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Women Acrylic Evening Clutch bag Glitter Marble Purse Handbag for Wedding Cocktail Party Prom
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🌟 [The Magic of Handbag Making! ✨] Hey dear fairies, today I want to introduce you to a super cool handbag factory! 👜💫 Are you guys ready? Come explore this amazing place with me! 💥✨
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Main Characteristic of Chouhan Rugs which Differs us from others in the market
Chouhan rugs are known for best with unique designs for traditional and modern handwoven Jute rugs that originate from the Chouhan region in India.
These rugs are known for their intricate designs, vibrant colors, and durability, and are highly sought after by collectors and enthusiasts around the world. However, Jute rugs are not the only type of traditional rug on the market there are many other competitors in the industry, but we want to tell what differs Chouhan Rugs from others
Note :- While compared to Jaipur Rugs, regarding round rugs online , Jute Cushion Covers , jute pillow covers seller a superior combination of quality, design, and affordability. While both companies offer jute products, our range is more diverse and includes a wider variety of styles and designs to choose from. Additionally, our focus on sustainable and eco-friendly production methods sets us apart in the market. Overall, we believe our jute products are the perfect choice for customers looking for stylish and sustainable home decor options.
1. Designs of every category of products:
Chouhan Rugs boasts a specialized team of artisans who meticulously craft each product to be unique and imbued with a rich history of design. In contrast, other companies lack the expertise and resources to assemble a team of artisans with a deep understanding of design history.
2. Uniqueness in products:
Chouhan Rugs is committed to manufacturing products that are not only distinctive in design, but also unparalleled in quality, attention to detail, elegance, and messaging related to the design. Conversely, other companies do not prioritize the creation of unique products and may overlook crucial aspects that contribute to a product's distinctiveness.
3. Quality of Material:
At Chouhan Rugs, quality is of the utmost importance. Each product is crafted with exceptional attention to detail, ensuring that the final result is of the highest quality. Conversely, other companies may not be as dedicated to producing products of superior quality and may offer products that are subpar in comparison to those manufactured by Chouhan Rugs.
4. Price Range of every product in the market:
Chouhan Rugs is committed to providing top-quality products that are both unique in design and competitively priced in the market. We are confident that no other company offers the same level of quality and uniqueness at such a reasonable price point. We take pride in offering products that are unmatched in their craftsmanship, beauty, and value.
5. Free shipping across the Country:
Chouhan Rugs is dedicated to providing exceptional customer service, which is why we offer free shipping on all of our products nationwide, without any additional charges beyond the product price listed in the order. Conversely, other companies may not offer this level of convenience and may apply additional charges for shipping in different regions of the country. At Chouhan Rugs, we strive to make the purchasing experience as seamless and hassle free as possible for our valued customers.
Read Our Previous Blog:(Jute Rugs and Jute Cushion Covers: A Sustainable and Stylish Addition to Your Home Decor by Chouhan)
For more information and new updates Visit to our website:-chouhanrugs.com
Visit Our Social Links:
Facebook :https://www.facebook.com/HomeFurnisinghRugsCarpets/
Instagram :https://www.instagram.com/chouhanrugs/
Printrest : https://in.pinterest.com/chouhanrugs/
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Shree Shyam International, one of the finest manufacturers of this impeccable range of Leather Wallets, Leather Card Holder and Box Clutch, began our operations in the year 2005. Making of this range done using the finest raw materials and modern machines, ensures its finishing, elegance, and resistance to heat and moisture. In addition to this, the offered range is marked at the most reasonable rate possible.
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I imagine President Coryo at a very important business dinner with his first lady, and she starts touching him under the table, he doing his best not to make noise. (Jajsjsjjshs... I need Therapy)
All hail to Mr. President himself finally making appearance on this blog and of course deep down he’s just a desperate little sub...
nsfw / mdni / president!sub!coryo / firstlady!dom!reader
“No, I am not buying you that dress!” Your husband shook his head in disapproval, making you pout.
“But it's so pretty!”
“Just look at that cutout, it would put your cleavage on full display, it's totally inappropriate for the first lady,” Coryo pursed his lips signaling it would be useless to argue. His decision had been made.
“Alright, Coriolanus!” You looked at him, a spiteful smirk adorning your face. You knew he was gonna pay for this.
You were always acting like a perfect wife in public. You dressed modestly and elegantly, toned down your voice, always just smiled and nodded, no matter what you were told. You knew it was essential for the young president’s image. A quarrelsome and rebellious wife would tarnish his reputation.
You gladly let him have it knowing that you would always be the one to have the upper hand in bed. He was completely under your control as soon as the bedroom door had closed behind you and that was more than enough for you.
But that dress was just so damn cute and it came from the new Capitol Couture summer collection! Coriolanus usually had an impeccable taste, but this time he was just wrong. And you had to get some fun out of that situation even if you couldn't get it your way.
So later on while you were sitting by your husband's side at one of his important business lunches, a sinister idea came to your mind.
“We're about to sign this state contract with the Manufacturers League of District 1 for supply of luxury goods,” he had explained to you earlier.
“Everything has been prepared, it just needs my approval.”
The approval turned out to be taking a few long hours, Coryo continued to query the business owners, he was meticulous as ever. You were sitting at the table, smiling, nodding and pretending to be interested as usual, not letting anyone suspect that you were bored out if your mind and all your thoughts kept leading back to that dress. It would look so good on you while riding your handsome husband's cock.
One of your hands, previously resting neatly on your lap, reached out to your right and landed on Coryo’s thigh.
He didn't pay much attention at first, not until you started caressing him, all your attention still on his unsuspecting business partners.
You noticed Coryo starting to mix up his words, he was not used to you behaving like that in public. A little smirk appeared on your face, still subtle enough for no one else to notice.
Your hand glided in between his thighs starting to make circular movements dangerously close to his most sensitive area and he gave you the look. It lasted only for a split second but you could clearly read it as “Don't!”
You had no intention of stopping though, quite the contrary, you moved even higher and started palming his dick through the fine fabric of his perfectly tailored pants.
Coryo swallowed thickly and one of the men across the table raised his eyebrow. Of course he had no idea of what you were doing but the President seemed to be acting a bit unusual.
When you grabbed Coryo's cock and squeezed it gently through his pants, your husband had to clench his jaw to avoid letting out a moan. You noticed that he was getting desperate and he looked so damn hot like this.
“The fabric mentioned on page 63,” Coryo spoke in a slightly shaky voice. “It says here that it's very pleasant to the touch, but I don't think we’re going to order it.”
He gave you a quick glance.
“I think it comes for too high of a price.”
“I don't think we should spare any funds for pleasure of our dear Capitol citizens,” you added, looking at your husband innocently while your fingers unzipped his pants masterfully, a little trick you had learned during your secret little meetings under the strict supervision of your parents before getting married.
You quickly found your husband's half hard cock and ran your thumb over the velvety tip, causing Coryo to let out a sharp gasp.
“President Snow, are you alright?” The man who had previously raised his eyebrow now sounded slightly concerned.
“Don't worry, Sir,” you took over the conversation seeing that Coryo was using up his strength to keep composed.
“It's too stuffy in here, Mr. President just needs some fresh air.”
“Yeah, that's right,” Coryo mumbled under his breath as he loosened up his tie a bit.
He glanced over at you sitting properly wearing your mandarin collared blouse and a chick designer jacket. You were fully covered up, but Coryo couldn't help imagining your soft warm breasts underneath. Got, he just wanted to grab them and squeeze them right now.
Your poor husband was trying to focus on the papers before him, but everything was now just a blur, everything he could think about was your hand pumping his cock at an easy pace making sure for his business partners not to notice your movements.
Coryo was now a complete mess, desperately clutching at the contract copy in his hands, aching for his release. You just loved to see him pathetic like that, completely under your control.
“I'm sorry,” he finally gave up. “My wife was right, I think I should really get some air. Maybe we can continue tomorrow.”
You smirked and nodded, zipping him back up with a swift move. Poor Coryo had to use his contract copy to hide his massive hard-on while shaking hands with his business partners before he left.
“What's wrong, darling? Was the meeting too hard for you?” You giggled and disappeared into the bedroom before your husband managed to catch you.
As soon as you opened the door you noticed a Capitol Couture box laying on your bed. He had actually bought that damn dress, wanting to surprise you. And you had turned his business lunch into a real torture.
“I'm sorry,” your voice sounded genuine hearing him entering the room and standing behind you. “I didn't know that…”
“I’m afraid sorry won't cut it, my dear wife,” Coryo murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You could feel his prominent erection pressed firmly to your derriere.
“Please, mommy! I need you to take care of me!” He whispered under his breath, slightly embarrassed by his submissively pathetic addiction to your pussy.
You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply imagining his massive cock stretching you out, while you were showing off your new dress.
It almost seemed like your husband had the actual ability to read your thoughts.
“I think it's time to consecrate your new dress…”
#thank you for the ask#coriolanus snow#young coriolanus snow#young president snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#thg#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#thg tbosas#blurb#cts ask
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@yulia-k-blog
Sorry it took me a while to answer this, I wanted a short break from meta and there's more to write still. John and Yoko's relationship eh.
I think they had a genuine camaraderie and artistic connection. Yoko was doing something interesting when John was bored, frustrated, and angry. I think that her ideas genuinely excited him especially since she was using abstract thinking in her art, as well as focusing on audience participation in a way that John had never thought of before. What I noticed from reading about Yoko's exhibits and props was that she wanted to invoke reactions and emotions in the audience. Like she once constructed a box made out of plywood and stuck it full of pickles or something and the whole deal was that you were supposed to stick your hand in it. Feels creepy and gross but at least you felt something right? That's what she wanted.
Now whether Yoko's art was actually any good is a completely different question. She was not the only or first performance artist to be creating exhibits with the idea of making audience participation as the focal point. She wasn't the only or first abstract thinker to come out of Japan at that point either. John was kind of a dumbass for being so taken with her honestly because by the time November 1966 rolled around, Yoko wasn't doing anything new or even interesting. John met her at Indica because other performance artists setting up their crappy little exhibits there. Yoko's whole thing was that she came to the UK because she deduced that the British were more willing to put up with her half baked ideas. She couldn't get traction in the United States specifically because artists from France and Germany and other Western European nations had moved to New York City to GTFO out of their wartorn nations and find their fortunes overseas. So it wasn't just that Yoko was behind the curve and trying to play catch up, it's that the sophisticated international globetrotters in New York City spent a lot of time putting her in her place with regards to her art hustle lmao.
But anyway. John and Yoko, they had a genuine connection. I think that was real. John couldn't make anyone give a shit about her but hey, he was impressed with her. Can't fake that. I think Yoko had a genuine affection for him too, even if it was more like a Hollywood actress doting on her purse puppy a la Paris Hilton.
The problem is that this was manufactured lmao. Yoko pestered Paul for manuscripts in 1965 or thereabouts (yes it really was that early), he deflected her to John, and she began stalking John at his fucking house to the point he changed the phone number a few times and she sent him tampons, once jumped into his car and demanded a ride while Cynthia was also in it, and other crazy shit like that. Yoko was really, really desperate for his attention but she was also desperate for his money: she wrote up a goddamn contract with her then husband Tony Cox where they agreed to split the proceeds that they got from John Lennon 50/50. I don't know if this was before or after """meeting""" John at Indica in 1966 but Yoko's original plan was to steal everything she could from John and split it with her husband. What a nice lady looking after John's money for him like that, making sure it wouldn't get stolen, huh.
I do wonder sometimes if the Beatles thing got out of Yoko's control and if she was just as much along for the ride as Paul was. But anyway. Again, sorry, about myself, I editorialize.
Yoko wanted a patron and she decided to aim high for a Beatle. John wanted to escape the Beatles and go on a "fuck Paul" spree. They both gave each other that. And I think they both succeeded admirably in what they wanted to do. Yoko got to have her Beatle and she has never been without money ever since. John got to jump on the "fuck Paul" train and he never got off it, regardless of what his true feelings about the matter were.
It was not a phony relationship by any means. I think that John legitimately respected Yoko as an artist. He saw something there that no one else does. It's just that it was always lopsided. Yoko liked having John as her pet and he liked being her pet. It was never a relationship between equals like it was with John and Paul.
And I mean. To John's credit he did not want a relationship between equals. Multiple reports from the Dakota confirm that John actively wanted Yoko to handle everything and he resented the idea that he should take charge of his finances and his diet and his life. When Yoko fired John's lawyers so he would have no legal representation in her impending divorce plans (god that was a quagmire) he did not raise a peep as far as we know. What makes their relationship so baffling is that Yoko did so many awful things to John and the worst he would do in response is use their tarot reader Charlie Swan as a marriage counselor and vent his feelings about his wife before quietly returning to their dynamic.
How do you keep a man like John Lennon? How do you make him stay? Yoko shows us how! Ignore him! Do not speak to him for weeks on end! Insult him and call him names! Give him a limited allowance of money and unlimited drugs! Take over his legal and financial representation and absolutely do not allow him the choice to take it back!
tl;dr Cyn and Paul loved John and he ran from them. Yoko squeezed John for everything he had and he clung to her. That is their relationship.
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Young Joel Miller x bakerOFC please, do whatever you want with it….
Where’s that Diego Luna dabble btw?? 👀😶🌫️
The Sweetest Thing
Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x Baker fem!reader
Warnings: Fluff sweeter than buttercream frosting; one swear word; possibly a smidgen of angst at the end, if you reeeeally think about it.
Summary: All the cakes and pastries aren’t the sweetest thing you encounters in your bakery that day.
A/N: Oh, my sweet anon (and I totally know who you are 😝), thank you for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy the sweet result. P.S. Sorry about that Diego drabble. As you know, life got away from me. Way away.
Men always look so damned sheepish when the step into a bakery. It’s as if unless they have a gal on their arm with a sizable sweet tooth, there’s no good reason for them to be setting foot into such a place. Bakeries are too feminine; sugar and sweets are too girly, pastries are too dainty. Butcher shops? Now, that’s a man’s domain. Blood and guts and meat are manly things.
It’s an outdated belief you thought pop culture phenomena such as “The Great British Bake Off” would have put an end to. Boys wear pants, girls wear dresses. Men go to butchers, women go to bakers.
This guy is dismantling an age old stereotype, but sure looks nervous as hell doing it.
“‘Scuse me,” he drawls, approaching your counter with hands in his pockets. “I’m lookin’ to get a cake.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, partner.”
His brown eyes scan the assortment beneath the glass to the right of the counter. Cakes in all shapes, sizes, and designs.
“Looking for any kind of cake in particular? A certain flavor, I mean.”
“Well, what all have you got?” he asks, turning those eyes—a shade of brown as rich as chocolate ganache—on you.
“Pick your poison. I have the usual suspects—chocolate, vanilla, and marble—or some more adventurous flavors, such as lemon, raspberry, red velvet, banana, orange cream, cinnamon and spice. Et cetera, et cetera, and so on and so forth.”
He purses his lips in an impressed whistle.
“Well, I certainly hope they aren’t poisonous,” he chuckles. “But I’m not picky. What do you recommend?”
“That depends. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s, uh, a birthday,” he mumbles. “Could be the last if I fail to bring a cake home for my daughter. She’ll have my head.”
“Ah, so it’s the little lady’s special day, huh?”
“Actually, it’s mine,” he admits as a pretty pink hue fills his cheeks, as if it mortifies him to confess to turning another year older. “But the cake is mostly for my kid’s sake. I’m on a diet myself.”
“Life is much too short for diets,” you chuckle. “Now tell me, what does your girl like?”
“Well,” he shrugs. “This kid loves her peanut butter.”
“Noted. And what does her dad like?”
“Oh, I don’t….it’s like I said, about that diet and all—“
“And I said life’s too short for such a thing,” you reiterate. “Especially on birthdays. So, what does he like?”
He’s momentarily caught off guard by your abruptness, but it earns you a smile. And boy, it’s a smile you won’t forget anytime soon.
“The old man is partial to chocolate.”
“A gentleman with a taste for the classics. Nothing wrong with being a little old fashioned in the modern age.”
“Just plain old, I think you mean.”
“Not at all, but how old are we talking?”
“36.”
“Not old at all.”
He laughs at that, and you like his laugh just as much as his grin. “Tell that to my bones.”
“I think they heard me,” you say proudly. “I have a very commanding voice.”
“Certainly commanded my attention.”
“Now, I think it was more those flavors I listed that got your attention. Speaking of which.” You withdraw your notepad from your apron and jot down his order. “One peanut butter fudge cake should suit you both nicely.”
“Well, who doesn’t love Reece’s, right?”
You shoot him a look of feigned insult. If you were wearing pearls you’d clutch them for dramatic effect.
“With all due respect, sir, Reece’s is a peddler of cheap, manufactured candy-like substances. I am an artist.”
He clutches his chest in mock dismay. “I do beg your forgiveness, Picasso. I did not mean to offend, and I am humbled to be in the presence of such culinary greatness.”
“Let my cake do the humbling, won’t you?”
“I’d be honored to put ol’ Atkins on the back burner for your masterpiece.”
“That’s quite the compliment.” Now you’re the one blushing. “So, when do you need the Sistine Chapel by?”
“Well, I’m on site until 6. I can probably get here by 6:30. Is that okay?”
Hm. “On site”. Construction, maybe? Hardworking man. Manly man, but not. Man who loves cake. Man who loves his daughter. Ring finger sans ring, you can’t help but notice.
“I typically close at 5, but one of the perks of being the boss is that I can make my own hours. I don’t mind hanging around a bit longer. Especially to fill such an important order.”
“You’re sure?”
“Your kid will kill you if you don’t return with cake, right? I’d hate to hear about that grisly murder on the morning news. And as good as my desserts are they’re nothing to die for.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he smirks. “I’m expecting to get humbled, remember.”
You agree that the bill will be settled upon his return. He jots his number down on a slip of paper, just in case you have any questions. You only have one and you ask it before he can step through the door.
“If this is a birthday cake then I’m going to give it the birthday flare. So, to whom shall I be wishing a happy 36th?”
He gives you that smile again. “It’s Joel.”
“Happy birthday, Joel.”
“It’s starting to feel like it, yeah.”
“So, 6:30?”
“On the dot. You got my number, so just call if you’ve got any questions.”
“I do this for a living. I think I’ve got it handled.”
“Right. Then….call if you’d like to talk about anything else.”
“Don’t forget about—“ Me, you want to say, but luckily you manage to shut that shit down before you live to regret it. “You’re cake.”
“As if I could,” he assures you, heading out the door. “Nothing short of the end of the world would keep me from coming back.”
And nothing short of the end of the world would prevent you from baking the best cake he’s had in all his 36 years.
And his daughter, too, of course. You hope a little peanut butter fudge will help make this a birthday neither of them would ever forget.
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#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#the last of us#fluff#fic request#baker#the last of us hbo#bakery#cake
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I will do an honest review of mother jeans since clearly no one else is doing one….
No no no no no no no no no no no.
Here’s the deal:
When you call your brand “mother” you may want to make sure they’re cut for most women. Not just Asian men. (& women with very narrow hips and tiny buttockses buttock-i? I dunno… you get the gist …🤷♀️🤣)
I wear a size 6 normally now. I used to be a solid 4, but I have sized up. And I admit that. But when I wear 4 different sizes within the same brand, that’s some ass manufacturing. There is absolutely no continuity whatsoever from one pair to another. Very. Cheaply. Made!!!!! I fit in 28s with the cut that has more give, great. Some 28s in the mother jeans were even too big, and I had to roll them on top to fit my waist. But then in another style jean by them I’m a solid 29. Fine. I can even accept that. But when I keep buying these orange leopard jeans and I end up in a size f’n 30 and STILL can’t sausage into them and when I finally paint them on I get the tight crotch that don’t accommodate my thighs BUT they did leave room, however, for my nonexistent peep. I mean, a whole 3 inches of dead air, cause I have woman’s hips and not a peep to put in there and I have a purse and wallet so I don’t need that much space in my crotch to keep my keys and my lipstick, ok?! and then the a ten foot crotch that is most unflattering, it’s longer than my torso rise, making me look like Ed Grimley, not to mention the muffin edges I get on the very top of these jeans, no. Just no. How can you name yourself “mother” when it’s for tween boys and some women with no hips?
This is Ed Grimley. (See below)
No. I’m now forever calling mother jeans, “tiny hipped, no ass, long crotch, man jeans and yes, Asian men do fit that bill, so call me a racist if you will but I’m not one so go scratch with that! Cause one time I saw a literal Asian man in drag modeling a pair of jeans (full disclosure: may not have been mother jeans) as if i wouldn’t notice!
So, am I still trying to lose weight? Always and No! And I shouldn’t have to! Their job is to make bigger sizes so I can fit my bigger self inside the pants to clothe me! And yes I do try to be healthy even though I don’t have to justify my weight to anyone, but a lot of times I fluctuate in weight like a lot of other human beings. The fact that I usually wear a size 6 bottoms, and 28 inch jeans this is unacceptable. What about ladies who are bigger than me? Should we wear a tarp, or sew two pairs of your jeans together to make a Normal cut for my ass?! No! Ain’t nobody got time for that!
So ladies, if you have any kind of curves like me, steer waaaaaaaaayyyy clear of the mother brand. And if you are shaped like them, then they’ll be perfect. I’m pissed, cause I now have to find another brand, and since I’m not in the know, I have to look online for a new brand, and I hate that. Pft! Caca fitting jeans! I’m sticking to leggings until I figure out a better brand to invest in.
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The Babe of the River
(TW: depiction of dementia. amerie learns of the existence of a sibling through a retelling of her favorite bedtime story, that turns out to be a manufactured version of the truth)
"have i ever told you the tale of the knight and the lady of the river?"
had it been any other day, or year better yet, the question might have conjured a smile to the solemn ladies face. an answer of "only a million times." would be followed by jestful laughter and she'd beg to hear anything else. amerie couldnt treat such questions with the flippancy she once did, though. the maesters say it will only worsen, the way her memories ebb and flow to darkest depths of her mind and all the woman could do to soothe her is exactly what she's doing now. curve of a silver comb is grasped in her left hand, gently working through the soft tresses that remained uncut for the better part of 20 years.
"of course, mama. it's your favorite." reflection in the mirror paints the portrait of disappointment and confusion. its difficult to watch her get so wrapped up in recollections that her eyes begin to shift rapidly, as if going through every moment she can remember to find the missing piece. quicky, she places her free hand on the womans shoulder, like an anchor keeping her from drifting too far away and gives it a reassuring squeeze. they've had a better day than most and she wont see it spoiled. "its my favorite too, and i'd love to hear it again."
remembrances of when she was a girl sat behind her mother, little fingers doing their best to plait the womans hair in the western fashion of her fathers family while absorbing every story uttered by a once vivacious voice. only now it was weak, weary and one note short of losing breath. amerie had suffered a broken heart long before the illness set in, but watching her mother wither away before her eyes with no cure in sight, shattered her in ways she never thought possible.
so she listens, lips silently moving along with each dramatized sentence of a knight and lady, whose love was destined for disaster from the moment they laid eyes on each other. the warring families who would rather kill one another than let the lovers be together. the beautiful baby boy that would be the catalyst of peace and love between them. it seems to be the one of few webs she can weave without missing a beat and if telling it is what it takes to coax her away from another day of staring blankly at the shoreline, then the devoted daughter ask to hear it as many times as she would indulge her.
lines began to stray from the usual script, causing once fluid movements to cease entirely. "what a beautiful babe he was, edie. favored his father over me if you could believe it. grandmother would be turning in her grave to know a blackwoods genes defeated that of a bracken." said with such ease that it leaves amerie taken aback. its evident from ameries experience that shes slipping back to a time when sybella and her beloved sister would chat and gossip the way amerie and her own sisters do. only this story is one shes never heard before. she'd remember it amongst the hilarious opinions and retellings of romance with her late father that she has to cut short when she hears them bubbling to the surface. is it the illness? it must be, for amerie was the first child to be birthed by the woman. it was recorded.
"what're you on about, syb?" best impression of her aunts cadence resonates from between pursed lips. some days, the refusal of who amerie is strikes harder and pretending brings her a sense of calm. "you haven't a babe."
one could hear a pin drop in the dead silence that took over the room. the lady watches as her mother leans towards the direction of the door, listening closely before grabbing her hand. "i miss him terribly... and you are all i have to confide in, edina, please do not deny him when its just us and the ghosts." theres little to deny about the sincerity that dominates her tone. if it weren't based in truth, would the tears welling in her panicked eyes be so free to fall? the look of yearning for someone lost is unmistakeble. shes seen it in her own reflection enough to recognize it.
"my apologies, sweet sister, please go on." once the permission is given, its like her mother sprung back to life. so passionately she speaks of the child left in the hands of their families blood rivals. how rosy his little cheeks were, how his large eyes peered so curiously at his surroundings once they'd adjusted to the light of day. and the last memory she shared before retiring to her bed for the evening. one that would seem minute to someone else, but only solidified the truth in what sybella told her.
"he smelled of sunshine, and all things love."
a phrase used to describe every child after him. she thought it a sweet way for a mother to remember their childrens most vulnerable moments. now she feels unsettled by the sentiment, knowing what weight the secret holds. years of unwavering lineage at risk if she could keep her mother from repeating it to anyone.
all for the bastard of blackwood.
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Lavie Women's Mono Ushawu Medium Satchel Bag | Ladies Purse Handbag
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Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Product Description Brand: DOSYSO This stylish and functional wallet for women features the latest design in multicolor printed floral or flower like vegan leather. It includes multiple card slots, a mobile phone holder, and a magnetic kiss lock with a zip pocket for added security Perfect for daily use, this hand clutch is ideal for organizing essentials like cash, cards, and coins. Whether for college, office, shopping, or travel, it's a versatile and elegant gift for girls, ladies. Premium Quality | Water Resistant | Lightweight | Convenient & Functional | Secure Storage | Handcrafted In India | Credit/Debit Card Holder | Coin Pockets With Zipper Closure | Leather Zip Wallet Purse | Slim and Lightweight | Product Dimensions: 13 (H) x 2 (W) x 23 (L) cm Product Dimensions : 23 x 2 x 13 cm; 230 g Date First Available : 19 August 2024 Manufacturer : DOSYSO ASIN : B0DDM6XYNC Item model number : 01colorwallet Country of Origin : India Department : Womens Manufacturer : DOSYSO Packer : [email protected] Item Weight : 230 g Item Dimensions LxWxH : 23 x 2 x 13 Centimeters Generic Name : Bi-Fold Wallet [ad_2]
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ALARION Womens Purses And Handbags Shoulder Bag Ladies Designer Satchel Messenger Tote Bag,Brown
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