#the auction series
Motorway’s auction platform for second-hand cars raises $67.7M Series B led by Index Ventures
Motorway’s auction platform for second-hand cars raises $67.7M Series B led by Index Ventures
motorway, is a UK-based startup that allows professional car dealers to bid at auctions for privately owned cars for sale. Startups have found rapid success by removing a lot of friction in the process. Now £48m / $67.7m has been raised in a Series B round led by Index Ventures with new investors BMW i Ventures and Unbound. Existing investors Latitude and Marchmont Ventures also participated. The…
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The Auction: Part 11
The event was being held outdoors, and despite your initial protests, you let Tony take the reins of the party planning, with the clear message to keep the event in a style that Steve and Bucky and yourself would like. With the promise that the theme wouldn’t be outrageous or an eyesore, or something that would even be jabbing toward Steve or Bucky, the event was planned under strict promises.
When you arrived at the estate Tony had rented out for the night, the first sight that caught your eye was the row of Edison string lights that were hung from the gate separating the entrance to the estate grounds, from the large wooden doors that granted access to the inside of the home. The light emits a soft glow that encapsulated the fairytale aesthetic of the building; the faded grey stone exterior had almost looked like a castle in New York.
“Wow,” you gazed wide-eyed at the mansion and the light and pastel-coloured roses that spun around the stone support pillars on the front steps and the red carpet that rolled down the broad steps into the building beneath the closed front doors, “this is beautiful.”
The car that picked you up and drove you from the city to the rented mansion had stopped just short of the staircase. As the car came to a stop, the driver got out of the car and walked around to your side. He opened the door and held his hand out for you to take, which you did, and when you stepped out onto the red carpet-covered stone, your attention was drawn toward the two wooden doors that had now since opened, and the two men standing in the threshold.
You lift your head and made eye contact with them both, Steve on the left dressed in a dark blue suit that matched his eyes, and Bucky dressed in a black suit that made his entire figure seem more imposing.
“You look good.” You stood on the landing, speaking to both of them. “You look outstanding.”
“So do you,” Bucky came to your side and wrapped his left around your waist, tucking himself against you.
“You think so?” You tilt your head and turned in his embrace, chest to chest. You leaned in and kissed him softly, your hands running up and down the lapels of his suit. “We could leave.”
“We could,” Steve spoke from behind you, “but do you want to hear Tony whine about it for the next month?”
You turned from Bucky and cast an appreciative gaze upon Steve. His suit not only brought out the colour of his eyes, but it also made his eyes look brighter and more captivating than they already did. His suit, like Bucky’s, made him appear larger and more foreboding, which in turn made you feel comfortable between them. They made you feel normal, despite being a plus-size woman, and that was only a part of what drew you to them.
“I’d rather not,” you laughed under your breath.
“I hope you’re ready to dance, dame.” Bucky slid his arm back around your waist.
“Don’t think you can steal her all night, punk.” Steve followed behind you, his eyes burning holes into your back and lower, as he checked you out shamelessly.
“You gonna make me share, Stevie?” Bucky flashed him a grin.
“Damn right I am.” Steve stopped you two before entering the garden before other people would consume the whole night. He closed the distance and placed his hand against your cheeks before he dipped his head and brushed his lips against your own.
Your hands grabbed onto his suit and pulled him closer, trapped willingly between Steve and Bucky. While you were delightfully pressed against Steve, with your back to Bucky, you felt his hands slipping around the front of your waist and back to your hips.
“Come on, love birds!” Nat broke the moment; she interrupted the kiss and the small touches with a smirk on her face and a look in her eyes that spoke to her pride.
“We could slip out the back,” you mumbled into Steve’s shoulder when you rest your forehead against him, “Tony be damned.”
“Come on, doll,” Bucky whispered into your ear, “anyone who looks as good as you needs to show themselves off.”
You laughed and shook your head. You all indulged Tony because he wouldn’t let it go. You all just went along with it because that was how Tony showed his love for his friends, but when it came to the actual engagement party, it would be much smaller. This was more of a PR stunt, a public celebration.
“Fine,” you pulled away from Steve and sighed, “but you two owe me.”
You cracked a half-grin, walking behind Steve and in front of Bucky as the three of you finally made it to the garden.
The flashing that immediately followed the three of you stepping out was blinding. The ear-splitting chaotic mess of people trying to speak over one another was irritating, it was grating, and you fought against your instinct to turn around and go back inside.
“You’re okay,” Steve mumbled into your hair, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and shielding you with his large frame as he helped you down the stairs and away from the shuttering cameras.
“That was too much.” You frowned, feeling like you’d just had your privacy invaded, despite being in a public space. “Tony owes us all.”
“Damn right he does.” The statement was unanimous. It was felt by all three of you who had indulged Tony because he would either whine about it most condescendingly or because he was a friend and he was only trying to help.
“We can still have fun, sweetheart.” Bucky wove his fingers in with yours. “We can spend all night on the dance floor.”
“I’m a terrible dancer.” You countered.
“Bucky’s a great dancer. Just let him lead.” Steve kissed you silently and quickly, pulling back as Bucky swept you away. “I’m coming to steal her soon, Buck!”
He didn’t stop until you both were on the dance floor. As the band started a tune known to Bucky, but not yourself, his arm moved higher up your waist while his hand held yours firmly yet not painfully.
“Eyes on me, gorgeous.” He grinned. “Don’t look away and let me lead.”
“Bucky-“ you squealed when he started moving to the beat, moving to the tune. He was flawless; he carried himself with ease unknown.
“You’re doing great!” He complimented you and then threw you into a dip before he pulled you back up, your laughter the only incident that caused you to slip up, though Bucky was quick to recover.
“How did you learn to dance so well?” You giggled, leaning flush against him.
“I was a lady’s man, honey.” He stole a kiss in the middle of the dance, completely ignorant, you both were, to the other bodies on the dance floor.
“Should I be jealous, Mr. Barnes?” The beat changed, the song changed to something slow and sensual, which was meant to be loving and tender.
“Any of the dames I ran with are either dead or old,” Bucky moved his hand again, his palm resting against the small of your back, heat penetrating and radiating from his hand through your dress, “you have nothing to be envious of, Mrs. Barnes.”
You rest your head against the crook of his neck, your eyes fluttering closed. You hummed to the tune that you didn’t quite know and let yourself be embraced by the scent of his cologne and his warmth, by the strength in his arms and shoulders.
“Mrs. Barnes,” you beamed, “that sounds amazing.
“Or Mrs. Barnes-Rogers.” Bucky’s rumbled against your ear, the vibration bringing you a sense of peace.
“Bucky…” you pulled away and looked up at him, your eyes searching his. You opened your mouth to speak again, to say something to him, only to shut it again when his PA called his name.
“Mr. Barnes,” Courtney came through the crowd with two champagne glasses in her hands, one for you and one for him, “Mr. Rogers wanted me to let you know that Mr. Stark said you’d make a speech. The three of you.”
You sighed and hung your head back against his shoulder. You didn’t want to make a speech; you didn’t want to get up in front of all these people and say something. That wasn’t your job as a PA, and you didn’t want to do it now.
“It won’t be that bad, sweetheart.” Bucky kissed the top of your head and grabbed the drinks from Courtney, nudging one of them against your arm. “One speech, and then we can spend the rest of the time dancing.”
You pulled away and sighed. You took the drink from Bucky and lift it to your lips, downing the alcohol inside in one swallow. When it was emptied, you rolled your shoulders back and cracked your neck.
“Feel better, Y/N?” Courtney asked, taking the glass from you once more. “Feel a little more relaxed?”
“Enough to make a speech,” as the champagne settled in your stomach, Bucky reached for your waist again. He pulled you into his side and kissed into your hair, leaving behind his PA, who only let her guard down when your backs were turned, and you were out of earshot.
“Won’t be long, bitch.”
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Look at this on eBay
Classic Japanese Cars Wow the Shannon Crowd
Classic Japanese Cars Wow the Shannon Crowd
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a simple BBQ ENA
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The Auction: Part 9
“Shut it off,” Bucky complained, burrowing his head further into the crook of your neck, “please shut it off.”
You were stuck between Steve and Bucky, trapped between their bodies as you lay in their bed in their suite. You groaned and tried to turn over in Bucky’s embrace. However, the weight of his thick arm had kept you stuck against his back. He wanted you to leave, yet between his arm around your waist holding you close to him and his leg over yours, you’d have a better chance crawling through him than over him.
“Your phone’s ringing,” Steve groaned and rolled over, snatching your phone and placing it in your palm.
Your hang tightened around the sides of your phone, and you opened your eyes just enough to see the name of the caller flashing on the screen. You sighed and accepted the call, lifting it to your ear.
“Congratulations!” Your sister’s squeaky voice screeched through the phone, and the pitch hadn’t just bothered you. The sound of the shrieking had caused Bucky’s nose to scrunch against your neck and his lips to be pulled back into a sneer.
“What are you talking about?” You spoke through exhaustion, too tired to deal with your sister’s shit.
“On getting engaged!” She screamed, and you could imagine her jumping up and down in her kitchen, her curls bouncing with every micromovement.
“Engaged?” You questioned, your eyes opening and your sleepiness being replaced by the cold bite of confusion and shock. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about?” She sighed and held the phone up and put it on speaker, the announcement on the news sending ice water straight through your veins.
“-the engagement of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to a PA that works under Natasha Romanoff. We’re getting word that the PA’s name is Y/N L/N-“
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least tell mom?”
You threw the covers back and flew from the bed, pushing yourself off the bottom end of the bed, half naked and barefoot.
“Shut up!” You hissed at your sister and scurried into the living room. You swiped the remote from the coffee table and turned it on to the news, the breaking news story unfolding before your eyes.
“That was rude. You know I-“
“I have to go.” You hung up the phone and stumbled to the couch, watching with wide eyes and bated breath as your picture flashed on the screen.
“Oh my god…” you covered your mouth with your hand, stunned at the picture they had.
The picture was from your date weekend with Steve and Bucky. The picture was taken the first night you were there, at dinner. The picture that followed was of yourself at the beach, in a bathing suit.
“What the fuck is this?!” Bucky stumbled after you, his hair messy and his eyes narrowed, he came to the couch and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, covering you in the soft material and shielding you from the cold.
“I’m on the phone with Tony now.” Steve followed him, completely dressed in a pair of slacks and a button down dress shirt despite the lack of time that passed from the time you left the bedroom to now. “He has no idea what happened or how this got out.”
“Oh my god…” You groaned and hung your head in your hands, your fingers gripping your hair.
“Y/N we’re-“ Bucky tried to comfort you, but his attempt at easing you was paused when the door was slammed open.
You lift your head and watched Colbie and Natasha, Wanda and Vision walk into the room, though none were more pissed than Colbie.
“That little whore did this,” she hissed, stalking toward the couch and stumbling down on the cushion beside you.
“What whore?” Bucky sat on your other side, brushing his hand up and down your back in comfort.
“Your assistant.” Colbie crossed her arms over her chest.
“We don’t know-“ Vision tried to combat the tension.
“We know,” you sat up and closed your eyes, rolling your neck from side to side to crack it, “she got confrontational the first day I was back.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve approached from behind you, Colbie and Bucky, his phone shoved back in his pocket.
“Cause Y/N fucked her shit up.” Colbie smirked and laughed under her breath. “I’m still laughing.”
“What’d you do?” Steve sat on the couch to the left, his elbows resting on his knees.
“Told her not to be jealous cause you fucked me in vacation.”
“Then Y/N told the spawn of Satan that you had plans to fuck her again that night.”
“Which they did.” You added with a grin.
“So now your little slutbag PA, is enacting some childish revenge.” Colbie snapped.
And you stood, with the blanket wrapped around your body. You stood from the couch and moved away from the living room to head back to the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“She started a fire,” you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes flashing, “I’m going to get gasoline.”
When you emerged, Vision and Wanda had left. Steve and Bucky were talking amongst themselves, and judging by the furrow of Steve’s eyebrows, he wasn’t entirely pleased.
Beyond Steve and Bucky, Natasha and Colbie were on their phones respectively talking to their own circles.
“Gasoline,” you placed one foot in front of the other.”
You chose one of the new outfits Natasha and yourself had found when you went shopping. The shirt was knotted above the skirt, showing a small sliver of your stomach and was long sleeves, grey in colour yet soft against your flesh.
The skirt was high waisted, and hip hugging, however there was a sharp angle of the shirt that showed off your smooth, and powerful, legs in a manner that made you feel like a plus sized goddess.
“Yes!” Colbie shrieked in approval. “LIGHT THAT BITCH UP!”
You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on your hips, your gaze moving throughout the room before they landed on Natasha. She was still in the midst of a conversation, with her phone pressed up to her ear, yet her lips were stretched into a smirk and she looked impressed and approved of your choice.
“She’s fired,” Bucky said immediately upon reaching your side, “at the very least.”
You turned into Bucky and snaked your arms around his neck and leaned in. You brushed your lips against his, kissing him softly and tenderly. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled you even closer, grinding himself against you.
“Don’t fire her,” you pulled away, “not yet anyway. Let her stick around and wallow in it.”
“Wallow in what, baby?” Steve asked, his appreciative gaze looking you up and down.
“The fact that I said yes.” You raised your head and locked gazes with Bucky, your eyes searching each other’s.
“To both of you.”
“Are you sure?” Steve stood flush behind you, his lips brushing against your cheek. “We haven’t been together that long.”
“You already have the ring,” you turned and focused on Steve, your hands sliding up his chest, “not that a ring matters because I would say yes anyway. If you’ll take me?”
He slid his hand around the nape of your neck, and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours. It was a flurry of kisses and mumbled declarations until you both pulled away.
“So this is it?” Colbie asked. “Are you engaged now?”
You retained eye contact with Steve and slowly nod your head. While it wasn’t by any means conventional or how you envisioned your engagement. However it hadn’t changed how you felt about Steve and Bucky, or how they made you feel.
It hadn’t changed the chemistry you had or the connection that drove you together.
“Yes ma’am,” Steve stole another kiss and then pulled away to a dress Natasha who had come up on your left.
“I’ll make some calls and we’ll put out a formal statement,” she smiled widely and pulled you away from Steve into a hug, her arms wrapped around you were squeezing tightly, “I’m so happy for you sweetie. I told you from the very beginning that they were wild about you.”
“I don’t remember that conversation,” you pulled away and placed your hand on your chest, “cross my heart and hope to die.”
Natasha brushed her hair over her shoulder and slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She looked as flawless as ever, with her red and blonde hair half up and half down in a knot at the top of her head.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY’s ai voice filtered through the speakers, “but Mr. Stark would like me to inform you that there is a rather large crowd of reporters waiting in the lobby.”
“I didn’t do that,” Natasha defended herself.
“No,” you rolled your shoulders back and held your head high, “but I’ll work with it..”
“BURN IT DOWN!” Colbie cheered, moving her way to the door, “make that bitch sorry!”
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I am now 53% into The Auction by LovesBitca8 and my Dramione-shipping heart is concerned. I don’t see how this will end well for my OTP. 😩
I survived Manacled by SenLinYu and yet I’m still worried that I may not survive The Auction.
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I am finally reading The Auction by LovesBitca8 and I’m about 30% in and I just need someone to tell me how much longer until Hermione sets these sick bastards on fire?
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The Auction: Part 1
Summary: In which Natasha pushes you to be auctioned off for a weekend for charity, and the opportunity arises for two super soldier’s to have reader at their mercy for a full weekend
The Avengers were akin to celebrities and that created a need for personal assistants to help support and create ease in their lives while they fought off the threats that faced the world.
As a person assistant, your job revolved the most basic errands such as getting fresh coffee or picking up their dry cleaning, making their day to day as seamless as possible, to making sure all preparations were made for any and all trips that they would have to go on to save the world.
Being a personal assistant wasn’t a glamorous job, and the hours proved to be long and draining, but the pay was incredible. Not only was the pay incredible but the benefits of being a PA had vastly outweighed the negatives. Yes, you worked long hours and had a hectic schedule, but when your assigned avenger was on a mission overseas or on vacation, your free time grew exponentially.
As long as the basics were handled, you had quite a lot of time on your hands when they were in another country.
Your assigned avenger was Natasha Romanoff, and given her skill as an assassin and spy, your free time was on the higher end than someone who stuck closer to home like Peter Parker or Bruce Banner or even Tony Stark.
The hours that those PA’s worked we’re almost double your own, but that could also boil down to the privacy Natasha Romanoff required. Peter Parker, while he was in his senior year, had a PA who was nearly run on her feet after trying to keep up with Peter and his forgetfulness.
Bruce Banner’s PA was always tired, always had dark bags under her eyes after being kept late in the labs while Banner worked.
Tony Stark used his PA almost too much, which has caused his PA to put more miles on her car in one year while working for Tony than the 2 years prior.
One disadvantage of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA was the incessant looks you’d received when you were in her presence. Natasha Romanoff was a beautiful woman, she was completely breathtaking and she knew it. She knew she was a deadly woman with her fists and her physical appearance and that drew questions whenever you were introduced as her PA.
If Natasha Romanoff was such a bombshell, then why did she choose a PA who was not? Why did Natasha Romanoff have a PA who was ‘pretty for a big girl’, who’s thighs had been rubbing together since you were 13. Why would Natasha Romanoff have a PA who looked as if she had swallowed two of her?
You were a woman who was plus-sized, and spent the greater amount of your time working for a woman who was the epitome of men’s fantasies. It was enough of a contrast to draw comments under breaths or snide looks. It was almost a constant reminder that no matter what, you wouldn’t fit well into their world aside from working for them.
Despite the comments and the snide looks, the depreciating hand signals that would be fired toward you for a ‘few good laughs’ Natasha treat you no different than she treat anyone of her team mates.
Natasha was a woman who had put in the effort to make you feel as comfortable as possible while working for her, and in your defence, had told the commentators, usually men, how quickly she could dismember them without leaving evidence behind.
You may have been verbally bullied about your size as a plus sized woman, but Natasha would never treat you with so much disrespect. Natasha had treat you as if you were her little sister rather than her PA, and that meant talking you up from the low places you would sometimes notch yourself in.
Natasha was an amazing woman and you admired her.
Even if she had pushed you out of your comfort zone toward new unchartered waters.
“You’re attending the charity auction.” She told you, handing you an invitation. “I need you there.”
She was constantly trying to push you toward a place where you could see your own value.
“Charity auction for the sick kids foundation?” You read the invitation twice.
“They’re auctioning off weekends spent shadowing avengers or weekend dates with volunteers for the auction.” Natasha explained while adjusting and fixing her eyeliner.
“So you need me to go and make sure everything is sorted out?” You behind her, tapping on the tablet in your hands.
“Not exactly, kukla.” Natasha locked eyes with you in the mirror. “I can’t volunteer this year on account of what happened last year on the ‘date’, but you can.”
The tablet in your hands has nearly fallen to the floor. It had nearly slipped from your grips to the soft carpet below your feet as the registration of what she said had gave way to shock.
“What?” You frowned and furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry..:what did you just say?”
Natasha smirked in the mirror, adjusting her stance after she reached for a metal container of mascara. She hadn’t given you an explanation of elaborated on what she had said right off the bat. She had coat her eyelashes with mascara until she was satisfied, then she pressed her lips together.
“I said you can. I put you down on the docket to be auctioned for a weekend of fun. It’ll do you some good.” While Natasha had been unbothered by her decision to offer you up as a volunteer for the auction, you were not.
“Why would you do that?” You hissed. “No one will bid!”
“Are you sure?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I think there are more men attracted to you than you think.”
Your snort and derision was a precursor to your eyes rolling. You had mirrored her stance by crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your hip out. You were having two different reactions that were each battling for control, first was your mental reaction that was akin to a nuclear meltdown in your head and the other was your emotionally pressed yet coolness snippiness that had taken over.
“I’d like to believe that, but there’s a better chance of seeing pigs fly.” Your comment had rolled off Natasha like water off a duck’s back, she didn’t even acknowledge your comment or your dig at yourself.
“As a friend,” Natasha asked with a tone of voice that was more telling, “I am going to put you on the volunteer list. As a friend, I am doing this because there are men out there who are attracted to you and have even tried flirting with you-“
“I’ve been flirt with?” Your irritation turned to general confusion.
“-and they feel like this is the best way to get your attention. So will you please-“ she didn’t even need to twist your arm before you caved.
“-it’s for a good cause.” There was a bubbling in your belly as butterflies sprung to life, “what the hell. I’m in.”
“Good.” Natasha stride toward you and pinched your cheeks, “now let’s get you a dress that’s show-stopping.”
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Funny how I hate math but I did end up doing the math on how much money I would need if I were to open an independent bookstore in my hometown and call it Cornerstone.
Who knows? Maybe a handsome brooding pale blonde man with separation anxiety that goes to therapy once every 4 weeks and likes blueberry scones may walk in...
...anyways, does anyone have 60k I can borrow just to start it up?
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Everything here is sooo weird...
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Still Not the Worst Thing She's Worn - Emily in Paris, Episode 9 Recap
Poster from IMDB
The episode opens with a shot of a bar in Chicago, full of people pouring champagne all over themselves, celebrating the Cubs winning the World Series. It then turns into an advertisement for Champère, and the screen enlarges to show us that Emily is pitching the idea to her coworkers. Now, if you follow baseball, you know that the Cubs last won the World Series in 2016 (and before that, the last time was 1908). This show takes place in 2020 when the Cubs did not make it past the first round of the playoffs. This is all to say that this must have been rough to watch for Chicago Cubs fans and as a bitter Phillies fan, I find that funny.
Anyway, Emily does her pitch. She seems to have ditched the “a bottle to sip, a bottle to spray” tag line in favor of “extravagance accessible.” I prefer the old one. Sylvie thinks the entire concept is tacky, and she’s not necessarily wrong. We also learn in this scene that Sylvie is ignoring Antoine’s calls. While I like that she’s cutting him out of her life, I don’t think she really has a right to be mad at him for picking his wife over his mistress. She knew what the situation was when she entered it.
Emily has a lunch meeting with a woman named Judith from an association called the American Friends of the Louvre. The two talk about hating how the French don’t pronounce the letter "r", and I have to say that there is something about a woman with a Southern accent saying she misses the "hard r sound" that just doesn’t sit right with me. Judith asks Emily if she can get Pierre Cadault to donate a dress for an auction the American Friends of the Louvre is hosting, and Emily says she will try her best.
Emily calls Mathieu to see if he has time to meet, and he ends up inviting himself to Camille's art gallery, where Emily was bringing Sylvie and Luc that night so they could talk to Camille about Champère. The four of them meet Gabriel and Camille there, and when Emily is speaking alone with Camille and Gabriel, Camille says she thinks Mathieu is into Emily, but Emily insists that they are meeting just for work. Emily is just so oblivious, and I hate it.
Mathieu and Emily leave the gallery to get dinner, and Emily doesn't bring up the dress donation (the whole reason for the meeting) until after dinner when they are walking around Paris eating crèpes (I did not know it until I saw it, but this is my dream date). When they say goodbye, Mathieu kisses Emily's hand in a rather suggestive manner.
Emily internet-stalks Mathieu and all his famous ex-girlfriends at work the next day and is interrupted by Sylvie who also thinks there is something suspicious about Emily's relationship with Mathieu, not that Sylvie is in any position to judge about mixing business with pleasure. Speaking of which, Antoine sends Sylvie a gift, which she refuses to open. After she leaves, Luc opens it, revealing the gift to be earrings for nipple piercings. Honestly, Sylvie does seem like the type.
Emily shows up to the auction in an absolutely atrocious raincoat-dress, but she is still somehow not the worst dressed there. That tile goes to a pair of designers for a brand called Gray Space, who make "avant-garde sweatsuits," a phrase that means absolutely nothing. They're wearing what I guess are "avant-garde sweatsuits" and carrying backpacks that suggest their fashion-muses are Doctors Venkman and Stantz.
While they are all waiting for the auction to start, Judith gets a call that the model for the Pierre Cadault dress is stuck in Dallas due to a flight delay. Absolutely wild move for her not to call until 10 minutes before the event begins when she's literally on another content and definitely knew she wasn't going to make it way before then. Judith enlists Mathieu to help, asking him to call one of the countless models he knows from working in the fashion industry. Instead of doing that, he uses the opportunity to hit on Emily, saying she should model the dress.
That she does, being awkward and playfully shy and then becoming super-confident the minute one person bids on the dress. The guys from Gray Space end up winning the auction, and the moment they do, they walk right up to Emily and use their backpack hoses to shoot paint all over the dress. Pierre is obviously horrified.
The next morning, the story is all over the news, and all the vultures men come to feast check in on her. First Mathieu texts to see if she's alright, seemingly more concerned about getting laid than the PR nightmare she just helped create for the business he runs. Then, Gabriel knocks on her door with a French newspaper, offering to translate the article about her. He tells her she should just skip work that day, which is absolutely horrible advice since she is already on the brink of being fired.
She does go into work, thankfully, where she tries to tell Sylvie this isn't that bad; it brought Pierre Cadault into the conversation, and the articles are just discussing "the old guard vs. the new." Sylvie astutely (and obviously) points out that it is not a good thing to be called the old guard and asks what exactly the conversation is about.
After a lame-ass confrontation with the Gray Space guys, she heads to Pierre Cadault's place, where she finds him lying in bed with a tray of crème brûlée, which is a move I can definitely get behind. He's actually just smacking the hard tops as stress relief, not eating them, but even that is pretty iconic. Pierre laments that his customer base has gotten older, and he now makes clothes for old ladies, and the younger generations mock him. Emily tries to cheer him up by insisting that Gray Space was not mocking but celebrating him. They chose quite the disrespectful way to celebrate, but okay, Emily. Whatever you say. Emily then presents Pierre with a Gray Space-style sweatshirt with his logo across the front and suggests that the two brands do a collaboration. Pierre hates the idea, as he should, and kicks Emily out of the room.
Emily then meets Mathieu in the entryway, who comforts her with a very familiar handhold. He then says, "do you know what the French did while bombs were falling in World War 2? They made love," and then kisses her. I'm not really sure why World War 2 is being compared to a ruined dress, and I also feel the need to point out that France wasn't really bombed during World War 2, as they surrendered to the Nazis quite easily.
The episode ends with a cliffhanger that I think was supposed to leave us in suspense but ultimately just left me confused. I cannot even imagine what's going to unfold in the season finale.
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Daimler Double Six Series 1, 1972. One of 534 first generation V12 Daimlers ever made is to be offered at auction. The Double Six was a badge-engineered version of the Jaguar XJ12 with slightly more luxurious trim. As a series 1 car it uses the short wheelbase XJ platform. The car offered has an unwarranted milage of 21,712 miles. Finished in Sable Brown the car was first registered on 01/01/1973, it comes from a a large collection and has received little or no use in recent years
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I may have made an entire ENA study/practice thing while I was half asleep
My wrist was dying after all the writing but it was fun to make!
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GRUNGE PINEY WOODS 1 - 4
Series of four separate 5"x7" acrylic paintings on Fredrix cut-edge flat-panel canvas
Shown taped together (on back); before signing.
Some ENA drawings I did for my icons
You can use these but credit me if you do!
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