they are, Sam slowly turns around, still supporting Bucky’s weight. He nudges Thor’s hammer out of the way with his foot, and though he thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, Sam has had enough alien surprises for the night.

He hobbles back towards the jet with Bucky, who seems to be regaining some stability, but gets distracted enough by every other thing that Sam is relieved to already be holding him in place. Once they’re up the gangway, Sam gets Bucky situated on one of the bench seats.

He’s only just turned his back, in search of the first aid kit when Bucky speaks.

“Sam, it’s hot,” he says, in what Sam can only describe as a whine. “Why’s it so hot in here?”

When Sam looks at him, he’s stripping out of his tac jacket, flinging it aside. From Bucky, who’s been known to use three separate blankets anytime the jet gets up to altitude, it’s the most worrisome symptom yet.

“It’ll get cooler, Buck,” says Sam, watching him strip off the long-sleeved shirt he’d had on under the jacket. “You might miss those layers.”

“I won’t, ‘cause it’s hot,” Bucky whines again, now just clad in a sleeveless compression shirt. Then, seemingly unrelated. “How come you’re so far away?”

Sam looks down at the floor, mentally counting the no-more-than-ten paces between him and Bucky. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” says Bucky, with that familiar, stubborn set to his jaw. “You’re too far. Why?”

“I was getting you water,” says Sam, holding up the bottle and walking it over to Bucky, who immediately takes it and downs half.

“Thank you, Sammy,” he says, grinning up at Sam again. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” says Sam.

“So will I,” says Bucky, his eyes wide and earnest. “Always.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Sam says, because he can’t process that right now.

“You’re welcome.”

“Is this close enough for you, by the way?” asks Sam. “I could maybe drag over one of the–” 

But he cuts himself off as Bucky shakes his head fervently. “Too far,” he says, with something close to a pout. Then he pats the spot beside him on the bench seat.

“Alright,” says Sam, already reasonably sure where this is going. “But no comparing my biceps to Thor’s.”

“Thor who?” Bucky asks absently, and it shouldn’t delight Sam as much as it does.

The second that Sam is sitting down, Bucky is practically vibrating, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps darting hopeful glances over at him. It’s Sam who puts an end to it, sighing and grabbing a pillow from the basket under the seat and setting in on his lap.

“Alright, Barnes,” he says, patting the pillow. “Knock yourself out.”

For a moment, Bucky stays where he is, eyes wide with disbelief. Then: “Really?”

Sam nods. “Really.”

Bucky rolls his shoulders for a moment and stretches like a cat—and if Sam is watching as he does it, that’s just because Sam feels strongly about eye contact, thank you—before sprawling out on the bench seat with his head in Sam’s lap, sighing with relief as he does.

“Better?” asks Sam, giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Almost,” says Bucky. He reaches up, fumbling for Sam’s hand before he finds it, then pulling it to rest on Bucky’s head.

On instinct, Sam cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair and feels him shiver with pleasure.

“Now it’s better,” mumbles Bucky, leaning into the touch of his hand. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime, baby,” murmurs Sam, and Bucky shivers again.

[kookaburra-laugh]

I read that in 2022 - GO Edition

hi friends, i come with a list of fic recommendations on this first day of 2023! for me, 2022 brought new friends and new fandom and im eager to share what i’ve read and loved with you all

not all of these were written in 2022, but that’s when i read them

Accept a Little Spin by nieded @nieded ​

rated E | 100k+ words (ongoing)

It's the 2023 season, and sophomore driver, Ezira Phale, is out to prove he's worthy of his seat at McLaren F1 as the world tests the boundaries of his confidence and his relationship with IndyCar driver, AJ Crowley.

Part 2 of Rainbow Road 🏁🌈

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth @themoonmothwrites

rate E | 88k words

After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

close quarters pining, slow and hot and full of feelings

stalwart sun, wily moon by dustnhalos @dustandhalos ​

rated M | 370k words

Anthony J. Crowley is a world-class art thief with a complicated past who, until now, had been pretty content with going through life as part of a prolific black market art trafficking ring.

That is, until a simple logistical hiccup leads him straight into the path of one Aziraphale Fell, former Head Conservator of the British Museum turned antique repair shop owner.

Little do they both know, the strands of friendship, morality, and deception in their shared circles of the London art world are interwoven in even more complex ways than either of them could have expected...

such rebel blood by curtaincall @fremulon​

rated T | 60k words

Anthony Crowley needs a break. Six months after being tried for murder, he’s struggling to find a new publisher for his mystery novels—and to conquer his (apparently unrequited) feelings for Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, the man who saved his life.

Spending a few weeks out in the country working on a murder-mystery game for a rich young American’s twenty-first birthday party seems like an easy choice. But when the simulated death becomes all too real, Crowley finds himself caught up in the investigation—and crossing paths once more with someone he feared he’d never see again...

 Part 2 of A Love Story with Detective Interruptions        

No Room at the Inn by summerofspock @summerofspock

rated T | 735 words

A tipsy makeout scene for the prompt Bed Sharing.

tender and mild on main

Anatomy 101 by Fyre @amuseoffyre

rated E | 102k words

Two humans are enjoying some alone time. A demon has questions. An angel has answers.

an owners manual of sorts that developed feelings along the way

 Mark of the Serpent  by NaroMoreau, summerofspock @naromoreau ​ @summerofspock ​

rated E | 150k words

Prince Aziraphale is about to be crowned King of Angelhaven when he's taken captive by pirates. When he's sold as a pleasure slave to King Crowley, ruler of the nation readying for war with his, he is forced to keep his identity a secret as he tries to find a way home and keep peace. But not everything at King Crowley's court is as it seems and Aziraphale will have to face machinations of a Royal Court that are far more complex than he had thought.

A Captive Prince AU with an omegaverse twist.

Unusual Occurrences at A.Z. Fell and Co.'s  by WritesEveryBlueMoon @gwenstacyismyicon

rated T | 1500 words

When the bizzare and amusing habits of Mr A.Z. Fell, bookseller, begin to trend on the internet, those who dwell on various social media sites share their frustrations, confusion, and extraordinarily unusual stories.

An Oddly Mesmerizing Display by ZehWulf @zehwulf

rated E | 29k words

Crowley's a sex-indifferent/favorable asexual omega fresh off suppressants and in the market for someone to help him through what promises to be a trial of a heat. His friend gets him tickets to the Spring Fling Heat Date Auction, where he can win a date with an eligible alpha (or omega). Naturally, a certain alpha with a regrettably memorable stage magic show and intriguing scent catches his eye...

On The Habits Of Vampires And Retired Goths by munchmulch @munchmulch

rated T | 21k words

The thing is about Crowley's new neighbor, the thing is that Crowley is very, very gay.

the best kind of miscommunication. crowley has vampire traits and aziraphale makes some connections. aziraphale has wolfish traits but crowley is blinded by love and willfully ignores them

 A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by asideofourown @asideofourown

rated T | 8k words

[Crowley accidentally gets a bit famous, and the internet figures out he may be a bit immortal]

 All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist @impishtubist

rated T | 6.5k words

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

crowley cant remember falliing in love, no matter how many times he does it

do you know what eternity is? by gazing @choreomanic

rated T | 16k words

I'll pretend to propose, Crowley said.

It'll be fine, Crowley said.

It was, Aziraphale decided, not fine.

tender and mild on main. incredibly soft and silly and cute. so many proposals 

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry @geometricfractal

rated G | 2.5k words

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

exactly as it says on the tin. hits all the best feels

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by hope_in_the_dark @hope-inthedark

rated T | 5.5k words

When Crowley drops a bomb on a church, Aziraphale falls in love with him. This should be a secret, but unfortunately, Aziraphale's never been much good at keeping them.

a heartwrencher to be sure, but so sweet and gentle at the same time

Hanging By a Moment by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 5.5k words

Sometimes the best thing is to leave. Fresh slate and all that. For Crowley, it seems like the only option, having fallen hopelessly in love with his best friend.

crowley convinces himself that this moment with aziraphale that he's always wanted doesnt mean the same thing to both of them. but he's leaving next week so he's going to make sure this experience will be one to remember

Echo by snae_b

rated E | 52k words

This isn’t your average coffee shop AU.

kinda sorta amnesia/time loop but so much deeper! bamf protective devoted crowley

Amazing by nightbloomingcereus @moondawntreader

rated E | 9k words

Aziraphale thinks he's been hired to perform his magic act at a party. It turns out that there's been a slight misunderstanding and everyone thinks he's there for an entirely different sort of show. Good thing the caterer is there to save the day.

Green Groves by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 16.5k words

Aziraphale Fell isn't entirely happy living in his father's house. But when a new friend enters into his life, his whole world will change in an unexpected way.

Paper Thin Walls by angelsnuffbox @angelsnuffbox

rated E | 16.5k

Sure being in love with your best friend when he also happens to live in the flat next door, where you can hear every single one of his conquests through that shared wall, sounds challenging. But being in love with your best friend when he lives next door and you two used to shag? Might just be a tad more difficult, but Aziraphale muddles through somehow.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless

rated T | 9.5k words

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

bookverse - crowley is injured by a blessed bullet in a warzone and aziraphale uses his full will (and rules lawyering) to keep him safe.

Any Way You Want It by Justkeeptrekkin @justkeeptrekkin

Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.

a scotland vacation, some realizations, and confessions to match. tender and mild on main.

Small Cock Appreciation Society by cheerios_and_wine @cheeriosandwine

rated E | 6.5k words

Crowley is the founding member. Aziraphale's is the member.

incredibly sweet and hot. crowley and aziraphale fit so well together

Lift Me Up, O Lord by CopperBeech @copperplatebeech ​

rated E | 37k words

Aziraphale Fell’s maintained a string of weightlifting victories, a strained relationship with his family, and his grandfather’s waistcoat right into his fifties.

Distance runner Anthony Crowley’s spent the last decade watching his racing career recede in the rearview, but it doesn’t stop him running, literally, away from his feelings.

lifter aziraphale, runner crowley, and a bicycle race

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b

rated E | 20k words

It’s fucking on camera. It’s not that complicated.

sex with feelings between porn stars who really hit it off

Pop the Question by tweedfeather @tweedfeather ​

rated T

Crowley plans to pop the question to Aziraphale at their favourite restaurant. Things don't go as planned.

A short, sweet, and silly fan-comic.

Where We Will Love by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr​

rated E | 17.5k words

Crowley busks in Piccadilly Circus.

Just down the road in Haymarket, Azra Eastgate performs at Her Majesty’s Theatre.

One duet is going to change both their lives.

Trust Me, I'm A Professional by Lurlur @lurlur ​

rated E | 12k words

After a mishap with a client, Crowley finds himself booking in at his local emergency department. His bitchy angel of a nurse takes good care of him, making Crowley regret that he can't really just leave his number.

Perhaps the universe has other plans for his love life?

Many Ways To Say It by Fledglinger @fledglingdoodles ​

rated G

"Listen well, dear ones, for there are many ways to tell him 'I Love You'..."

an incredibly sweet comic

Steamed by summerofspock @summerofspock ​

When Aziraphale's favorite porn star walks into the coffee shop where he works, it completely derails Aziraphale's day.

What happens when the sexy guy you're used to watching fuck people on your computer screen is actually the most awkward man you've ever met?

Heavenly Hands by ZehWulf @zehwulf ​

rated E | 7.5k words

Even girlbosses need a bit of stress relief between gaslighting and gatekeeping, and Crowley is no exception. Good thing she has a standing appointment with an angel from Higher Calling Relaxation. (A porn trope parody fic.)

A Sharper Sweet  by musegnome @musegnome ​

rated E | 5k words

Nothing smells quite the same any more. He bends over the plates anyway, and breathes in deep. Cinnamon and chocolate, fruit and sugar and butter. The scents would have set his mouth watering, before. He reaches out to touch the raspberry sauce drizzled over the cake, and stares at the drop of deep pink puree mounded on his fingertip.

crowley enjoys some sweets for his vampire partner and they both have a rather enjoyable time. a little angst at the start

Pavlov's Backroom by justheidi @scienceismygirlfriend

rated M | 444 words

"A word with you, angel. In private."

A conversation in the backroom of the bookshop.

Trying it On by snae_b

rated E | 6k words

Anthony Crowley. Stylist to an elite tier of the UK’s hottest stars. And now, apparently, to one dowdy, soft around the middle, recently divorced publishing heir.

Intermezzo by FeralTuxedo @feraltuxedo​

rated E | 47k words

Music critic Aziraphale Fell is trying to break into the world of television, when he is signed to make a documentary about former-rockstar-turned-composer Anthony Crowley. It’s been eleven years since Aziraphale’s disastrous review of Crowley’s debut opera nipped his classical music career in the bud. He can only hope that Crowley will get over his admittedly justified grudge to make the TV show a success.

  A classical music sex comedy. Yes, really.

Coq au Vin by Ginger_Cat @gingiekittycat​

rated E | 13k words

Tonight’s the night. He can feel it in his bones, in his wings, in his demonic soul. It’s going to happen—months of showering the angel with flowers and chocolates and perfect picnic lunches and walks thorough the farmers’ market, romantic row-boat rides on the lake and concerts in the park and dinner at the Ritz and everything in-bloody-between, are all culminating in this one night.

Because Crowley is making Aziraphale dinner, and Crowley is going to kiss him.

When the Sun Goes Down by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr

rated E | 16k words

Mr Anthony J. Crawleigh, disgraced heir to the Helton Abbey Estate, has been summoned home to attend his sister's engagement party.

It's only four days of shooting, dancing and making nice with nobs. He's survived much, much worse.

If only Mama hadn't arranged for such a handsome young man to undress him every night. Practically asking for trouble, that is.

Everything I've Had by AppleSeeds

rated M | 13k words

After developing a chronic illness that leaves him unable to live alone, Crowley moves back home to London where he reunites with his childhood best friend Aziraphale. Aziraphale helps to take care of Crowley and keeps him company while he's in bed, bringing them closer together and reigniting old feelings.

for the first time by summerofspock @summerofspock​

rated E | 3k words

It’s been six months since they’ve seen each other any way besides over FaceTime and Aziraphale is desperate for the sound of Crowley’s voice without the filter of the tinny speakers of his iPhone, for the smell of the crook of his neck, for the way his body fills the space beside him. He knows Crowley will be here soon and yet his heart hardly believes it is real.

Rivers Of Gold by entanglednow @entanglednow​

rated E | 7k words

Crowley is commissioned to sculpt an angel for a family chapel, but the more he uncovers from the marble the less willing he is to give it up.

amaretto by goosewriting @goosetooths​

rated E | 69k words

Aziraphale, a human, has grown used to being alone.

Everything changes for him when a unique occult relic falls into his hands and loops him into a contract with a mild-mannered (if a bit snarky) demon named Crowley.

[m0r1bund]

I want to step aside and say I'm grateful for everyone who has shared my adoptables, bought 'em, enjoyed them with your eyeballs, or just hung around in general. I don't like to mix money with art, but these past two months I've been in a tight position where I needed to to make ends meet. I didn't want to lead with this because we're all broke motherfuckers out here, and you know how it is. being poor can be the most shameful and humiliating thing in the world, even when you know in your forebrain that it's not something you can necessarily control.

Thankfully, this is a transition period. I'm lucky to have the support of really cool people who have made it possible for me to secure some work doing what I love. 🤞 with any luck, we will be out of the woods soon.

As much as I hem and haw about making money off of my art, this has been an encouraging experience. I've enjoyed being able to act on design ideas that wouldn't fit into my own stories, but are really fun in someone else's hands. I also learned a lot during this brief return to the adoptable market, which I will share below, in hopes that maybe it can help others who find themselves in the same position.

I've been strict with pricing my work hourly, rather than just slapping on a price that "feels right" for the perceived complexity/finish/originality of the design. It's like pulling teeth, because I'm always slower than I think I am. I try to hold onto a piece of advice that I heard somewhere, which I will paraphrase poorly. Basically, even though your instinct might be to make a lot of small, affordable things, so you're not putting all your eggs in one basket or setting yourself up for disappointment if there's no bites, it's sometimes more "efficient" to do expensive jobs that are few and far in-between. there is... obvious... tension between this and my feelings about accessibility. one thing wins over the other when you're in survival mode, for better or worse. but i feel fortunate to be able to eat today so that i can pay it forward tomorrow.

i've tried to be conscientious of overhead, platform fees, and invisible labor. I probably would have made more money if I had conducted sales as auctions and exchanged money through direct invoices, but I chose to use ko-fi and fixed prices because that meant there was less friction between sharing my work, conducting a sale, exchanging money, and distributing the files. This might seem like a deranged tradeoff (surely it would be more worthwhile to just exchange a few emails) but it reflects the state of mind I was in before I received the news about my new job. If I wanted to keep doing this for what seemed like an indefinite amount of time, I needed to make it as simple as possible.

in line with the above, I chose to make adoptables rather than open commissions because the risk of losing time without any financial return was acceptable to me. time and technical effort was not my limiting resource, haha... I really respect commission work, but it's challenging for me to do. maybe you can guess from my desire to use ko-fi that it takes more effort for me to translate a client's vision into visual art than it takes for me to spitball an idea and hope someone will like it enough to take it home. I already prioritize this more "intensive" work as part of my (current) dayjob, so it's better for me to pick the path of least resistance in this case.

all of this rides on having a following. honestly, i wasn't sure things would work out here on tumblr. i have traditionally sold adoptables over on deviantart, where I have a larger following. dA recently enshittified (again) so this blog became an impromptu experiment in critter sales. I'm happy that I haven't had to touch dA, in the end, and I really owe that to you guys. thank you! (again!!)

[nancypullen]

Winds of Change

I think I've had about all I can take from the ol' Denton library. I have poured myself into this job and, quite frankly, it's sucking the life right out of me. Without going into detail, I'm just going to say that I gave it six months and 100% of my effort only to understand why they have such a high turnover rate. C'est la vie. I'll let you know when my departure is final, you'll probably notice an increase in nonsense on this blog. With that out of the way, let me tell you about my latest treasure. I've mentioned the auction house just up the street from us, and that every Monday night there's an auction. It's usually estate sales, and can be either loads of junk or some really lovely finds. Last week it was about fifty-fifty. BUT, there was an item there that I really wanted and because I am cheap frugal I decided to set my maximum bid at $15. I know, I know, Diamond Jim, right? The whole point of an auction (for me) is to get something for practically nothing. On Monday night I was watching my piece like a hawk, hoping no one else displayed interest. I ended up bidding against just one other person and winning THIS for just $7.75!!

Isn't she gorgeous?? I'll put her in my craft room because I can always use more storage and those shelves are perfect for my art books. I felt like I hit lotto when I won for less than ten bucks! Of course, we all know that I'm about to spend thirty bucks on paint and foo-foo stuff to turn her into a show girl. Right now I'm thinking Irish Garden (left) and Peony (right) because I'm a girly-girl and proud of it.

Maybe a shade or two deeper than the Irish Garden, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I have to take into consideration the wall color (might be a bit too close to Irish Garden) and the furniture and décor already there. Any way you slice it, I'm going to have fun with this. I mean, look at these drawer pulls. Just take my money already!

In other delightful news, my Zepherine Drouhin climbing rose is climbing and blooming!

She's a beauty! I'm so excited. When she arrived she was just a stick with a couple of scraggly roots. Look at her go! That pic was snapped while I was spraying neem oil to keep the hungry bugs away. Why do bugs love roses so much? I'm happy to share bits and pieces of my gardens with insects, but they go after roses like piranhas. Everything else is chugging along just fine - zinnias and sunflowers are going to make the east side of the house glorious in a couple of weeks. Some of the zinnias are already blooming, it'll take the sunflowers quite a bit longer. The German Pink tomato plant that I picked up in Pennsylvania at an Amish market is thriving. It's got lots of blooms and each one promises a juicy fruit. Crossing my fingers. The kitchen herbs are all in good shape. As usual, the basil is practically a shrub. The dill is full, the rosemary is coming right along now that I moved her, and there's parsley in a pot out front. All of the various blooms and ferns are happy and healthy. It looks and feels like summer. We're going to have the full Strawberry Moon (it'll be hanging low in the sky) and the summer solstice at the same time. That's reason for my witchy heart to celebrate. Time to play my favorite song!

I loved that song in the 70's when King Harvest released it (I think I was 10), and loved it even more in the 2009 when Toploader cut their version. Know what's sad? I heard it the playing a couple of days ago in a commercial for retina medicine. I'm old. Time for me to head upstairs and soak in the tub. Tomorrow is a work day and I swear if anyone looks at me cross-eyed I'm outta' there. There's one coworker, someone I have to work closely with a lot, who is always in some sort of emotional turmoil and can't work. Normally I'd be very compassionate for anyone going through a tough time- but hers are self-inflicted and/or manufactured. It's exhausting. She's also a gossip and I don't like being put in the uncomfortable position of receiving another's private info that she shouldn't be telling me. Even worse, she's management so I can't complain to management. Not that I would, I'm an advocate of putting on my happy face and just getting the job done. It does make for long days, though. There are some truly lovely people who work there, but I do understand why so many have left. Ugh. Taking it a day at a time. That's why I'm going upstairs to soak in the tub and relax, to brace myself for whatever is coming my way tomorrow. It's always something - an OD, a coworker having a meltdown, something disgusting in the book drop, or just spicy patrons. A half hour in some hot water with a bath bomb recharges my batteries. I probably need these earrings too.

Anywho, I'll be reading in bed, covered up in cats, by the time the mister comes up. I think my reading material makes him nervous. This week's selections...

He probably sleeps with one eye open. Good night, my darlings. I hope that your days are happy and your nights restful. I hope that if things are topsy-turvy or stressful that they settle soon. And trust me, they will. Something that I tell myself about my less than satisfying life right now is that this is just a chapter, not my whole story. It ends, and something new begins. Always. Sending out lots of love tonight. Take what you need. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[donotdestroy]

The value of art can be understood in multiple dimensions:

1. Cultural and Historical Significance: Art often captures the cultural, social, and historical contexts of the time in which it was created. It can serve as a record of human experience and a way to communicate across generations.

2. Emotional and Aesthetic Impact: Art has the power to evoke emotions, provoke thought, and provide aesthetic pleasure. Its ability to resonate with individuals on a personal level adds to its value.

3. Economic Value: Art can have significant monetary value, determined by factors such as the artist's reputation, rarity, historical importance, and demand within the art market. This economic aspect is evident in auctions and private sales of artwork.

4. Symbolic Value: Art can carry symbolic meaning, representing ideals, beliefs, or social commentary. This can increase its value in the eyes of those who share or appreciate these symbols.

5. Personal Value: For many, art holds personal value, whether it’s a family heirloom, a piece that resonates with their personal experiences, or something that simply brings them joy.

In essence, the value of art is subjective and multifaceted, varying greatly depending on the context in which it is viewed and appreciated.

By ChatGPT

[destielomegaversebigbang]

Alpha for Auction

Posting 18th September 2023!

Fic by TwinOne Art by SoloArcana

Rating: Mature

Summary: Dean Smith has worked hard to be where he is today. He is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Inc., makes six figures, owns a condo in the best part of town, and has not let anything distract him from reaching his goals in life. When his health starts to decline, his doctor discovers that his constant use of suppressants is the cause, and recommends he have a heat with an alpha as soon as possible.

The problem? Dean doesn’t trust alphas.

Tags: Omega Dean, Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Made up medical issues, Past Rape/Non-con Elements (not between Dean and Cas), Fluff and Smut

Excerpt: Below the readmore

“Dr. Barnes said my body is rejecting the suppressants.” Dean repeated before sharing a little more information with her. “I need to find an alpha, wane off the suppressants and have an induced heat soon. Apparently, it’s the cause of all my health issues of late.”

Jo stared at him for a few quiet seconds sighing and looking at him with those worried brown eyes again. “Oh.”

“Exactly.” Dean said he knew he was screwed.

“Well, then have one.” Jo shrugged.

“I can’t just have one.” Dean couldn't understand how she could just shrug this off. He was freaking out here!

“Yes you can. You find a trustworthy alpha and spend your heat with them.” She grabbed his dirty plate and quickly washed it.

“And where do you suppose I find one of those?” Dean passed the empty cup of water to her and wrapped his hands around his, still full, cold whiskey glass. “Pamela wants me to choose someone before I see her again next week.”

“Work?” She suggested with a shrug. She knew his office was full of unattached alphas. What she didn’t know was that they were all assholes.

“No way.” They shared a look. “Work is full of assholes.” He finally explained.

“Ah.” She answered in understanding. “Then, a friend?”

“All my alpha friends are mated.” Dean shook his head slowly.

“Find someone online, then.”

“Online?” He hadn't dared try online dating even with betas. Why would Jo think it was a good idea now?

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug.

“Sure, let me place an ad on Craigslist. ‘Alpha is needed for extremely long heat. Contact Dean at 123-456-7890’ I’m sure I’ll get a lot of calls.”

“No you dumb ass. Find someone in an Alpha Auction.”

[ask-de-writer]

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 10 of 20)

A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7763 words (work in progress)

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

New to the story? Read from the beginning HERE.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Holding the key away from the hapless Fisherman, Constable Canra asked mildly, “Minami san, is this truly the key to the lock on the ice house that you own jointly with your wife Tanira san? Does she have a copy of it?”

“Give me back my key, Constable san! Of course my wife can easily enter the ice house any time that she pleases. All that is needful is a cash of silver each time that I must unlock it! I know that she is making the money. Last night, she told me so herself. That means that it is no hardship for her.”

Tanira retorted, “That is a lie, Minami! You left this shop with many debits that must be paid. There is no money that is not needful to keep the shop open!”

“I see," nodded Constable Canra. "Minami san, you MUST come with me to the Tribunal as soon as I gather your note and the lock.”

Following the Constable, Minami was exhorting, “What are you doing? If it is left open like this, I will have no silver cash. I know that she has earned some, she told me so last night!”

The two made their way toward the Tribunal, Minami squabbling at Canra like a hungry gull chick.

It was not long before Constable Canra returned alone, with a different lock and a notice.

ICE HOUSE, HARVESTING TOOLS AND ICE INSIDE TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION NEXT MARKET DAY!

Minara noticed Tanira's smile and offered, “You were expecting this, Tanira san?”

She nodded. “Something of the sort, Minara san. Minami owes much money. As long as the ice house was shared, it was a joint property that could not be siezed toward his debits. As soon as he locked me out, he was declaring the ice house to be his alone, a valuable asset.

“It will now be sold the day after tomorrow to be set against what he owes. It should raise a tidy sum. Not enough to clear up his several cash of gold in debits but still, a goodly sum. Perhaps as much as several strings of silver cash.”

They returned to their task of splitting fish for drying. Ichuru tugged at his mother's sleeve. He was hugging his toy boat to his chest and asked, “Mother, Tanira san, may I take my boat down to the dock to float it?”

Takahara smiled, “If Tanira san approves, Ichuru san, I will go with you. You must wear your floats that your mother got you. If you fall in without them, you could drown just like those men that Patsu pulled out this morning. I will be there to pull you to safety if you need it.” She smiled as she added, “And if you don't, we will both have fun with your boat.”

He said seriously, “Daddy Minami san says that if I want to be a man, I don't need floats. None of the other fishermen wear floats. They just have to stay in the boat.”

Takahara nodded, “If you can, true. Why did those three men drown last night?”

His young brow wrinkled and his eyes squinted as he thought. “They drowned because their boat sank.”

“Right so far, Ichuru san. Where would they be if they stayed in their boat?”

“On the bottom with the boat.”

“Could they swim?”

“I heard some of the fishermen talk about that. They said that they couldn't swim. That's why they died.”

“That's right, Ichuru san. Are you a man yet?”

He pulled a face before admitting, “Not yet.”

“Right. Wear your floats so that if you do fall in, you will still get to grow up to be a man. We all want you to grow to be a fine young man.”

He grinned as he replied, “I will wear my floats, Takahra san. Let's go play!”

Takahara and Ichuru's happy laughter and shouts drifted up from the water's edge. After a while, they came up, both soaking wet. He carefully put up his toy boat and took off the soggy floats, hanging them neatly to dry.

Proudly, he announced, “I did fall in, all the way! I tripped on a stone and the bottom got way deeper than me! My floats kept me up just like you said they would. Takahara san jumped in and pulled me out and swam out to get my boat too!

“I want to learn to swim like she does!”

Minami stompped back from the Tribunal in time to hear the happy outburst from his son. Overriding the child's happiness, face screwed tight in anger, he snapped, “Fishermen don't need silly floats or know how to swim! All that they need to do is stay in the boat!”

Remembering his earlier lesson with happy people, Ichuru nodded and shot back, “Just like the crew of the Chrysanthemum! Those three men stayed in their boat!”

He pointed his index finger and folded his hand so that it pointed down. He bobbed it up and down three times, saying, “Bloop! Bloop! Bloop! They couldn't swim and stayed with the boat. Until I can swim, I will wear my float!”

Minami angrily pulled back his hand to slap his son! Takahara grabbed his hand and pulled it down and around behind him, forcing his arm straight, with his hand folded back at the wrist! As she levered his arm up, the pain in his shoulder forced him down, face first on the floor!

Her voice quivering with rage, but forced to a mild tone, she told him, “Your son was correct. You must apologize for your unruly anger toward him. If you do not, I will dislocate your shoulder. Am I clear?”

Whimpering, Minami retorted, “He was insolent!” That was followed by a yelp of pain as Takahara pushed his arm further against the arm bar.

She snarled, “He was right! You were wrong! Apology now or go to Doctor Siani to have your arm relocated.”

“I, I should have,” he swallowed around the agony of his shoulder, “been better behaved in public!” He yelped again as she nudged his arm further!

“Apology to your SON for your unruly behavior to HIM. He was happy. You stole that, like everything else that you come near! That was not enough! You tried to slap him for being correct and showing you wrong! Apology NOW!”

Constable Canra was leaning on the counter, watching, eyes lively with interest. Tanira was leaning on it too, from the inside, and nodding with approval at what was happening.

Minami groaned, “I am sorry that I tried to strike you, Ichuru san.”

Takahara released his arm and stepped back. “Now, Minami san, you may leave this shop where you have no business being at all.”

He rose slowly, back to her. He tried use his turning about to give force to a rough house punch at her!

Takahara made grabbing his arm seem almost casual as she leaned back and shoved a foot solidly into his midsection! She rolled back and down, curling her leg as she went smoothly to the floor, dragging the helpless Minami with her! As she came down to the floor, her folded leg straightened forcefully again!

His wrist imprisoned in her vice like grip, Minami was hurled violently up! She let go of his wrist! His flight was shorter and far less graceful than a bird's! He landed in a wild tangle of arms and legs, tumbling some before coming to rest in a lump.

Constable Canra stepped over and bound his arms behind him before he quite knew what was happening.

As he was hauled to his feet, Constable Canra politely asked, “Tanira san, what is your wish of this unruly affair?”

She sadly replied, “After this attempt to violently attack my son, I must ask for an Order of Protection. He is not to approach this shop or the house, which I must claim as my own.

“In the presence of Constables, he must remove all of his personal goods and clothes, taking no money or things of value.

“I also need a civil order of separation to isolate and protect our accounts and debits.”

She shook her head and looked at her disheveled husband. “I can no longer trust him at all. If he can learn to control his unruly behavior, perhaps our marriage can be saved.

Pain and some tears in her eyes, she brokenly offered, “I will be up to the Tribunal shortly to see to these papers. Please hold him in the gaol until he can properly receive them.”

The Constable nodded, “It shall be done.”

To Takahara he asked politely, “Takahara san, I did see the whole of this event. Have you a belt?”

She smiled as she bowed deeply to him and replied, “I do, Constable Canra san. Both of my parents were Black Belts. I had earned my Brown, second Dan when they were taken from me. As a Brown Belt, I was not allowed to maintain the dojo.”

To be Continued

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