#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

[sergioguymanproust]

The more we excavate these ruins ,the more we realize that we can’t seem to runaway from our past.And how is it that artifacts that belong in a museum in Mexico end up here The Art Institute of Chicago ? Egyptians artifacts end up in England ,and artifacts from the Sumerians end up in Germany ? Although I know the short answer ,money ! The black Market and the wealthy have access to millions of artifact I much rather see in the hands of the proper owners by this I mean the country of Origin .There is indeed such a thing called legalize stealing Well, looters have existed ever since excavations of sacred and ancient cultures and civilization have existed ,and as it is the case nowadays any artifact can be had by any prestigious institution at the right price ,donations included. This doesn’t make it right,right? Then there’s those famous auction houses with so much reputations where tycoons and philanthropists the likes of the Gate foundation and others make their bid . None could say that those artifacts are illegally purchased and sold some in secret indeed. Well, as a shaman ,I found it disgusting seeing pieces with so much spiritual significance and value ending up in Chicago. Well ,The Art Institute of Chicago.Yes ,folks it is always about money . Sad but true .Words by Sergio GuymanProust.

Mask from an incense burner depicting the Old Deity of Fire, Teotihuacan, 450-750 BC

from The Art Institute of Chicago

[technofeudalism]

Taller Nepantla: "So where do art and artists stand within this new techno-feudal political landscape?"

1) Artists don’t own anything.

We don’t own the studios. We don’t own the galleries. We don’t own the production of materials. We don’t own the newspapers. We don’t own the art schools and universities. We don’t own the mechanisms of art distribution. We don’t own our work. We don’t even own our own art. Artists have no labor protections and are content to work individually to perpetuate their own myth or pray to the sacred algorithm to go viral. By being atomized we are exactly like a feudal peasant of the Middle Ages, who lives in extreme precariousness giving away part of his crops to his local king. The art world, its industry, its weight, its impact, its trend, everything belongs to other people. Did you know 80% of the art-market is own by a small group of Mega Collectors? Those who control the means of artistic production control the artists.

2) By not owning anything, artists and cultural workers only rent.

We no longer sell handmade works, but instead we sell our hands for work. More and more the creative and artistic sector sells services rather than art. Artists need multiple jobs in order to invest in their art practice. Even more, just as in the feudal stage of history, we work the land in a territory that does not belong to us, the land belongs to the landowner. In this land artists will always pay rent, a tax, to the feudal lord. We use GOOGLE to send emails We upload our art to INSTAGRAM We educate ourselves through YOUTUBE We communicate through TIKTOK We pay to use ADOBE SUIT We buy materials through AMAZON We move through UBER We send files through WETRANSFER Every time we use these platforms, we generate money for the feudal lords.

The art world depends on these platforms, which collect our information and our data, to sell.

When a service is free, our attention is the product. That is, it is impossible for an artist to establish himself as an artist without generating money for the landowners who own the technological platforms. That is, the art world depends on these products. It is impossible to be an artist without using these technologies. Techno-feudalism keeps artists in a situation of -permanent-precariousness dependence on technological platforms. Just like in medieval times, peasants live off the crumbs offered by the crown, living in a house, working on land, and eating food that does not belong to them. Technocapitalists don’t want artists to own the means of artistic reproduction. Technocapitalist instead build a world where everything is rented. Every stage of artistic production from how you imagine an artwork, how you study an artwork, how you draft and artwork, how you build an artwork, how you show an artwork, how you distribute an artwork, how you perceive an artwork, and how you think about an artwork, is all determined by apps and tools which you rented from a tech corporation.

3) Artists SUBSIDIZE the profits of technological platforms.

That is, we pay an inflated price for these services directly from our pockets. The art world depends on the underpaid work of our services. If there were fair wages in the art world, then the entire pyramid wuld be destroyed precisely because it depends on the fact that most artists do not earn a fair wage. All the art we produce and share is being used to train algorithms to better sell us products. When a platform is free, like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, we are the product that is sold. Even more, artists subsidize the entire artworld. We work for free. We work for low wages. We work for exposure. We are the “volunteer army” Jerry Saltz brags about. The artworld benefits from not paying us what we deserve.

4) The entire art world depends on the platforms of the Clouds.

All museums, galleries, fairs, biennials, and auctions depend on the technological infrastructure dominated by feudal landowners. In other words, there is a dependence on these technologies in order to promise an interconnected, cosmopolitan, and immediate “art world.” The feudal landowners who own the technological platforms, having no competition, can impose whatever price they want, and the art world must obey. They can raise prices without losing customers. The price we pay to use TechnoCapitalist services is completely arbitrary. It does not correspond with the quality of the service but rather to the whims of the landlords. One day, black ink for printing is free, the next day it costs $5.99 a month as a part of a subscription package. We are looking at you Anish Kapoor.

5) The algorithm decides what counts as talent as long as it can generate profits.

Algorithms are increasingly deciding what counts as “value.” Major collectors will be able to systematize the works on the market in order to deduce, through algorithms, the value of a work and whether it is a good investment. The algorithm has more power than art critics and art historians. An artist will then adapt to the algorithmic trends of his time, in order to go viral. A work of art that goes viral can change the artist’s life. NFT’s are just one example of techno-feudal experiments in the arts. NFT’s promise decentralization and transparency, but end up replicating the worst aspects of capitalism, feudalism, and what new technologies can do.

In short, the art world is interconnected with techno-feudalism. We artists are technologically and socially dependent on a system that exploits us. It is important to increase media literacy so that artists can build alternative technological systems to cut dependence on monopolistic companies. A king’s mindset is always to grown and conquer. In the end, the artworld’s investment in techno-feudalism will actively bring the destruction of other smaller artworlds in the global south. Techno-feudalism will produce a homogenized, sanitized, apolitical universal art, that privileges creations that protect the artworlds overlords."

[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

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[jainydoe]

I haven't played my rook claudia in a while but hey it's fun to get to know your characters and i'll do anything my wife tells me thanks @caffeinatedmunchkin LUST: desire for connection. pursuit of pleasure. emotional intelligence. obsessive. lovesick. one-night stands. seductive encounter. flirtatious conversation. erotic party. seductive attire. revealing clothing. passionate gaze. provocative makeup. sensual expressions. suggestive gestures. flirtatious smiles. lingerie. love letters. perfumes. provocative behavior. love poems. erotic art.

x I reckon she's a real flirt who enjoys something casual. Someone who loves sex for the beauty of it, the chase of it, the game of it, not so much the love-making bit. I think she's a romantic who finds big gestures typically corny but appreciates a good bottle of wine and something shiny.

GLUTTONY: indulgence in experiences. savoring moments. hospitality. generosity. hedonism. culinary expertise. wine-tasting. excessive snacking. overloaded plates. excessive portions. bloated stomachs. messy eating. greasy fingers. full tables. indulgent spreads. overflowing cups. satisfied expressions. wine bottles. just can’t get enough. fast food wrappers.

x She's got the heart of a fat cat who's been reduced to alleyway scraps. But on days they're not out questing, she's got on a face mask, a steaming bubble bath with some oils she picked up in a market and a juicy flick featuring their resident detective. Very much a work hard so you can play harder type.

ENVY: motivation. competitive spirit. strategic planning. observational skills. bitter rivalry. contest. envious gossip. resentment-filled argument. social media jealousy. furrowed brows. clenched jaws. side-eye looks. pursed lips. tense posture. whispering behind backs. crossed arms. gossip magazines. keeping up with the joneses. the grass is always greener. feeling inadequate.

x Hm I think her envy tends to go hand in hand with her wrath. Like she probably has some envy over Myrna just because she can live in Nevarra and wasn't pushed into some Sofia Falcone type "go to Italy" bullshit.

GREED: resourcefulness. entrepreneurial spirit. negotiation. materialistic. aggressive investment. lavish spending spree. resource-hoarding. get-rich-quick schemes. auction-bidding war. property acquisition. piles of money. overflowing wallets. luxury items. locked safes. penny-pinching. rare collectibles. selfishness. unwillingness to share.

x Oh yeah. Dragon behavior supreme. It's not hoarding if your shit is good. I mean she's Nevarran so like yeah she's a show-off and finer-things appreciator. Someone who likes keeping tabs on market fluctuations and what's hot.

SLOTH: calmness. stress management. nonchalance. relaxation techniques. lethargic. apathetic. inactive. lazy weekend. binge-watching marathon. neglected chores. skipped workout. long nap. lounging on the couch. missed deadlines. unkempt appearance. messy hair. pajamas. blankets. slippers. procrastination station. self-care routines.

x Yeah I think we touched on it in gluttony but when you grow up the way she did, you learn to take care of yourself. Now it's a ritual. The months following veilguard include long naps on the coast and fruit bowls and sweat.

PRIDE: confidence. self-assurance. self-respect. dignity. public speaking. self-promotion. arrogant. conceited. egotistical. self-important. vain. boastful speech. puffed chest. raised chin. smug smiles. spotlight. tooting your own horn. showing off. refusing to admit mistakes. feeling entitled. personal branding. leadership development.

x Yeah her fatal flaw is justifying her mistakes which is Bad when you're a thief. Something to work on now that you're saving the world I guess.

WRATH: assertiveness. decisiveness. strength. intensity. boundary setting. courage. indignant. heated arguments. road rage incident. physical altercation. angry outburst. clenched fists. glaring eyes. tense muscles. raised voices. reddened faces. aggressive gestures. stormy demeanour. intense frowns. destructive actions. broken objects. punching bag. out for blood. fists. simmering anger.

x I think her anger is either incredibly petty or takes ages to build. Very ides of march. A diplomat who, when pushed, pulls a blade. Makes sense given she's a rogue etc etc etc

This was fun! Imma tag some mutuals I haven't really gotten the chance to talk to but definitely wanna know more about!!! Let's chat!!! @pansexualbat @iridescentleaf @aldisobey @kviatuszki If I didn't tag you but you wanna talk, tag me! I'd love to learn more about your characters i LOVE COMMUNITY AHAFHEIQOHRWIH ER

[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!!)

[stingslikeabee]

3)  our muses take a shower together to wash blood off each other. // just a getting clean after a killin'.

smut prompts with plot . accepting

It was clear to anyone who visited the countess' estate that Melissa was an art collector; the ample building was tastefully decorated with beautiful tableaus, rare porcelain sets, a number of well-maintained musical instruments and exquisite rugs from abroad. It expanded into her own closet, too - jewelry, shoes, limited edition items released by fashion brands that the woman enjoyed and perfume bottles made up for another sizeable (and very private) collection.

Not all of that had been sourced through legal means, however - Melissa had her own contacts who would come to her first for a chance to peruse and acquire what they had procured, either through certain black market channels or simply by opening up a private viewing before bidding began. Such was the nature of a very profitable partnership with an auction house in Baltimore - the gentleman in charge of running the place had come to the countess very often, knowing she was generous in terms of offerings. Perhaps unfortunately for the general public, many beautiful items never saw the light of day away from the Forteguerri manor.

But the trusted alliance that Melissa had with the prior manager dissolved when he notified the lady of his retirement, moving away with his family to a small farm in Indiana. The replacement was a man named Jeremiah Williams, his junior by a few decades, and someone that the countess immediately disliked.

Jeremiah had the trademark signs of an ambitious young man who thought himself too clever - and it didn't take Melissa long to realize that the deal that existed before (and which had been so mutually beneficial) was now just a façade for a newcomer to use her art knowledge to test the value of his findings. He would visit the brunette, discuss prices and then leave - never to make contact again or to just vaguely mention they had been sold to someone else if there was a follow up call.

That happened a few times, which was enough to frustrate Melissa - but when Jeremiah did it to one of Robert Lecter's paintings (which the woman was now keenly watching for on behalf of Hannibal, of course), that had been the last straw. As someone who had done her fair share of questionable things, the countess could excuse certain things - but not taking her for a fool in addition to blatant rudeness.

It was one of the first times that Melissa selected the victim and planned for mostly of the setting - Hannibal provided input and assistance, of course, but he was happy to let his companion take charge for that occasion. The countess was careful to create a different scenario for a potential 'assessment' - all communication was done through non-official means and burner phones, there was no paper trail associated to the meeting (considering that the painting Jeremiah had this time was stolen property - so no police could be made aware or be involved) and the location was not her home but a more removed storehouse used by the Melissa for shipments from Europe.

Jeremiah suspected nothing up to the point where he was forcefully hit from behind, losing consciousness and then coming around half an hour later while being securely tied to a chair. Melissa was dressed as she normally did underneath the protective suit made of plastic, a creation from the man standing right at her side and equally prepared for the next steps of the countess' plans. It was just the beginning: first, the woman questioned their victim for the name of the person who acquired the Lecter painting, smiling pleasantly when it was yielded among tears and pleas for mercy.

Then, the true lesson of that evening began - and Hannibal carefully tutored his partner to execute her vision perfectly. Melissa had wanted to leave behind a scene that alluded to theft, treason and shifted the blame to the organized crime lords who had been laundering money through Jeremiah's side hustle - so cutting his hands off seemed like a very historical reference to the ancient punishment applied to those who engaged into similar activities.

It was far from a perfect attempt - not being a surgeon herself meant that Melissa's abilities in dismembering someone were somewhat lacking, not to mention more painful for the victim. Hannibal was nonetheless a patient teacher, helping her get the severed limbs as desired and then moving to the next part where they strangled the man to death. It was a joint effort - the countess made a point of being a part to it, looking at the lifeless body later with nothing short of satisfaction.

Now Jeremiah would no longer be rude to either one of them, including Robert Lecter's legacy.

Over the next hours, they dragged the corpse to someplace else entirely and with no connection to the Forteguerri, hanging him from a tree after the deed was done and placing the severed hands around his neck for dramatic purposes. Hannibal had provided valuable assistance in that regard, sewing them to the rope in order to create the visuals of a man who had brought it upon himself and no one else to blame for the tragic fate.

But it was not all - a large chunk of skin was removed from his chest too, opening the way for certain organs to be harvested by Hannibal for later (a shame to let a good heart and liver go to waste, after all). There was a final touch from Melissa, which Hannibal also helped with - making the right incisions needed to leave 30 pieces of silver inside his stomach, adding a touch of religious symbolism.

By the time they had cleaned the scene and returned to Hannibal's home (simply because no servants meant no questions asked), they had managed to properly store the newly acquired meat, plant the false evidence tying the execution to an aggravated mobster who lost money with Jeremiah's dealings and then get to a long, pleasing bath. Melissa poured them some wine and brought it into the bathroom while they made sure to remove all traces of blood from one another, even if the plastic suits had kept most of it off their skin.

Still, the countess was not complaining - she trailed hands over her partner's body slowly and carefully, leaving a soft path of kisses once the flesh was properly cleansed. Between the soft music playing from the bedroom, the candles around the tub and the sips from the lightly chilled bordeaux, it had been a perfect evening out - and it showed in how Melissa sighed contently while leaning against Hannibal's chest, resting inside the tub with him.

After the washing was done, they just sat in the warm water to enjoy each other's company - and among the commentary for the particular performance of the orchestra that was playing or the food that would have paired well with their drink, Hannibal's left hand moved over Melissa's wet skin. At first it seemed to have no purpose - but he slowly worked with her like clay on his lap, obtaining access to the neck for a light scraping done with teeth (which quickly turned into a smile when a moan was offered in reply).

"How do you feel, my dear?"

"Elated," the word came easy enough, carrying a distinct dream-like edge to it; it did not stop Hannibal from humming in acknowledgement, allowing his hand to travel further, finding a breast and idly massaging it while he spoke against Melissa's flesh.

"Anything else?"

"Hungry," the woman added like an afterthought, stirring in his grip and pressing herself back into the taut muscles of Hannibal's chest. Melissa's legs stretched into the open space of the tub before bending knees and bringing them up, over the water - and it allowed the pair to grow more aware of the subtle changes to their own bodies in relation to the teasing touches and topic of conversation.

"And what are you in the mood for?" the doctor queried again, although the answer was painfully obvious. It was true that Melissa genuinely worked up an appetite after their killings (something that had surprised and amused the lady herself); but Hannibal's fingers continued south, sliding further inward over the closest thigh before reaching for the middle of her legs, probing lightly before making a definitive move.

"You, of course," the countess replied with a breathy laugh, head falling backwards to his shoulder and shedding any notion of self-protection. Melissa was a willing offering, taking the first curious digit in with a delighted sigh and enjoying very much the building pressure against her back - the material evidence of their foreplay affecting not just the woman, but Hannibal as well, "Nothing else is as divine as you are, carissimo."

[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.”